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#I can barely go through a workbook in front of me
quiltwork · 2 years
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I might come back to this blog, cause although I’ve processed through all the traumas, I’ve still got DID/OSDD and I’m finding out just how much that counteracts me trying to be as honest, real and authentic as possible. My brother’s girlfriend suggested I should go back to therapy and is helping me look for a therapist, and whether she finds the right one or not, it’s inching me in a good direction. 
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the-likesofus · 11 months
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when the night is cold as it is long
9-1-1 on Fox | Buddie | 4k words | bthb claustrophobia | panic attacks, buried alive, hurt/comfort, nightmares, getting together
Eddie develops claustrophobia post “The Well Incident”, as well as frequent nightmares. Then on a call, he and Buck get stuck in a collapse and Eddie panics. Post 3x15 | @badthingshappenbingo
Eddie is shivering when he wakes up and his chest aches as he gasps for every breath. The light from the moon and street lamps outside is filtering through the thin curtains over Eddie’s bedroom window and yet his vision is too hazy to recognize his own hand in front of his face.
For weeks Eddie has been haunted by the squelch of mud and the stench of old sewer pipes. He has learned how to tire himself out to the point of collapse just to grab a few extra hours of sleep and is concerningly functional on a minimal number of hours. Even Eddie can admit that his current sleep schedule (or lack thereof) is unhealthy but it is also all he can manage at the moment. He would love nothing more than to bunker down under his duvet and sleep like the dead for 48 hours but he has obligations, a job, and a son. And even if he could fall asleep, which he rarely can, the terrors that haunt him while he is awake inevitably follow him into his dreams.
Tonight, however, is the third consecutive night of waking up in an absolute fit after only falling asleep only an hour before. He’s been barely functioning on four hours of sleep over the last four days and he is at the end of his tether.
Eddie’s thoughts are shaken by his phone ringing on the bedside table and he lunges for it instantly, answering the call without looking at the caller ID, yet somehow he just knows it’s Buck.
“Eds? You there?” Buck’s voice carries, thin and fragile down the line when Eddie takes too long to greet him after picking up the call.
“Yea-yeah, I’m here.” Eddie can hear the way his own voice shakes as he bites the inside of his cheek and twists his fingers into his sheets. “What’s up?”
There is a rustling on the other end of the line. Buck must be in bed too though why he is calling Eddie at four in the morning when they have a shift at seven is beyond him. Still, he waits, letting Buck collect his thoughts and listening to the steady sound of Buck’s breathing as it soothes the ache in Eddie’s chest. In this moment he wants nothing more than to reach out and bury himself in Buck’s chest, tuck himself under his ribcage and hide from the world. Eddie thanks small mercies that Buck is on the other end of the phone line rather than sitting in front of him, lest he does something stupid like follow through on the urge.
“Ah, did Chris find that maths workbook he left in the living room? I told him to put it in his school bag but I can’t remember if he did and he has that test at the end of the week and he was going to ask Ms. Jefferson about the questions on the worksheet.”
And the urge increases tenfold just as the pit in his stomach had opened up and he had wished for the ground to swallow him when Buck had left his house two days ago after watching Chris while Eddie went to the doctor for a follow-up appointment. He could have sworn that Buck hesitated in the doorway on his way out but Eddie was not feeling brave enough to ask him to stay, Buck probably had plans anyway, it was a Tuesday and he usually went around to Maddie’s. And so Eddie had bit his tongue and watched him leave.
Now he realizes that Buck is still rambling on about Christopher’s homework and pulls his attention back to his phone. “Yeah, yeah he got it. Buck, are you okay?"
“Me? Yeah, of course, sorry I didn't mean to wake you. I just remembered. About the book, you know.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“Of course, no worries.”
There’s silence down the line and for a few passing moments Eddie simply listens to Buck’s breathing and tries to match him, breath for breath.
“Eddie?” Buck asks quietly after Eddie has sunken back under his covers and can feel sleep starting to pull at the corners of his eyes.
“Yeah, Buck?”
Buck breathes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Eddie agrees softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Buck.”
Eddie falls asleep before the call ends.
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melis-writes · 2 years
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Victoria ends up staying late at work
We have a scenario for the prompt I see, and the rest is my creativity filling in the gaps for your request!! 😛❤ Enjoy! 🙏🏻
Overtime.
“Mrs. Corleone?” The sound of your legal assistant’s voice chirps up at the doorway of your office.
“Mm?” You look up from the pile of paperwork over your desk.
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Your assistant smiles politely at you. “I just wanted to let you know I’m heading out for the evening now. Do you need anything?”
“No, thank you.” You tell her. “You did great today, thank you for all your help.”
“No need to thank me, Mrs. Corleone.” Your assistant can barely hold back her enthusiasm in being praised. “Just glad I could be of assistance. Will you be staying long?”
You glance over to the grandfather clock, reading 8:24 PM—almost three and a half hours longer than your normal work hours. “Not for the entirety of the evening, that’s for sure. I’m just finishing up here and should be out shortly.”
“Oh, in that case would you like for me to wait for you?” Your assistant offers, shrugging her jacket over her shoulders.
“That won’t be necessary, but thank you.” You smile warmly at her. “You must be eager to go home now. Nobody likes overtime.”
“True, but only Mrs. Corleone handles it well.” She points out with a laugh. “Well, okay! I’ll be calling a cab with the telephone booth out in the hallway and then see myself out. Will Mr. Corleone be picking you up?”
“He’ll send for me.” You divert your attention back down to the document in front of you. “Take care now and see you tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you Mrs. Corleone, you as well!” And with that, your assistant leaves your office door ajar as she turns on her heel and takes her leave.
You let out a drawn out sigh, relaxing your sore back against your office chair. “Great…”
You let your pen slip out of your hands and plop down on the document, knowing you’ve worked too hard for the day.
You close your eyes, taking in deep breaths and enjoying the peace and quiet surrounding you in your office.
Work officially ended at five and all court sessions, whether they be major trials or preliminary hearings, all finished or ended for the day around four.
Just yesterday you chose out the perfect case to serve as prosecutor for: convicting one of Barzini’s old time capos.
With more than a page worth of criminal charges and being the only mafia related case on your desk throughout the whole week, you could neither resist nor give up the opportunity.
‘This is what I do best.’ You note to yourself.
Still, preparing the legal work, officially taking the case and understanding the circumstances around it has you taking more than just the regular time throughout your nine to five.
It’s nothing you aren’t used to or haven’t done before, and if anything, you feel more in your element than ever right in your office working in the dream career you dreamed of since your first legal seminar at Dartmouth all those years ago.
‘I’ll just finish up here and mm… Can’t wait to go home and snuggle up.’ Your brief thoughts of taking a hot shower and curling up next to Michael are interrupted by the sounds of a door creaking down the hallway of the courthouse.
Your eyes slowly flutter open as you stare at your office door, assuming it’s just your assistant calling her cab as usual, but the telephone booth is simply down the hallway and not in another part of the building or behind a door.
You run a hand through your hair, ignoring at the sound. Although the rest of your colleagues have long gone home for the day—including the judges—security is still present twenty-four hours a day.
You pull your seat back into your desk and flip open the document once more, first making sure all the papers are neatly stacked and inside.
Lastly, you neatly write your signature on the last bits of paperwork that require it before finally closing up your workbooks for the day.
Grunting as you stretch out your arms, you continue to hear sounds of shuffling and footsteps growing louder down the hallway.
“Alright,” you murmur to yourself as you scoop up your documents and workbooks into your arms.
You move to your filing cabinet and rub your eyes with your free hand, just about to reach over and pull them open when you realize your key is missing to unlock them.
“Oh.” You groan quietly to yourself, knowing now for sure you’re much too tired for all of this.
Just as you turn around to walk back to your desk, you freeze in your tracks and gasp—spotting a dark figure wearing a double-breasted overcoat standing only a few feet away from you.
“Michael!” You breathe out, scared out of your wits to see him so suddenly.
“Hello, darling.” Michael doesn’t react, keeping both hands in the pockets over his overcoat.
‘Fuck.’ There’s something alluring about seeing half of Michael shrouded in the darkness, only some of his smoldering facial features as his heavily gelled hair glistens from the dim light in your office.
“God.” You place your free hand over your chest; your heart thundering. “You scared me sneaking up like that,” you can’t help but giggle.
“I was just about to let you know. I couldn’t wait for too long, you see.” Michael approaches you, taking the workbooks out of your hand. “It’s late, baby.”
“Mm, I know.” You wrap your arms around Michael’s shoulders, feeling at the fabric of his heavy coat. “All I need to do is just lock up those documents and—”
“That can wait.” Michael puts them on top of the filing cabinet, pulling you in by your hips instantly and sealing a kiss over your lips.
Blushing furiously, you kiss Michael back and cup his cheeks; a longing, desiring kiss you’ve been awaiting all day.
Michael slowly parts away from the kiss. “Ready to come home with me?”
“As ever.” Your eyes widen to see Michael hold out the keys to your filing cabinet from his pocket.
“Then lock up and let me take you home already, hmm?” Michael dangles the keys in front of you.
“Eager, Mr. Corleone?” You grin back, taking the keys and quickly unlocking the file cabinet before neatly arranging the workbooks and documents inside.
“I’ve been waiting to have you come back to me all evening,” Michael breathes hotly over your neck, pulling you inch by inch towards him by your hips again. “I’m not drinking our wine alone, baby.”
“And you don’t have to.” You steal a kiss from Michael’s lips, lacing your hand with him. “I’m all yours now.”
“Not quite.” Michael lets go of your hand, surprising you at first.
“Oh!” You gasp out to feel him scoop you up bridal style, snatching your stilettos off your feet and holding both of them by the heels beneath your thighs.
“Been wearing these for twelve hours now, I know you’re sore.” Michael effortlessly carries you out of your office.
You giggle, clutching onto his overcoat. “Giving me the princess treatment after work, I see. How about a massage when we get home?”
“You can have anything you’d like from me, darling.” Michael gazes back at you, hooking his fingers teasingly into the waistband of your pencil skirt.
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novelmonger · 5 months
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Moments That Bring Me Joy: Air Bud
Because Disney+ finally put up Air Bud, I decided I'd do one of these for one of my favorite childhood movies. I have no idea why this movie in particular grabbed my heart and never let go, amongst all the other dog movies I watched. I mean, come on - this is a movie about basketball, for crying out loud! Why would I, who have never had even a smidge of interest in any sport whatsoever, fall in love with a movie about a basketball-playing pooch?
But I did. I loved it almost from the first glimpse of that beautiful golden retriever face (possibly partly because my aunt and uncle had a golden retriever at the time who was the sweetest dog ever). I cried like a baby the first time I watched it (we had to pause for lunch right after Snively takes Buddy, and I could barely eat). I identified with Josh surprisingly strongly, considering I was a girl who had never had a dog or played basketball or lost my dad or anything this kid goes through. But empathized with him really strongly, and for the next year or so, I got through boring schoolwork by daydreaming highly dramatic scenarios involving me training on various sports teams with my imaginary dog Peter. (Peter was a collie, not a golden retriever, but I can definitely point to Air Bud as being the spark of inspiration for him.) Or I think sometimes I would be training Peter for a dog show or something, and he would successfully jump through a hoop or do a trick each time I answered another question in my workbook XD
But anyway, enough about that! Here are the moments in the movie that still give me joy, all these years later (and remember, joy doesn't necessarily mean happiness):
THE OLD DISNEY LOGO! Oh gosh, the nostalgia! *_* I think I got this movie for my seventh birthday or something. That was such a long time ago....
"Fernfield, Where Everything Is Possible." What a town motto XD
"Hey, kids, it's Happy Slappy Time!"
All of the unimpressed expressions on the audience during the disastrous clown antics XD The extras in this movie are just. The Best.
All the cows watching Buddy through the fence after he falls off the truck. Simple humor, but effective. Love it.
Oh gosh, who does the music in this thing?! ...Brahm Wenger. Never heard of him, but the soundtrack in this movie is incredible. Way better than it needed to be, but we're hardly 8 minutes into the movie and I'm already noticing it. Mr. Wenger, you were wasted on all those Air Buddies movies.
When Josh is walking past the kids playing basketball, running his fingers along the chain-link fence. I can't quite put it into words, and I certainly couldn't then, but I remember sitting in the living room at seven years old, seeing that for the first time and thinking, "That's me." The best I can explain it is it's something about being on the outside looking in.
Just realized the first word we hear Josh say is "sucks" XD
When Josh breaks down the rotten fence and the music swells as we get that gorgeous view of the lake(?)
There's nothing like seeing a sad little boy and a sad little dog bonding and having fun for the first time in forever <3
*right after Buddy has utterly destroyed the living room* Josh: "So...can I keep him?" Mom: 😒
Josh's mom letting him keep Buddy as a Christmas present :')
"Sigmund twins moved to Canada, God knows why." - I don't remember this line at all, but it makes me laugh now XD
That doggy smile Buddy gives Josh the first time he makes a basket ^_^
That "well, crap" look on the coach's face when he realizes he has to put Josh on the team after embarrassing him in front of everybody, because Josh is that good of a player
I just really like the fat referee. He's having the worst night of his life, and I want to give him a hug and tell him it'll be okay XD
I take a vicious sort of joy in the rightness of the first coach getting caught red-handed in the abusive way he punishes Tom for fumbling the ball, and Coach Chaney taking over instead.
Man, the music in this movie! It turns a simple scene of the new middle school mascot doing a trick into a heroic moment of sheer triumph, followed by that montage of them winning games that just makes you want to get up and cheer.
Josh's mom coming out the morning after Snively takes Buddy away, and finding a newspaper on her driveway for the first time...I like the subtle touch.
"I don't want my dog to do beer commercials. I got ethics!" *30 seconds later* "Out of curiosity, how much are we talking for one of those beer commercials?"
Snively's unbelievably terrible truck - and driving XD Plus his pathetic little "No, I needed that!" when the steering wheel falls off :P
The whole scene where Josh lets Buddy go. Yes, that scene brings me joy - and I'm tearing up, even though I can't even count how many times I've seen this movie and know perfectly well that everything will turn out fine very shortly! It's just so perfectly done, showing their bond and providing an opportunity for Josh to explain what he's doing even though there's no one with him except for a dog. And that music, I just...it's in my soul. It's the heart's cry of the little girl I used to be, lonely and wishing I could have a dog that wasn't just in my imagination, because that was the only kind of friend I could imagine having. And that bit where the music is swelling and Buddy is racing after Josh through the brambles and dead bushes...I can point to that moment as the beginning of the many, many daydreams I would have about my imaginary dog Peter as I'd gaze out the window of a moving vehicle.
"Ain't no rule says a dog can't play basketball!"
"Hey, Water Boy...nice shot." - I FORGOT ABOUT THAT!!!! I LOVE THIS!!!! Even Larry has to finally acknowledge Josh is a good player!
The whole trial is so silly, but somehow...lovably so? I'm not sure if that would be the case to someone who's actually a lawyer, though ^^' But it's just so full of fun moments:
"What is that dog doing in the courthouse?" "That's the, uh...child, sir." "That's a pretty ugly kid."
"I will not have my courtroom turned into a circus." *literal clown walks in*
"I'm the plaintiff." "You look like an idiot."
"Who are you, Barnum or Bailey?" "Arthur Chaney, Your Honor."
"Mr. Chaney, during my forty years on the bench, I have heard a lot of lame-brained, cockamamie proposals. But this one...I like."
"Case closed! Thank God."
Oh, interesting! I never noticed before, but in the credits, right under the note about "no animals were harmed," there's a note that says, "No special visual effects were used in the basketball sequences of this Motion Picture."
And again, that soundtrack! I can guarantee you, if seven-year-old me had known soundtracks were a thing, I would have begged and pleaded to get my hands on the Air Bud soundtrack, and I would have worn it out completely as I daydreamed about my adventures with my imaginary dog. You know...I still might see if I can get it, because the music alone brings me so much joy ^_^
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astoryisaloveaffair · 2 years
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Fix You - Chapter 10: Here Comes My Girl
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Gif by @azertyrobaz
Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader
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Read on A03
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Chapter Summary: Wildflower comes face to face with the reality of severe trauma, and confesses what else is on her mind
Word Count: 9K
Rating: E, 18+
Chapter Warnings: Legal age gap (10+ years), cussing, consumption of alcohol, smut, P in V, blood and gore, gun violence, mentions of suicide, PTSD, mentions of death
A/N: The spark has been reignited!! Hallelu!! That being said, this chapter is tough, but it ends so so sweet. Please heed the warnings. This story has always been heading in the direction of dealing with serious topics and PTSD. I’m not going to shy away from it or the things the U.S. military has done in other countries. If you need to skip this one, I completely understand. If it offends you, okay, but I’m not changing my mind. I hope I did all this justice! No beta, we live and die like Oberyn Martell.
Suggested Songs: “I Found a Reason” by Cat Power, “Everlong” by Foo Fighters, “Here Comes My Girl” by Tom Petty, “Better” by SYML, “Falling in Love” by Cigarettes After Sex, “Zombie (Acoustic)” by The Cranberries
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Fuck it’s hot. Extremely hot. So hot that you have to bounce on tiptoes as you make your way across the sand. Hot enough that when you want to swim you pretty much have to book it to the shoreline to soothe your feet. Dry, oppressive heat, though still much preferred over the humid stickiness that usually blankets this state. It’s Florida, what can you expect?  
July Third finds you sprawled out on the beach, soaking in the aggressive rays of the sun after your last dip in the cold ocean. Frankie is passed out face down on his towel next to you, Will and Dali sunbathing on your other side. Santiago’s sitting in the sand in front of you, helping you quietly with your Spanish workbook as he plays with the sand, covering and uncovering his legs. 
“God dammit, I keep mixing up vosotros and nosotros.” You throw your pen into the sand and heave a sigh. 
“Don’t get frustrated. You’ll get it, you just have to keep speaking it.”
“I’m already calling you enough.” You chuckle. 
“I’ll never say no to a phone call from you Gorgeous, you know that.” 
Over your shoulder you hear an exaggerated sigh, drawing your attention away from Santiago and your work. Benny is scrolling through his phone absently, his leg bouncing with unused energy, a small frown flickering across his lips. He’s been off lately, you’ve noticed. More restless, a tad grumpy. Barely noticeable, but you see it just the same. He looks up from his phone and grunts. 
“Will.”
“Mmmph.”
“Wanna play frisbee?”
“Not really.”
“Well lets do somethin’.”
“Ben, I’m chillin’ right now. Leave me alone.”
Benny huffs, and looks away. You glance up from your work to watch the exchange, normal for two brothers, but there’s something more lurking behind the words this time. A shadow of anger, then something else flitting across Benny’s features. He picks his phone back up and resumes fiddling with it. 
“Hey Pope.” He looks up at you from where you’re huddling together. “Would you want to walk with me, with Benny?” 
If you thought anyone had the ability to read minds, it would be Santiago. Perhaps it’s with everyone, maybe just the bond that has grown between you in the past few months, he always seems to understand what you’re implying without having to outright say it. He smirks and pats you on the leg. “That’s a great idea.”
You turn to Benny. “Hey, wanna walk down on the beach with me? I want to stretch my legs a bit.”
Benny’s face perks up, a step closer to the usual bursting enthusiasm you love so much. “Yea, alright.”
You get up and brush errant sand off your thighs, turning to look down at Santiago slyly. “Pope, wanna come?” He plays along and agrees, and you ask Dali to tell Frankie where you’ve gone if he wakes up. He’s too dead to the world to be bothered. Santiago pops open the cooler to grab some beers for the three of you to enjoy while you walk and you head off quickly down the beach, angling closer and closer to the water until your feet are relieved by the cool lapping waves. You joke and chatter of nothing of substance, occasionally chasing down a shell in the shoreline or checking out a pretty girl. Benny is still quiet, for him anyways, shuffling along kicking sand and shells alike with a sour expression, not contributing too much to the conversation.
It’s pissing Santiago off. “Alright, Benny. What is your problem? You’re being a downer.”
Benny sneers. “Nobody wants to fuckin’ do anything anymore.”
“What? What the fuck are you talking about?” Santiago halts, the sand digging slightly in his feet as he rounds on Benny and forces him to a stop. You hover next to them.
“I dunno, it’s just annoyin’ that everyone is paired up and doesn't want to do anything except be with their girlfriends now.” 
Santiago shifts, glancing briefly at you. “Well, I don’t have a girlfriend.” 
Part of you feels a little annoyed at Benny for the insinuation. You’re dating Frankie, obviously he and you are included in Benny’s complaint. You feel your hackles start to rise, but then a sudden thought pricks in the corner of your mind. Something you remember Frankie saying to you before. 
No, I’m glad you’re getting close with Benny, baby. It’s good for him to have someone to hang out with, especially since Will has a girlfriend now. 
You place your hand on his arm. “Benny, is it possible you’re lonely?”
He scoffs and mutters softly. “I’m not lonely.”
You look at Santiago, testing the waters if he is on board with you pressing forward. He doesn’t give you any indication you should shut up. God dammit. You hate this. Benny is usually your little ray of sunshine, you’ve never heard him sound so dejected before. “…Well, if you ever are, you should call me.”
“You got Fish.”
“No, Benny, really. Call me. You’re my friend too. I like spending time with you. It’s not out of pity. It’s not a favor.”
Benny rolls his eyes and turns to look at the waves, his lips twitching around as he processes what you’re saying. There’s no insult there, nothing to bristle against, nothing to challenge. He turns back to you with a half-smile, chucking you under the chin like he always does. “Yea, alright. Thanks.” 
“I'm here too, you asshole.” Santiago chimes in, making the two of you laugh. 
You decide to turn back and return to the cabana. You’d walked about half a mile and your calves were burning from keeping yourself steady in the unstable sand. Benny takes your hand in his as you walk, a soft squeeze telling you what he couldn’t say. It takes some time, but by the time you get back to the rest of the group, he’s almost back to himself again. 
“Hey baby.” Frankie greets you as you sit down next to him, giving you a hello kiss. You greet him back and get settled on your blanket. “Are you learning Spanish?” 
Shit. You’d left out your book when you went for that walk. You meet his eyes, he looks so adorable and soft right now, the dopiest smile on his face. You feel like you could almost melt into the sand and be whisked away by the sea. “Yea, um...dammit. I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. Pope’s been helping me too. I just thought...you know...maybe I should know it.”
Frankie eyes Santiago in his periphery before looking back at you. He’d woken up not long ago to find you gone, noticing your open workbook with your little handwritten word conjugations as he reached for the cooler. Cooler abandoned, he couldn’t help but peruse through your work to see what you were working on. It made his chest burn, clenching sharply as he realized what it was.
He wants to say something, something, he can't believe you’re doing this for him, how touched he is, how much he loves you, how much he hates his fucking brain for always jamming up and being incapable of forming the words he wants to say. Instead, he kisses you. You hum against his lips as he deepens the kiss, gripping your waist in his hands and pulling you into his lap until Dali and the guys start amicably jeering and teasing. 
“Oh fuck off.” He growls. You giggle, your mind reminding you of that first night you’d kissed when you could hear them catcalling as Frankie swept you down the hall.
Eventually the sky is peppered with a few large billowy clouds, enough to cool the sand so you can stand on it for more than two seconds. After seeing who could chug a beer the fastest, the guys do decide to pick up a game of frisbee, and you and Dali plead yourselves out of it to watch and have some girl time. Frankie attacks your face with sloppy kisses before they head a little ways away for some space. After a few minutes of arguing, they split up into two teams, Santiago and Frankie versus Will and Benny. 
“You guys are adorable.” Dali teases, eyes sparkling as she turns towards you. “Everything going well?” 
You beam. “Yea, it honestly is. I’m kind of shocked actually, that we just...fit so well. How about Will?”
Dali hums, a soft smile playing over her full lips. But there’s a twitch at the corner, something off. “Yea, I really like him. But…” You raise your eyebrows and scoot closer. “Do you...does Fish ever get...weird with you? Sometimes? Randomly?”
You furrow your brow, chewing on your lip as you think. “Weird like how?”
“Like...suddenly getting real distant, but then being fine later?”
“Oh. Yea, he does sometimes. It’s probably soldier stuff, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
She nods. “Yea, I figured. It just seems like he’s...keeping me at arms length. Like he’s keeping me from getting closer to him. I just wondered if Catfish was the same. It seems like you two are really close.”
“Will has always been pretty reserved, at least to me. I don’t think it’s you. I hear him tell Frankie how much he likes you all the time. Maybe he just isn’t ready to talk about some things yet.”
Dali takes your hand. “You’re probably right. Thanks.”
“Of course. Just be patient and let him come to you when he’s ready. I know he will. Frankie’s just starting to share with me. Trust me, Will is not unhappy with you.” She squeezes your hand and you squeeze back before she lets go and flips to her back. You reach for the cooler and pull out two more drinks, passing one to her, the conversation soon shifting to lighter topics. 
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“I want to ask her to move in with me already, but I think it’s too soon, and Gabi doesn’t even know yet.” Frankie says, sailing the frisbee to Benny. It’s like he doesn’t even look at it to catch it and it hits him in the stomach and bounces off.
“Shit, Fish. Really?” 
Frankie grimaces. “Well, I mean, I dunno. She’s always at my house anyways and it’d be easier and she could save on rent, it’s not a big de-”
“Do you love her?” Santiago asks, catching Benny’s throw with ease.
Frankie can feel his cheeks burning. But he knows his friends support him. “Yea...fuck, yea I do. But I don’t want to scare her off. I don’t want to ruin it.”
“Well you better hurry up and tell her or I’ll tell her I love her.” Benny teases.
“What?!”
Benny shrugs. “She’s fucking awesome. I love her and I’m not afraid to say it. AS A FRIEND!” Benny laughs and holds his hands up as Frankie looks ready to charge him. “You need to work on your temper, Frank.” 
Frankie catches the frisbee from Will and all but flings it at Benny. “I told you not to call me that.”
“You have nothing to lose, Fish.” Will adds.
“Yea I do. I have everything to lose. I’d rather just shut my trap than scare her away.”
Santiago shakes his head. “She’s learning Spanish for you, pendejo! She fucking loves you, it’s so obvious! You know she does. We know she does. Cowboy up and say it. And don’t fuck this up, she’s a good one. Cause we might pick her over you.” 
Frankie huffs and turns to look at you, you're stretching out like a cat in the sun next to Dali, laughing over something or another. 
Alright. Shit, alright.
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As per usual with a game played by a bunch of idiots, the game descends into chaos. Benny turns on Will to try and sabotage his catch mid air, slapping it away with a cackle to throw the game to Frankie and Santiago. That quickly devolves into a ridiculous wrestling match between the two brothers as they try to pick each other up, tumbling and falling down on each other into the sand.
“These boys, I swear to god.” Dali laughs, looking at Will with a soft smile. Will is bigger and uses it to his advantage, lifting Benny up by the thighs and barreling his shoulder into Benny’s waist only to entirely lose balance and tumble in a pile into the sand, Santiago and Frankie looking on with taunts and bets. Benny’s up first, using his hands and arms to scramble away and zip by you, Will close on his heels. 
“You son of a bitch. Stop running!” He laughs, pushing himself forward as Benny loops back around you and Dali to try and escape towards the ocean, only to be once again knocked over by his brother into the surf. Santiago stands at the shore with hands on his knees, eyes crinkling in laughter. 
You sigh, taking in the levity, warmth seeping deep inside of you and worming its way into a part of you that wants the best for them, wants to keep them this way forever, to take care of them. Your boys. You’re so lost in your head you don’t see Frankie approach until he’s right there, taking you by the hand and pulling you up and towards the ocean.
“Come swim with me.” He murmurs, keeping a hold on your hand as he wades with you into the surf.  You turn to look at him, the sun illuminating over his head and glinting off the chestnut highlights in his messy beach hair making them seem almost golden. His eyes are wide and open, completely unguarded, speckles of amber molten in those coffee brown irises. They’re almost wolfish, soft but wild. A ghost of a smile flickers across his lips and it looks like he wants to say something, but then pauses, closing his eyes and inhaling the salt air deeply. You do the same, turning away from him and looking out at the rippling expanse beyond the waves, soaking in the sun hitting your back. 
“Race you?” His voice breaks the trance, and you turn to him with a grin. He has that look, that fucking look again, eyebrows arched, mischievous glint in his eyes as he smiles a toothy smile.
You hold your finger up in front of his face. “No. Frankie? No. Don’t you dare- !” He lunges at you but you’re off, charging into the waves to escape his blatant attempt to throw you in backwards again, your legs lifting high and surging through the waves away from him. “Don’t you DARE throw me in this ocean again! Franciscoooooo! NO!” You squeal  and slap him away as he almost gets your wrist, diving headfirst into the next cresting wave as it knocks him over. 
When you pop back up you don’t see him. You’re out relatively deep, you can’t feel the ocean floor beneath your feet, even with your tiptoes. “Frankie?” You feel your heart drop in your chest as you try to keep above the next waves while looking for him. It feels like forever, but then he suddenly pops back up sputtering, his hair plastered over his face and in his eyes. You let out a gasp of relief, you hadn’t realized you were holding your breath, but you play it off and roll your eyes at him as he makes his way over to you. 
“Damn! You beat me!” He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into him, your back curving into his chest. 
You elbow him lightly in the shoulder. “You scared me, you idiot.”
“Really?” 
“Yea I...I came up and...I couldn’t see you.”
He turns you around to face him as you both bob up and over the beginnings of waves. “You know you don’t have to worry about me. I’m hard to kill.” You wrap an arm around his neck, your other hand tracing up the broad planes of his chest to absently rest on the gunshot scar tissue above his collarbone.
“Okay.” You pull him to your lips, the salt of the ocean on his skin tangy and delicious. You lick your tongue against the seam of his lips and he opens with a moan, his own eagerly meeting and circling around yours, droplets of water from his wet hair and mustache dripping across your nose and cheeks, his lips. He moans again, reaching down to pull you up by the thighs to wrap them around him, cradling your ass in his palms, planting his feet on the sandy ocean floor that he’s still able to reach. You can feel his hardening cock underwater bumping up against you, right where you want him. Your body responds automatically and you shift so he’s right against you, rolling your hips lightly against his as you tilt your face to kiss him harder, hands gently pulling on the wet hair at the nape of his neck.
You pull away and look at him, your love for him bubbling over like a glass of soda poured too fast. He’s smiling that crinkly smile, his hooked nose pulling down more as it deepens. You nudge your nose against his then kiss the tip of it. 
“What are you doing?” He laughs, cradling you in his arms.
“Loving on your nose.”
He hums. “My ugly nose.”
“No. Your sexy nose that I love grinding on so much.”
“Mmmmmmmm yea?” He pulls you back against him by the hips, rubbing you over the bulge in his trunks. “And this too?” His eyes close as his head tilts back, reveling in the pressure of you against him.
“Yea.” You tug his hair to pull his head back more, ravaging his neck with kisses and love bites as your grinding picks up speed. 
He groans in disappointment when he pulls you off him. “As much as I love this, we better stop or we’re going to get arrested for indecent behavior on a public beach.”
“Boo.” You pout. Frankie laughs and pulls you onto his back instead, piggybacking you back and forth in the water, carrying you in his arms bridal style, and eventually getting the chance to toss you in a wave before you tire and decide to head back to shore.
“Alright, now mush!” You cry from his back, gently knocking his sides to urge him back to shore. You giggle as he makes a show of racing back to the beach until the waves make it impossible for him to keep carrying you without dropping you. He keeps a hold of your hips as you finally both emerge from the waves, turning for a kiss before grabbing your hand and leading you back to the cabana to enjoy the remainder of the afternoon with your friends.
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It’s a good thing Frankie prepped for the barbecue this morning before you went to the beach, because by the time the sun is setting and you head back to the Miller house, he and the guys are absolutely trashed, stumbling up the beach chatting loudly and chasing each other around.
“For fuck’s sake Frankie! Will you let me finish this for you?!” Frankie’s arms are around your waist, his jaw over your shoulder as you do the best you can with his inebriated directions on how to finish everything up. You grumble and turn around, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him back. “Frankie, I can’t set everything up if you are hanging off me.”
“Mmmmm you’re so cute when I annoy you.” He slurs, booping your nose.
“Alright. Come on. Sit.” You push him towards the dining table and into his seat. You, Dali, and Will help bring all the food to the table. As you place the last dish next to Frankie, he takes the opportunity to pull you right into his lap.
“Hi baby. Mmmmmm I like you so much. You should eat right here.” 
“Yes please.” Santiago chimes in. “Give us a show!” 
Benny throws his hands up and whoops, and Frankie’s hands press your hips deeper into his lap. You roll your head and look at Dali in exasperation. 
Frankie nuzzles his nose into the back of your neck. “My baby likes it where we could get caught, hmm?”
The boys all howl a ruckus as you turn and slap Frankie in the arm. “Frankie! Shut up! I swear to god I’m never letting you get drunk again.” You pull yourself off his lap and into a chair next to him. He tries to chase you with a kiss but you shove him lightly again. “And that’s you with the “in public” thing, not me.”
That does absolutely nothing to calm everyone down, and you groan, face burning, looking to Dali for some help. She claps her hands loudly, coming to your rescue. “All right. All of you! Eat! Get something in those tummies and sober up or Wildflower and I might kill all of you.”
“Yes mom.” Santiago teases as everyone starts to settle down and dig in.
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The spread of pork barbecue sandwiches, mac and cheese, baked beans, biscuits, and salad does its job, the guys all sobering up to a more reasonable level with all that food to soak up the alcohol. Everyone decides to head back outside to watch Jaws in the outdoor lounge, bellies full and fresh drinks in hand to undo their hard work. Will even breaks open a prized new bottle of whiskey for everyone to enjoy as you watch. 
There aren’t enough seats for six, so you let Dali have the final seat as you perch on the floor in between Frankie’s legs, your head leaning against his thigh, his fingers massaging your scalp. When he notices you shifting on your sore butt he pulls you back up and into his arms, your legs hanging off the armrest of the chair, your arms wrapped around his neck. 
It’s beautiful out and quiet, you settle into Frankie’s arms, resting your head against his shoulder as you watch the shark wreak havoc on Amity Island. About halfway through, Will stands and collects all the glasses for a whiskey refill, quietly sliding through the door to the kitchen to make up the drinks.
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It happens so fast you barely have time to process. The night sky was peaceful and then it wasn’t, a short burst of several loud bangs filling the air over the ocean right by the house, sparks exploding like colored stars and fizzing out as they move towards the ground. 
“Fuck!” 
In between the booms you hear Will yell and glass shatter, and you scramble off Frankie’s tense body round the back of the couch towards the door to the kitchen.
“Wildflower, no!” Frankie calls, standing once he comes to his senses, reaching out to try and grab your arm. He’s in full flight or fight mode, his body too amped up and he just misses you, failing to get to you before you run through the open door. The fireworks die out as quick as they started, the smell of smoke permeating the air the only evidence they existed. 
When you get inside the kitchen Will is just standing there, not moving, facing away from you with his hands out. 
“Will?” 
He doesn’t answer, so you move forward quickly, gently laying your hand on one of his arms. Before you can get closer he jerks out of your grasp and throws you off him. You stumble a little with the force of it as Will turns around. He...doesn’t look like Will. His eyes are hard and feral, like he’s not even looking directly at you, but through you. He steps forward as if he might throttle you with his bare hands, and you back up and put your hands up in surrender. “Will.” His sharp blue eyes are just staring blankly past you, haunted, icey, and hollow. “Will, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s just me. You’re okay. You’re right here in your kitchen and you’re safe. It’s okay.” He has little to no reaction at all other than his chest heaving too rapidly to be normal. 
“It’s okay.” You step towards him again, and this time he doesn’t move. You look down at his feet, some of the whiskey tumblers he’d been carrying had been dropped and shattered to the floor, slicing open the tops of his feet. He’s even standing on some shards now, like he’s so fucking out of it he’s unaware of the puddle of blood, whiskey and glass he’s standing in. You slowly bend to your knees down to the tiled floor, resting back on your heels. Making yourself smaller. Less threatening. 
“Will. You cut your feet.” He blinks rapidly, lowering his gaze to his feet then back up to you, his eyes slowly returning to normal as his adrenaline calms down and he processes where he is. “Let me help you?” You whisper. He nods slowly. You shuffle towards him, careful of the shards of glass, but suddenly realize you don’t have anything to clean him up. 
But then Benny is there, taking Will by the back of the neck and pressing his forehead to his. “You’re alright bro. You’re good.. I got you, okay? Let's get you out of this...get you on the counter.”
Will obeys, still quiet and shaking, unsteadily hopping up onto the counter with Benny’s help so that you can clean up. Dali arrives at your side with a roll of paper towels and you scoot to allow her to be nearer to Will while you clean up the floor. She mimics you, you’re not sure how long she’d been behind you but she takes your cues, murmuring softly to him as she slides her hands up his ankles to let him know she was there. She carefully wraps his bleeding feet in a mass of paper towels.
You stand up and step back, allowing the people closest to Will comfort him, turning away to move back outside to give them that privacy. Frankie and Santiago are hovering in the doorway, mouths hanging open. 
Frankie takes you by the shoulders and looks deep into your eyes. “You okay?”
You nod, and he envelopes you in a tight hug. “Are you okay?”
“Yea.” He rasps. “Kind of was in shock for a minute. Wasn’t expecting that tonight. It’s never happened before…”
“What happened?” You look up at him.
He pulls away and rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Will doesn’t do well with really loud noises.”
“Oh.” Oh. The fireworks. This is why they don’t do anything on July Fourth, you realize, suddenly feeling incredibly stupid. And it was right there. Right on the beach mere yards away. “That’s why you get together before.”
He nods. “Yea. I...it’s never happened before the Fourth before. After? Yea. Usually he just puts in earplugs. But...this was...a surprise. Fucking neighbors...”
You nod, hugging him to you again before you turn to Santiago. He rubs your back and the three of you return to the outside living room. The best thing you can do right now is not make a big deal out of it and allow Will the time to calm down with the people closest to him. Eventually they all come out and say nothing, simply re-seating themselves to relax with some TV together.
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“Hey, Flower, can you come here for a minute?” Benny plucks your arm as you are getting ready to go. 
You pause, looking at Frankie, who is already halfway to the gate out of the backyard with Santiago. He halts, confused. You hold your finger up to him before turning back to Benny. “Yes. Everything okay?”
“Yea, Will just wants to talk to you.”
“Oh.” 
Benny leads you back in through the kitchen door while he remains hovering at the entrance. Will’s leaning against the counter with Dali, his feet wrapped up in gauze and bandages. He steps forward awkwardly.
“Are you...okay? I didn’t hurt you did I?” You’ve never seen Will this scared before. It’s a complete one-eighty from where he was this afternoon. It breaks your heart.
“Oh, Will, yes. Yes, I’m okay.” You advance on him and slowly wrap him into a tight hug, resting your chin on his strong shoulder. He squeezes you tight and exhales as he releases you. Dali moves to his side and reaches out to hold your hand.
Will looks at her then back at you. “I’m sorry if I scared you. Thank you...for helping me. Calming me down.”
“Of course. It’s no problem...I love you guys, all of you. Anything I can do to help.” 
Dali smiles and pulls you in for a hug. “Thank you. I didn’t know what to do, I just stood there like an idiot.”
“No.” You soothe. “You were fine. I didn’t know what I was doing either, I just reacted. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” She pulls away, running her fingers along your hair as she parts, shaking her head with a smile. “Alright, well, I’ll leave you guys to have some time together. Thank you for tonight Will.” 
He winks and you turn back to the door to rejoin Frankie. Benny’s leaning against the doorframe  and he cups your cheek briefly before rejoining his brother to help clean up. 
Frankie’s standing not too far behind. “He just wanted to make sure I was okay.” You clarify.  He nods and the two of you head to the truck, arguing over who is driving home. You finally put your foot down and physically push Frankie to the passenger side yourself, absolutely refusing to let him drive after drinking so much.
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The trip home is chillingly quiet. Your mind is spinning with new information as you handle Frankie’s massive truck and you can almost hear Frankie actively fretting, his teeth nipping on his lips every few minutes. “Frankie?” 
“Hmm?”
You hesitate, unsure how to broach the subject tactfully.
“If you have a question, just ask it.”
You swallow. “Why...why did you try to stop me from checking on Will?”
He sighs heavily. “It’s...difficult. I don’t want to say things about him that are really personal.”
“Oh. Okay, I understand.”
“But after today...you might need to know a little.” He shifts in his seat, and you reach out and rest your palm on his thigh. “Will, he has issues sometimes. He doesn’t mean it, he just freaks out occasionally and he can get...aggressive. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get hurt.”
“Has this happened before?”
“Yea. Sometimes things just set him off. It’s unpredictable. Doesn’t happen often though. He just doesn’t like being surprised with loud noises.”
You hum. “I can understand that. Fuck those assholes for not setting them off on the right fucking day.”
“It’s why we get together before, people have never set them off before the holiday before. After, yea. But if he knows it’s coming he’s okay.”
“You mentioned before that his nickname was metalhead...and that he was shot in the head, right?”
“Ironhead. Yea.”
“I can’t imagine what that must be like, and the after effects of that. He’s doing so well, considering.”
Frankie looks over to you quickly. “So..you’re not mad. Or scared of him now are you?”
“Absolutely not.” You reply firmly. “My friendship is not fragile. It doesn’t go away just because someone has a flaw they can’t help.”
A smile flickers at the corner of his mouth. “Thanks.”
You bob your head, letting the cab of the truck return to silence.
Later you would realize something had been off with him that night. He was quiet, slightly unfocused, kind of twitchy. After getting under the covers he let you into your favorite spot, but there was no chatter. No caresses. No tickles or pinches or jokes or extra snuggles.
You’d felt the way he’d stiffened under you when the fireworks went off, the hand on your thigh squeezing too tight, his eyes like a deer in headlights as you hopped off his lap to see to Will. The others weren’t much better, but you had put that to the back of your mind. You shouldn’t have.
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His eyes sting. Fucking dirt or sand or whatever picked up by the wind and forcing him to squint when he knows he needs to see clearly. He moves down the street at the rear of the group, rifles up and at the ready. A pause up front. A commotion. His chest hurts, his heart is racing. Movement. A woman with something strapped to her chest runs down the street towards them. He squeezes his eyes shut and then opens them again. Everyone else is gone. Chunks of flesh and body parts strewn across the street, blood spattered on the walls of the buildings. The smell of burnt flesh. A truck upended and on fire. He closes his eyes again, opening them to murmurs and commands on his com. He moves forward in the dark underground bunker. A maze. He hates mazes. 
Advance on the door. He does. Out of the dark, a teenager with an automatic rifle guards a door refusing to let him pass. He has to pass. He chokes out a sob but he can’t breathe, the discharge of his gun causing images to flash in cycles in his eyes as he feels himself suffocate on nothing. A man refusing to be brought in for war crimes and shooting himself in the head. Rounds of fire shooting into a crowd of screaming villagers. Crying and calling out in languages he doesn’t understand. The sound of rain in a jungle. A mule squealing and falling off a cliff. The sound of a detonated land mine. A helicopter spinning out. Benny yelling in terror. Tom's head bleeding out on a rock. A man in Delta Force gear getting his throat slit-
Frankie jolts awake with a long gasping breath, his heart pummeling in his chest, a light sweat coating his skin. He thinks he can still smell gunfire smoke. Charred bodies.
Fuck.
This hasn't happened in a long time. Enough time that he thought...hoped, that he was over it. He sits up and curls forward, covering his face with his hands, trying to control his racing heartbeat and buzzing alcohol brain. Everything still feels hazy, but clear at the same time. His body exists, but everything else is blurry, tuned out, unfocused...muffled.
He doesn’t even hear you calling his name.
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“Cat?” You hear him jerk up, hear him gasp for air like he’s choking, feel him shift in the bed as he moves. But he isn’t answering, as if he doesn’t even register you’re there in the bed with him. 
“Frankie.” Still, no answer. You reach for the lamp on the nightstand at your side of the bed and turn it on.
He’s sitting up, his back arching forwards over bent knees, head slumping into his crossed arms, face covered. Like he’s trying to roll into a ball, like he wants to shrink into a shell of himself that doesn’t have to feel anything. His breathing is too rapid, his back puffing from the inhales and exhales at a rate that makes it pretty clear what’s going on. 
He’s having a panic attack too.
You scoot forward slowly until you’re to his right in his peripheral if he were to lift his head, slightly behind him. “Frankie.” You repeat yourself again, and again, softly, reassuringly until he twitches and buries his head further into his arms.
A response. Good. 
You remember what happened with Will earlier that night and adjust your technique to not repeat the same mistake. You’re unsure how Frankie is while having an episode. You haven’t seen it before.
“Frankie. Can I touch you?”
He doesn’t react for what seems like forever, but eventually you see him nod the smallest nod. You lay a palm on his shoulder and slide it to the valley between the blades. His shirt is sticking to him with a light sweat. You pause, not wanting to overstimulate him. He whimpers and you continue, gently rub his upper back up and down before reaching your other arm in between his bent thighs and tummy to fully wrap your arm around him, laying your cheek against his shoulder. You press a kiss to the fabric there, and he slumps backwards into your embrace like his bones were made of rubber.
“Oh….baby. It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re right here with me, you’re safe.” You squeeze him tighter. “Bad dream?” Another little nod. “Okay. That’s okay. It’s done now.”
You stay like that for a long time, long enough you can feel your back becoming sore from the odd position. Recalling his back complaints, you know his can’t be much better. “Come on.” You say, tugging him backwards a bit, scooting yourself back up onto the bed and resting your head on the pillow. You reach your arms out to him. “Come here.” 
He doesn’t move at first, his paralysis fueled by both anxiety and his already stubborn demeanor. But you wait patiently with your arm out to invite him in and eventually he crawls up the bed and flops down into your arms with a huff. You move the arm his head lays back up and around his back, stroking him soothingly up and down as you were before. He shudders, inhales deeply, the exhale stunted by quivering breath as he burrows himself into the crook of your neck, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling himself into you, as if you could absorb him and all of his pain.
You wait for him to settle, saying nothing. You know him well enough to be able to read when he wants to talk or not. You don’t even acknowledge when you feel dampness on your neck and the collar of his tee you wore to bed, or the way his body just barely trembles as he cries. You just let him try to cope, try to give him what he needs to do that, gently raking your fingers through the cold, sweaty curls at the back of his head until he falls back asleep.
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When he wakes, it’s to the scent of you. You’re both in almost the same position as you fell asleep, his leg flung over one of yours and your head turned away from him. The arm he’s resting on is cradling the back of his head, your hand resting against his ear, your other hand laced with his on your stomach. He doesn’t even remember when that happened. He shifts, inhaling that sweet scent of you deeper, letting it surround and ground him.
He didn’t dream any more last night. Like your simple comfort and acceptance had told his thoughts to be silent, like your arms around him literally shielded him from any more hurt. He wishes he could talk to you, tell you what he’s seen, done, heard, thinking maybe you’d help, you’d lend your kindly ear and support like you always do. 
But Delta Force is a different breed. Documents swearing confidentiality and top-secret missions not even some of the members of the government know about. And Colombia...he can’t speak of that out of the shame, the guilt.
You shot innocent people. You didn’t think. You flew the helicopter. You didn’t listen. You were too quick on the trigger. You shot first. You caused Tom to die. It was your fault. They all almost died, because of you. His kids don’t have a father anymore.
No. He can’t talk about that. Ever. It’s better for you not to know. The other things, maybe, in time. Little by little, piece by piece. He feels safe knowing you don’t mind that, you let him come to you when he’s ready. You never push, you never pry, you never demand. He thinks you deserve so much more than him.
He feels you hum under his cheek, the sound vibrating against him as you wake. You stretch out your feet, pointing your toes as much as you can in this position. It’s cloudy today, the early morning sunlight that peeks through the window shades is pockmarked and spotty, leaving the room in a strange state of light but dark. The hand resting around his neck caresses him softly, sliding up to cup the back of his head, fingers threading through his unruly curls.
“Hey.” You croak.
“Hey.”
“How are you? Did you sleep okay...after?”
He nods. “Thanks.” His words are muffled against you.
“Do you want me to make some coffee?”
He grunts and pulls you into him closer. “No. Can we just...lay for a bit?”
“Yea, of course.” You kiss the top of his head and settle into a comforting silence only highlighted by the two of you breathing.
“I’m sorry...that you had to see that. Probably didn’t help that I drank so much yesterday.”
“Don’t be sorry. I just wish I could have done more to help.”
“You did. Thanks for driving us home.”
He pauses. I’m a fucking mess.
“Sometimes I think I don’t deserve you.”
“Frankie, we’ve talked about this. Why?”
“Cause I’ve just...done a lot. Things I had to, things I can’t stop thinking about, things I had to be a part of. Shitty choices I’ve made. I...don’t think I’m a bad person, but it feels like I am.”
You push his chin up with your finger to make him meet your eyes. “Frankie, no. You just said, you had to do those things for work. If anyone is to blame, it’s the government. And you’re not a bad person, you’ve made some mistakes like anyone else, and that’s okay. You have so many people who love you and think you’re good. Please believe us.”
“Yea, who.” He scoffs.
You scoff right back. “Your friends, your family…” You pause, realizing what you were just about to say.
He feels like his chest has seized up, throbbing pangs in his heart spreading through his whole body. Oh shit. This....this is it. I should say it first. No...wait, just wait. He meets your eyes. You’re chewing on your bottom lip, your facial expression twisted as you decide whether or not to roll with it.
You swallow. 
His heartbeat is hammering in his ears.
“And me.”
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He’s staring at you. 
Fuck. Fuck. 
You almost back out, playing it off like it wasn’t meant the way it sounded but you stop yourself. He’s still staring at you, warm chocolate brown eyes wide, eyebrows arched. That fucking puppy dog look again, and you remember. 
“You’re everything to me. Stay. Don’t ever leave.”
“I...love  you Frankie.” And god dammit he’s still staring at you not saying anything and you can’t help but backpeddle, stumbling over your stupid quivering voice. “I- I’m sorry, I know it’s only been a few months and it’s really soon and you don’t have to say it back at all, I don’t expect anyth--MMPH.”
He practically slams his lips into yours, his hand reaching to cup the back of your head to pull you into him more. It’s a mad press of his lips to yours, you feel like your heart is going to explode, like it’s just not capable of experiencing this much feeling all at once. Hope. Fear. Ecstasy. Adrenaline. Relief. He pulls away only to surge forward again, planting several more pecks on your mouth, his hand sliding forward to hold your cheek in his palm. 
“I love you too baby, I love you so fucking much.” He lets something out that sounds halfway between a sob and a laugh, and you do the same in return. He lifts himself on his arms and moves to lay on top of you, resting his chin on your chest as he settles between your legs. 
You can feel tears starting to form at the corner of your eyes, the prickling not unwelcome, but still, you’d prefer to not start sobbing. “I was so scared to tell you for so long. I thought- I should wait...if you didn’t want to...or if you didn’t..” 
“Baby.” He husks, pulling himself forward so he can rest his forehead against yours, his lips a fraction of an inch from you, his warm breath tickling your face. “I fell in love with you that first time you hugged me.”
Well that was...that was only after knowing him a month and a half. This whole time? The tears are falling freely now. “Frankie...” 
“I was scared too. I still am.” He whispers.
“Don’t be, don’t be. I love you so much.” You reach for him, hands grasping at his sides as you push your face forward, closing that space between your lips once more. It’s like every kiss before was leading up to this one, your heart cresting in emotion as you capture his bottom lip between yours. You tilt your head, delving your tongue into his mouth and he meets you, licking into you as you retract, tasting you, soothing you, loving you. He whimpers into your mouth as his hips subconsciously roll into yours. His whole body is flush against you, but the weight of him is welcome and comforting. It makes you feel held. Safe. 
You pull your legs up and plant your feet on the mattress, framing him with your thighs as you kiss him harder, tilting your pelvis into his so minutely he doesn’t even register it. His hands are everywhere, sliding up your thighs, gripping your waist, the sides of your face, your ass, your breasts. Your kisses become sloppier and more frantic and it isn’t long before he’s fully rocking his hard length into you
“Cat. I need you inside me.”
“Fuck, me too.” 
He raises himself just enough to push his pajama pants and your panties down before settling back on you, the hot thick length of his cock bumping against your thigh. A bead of pre-cum smears across the sensitive skin there, cooling in the air as it dries. He moves to scoot down your body, pushing your shirt (his shirt) up until your breasts are exposed, but you pull him back up.
“No, I need you now. Please.” 
He hums and lurches forward back to your lips, thrusting his tongue into the heat of your mouth. You can’t even bother with taking the tee off, opting to leave it bunched up along your sternum. Frankie lifts his hips and grabs himself, lining the fat head of his cock up and smearing it around your folds before thrusting in completely to the hilt.
His face slackens when he’s fully seated inside you. “Oh, fuck.”
He’s always big, always huge inside of you but this stretch is something else, when he hasn’t spent time working you open for him with his mouth or hands. Making sure you’re thoroughly soaked and weeping for him. He swallows your cry at the intrusion with his mouth. The slight pain feeling so fucking good, his body pressed as close as it can to you. 
“Okay?” He pants against your lips, breathless at the way your walls adjust and accommodate him.
“Is there…” You sigh when he rolls his hips, his forearms framing you, the head of his cock hitting someplace so fucking warm and delicious. “Is there a word that’s better than okay? Cause I forgot it.” 
He chuckles, pulling back until only the tip of him is still inside you before sliding forward. And again. And again. A gentle rhythm like the waves at low tide.
 “I love hearing you get all cock-dumb baby.”
Your giggle turns into a squeak as he nips at your neck, licking a stripe up to your ear and nibbling the lobe. He kisses his way back down, pulling back to look at your face as you take him into you. You’re fucking gorgeous, mouth open, brows tilted, and the way you’re looking at him.
You love him. Him.
He cups your cheek in his hand as he thrusts in and out of you slow enough you can feel every ridge, every vein, the  throb of his cock head as he hits that perfect spot over and over. You shift to take him deeper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Jesus, baby you feel so fucking good. Fucking take me so- so well.” 
You whine as he leaves your lips, chasing him but he’s gone, kissing down your neck, clavicle, down to the pillowy tops of your breasts, lathing and licking the valley between them until he takes one of your breasts in his hand, tweaking the nipple oh so gently. 
It’s too much, the nervous energy from before seeps back into your nerves, heightening every sensation to a level that’s sublime. He can feel the way your legs are tightening around him, the way your body tenses, your cunt starts to clench around him, your breathy moans pitching higher telling him you’re close. The coarse hair at the base of his cock rubs against you at each reconnection is almost too much. 
“You’re so tight. Oh god, you feel so good baby.”
“Don’t stop. Right there.” 
He doesn’t, keeps rocking into you until you’re dangling on the edge for a few seconds that feel like they last forever.
“Want to feel you cum. Soak my cock honey, come on.” Your pussy is almost squeezing him to death even as he forces you over the edge, landing a few harder ruts into you as you shatter around him, thighs shaking.
“That’s it baby, hold on to me. I got you. Such a good girl. My sweet- unff - fucking girl.” You're boneless under him, eyes hooded and blissed out, mouth agape. He resumes his languid pace and slides his hand under your ass, pulling a leg up to rest higher on his waist. His other arm curls around the back of your shoulder for leverage, stretching you open and pulling back, the squelch of your juices filling the room.
God, his noises. The fucking sounds he makes are so sinful and intimate paired with the heated puffs of air tickling the skin of your neck. Moans turn to grunts, grunts turn to whines, and again, you realize you’re close. It comes so sudden it’s almost paralyzing. 
“M’close.” He croaks out, adjusting his grip on your elevated leg, his cock jostling inside you as he shifts. 
“Oh, my god. Me too, I- I think.”
“Yea? Gonna cum on me again? Cum. Make a fucking mess. Want my baby to feel so fucking good.” You squeeze your legs around him so you don’t lose the position, pulling him into you by the curls at the nape of his neck until you are forehead to forehead again. “Yea, pull me in, take it, just like that.”
The eye contact is overwhelming, but you don’t want to look away from him. You want him to speed up and you don’t, you want to cum but you don’t because you don’t want it to end. 
“Wanted to fuck you that first time I saw you. In the coffee place.” He gasps against you. “Fuck you against my shelves when I came home. Jacked off constantly to you. I can’t - mmmm - I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re it for me baby.”
It’s that more than anything that makes you snap, cumming fast while you clench your nails into his back. You chant his name as your walls flutter around him, coating him with another rush of your slick. 
“Fuck yes. So fucking pretty.” His hips snap faster against you as he chases his own release and he pulls your face back down so he can see you, to regain that eye contact as he cums for you. 
You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him tight. “Frankie. I love you. I love you so much.” 
He scrunches his eyes closed, letting the words envelope him and give him that push he needs to release. You coo and praise as he buries his cock deep, filling you up with his spend. The momentum of his final thrust carries him forward and he collapses into your arms with a groan. 
Frankie nestles his face into your neck and sighs, that scent of you bringing him out of his haze. You press your cheek to the side of his head, bodies melting together while you catch your breath. He doesn’t move for a long time, taking in the way you stroke up and down his back, the kisses you place on the top of his head. He doesn’t ever want to move, but…
“Mmph. Should move. M’crushing you.”
“Mmm-mmm. No. Want you to stay right here.”
“Okay.” He lifts his head to press his sharp nose into your cheek. He can feel your combined fluids seeping out of you and dripping down his balls, and he feels some small sense of loss that all of it isn’t staying within you. He thrusts into you one more time, hoping his softening cock will keep the rest of it in, causing you to shiver as the movement forces an after shock of your orgasm. He reaches up to palm your cheek, sliding his thumb across your cheekbones and down to your lips. You kiss the pad of his thumb. “I’ll just hold you like this for a while.”
“Yes.” You drop your legs to try to kick up some of the sheets to cover you with mixed results, but you’d rather be half covered than have him leave you.
“I love you, mi amor.” He whispers after a while. 
“Yo también te amo, Frankie.” 
You fall asleep until late in the afternoon with him in your arms, still inside you. He doesn’t have another nightmare.
Chapter 11
341 notes · View notes
mrs-gucci · 3 years
Text
A Different Kind of Urgent {Charlie Barber x Reader}
author’s notes: hellooooo! my penpal friend, a fellow adam driver rat, sent me a print of a charlie picture (that I’d seen a gajillion times before, mind you) and for some reason, I thirsted hard. so, naturally, I wrote a fic inspired by the picture. the reader in this story is a college professor, but it doesn’t really contribute to any ‘essential’ parts of the story (aka the smutty parts). it’s just her job lol
warnings: smut. some fluff. masturbation. semi-public smut. the sending of nudes (well, lingerie pics, to be specific). charlie’s dad outfits™️. cigarette smoking during sex. uhh tennis shoe kink??
(possible) tw’s: semi-public sex. semi-public masturbation. tobacco use (as is canon for Charlie’s character). implied age gap (everyone’s over 21, no more than 10 years).
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You’re in the middle of class when Charlie texts you. Your phone buzzes and buzzes on your desk so much so that you have to stop your lecture for a few seconds, worried that something urgent has happened.
Well, something did happen, and it was pretty urgent, but not exactly in the way you’d expected.
-Charlie: I know you’re teaching class right now kid.- -Charlie: But I need you.- -Charlie: Right now.-
A shiver runs down your spine as you read his words on the screen.
-Y/N: I’ve got like 45 more minutes of lecture, baby, I can’t.-
He growls under his breath, cock straining in his tan khakis.
-Charlie: Fuck.- -Charlie: Can you send me a picture? Just need to see your pretty body, kid.-
-Y/N: Say please, Charlie.-
Charlie groans in sexual frustration, hips bucking up in his desk chair.
-Charlie: Jesus fucking christ, fucking brat. PLEASE! PLEASE send me a picture!-
You smirk, picking out one of the lingerie photos you’d taken when you were home alone one night. You’ve been waiting for the right time to whip them out and...well, this seems like the right time.
-Y/N: Attachment 1 image- -Y/N: Knock yourself out. Take a picture when you’re done, and I’ll be over as soon as class is finished.-
His shaky hands scramble to type in his phone passcode and click on your message, a strangled moan leaving his lips at the picture you chose. He’d never seen this one before, never seen this set of lingerie before.  He unbuckles his belt and almost tears the button clean off his khakis as he pulls his cock out, tip already red and drooling with precum. 
Before he starts anything, he quickly runs over to his office door, locking it to keep anyone from walking in. 
His navy cardigan suddenly feels almost suffocating and he sheds it without hesitation, unbuttoning his dress shirt and parting it, revealing his undershirt. 
Wait...you want a picture. Fuck.
An idea comes to him and he whimpers, equal parts aroused and nervous about giving it a try. God he hasn’t touched himself since the divorce proceedings, just needing to blow off some fucking steam, but you’ve reignited his sexual passion, overwhelmingly so, and seemingly even more than before. Maybe even more than ever, if he’s honest with himself.
He feels like a teenager again, both completely smitten with you while at the same time incredibly horny for you.
Charlie stands up on shaky legs and shoves all the paperwork off his desk, clearing a roomy spot right in the center. He bites his lip as he props his phone up on his desktop computer with the picture of you pulled up. Jerking off with just his hand wouldn’t be enough this time around, a small part of him just knew it. He needs to fuck you, fuck something.
He positions his hands around the edge of his desk, leaving his thumbs right at the top, putting them in a wonky sort of ‘o’ shape. He adjusts so that the sharp edge is pressing against his palm before experimentally thrusting his length forward into the hole he’s created with his thumbs, immediately groaning in pleasure. 
“O-Oh, kid.”
He whispers, picking up a slow thrusting rhythm, eyes squeezed shut as he imagines your pussy.
“Such a good little pussy, my good f-fucking girl.” A line of sweat has already begun forming on his forehead as he moves a bit quicker, growling wildly with each thrust. He’s embarrassingly close already. “God, j-jesus fucking christ, gonna make me cum so f-fast, kid. I’m already s-so close, damnit.”
His hips grow desperate, bucking erratically into his grip. The drag of his cock against the faux wood surface feels absolutely incredible, and he barely even hears the desk begin to groan and shift against the floor of his office, too consumed with his impending orgasm.
“Yeah, you ready? Y-You fuckin’ ready for my big fat--fuck!--load in this pretty little--shit!--k-kitty?”
Just hearing him say the word aloud, his nickname for your cunt, has him cumming within moments. His vision blacks out for a second as his hips rut forward, a seemingly continuous stream of warm white cum painting his desktop. 
“Ahhhhh, fuuuuuuuck.”
He has to bury his mouth into his shirt arm to hide the cries that come from him, eyebrows knitted at the center of his forehead. His breathing is heavy as he begins coming down from his high, eyes flitting open and looking down at the mess he’d made. 
His load had gone across the entire width of his desk, and his eyes widened for a moment as his brain somehow comprehended to grab his phone and take a picture of the spread. 
-Charlie: Attachment 1 image- -Charlie: Come straight to my office when you get to the theater.-
You take a quick peek at the message from Charlie as your students pull out their workbooks, jaw dropping when you open the picture full-screen. Holy shit, he really did need it.
-Y/N: You sure you still have enough to fill me up with when I get there?-
-Charlie: I always have enough for you, kid. Gonna have it leaking out of you when you leave.-
You chew your lip, thinking of a quick yet clever response.
-Y/N: Is that a promise?-
He groans under his breath, chuckling lightly with a small smile.
-Charlie: Absolutely. Can’t wait to see you, kid.-
-Y/N: I’m excited too. I’ll be there in 20.-
The twenty minutes it takes for you to finish class and walk over to Exit Ghost feels like some of the longest in Charlie’s life, knee bouncing impatiently and eyes glued to the door. He twirls the Marlboro package in his hand, the clock behind his desk tick-tick-ticking the seconds away. 
Finally, a soft knock comes and, just in case it isn’t you, he stuffs the carton into his pocket. “Come in.”
Your head pokes through the door and you smile at him as you walk in, shutting and locking the door behind you. You immediately notice his outfit, specifically his shoes, which are propped up on his desk. 
He knows that you like how he dresses, especially when he dresses very dad-like. And those sneakers he has, the white ones with the blue lines on them...god, they drive you absolutely crazy and you have no idea why.
Your bags are quickly shoved off your shoulder by the impatient director, pulling you into his body as his lips attack yours fiercely. He notices the way you’re eyeing his outfit, and it’s then that he realizes what shoes he has on, the pair that you like so much. Oh, he could use that.
His grip on the meat of your hips tightens increasingly as the kiss heats up, lips eventually moving down to your neck. 
“Well, hello to you too.”
You say, laughing softly.
“Mmmm,” He hums onto your skin, lips littering kisses and small nibbles everywhere they can reach. “I missed you, kiddo, feels like forever since we’ve had time for something like this.”
Charlie’s large body presses you up against the door, hands eager to rid you of your pants. He quickly yanks them down to your ankles, fingers finding your clothed folds.
“I’ve got a staff meeting at two, baby. We h-have to be kind of quick...sorry.” You breathe, hand wrapping in his hair, tugging at the silky raven locks.
A small and slightly disappointed sigh leaves his lips, but nothing more is said on the matter. His movements do become a bit more rushed, though, digits dipping beneath the fabric to shove up into your entrance. 
Your legs spread instinctively, knees shaking as he finger-fucks you, thick digits scissoring inside you to prepare for his girth. Meanwhile, you try to focus on getting his belt and pants undone, but it’s awfully hard when his fingers feel so damn good.
He pulls away suddenly, sucking the juices off his fingers as his hungry eyes roam your figure. The carton of cigarettes presses against his thigh and he smirks, pulling his digits out with a lewd pop.
Charlie suddenly pulls you off the door, putting himself in your spot instead. He smirks, fingers running under your chin, keeping your head tilted up at him.
“Will you go open the window for me please, beautiful?”
You nod, rushing over to push it open, then come back over to stand in front of him.
“Good girl. Thank you.”
His pointer finger twirls and points to the floor while the other hand grabs the pack and lighter from his pants pocket.
“Now, turn around and bend over right here, hold your ankles or feet, or whatever.”
As you position yourself accordingly, he leans back against the door, legs spread and sneaker-clad feet planted on either side of you, right within your line of vision. He’s almost fully hard again already as he moves to free his cock from its khaki confines, undoing his pants just enough to have it out. 
Again, his cardigan feels suffocatingly hot, so he quickly pulls it off and tosses it away. He rolls the sleeves up on his button-up, a sight that makes your insides clench.
He jams a cigarette between his teeth, jaw clenching when he looks up and realizes that you’re bent over for him, in just the way he asked. Your glistening pussy’s on full display as you wiggle your ass a bit, his cock bobbing and twitching with excitement. 
“Oh kid, you’re dripping.” Charlie whispers, almost to himself, hand kneading one of the globes of your ass.
You chuckle softly. “Hey, baby? As much as I love hearing and feeling you, my legs are getting kinda tired.”
Laughing, Charlie says a quick ‘sorry’ before holding and pulling your hips back, lining himself up with your soaked entrance. He pulls you back some more, impaling you on his cock, head falling back against the door as he does so. 
His hands shakily ignited the small flame on his lighter, bringing it up until the tip of the cigarette turned orange before flipping the cap back on and shoving it back in his pocket. He takes a long drag, groaning on the exhale. 
He keeps one hand on your hip while the other spreads out on your lower back, guiding you back and forth over his shaft slowly, gently.
“Thaaat’s it, just like this, kid.”
Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the impossibly deep angle created with this new position has it feeling like he’s reaching into your guts. Plus, with the natural up-curve of his cock, he’s brushing all the right spots inside you.
“C-Charlie…”
The familiar and comforting scent of Charlie’s cigarettes fills your nostrils, a haze of smoke surrounds your joined bodies. He continues to move you up and down on his length, buttocks clenching as his hips naturally rock forward, burying himself to the hilt each time you sink down.
“God...jesus christ...love this little pussy of yours, kid.” He breathes through his gritted teeth. “Taking me so nicely, always wrapped around me so goddamn tight.”
You quickly begin moving yourself up and down his stiff rod, bouncing as fast as you can manage. The sweet burn in your thighs only grows more prominent with each passing second, but you don’t care, too consumed in pleasure.
“Mmmmmyyyeah, baby, all for you.”
His hand comes down on your ass, giving it a firm smack before taking another quick drag, exhaling through his nose.
“That’s f-fucking right, all mine. You love being a little slut for this cock, huh? I know you do, you love when I bring you in my office and fuck your pretty cunt in the middle of the goddamn work day, can’t even wait until I get home, this f-filthy slut cunt needs to be split open and stuffed nice and full. Can’t go one fucking day without my cum fucked in you, always needs to be filled up and leaking, hm?”
Charlie was never able to do stuff like this or talk to Nicole like this. She was pretty vanilla when it came to sex, just like to be fucked quietly in bed. He called her a ‘slut’ once and she almost cried, lecturing him for half an hour afterwards on how disrespectful it was.
But now, he gets to explore everything he hasn’t gotten the chance to with you. You love it all, love the way he talks filth in your ear, calls you naughty names. You love getting fucked in all sorts of places, which at first made him a little nervous, cheeks and the tips of his ears bright red when you asked him to fuck you in your classroom or finger you under your dress on the subway. But, after almost a year and a half together, you can safely say that he’s a full-on exhibitionist deviant.
Your walls clamp down around him, eyes still squeezed shut as you feel his hips begin to thrust forward. Soon, he holds you almost completely still, moving his hips as fast as he can. His cigarette is almost ashes at this point, and he kicks himself for not thinking of a good disposal plan beforehand.
“Oh baby, oh baby...f-fuck!” You whine, hips squirming and gyrating as your impending orgasm grows closer. “Y-Yeah, I love it, love everything you do to me. Wanna take every s-single fucking drop of your cum, Charlie, want it inside me, want it dripping down my thighs.”
He almost loses his mind over your comments, drilling into you at an impossibly hard and fast rate, the lewd slapping squelching sound of your hips colliding overwhelmingly prominent in the space around you. 
“You’ll go back to work with so much cum shoved into you, make you sit through your stupid fucking meeting with my cum dripping out of you. B-Better hope no one notices, huh? Better hope your boss doesn’t find out what a good little cockslut you are, how much you love having a pussy-full of your boyfriends f-fucking cum.”
A few muted cries leave your lips as he pounds you harder, his own words spurring him on. He can feel your walls pulsing around him, a sure-fire sign that you’re about to cum. 
“C-Charlie! Charlie, I...I’m close.”
“K-Know you are, kid, I know you are. You’re doing so f-fucking well for me, Y/N, squeezing my big cock like a fuckin champ.” Charlie growls, quickly tossing his spent cigarette in a coffee mug on a nearby table. “And now you’re gonna rub your little clit and cum for me like I know you want to. C’mon, kid, wanna feel you come undone around me.”
You quickly begin rubbing your clit and, despite the odd angle, it brings you right up to the edge. You just need something, just a little something, to push you over the edge. Your eyes flutter open to look up at him, but then, you’re met with the sight of his sneakers.
“Goddamnit!” You’re cumming almost instantly, flooding his shaft with your release. “Yes! Oh god, yeah, c-cumming for you baby!”
His hips keep pumping, taking you right through your climax before abruptly coming to a halt when they’re buried as deep inside you as they can possibly be. His eyes go wide before squeezing shut, a guttural groan ripping through his chest as he pumps and shoves his thick creamy load into you.
“T-Take it, f-filthy whore!” He groans, rutting his hips the whole way through, making sure every drop is put inside you.
Once he’s finished, having ridden out his high to its fullest, he tucks himself back into his pants before helping you stand back up. He holds you close, looking down at you with a bright, genuine smile. 
“You’re amazing, incredible...just so perfect.” He kisses all over your face before landing on your lips.
Your cheeks heat up at his compliments, hands weaving through his hair as the kiss deepens. 
Suddenly, someone knocks on your office door, jiggling the doorknob.
“Charlie?”
His eyes fly open and he pulls away. Shit.
“Yeah, I’m h-here, just give me a minute!”
You quickly pull your pants up and jump under his desk to hide just as he opens the door, running a hand through his hair. 
He talks to the person on the other side of the door in a rushed voice, answering their multitude of questions before quickly shutting the door, sighing as you crawl out from under the desk. 
“At least we both got to cum, unlike last time.” You walk up and put your hands on his pecs, rubbing them over the fabric. “I gotta get going though, baby. I wanna grab lunch from the deli before my staff meeting.”
Charlie nods, dipping his head down to kiss you one last time, nuzzling his large nose against yours. 
“Come over tonight, though? Nicole’s in town and she’s got Henry, so we’ll have the house to ourselves. I feel like we haven’t spent any quality time together lately.”
Nodding, you smile. “I would love to come over. I’ll text you when I get home.”
“Great.” He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you later, kid. Have a good meeting.”
You laugh as you grab your bag and head out, turning back to wave and flash him a soft smile.
“See you tonight.”
185 notes · View notes
outerspaceboy · 3 years
Text
neurodivergent y/n not understanding hw (pt. 2)
character (s): kirishima ejirou, denki kaminari, sero hanta
notes: (Y/N = your name) gender neutral reader
style: fluff, comfort, soft, x reader (this is my first post, sorry if it’s messy!)
`•.¸¸.•´´¯` •._.••`¯´´•.¸¸.•`
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kirishima ejirou
- kiri tends to help you with your homework a lot
- not that you’d asked, he just tags along like a a golden retriever because he enjoys hanging out with you
- (even if it’s just sitting beside you while you work and he argues with sero over the phone)
- you were studying for a big grade, and kiri just followed you as always
- you two went to your house and you started studying
- he sat on your carpet playing some mobile game , you on your bed with all of the books open
- just as you were starting to go over the material, you realized you could NOT understand at-fucking-all
- the sentences just looked like individual words- not sentences- nothing was making sense- you had to wonder if you’d even learned any of this over the year
- you began tapping your foot anxiously and biting at your nails, and finally spoke up
- “hey,, could you help me out..”
- you’d mumble, almost embarrassed. you’ve heard your classmates talk about how easy this stuff was, after all- and you were struggling with it
- the redhead looked up quickly from his phone and sat in front of you. “yea what’s up y/n?”
- you pointed at the workbook in shame, biting the inside of your cheek. “i cant.. get it.”
- it took him a minute- but he understood what you meant
- kiri sat up on the bed beside you and took the material in his hands. “i’ll help out!”
- “it’s not annoying..?” you fretted.
- “nah! it’s the manly thing to do” he laughs slightly and pats your head. “i got you, y/n”
- he helped you understand the work (but he couldn’t help much with solving it- he’s failing that class after all- but he tries !)
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denki kaminari
- ohhhh boy
- he’s probably the most understanding about this
- you two had decided to study at his house , but only as an excuse to hang out
- instead, after you two,, well,, realized you’d fail the semester if you didn’t study- you ended up studying
- you both stared in silence at the study guide
- the words were starting to blur, your memory was all jumbled, and you could feel your face heating up with tension
- you were extremely lost
- somehow kami was managing a bit better than you, scribbling a few notes every so often and working through practice problems- this was his best subject after all
- you didn’t even have to say something for him to notice your stress
- “hey, y/n , you okay?” hed sit up and turn to you, frowning.
- you’d look away and shake your head, not wanting to tell him. would he call you stupid too?
- but hey, this is kami we’re talking about
- he waved his hands around obnoxiously , pouting that you were ignoring him. “OII, y/n!! cmon, i can help! if um- if you told me what was wrong.. but! but not if you aren’t comfortable or something i do-“
- you shut him up by throwing his pillow at his face point blank
- "i cant understand the shitty homework"
- he mouthed a big , 'ohhhhh' and quickly plastered on a gentle smile
- kami pointed excitedly to his notes (hed never gotten to explain homework to someone, it made him feel useful)
- "honestly- if it werent for my spectacular skills in this particular subject,," hed wink sheepishly. "id be lost too. but youre in LUCK y/n" ;)
- youd laugh slightly and shove his shoulder "okay yeah, just help me "
- the rest of the study time, he tried to make you laugh as much as possible to relax you
- he made damn well sure you werent ashamed for needing help- if yiu so much as called yourself stupid, hed give you a whole dumbass lecture
- it was oddly comforting-
- overall, you both ended up barely passing that test- but he didnt care so long as you were okay :)
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sero hanta
- you’d been alone in the classroom for a good 20 minutes now, staying to study
- you were just about getting sick of studying
- frustrated riled up inside of you as the material got more difficult to understand- it was all starting to slip right past your brain
- angry at yourself for being so stupid, you snapped your pencil in half and slumped onto your desk, laying your head down
- that’s when sero walked in, backpack and all (he’s here for detention,, he definitely did not tape mineta to the ceiling and forget about him for 6 hours..)
- “woah, y/n, what’s wrong?” he kneeled beside your desk and gazed at you with concern
- you didn’t look up at him and just huffed
- he took a glance at your homework and ruffles your hair “trouble with the homework?”
- you lifted your head slightly and kept your eyes on your broken pencil. “yea.”
- “aw, hey that’s alright” he handed you one of his pencils and pulled up another chair to your desk. “this happens to my sister a lot, i can help if you need?”
- your face burned in embarrassment and you shrugged
- “it’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know?” he smiles at you kindly. “your brain is just wired different, nothing wrong with that”
- you felt your muscles relax a bit and you smiled back “thanks sero.”
- “no problem ! nowwww, where are weee,,” he scanned the page and found where you’d left off
- he stayed with you until you were ready, and then had to serve his detention time
- it was an honorable way to go down , you figured 😪
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professortennant · 3 years
Note
Hello! If you like either of these from the kissing prompts post, I’m partial to #8 (shoulder kiss) because Hannah’s got amazing arms and shoulders and #13 (goodbye kiss) because I’m a sucker for a little angst
this was gonna be a 5 times fic and i was gonna get both of these in here but then i finished 3 and like......couldn’t bring myself to write the angsty goodbye part so INSTEAD have like 2500 words of fluff and light angst
i.
The first time she takes him to the airport, his first season as AFC Richmond’s head coach is over and she has granted him a blissful two months of reprieve from paperwork and contract negotiations. 
(“Are you sure?” he’d asked, looking at her—really looking at her—to make sure she wasn’t putting on a front for him. “Because I can help. I mean, I’m not so hot with laptop thing or the math thing, but I’m pretty good with the people thing.”
“I know,” she’d said, patting his arm gently. “But I can handle it. Go be with your boy.”
He’d let out a little yip, pressed a kiss to her cheek and practically leapt and run out of her office, calling out over his shoulder, “You’re the best boss!”)
It’s a thirty minute drive from her home to his and another hour to Heathrow and Ted spends every last one of those minutes bouncing his leg and checking and re-checking his phone, pulling up the electronic boarding pass as if making sure today was the right day and time and—
“Ted, the plane isn’t going anywhere without you on it.”
“Right, right.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket, twisting in the passenger seat beside her. It felt too impersonal to send her drive to pick him up or to allow him to hire his own driver, not after the hell she’d put him through this season. It was the smallest of steps in her journey to earn back his trust (no matter how many times he’d told her she already had it). 
“Can I tell you something?”
“I sense you will no matter what I say.”
He’d just grinned at that, hands wringing nervously in his lap. “What if too much has changed? What if I get there and Henry and Michelle have formed their own little club that I’m just not part of anymore?”
“Oh, Ted,” she’d sighed, taking her eyes off the road for just a moment to look over at him in sympathy. “That’s—that’s just not going to happen.” 
“But what if I get there and I don’t fit?”
“Ted, I don’t think there’s anywhere on this planet that you don’t fit.” He’d blushed a little at that in an aw shucks way that she found entirely too endearing. She tried to remember her promise to herself: to be more open, to be more available. Right. She adjusted her hands on the steering wheel and flicked her gaze over to him once more, just to make sure he was still listening. “My father was a very successful businessman. He traveled all over the world and was always away from home. I missed him terribly, even if I knew he wasn’t leaving because he wanted to.”
“Not really helping, boss.”
“But,” she continued, glaring at him. “Whenever he came home, it was the best day of the year. He used to gather me up into his arms and swing me around in our front garden and tell me all the stories of the places he’d been to and it wiped away every moment of missing him once he was back. I never felt like he didn’t belong back home. Not once.”
The feeling of Ted’s hand settling atop of hers on the gear shift startled her and she looked down, took in the sight of his tan, calloused hand covering hers. She made the tight turn into the drop-off lane in the Heathrow Departures section of the car park. 
“Thanks, Rebecca. Really. I mean it.”
“Yes, well, family is hard.” And this was the part that would cost her, would hurt like hell. She threw on her hazards and put the car into park. “Ted, while you’re home, I-I want you to think about your position here at Richmond.”
He frowned at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I pulled you away from your family to bring you here and I know things have changed for you, but if you need to leave, if you want to check if Wichita State will take you back while you’re home, I would understand.”
“Rebecca,” Ted said, a small smile on his face. He gripped her hand in his, tugged it into his lap and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles in a soothing manner. “I told you already: You and me have got unfinished business here.”
“But, your fam—”
“I’m coming back.”
When he said it like that, firm and sure and like a promise, she couldn’t help but believe him, the reassurance settling something anxious in her chest, a fear that she didn’t know she was harboring.
He leaned across the console and for the second time in two weeks, pressed a soft, barely-there kiss to the curve of her cheek, his mustache tickling her, before disappearing just as quickly, sliding out the car and ducking back in for a moment to tell her goodbye. “Thanks again for the ride.” He winked at her and then, “See you in two months.”
(About ten hours later, in the middle of the night, she received a text message from Ted: a picture of Ted and Henry in the front yard, Ted’s arms wrapped tightly around the little boy, their heads thrown back and laughing. The picture was blurred enough for her to tell that they were in motion. Ted’s accompanying message read: Thanks for the advice, boss.
She pressed the little heart reaction on each of the messages, just as Sam had shown her last week .)
ii.
 Between the start of the Championship League and Christmas, things had changed around the AFC Richmond clubhouse. Roy now wore a coach’s jacket and lanyard, scowling his way up and down the football pitch. Keeley sported a shiny ring on her left hand and a new title as Richmond’s Media and PR Director. Beard and Nate spent every waking moment attending matches across the country, absorbing the strengths and weaknesses of their opponents and working on ways to incorporate new strategies into their own game.
And over weekends spent exploring the winding cobblestone paths of London’s markets, ducking into older-than-Shakespeare bookshops together and weekends spent cooking barbecue and walking through parks, Ted and Rebecca had found somewhere along the way that they meant more to each other than just boss and gaffer, than just friends.
(He’d always assumed when it happened—if it happened—it would be in a rush of emotion after a big game or in quiet, shared comfort after a loss. But it had nothing to do with AFC Richmond, they came together on their own over a shared love of yellowed paperbacks and the bit of latte foam in his mustache and her gentle, exasperation with him, thumb swiping over his top lip and—and then her mouth on his, his hands on her hip and cradling her face, a murmured, “Finally,” against her lips.)
But tonight is Ted’s last night in London for a week, closing the gap between Boxing Day and the first week of the near year in Kansas City with Henry. They’d fallen into a devastatingly easy intimacy, one she knew she would never recover from. His flat was all but vacant now, most of his clothes and books mixed up with hers—his stack of adventure books and motivational, leadership workbooks on his side of the bed and her stack of mystery novels and Sudoku puzzles on hers, his open jar of peanut butter on her kitchen counter and her sheets smelling of his body wash.
Tonight, they sit up in bed, the soft, yellow light of their bedside lamps allowing them both to read in bed together, glasses perched on the ends of their noses. Beneath the bedsheets, Ted’s toes wiggle excitedly. 
“I don’t know how I’m gonna sleep,” he tells her, dogearing his page and putting the book away, rolling onto his side to face Rebecca. “Feels like Christmas all over again. Two Christmases, Rebecca.” 
She looks at him over the rim of her glasses, smiling ruefully at him. “You better sleep tonight or the jet lag will kill you.”
“So wise,” he teases, leaning over to press a soft kiss to her exposed shoulders. She sighed, and kissed the top of his head before returning back to her book. But Ted didn’t roll back to his side of the bed, instead tracing his fingertips along the hem of her pajama top, lips pressing once more to her shoulders, open-mouthed and enticing.
“Ted,” she warns, voice low and breathy. “What do you think you’re doing?”
His hand slides against her belly, creeping up to cup her breasts and thumb at her nipple while his mouth works over the curve of her shoulder and to her neck, nuzzling against her and encouraging her to tilt her head back to allow him better access. 
“I just thought of a very, very good way to tire myself out and get a good night’s sleep.”
“Oh did you?” She scratched her nails down his back and into his hair, holding his mouth to the place on her neck that made her legs feel like jelly.
He hummed against her skin, reaching blindly for her book to toss it off the bed and settle atop her, mouth working on the underside of her jaw and then to her mouth, kissing her hungrily.
“A week apart, Rebecca,” he gasps against her mouth, pressing his hips against hers and grinding down. “That seems an awful long time.”
She loops her arms around his neck and one leg hitches around his hips, bringing their bodies closer. “A week and then you’re coming back, right?”
She hates that she still has to ask, hates that she needs the reassurance, hates that she is terrified he will leave her behind irreparably broken.
His face softens and he traces a fingertip over her brow and nose and kisses her softly. “Coupon for life, remember, young lady? I ain’t goin’ anywhere without you.”
She presses her forehead to his and breathes him in, tightens her hold on him for a moment and memorizes the feel of him against her. And then he moves against her and it’s a rush of frenzied touches, gasps and moans, slick skin and hurried, whispered assurances. 
When she drops him off at the airport, this time with a soft kiss, and watches him disappear into the sliding double doors of Heathrow, she remembers his words: I’m coming back.
iii.
Their first fight involves raised voices and snappy words and a level of miscommunication that would make Keeley feel ashamed. It starts with a bad day for both of them—frustrating lawyers dragging their feet on salary re-negotiations and a string of vapid, mind numbing conference calls for Rebecca and a team of unmotivated, surly footballers for Ted, in-fighting and dirty scrimmage play making his blood boil. It ends with Rebecca snapping at Ted for not loading the dishwasher properly and Ted accusing her of micromanaging.
“You know what,” he growls, barely keeping a lid on his temper, can feel himself spiraling out of control. “You once told me to leave before I say something I regret and I think I better just do that.”
“Good! Go!”
She watches with a heaving chest and pounding heart as he collects his AFC Richmond puffer jacket, steps into one of his many pairs of Nikes, and storms out the front door into the evening and away from her. 
The moment his form disappears from view, her face crumples and she collapses into the kitchen chair, face buried in her shaking hands. As far as fights went, it certainly wasn’t the worst she’d ever had, her mind helpfully supplying her with flashes of the knockout-dragout fights she and Rupert had frequently engaged in, the cruelty and worst of each of them always sneaking out. 
But cruelty wasn’t in Ted’s bones and it wasn’t in hers either. She didn’t want to fight and she didn’t want to go to bed alone and angry, not after nearly a year of sleeping next to Ted every night.
She sent him a quick text: I’m sorry. Bad day at the office and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Come back home and we can talk about this.
But no response comes and all she can do is wait, pacing the front hallway, cleaning and cleaning and cleaning the kitchen. She sticks her finger into his peanut butter jar and hopes the sticky substance will help hold her heart together until he comes home. 
Maybe she’d always expected it would come to this—her ruining them, driving him away, just as Rupert had said she’d done to him. 
Not enough, Rebecca. You’re just…not enough for me.
But, she reminds herself, Ted is not Rupert. She and Ted are not she and Rupert. He’ll come back, they’ll fix this, it’ll be fine. Her head repeats it over and over again like a mantra, but her heart is stubborn and frozen in paralyzing fear.
Twenty minutes go by.
Thirty.
Forty. 
An hour later, she picks up her phone, checks it again but there are no messages from him, no indication that he’s coming back. A small, desperate sob slips out from the back of her throat and she presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, willing the sting of tears away.
The sound of the front door opening startles her and before she can rush into the hallway to see if it’s him, Ted stands in the sitting room before her, brambles in his hair. 
“I, uh, got a little lost walking around, got stuck in my head. And, you know, the streets look a lot different at night, so—”
But she doesn’t care if he wandered into a bush or hitchhiked home with an aardvark or whatever ridiculous adventure he’s been on in the last hour, he’s home.
She stands, throws her arms around his neck and shoulders, presses herself against him and buries her face in his neck. “I’m sorry,” she gasps into his skin. “I’m sorry.”
He shushes and soothes her, rubs his palm over her back and up over her head, slipping his fingers into her hair and stroking over and over again. “Hey, hey, none of this, okay? I’m sorry, alright? But we got through our first big fight, right? We’re okay, we’re okay.”
She holds him tighter, turns her head to kiss his neck and cheek and jaw and lips. “I was so worried you weren’t going to—” But she can’t even finish the worry, ashamed she even doubted him, some fears too deeply ingrained. 
Ted cradles her face, rubs his thumb over the curve of her cheek. “I told you, sweetheart, you got me for life. You got your listening ears on?” He reaches up to tug gently on her ears, making her smile. “Okay good, listen up: I will always come back. For as long as you want me, you got me.”
“Okay,” she sighs, turns her head into his palm and kisses the center of his hand. “Okay.”
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janeofcakes · 3 years
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Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock...Again
Here it is, my friends! I have so much to say, but I’ll just give you the summary instead. I hope you like it!
Ten years after John Watson left with Mary for parts unknown, he returns to London with his daughter in tow to take over a friend's practice. He does not know what became of his best friend and, as much as he may want to see him, he resolves to make no effort to do so. Will he cross paths with Sherlock Holmes again and what will happen if he does?
_________________
Chapter 1
Gracie Watson stands stock-still next to her new teacher’s desk, a backpack slung over her shoulders. She clutches to her chest the school books that were given to her in the main office. Her blue eyes briefly dart around the room from posters to windows before scanning the actual faces of the third grade classmates she has yet to meet. Squeezing the books tighter, she leans back a fraction and turns her head to look back at the classroom door where her father stands with the principal. He smiles genuinely in encouragement and waves, knowing the door is cracked only enough for Gracie and Mrs. Jennings to see. The corner of Gracie’s mouth curls up as he mouths ‘I love you’ and the door closes slowly. Gracie instantly feels the pang of nerves that had loosened winding up into a tight ball in the pit of her stomach again.
“Class,” Mrs. Jennings says from behind her, “this is Grace. She’ll be joining us for the rest of the year. She has moved here from Bath, yes?”
Gracie blinks and looks back at the cheerful woman stepping to stand beside her. A quick flash of panic and adrenaline surge through her body, but it does not show on her face as she tamps it down quickly. Watsons are brave, she reminds herself as she straightens her spine and pulls her shoulders back slightly.
“Yes, Mrs. Jennings,” Gracie’s voice is confident now. “I haven’t been to London before. This is my first time.”
“Oh my, you are in for a treat,” the teacher smiles, her eyes sparkling. “There are a lot of things to see and places to go. Has your father been here before?”
“Yes, he lived here a long time ago,” Gracie answers respectfully.
“He’ll know his way around then, won’t he?” Mrs. Jennings glances at the clock as Gracie nods and then meets her eyes. “We’ll make a little time to introduce ourselves before lunch.”
Mrs. Jennings puts a reassuring hand on Gracie’s shoulder and looks at the twenty-one eight year-olds sitting by twos in three lines before them. The teacher nods at the right side of the room and gives Gracie a warm smile. Gracie feels the knot in her stomach loosen a skosh and the muscles under Mrs. Jennings’ warm hand relax slightly. She has a good feeling about this teacher.
“Why don’t you sit next to Olivia?” Mrs. Jennings gestures with her other hand.
Gracie swallows hard and turns to look at the other students again. They stare back with curious eyes and dull expressions. Some of them look like they are mulling over how best to tease her and make her life miserable, while others wear shy half-smiles. Only one girl sitting alone at one of the wide two-person desks in the back of the room appears genuinely interested, bordering on excited, to meet Gracie.
“Raise your hand, would you, Olivia?” Mrs. Jennings asks. The girl’s arm shoots up before the words are out of the teacher’s mouth. Gracie feels a soft pressure on her shoulder, a nudge of guidance as Mrs. Jennings continues: “Thank you. Go on and have a seat, Grace.”
Gracie nods and begins walking down the aisle. Under normal circumstances she might glance to and fro to see the faces of her new classmates, but she cannot tear her eyes away from the girl called Olivia. Her hand is still raised high in spite of the fact that Gracie knows exactly where she is headed, and her eyes sparkle as they watch Gracie with unwavering focus. They are oddly colored eyes; mostly grey, but they look blue too or maybe green. It is like they change from one to the other with every step closer. Olivia’s skin is as pale as Gracie has ever seen and she wonders if this girl ever goes outside for any length of time. It is made even lighter by Olivia’s dark brown hair pulled back with wisps of escaped curls around her face.
The closer Gracie gets to Olivia, the more she seems to like her. Gracie is good at making friends and was well-liked at her old school. Ever-confident, she typically throws herself into it, greeting new kids when they start. However, this situation is vastly different and Gracie has been ill at ease since the day before. She has never been the new kid in school and honestly never thought she would be. She entered into this school and its halls and this classroom with a great degree of apprehension, in spite of her father and the principal’s assurances. She had put on a brave face and talked herself into believing she felt it, but now, this very minute, slowly approaching Olivia, she finally feels like herself. Olivia has not the look of someone who is staring curiously at a stranger, but of someone seeing a friend who has not been back in ages. Her glittery grey eyes, rosy cheeks and wide, closed-lipped smile tell of genuine intrigue. She seems absolutely thrilled to have Gracie in the seat beside her.
Gracie’s lips curve up as she places her books on the desk and sits. Olivia lowers her hand and gives her new deskmate a friendly nod. Gracie’s smile grows as she leans away to plop her backpack on the floor.
“Perfect. Welcome, Grace,” Mrs. Jennings declares from the front of the room. She takes up position in front of the white board and speaks in a more serious tone. “Everyone get out your math workbooks to page 53. Did they give you all the books you need in the office, Grace?”
“Yes, Mrs. Jennings,” Gracie answers, glancing at the stack on her desk. 
“Excellent,” Mrs. Jennings smiles and then turns to the board to write an equation. Gracie starts to lean down again to fetch a pencil from her bag only to see pale fingers holding a bright blue one over the workbook. Her eyes follow the arm and train on the girl next to her. 
“Hi. You can call me Olive,” Olivia whispers with a grin. 
Taking the pencil with a slow smile on her lips, Gracie thanks her and opens the workbook. Just as Mrs. Jennings turns back to the class and begins speaking, Gracie throws one last glance Olivia’s way.
“Call me Gracie.”
***
The lunchroom is packed with students from grades three through six. Some stand in line joking and holding trays for the school lunch while others head for seats with their friends. The room is alive with movement and noise, but it is merely a low din in the ears of Gracie Watson where she sits alone and stares at a note her father slipped into her lunch bag. It was there between an orange and the sandwich she had made herself the night before.
See, you’re having a great day! XX Daddy
Gracie smiles to herself as she reads it again. He even slowed the pen to make his messy doctor’s scrawl legible. The two of them had discussed the disadvantages of cursive and importance of making letters look like actual letters before. Gracie’s father found them so amusing and always chuckled his way through her tutorials, but how were patients to get the right medicine if no one could read his writing?
Gracie reads the note again and glances around the room, unable to keep from feeling a little sad. There had not been much time to talk to any of the kids in her class that morning. Mrs. Jennings taught lessons and had some one on one time with Gracie while the other kids did school work. She wanted to determine Gracie’s reading level quickly so she would be in the right group that afternoon. No one had spared Gracie a second glance until a few minutes before lunch when Mrs. Jennings had everyone introduce themselves. Gracie could tell right away that Peter and William liked to tease. She also knew in a glance that Josie and Hildie would not be her biggest fans, nor would she like them. Gracie had barely heard all their names before they were shuffled off to lunch. Truth be told, Olive was the only person to have paid her any mind and even that was limited. You couldn’t really talk when the teacher was telling you the principles of multiplication. Still, Olive has seemed keen to know Gracie. Yet here she is, sitting at a small table all alone with nothing but her lunch and a note from her father. 
She drops her eyes back to the paper when Josie meets her gaze and wrinkles her nose. The last thing Gracie wants to deal with right now is sass. Why is it so much easier to become the target of a ponce than to find a friend when you’re the new kid?
Gracie sighs and takes a bite from her sandwich as someone stops in front of her table. Gracie closes her eyes, steeling herself for battle. Obviously, Josie has decided she may as well start being a pain as soon as possible. Maybe not such a good day after all. Gracie swallows thickly and looks up slowly. To her surprise, she is met with a grin instead of a sneer.
“Hi,” Olive chirps. She holds a lunch bag in one hand and a small carton of milk in the other. “Can I sit with you?”
“Uh...yeah,” Gracie replies, more than a little taken aback. “Sure.”
Olive’s face brightens and she moves to sit, placing her lunch bag and drink on the table. Gracie quickly crumples up the note in her hands and shoves it in her pocket. Watching as Olive begins removing food from her bag and setting it on the table, Gracie takes a bite of sandwich and chews. She has to wonder about this girl. It seems natural that she be curious about the new kid, but no one else is and Olive is clearly going out of her way to talk to Gracie. Is this some sort of trick? Gracie tilts her head and considers the dark-haired girl before her. 
“Want some soup?” Olive asks, opening a green thermos. “It’s the best potato soup ever. My godmother made it.”
“Oh, no thanks. I’m good,” Gracie assures her and takes another bite.
“Please yourself,” Olive blows on the milky-colored liquid in her spoon before it disappears in her mouth. Then she closes her eyes and shakes her head minutely in appreciation. Gracie lets a small smile of genuine amusement flash across her lips. Olive mirrors the look when her eyes open with flecks of green this time.
“So you’re from Bath,” Olive states, scooping up some more soup.
“Yeah, I’ve always lived there,” Gracie says around a mouthful of sandwich, “but my dad used to live here.”
“So you said,” Olive blows on the full spoon. “Have you seen the Roman baths?”
“Oh, yeah. Dad took me every year since I was four,” Gracie bubbled. “They’re fun and Dad knows all about how they were made and why they built them.”
“That’s awesome! I’d love to hear about that,” Olive exclaims, popping her spoon into her mouth. “My dad knows stuff too. He took me to Stonehenge and told me all about it.”
“Wow!” Gracie’s eyes widen in awe. “Did you climb on the rocks?”
“No,” Olive grumbles and rolls her eyes. “They won’t let you.”
“Aw,” Gracie groans, disappointed. “They don’t let you swim in the baths either.”
“But they’re baths!” Olive blinks in disbelief.
“I know, right,” Gracie declares. “That’s exactly what I told Dad.”
Olive giggles and the noise is infectious. Gracie snickers as she picks up her own carton of milk and takes a drink. Olive grabs a dinner roll from her bag and takes a bite. 
“So why did you move here?” she asks as she chews. Gracie sets down her drink and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. 
“Dad’s a doctor and he has this friend who sees patients here,” Gracie explains. 
“At St. Bart’s Hospital?” Olive asks. “My dad goes there a lot.”
“No,” Gracie wrinkles her brow trying to remember the word her father had used. “He has a practical or a pragmatic.”
“His own practice?” Olive offers between bites of roll and soup.
“Yeah, practice. That’s what he called it,” Gracie says, pointing at Olive and popping the last of her sandwich in her mouth. “Anyway, he’s retiring and gave Dad his practice. So we moved here. Dad came first and found our flat. He started working and came home on weekends for a while before we moved.”
“Really?” Olive wondered. “But who was with you? Do you have a godmother too?”
“No, but Dad has a lot of friends who watched me,” Gracie tells her. 
“Oh, because he’s a doctor. Lots of people would know him. Obvious,” Olive nods and takes a bite of soup, gesturing with the spoon once it’s empty again. She leans her elbow on the table. “But why didn’t you both just move at the same time?”
“Dad wanted to make sure he liked the new job first,” Gracie shrugs. “Didn’t want me to have to change schools until he was sure he’d want to stay here.”
“Makes sense,” Olive nods thoughtfully.
“What about your dad?” Gracie asks, beginning to peel her orange. “What does he do? Is he a doctor too?”
“Nope,” Olive places her spoon on the table and straightens her spine proudly. “He’s a Consulting Detective. The only one. He invented it.”
“Oh,” Gracie frowns as she places a piece of rind on her napkin, “but you said he works at a hospital.”
“He does experiments for cases at St. Bart’s,” Olive clarifies, “and looks at bodies when there’s a murder.”
Gracie stops peeling and her mouth drops open. She stares at Olive with wide eyes.
“Murder?”
“He solves them all the time,” Olive nods with sparkling eyes. “And robberies and people who go missing and everything. He works with the police.”
“Wow,” Gracie breathes. “Dad tells me stories about a detective and his friend who solve crimes together. Does your dad tell you about his cases?”
“Sometimes,” Olive answers, putting the thermos and spoon back in her bag. “He lets me watch his experiments when he’s on a case. We do them together when it’s in between.”
“That sounds fun,” Gracie beams and offers an orange slice. Olive grins and takes it.
“Thanks,” she pops it into her mouth and chews. “It is. I love it.”
“So have you always lived in London?” Gracie asks, bringing an orange slice to her lips. Olive nods.
“Dad loves London. I don’t think he’d live anywhere else,” she reflects and takes another slice when Gracie offers.
Gracie squints and considers this. If Olive’s dad likes London so much maybe Gracie’s feels the same way. He used to live here, after all. She is about to ask her new friend more about the city when a gruff voice brings her thoughts to a screeching halt. 
“Afternoon, Holmes,” an unpleasant-looking girl sneers as she approaches their table. 
Gracie’s head snaps to face her with surprise and wariness in her eyes. The redhead has two other girls in toe and all wear snide expressions. They stop before the table and stare menacingly, the leader with her hands on her hips. Gracie swallows slowly and takes in the scene. The girls have to be older than she and Olive. They are all at least a foot taller than Gracie and have a few inches on Olive as well. They look as mean as any bully at Gracie’s old school. She grimaces. What could she have possibly done to get on their bad side so quickly? Maybe they go after all the new kids, but how do they even know about her and how on earth could they know her middle name?
Gracie opens her mouth to speak, but Olive beats her to it. 
“Jones,” Olive says disdainfully by way of greeting as she turns her head to look up at the girl. “They let you out of the dunce chair for lunch? I suppose everyone deserves a break.”
Gracie turns her now shocked gaze on Olive, who stares coolly at the tall redhead called Jones. What is she doing? Jones obviously means business and there’s no reason for Olive to get involved. Antagonizing this kid and her friends seems like the last thing either of them should do. Gracie’s eyes dart back to Jones to see her cold glare focused solely on Olive and it strikes her that Jones has not actually spared her a glance. She was already boring a hole in Olive’s skull when she and her gang, because that’s the only word for it, walked up to their table. Gracie’s eyes shift back to Olive curiously. 
“Funny,” Jones says flatly, setting her hips and leaning her weight to her right foot. “I’m surprised to see you here, Holmes. I told you I didn’t want to see your face in here again only yesterday.”
“This is the lunch room,” Olive’s tone does nothing less than tell Jones what an idiot she is and Gracie wants to face palm.”It’s called that for a reason. I would’ve thought you’d pick that up by grade six.”
“Now listen, you little…” Jones launches herself forward with fury in her eyes. One hand is already a fist pulling back and the other reaches for Olive, who hasn’t even flinched. Gracie is out of her seat and in between them before Jones can touch the collar of Olive’s school uniform.
“Stop right there,” Gracie mutters in a threatening tone.
Jones takes a small step back and looks down her nose at Gracie, a cruel smirk on her face.
“Lookie what we have here,” Jones’ lip curls in amusement. “Holmes has a little friend.”
The other girls laugh and Gracie feels a tug on her elbow, no doubt Olive trying to steer her out of the way. Gracie ignores the attempt, standing taller and furrowing her brow.
“You’re new around here, aren’t you, kid?” Jones asks. “If you weren’t, you’d know nobody crosses me. Why don’t you just turn around and get right back on outta here. I’ll give you a pass this time.”
“Not until you shut your mouth and go back where you came from,” Gracie says in a low voice. “Leave my friends alone.”
“Or what?” Jones scoffs, stepping close to Gracie. “What are you gonna do, half-pint?”
Gracie’s hands clench into fists, which does not escape Jones’ attention. The tall girl laughs and turns her head slightly for a remark over her shoulder to her cohorts. Gracie snaps her left fist forward, catching Jones right on the jaw and sending her stumbling backwards into her friends. The three girls stare at Gracie in shock and she glares back. Olive’s hand is still touching Gracie’s elbow, but is rigid and still. Gracie wants to glance around the room to make sure none of the lunch monitors saw, but she will not break her death glare with Jones. Her father would never take his eyes off the enemy.
“Take your friends and go,” Gracie growls. “You answer to me if you come back.”
Jones regains her composure and yanks her arms away from the very friends who kept her from falling on her ass. Her hands are clenched in rage and she looks like she plans to rip into Gracie at any moment, but one of the other girls grabs her arm in warning before she can make a single move. Too many of the other kids in the lunchroom are watching now. Not to mention one of the monitors, who obviously missed the punch, seems to have taken an interest as well. 
“This isn’t over,” Jones says under her breath. She presses her lips together hard, turns and stalks away with her friends hot on her heels.
Gracie lets her muscles relax minutely as she watches their retreating backs, her fists loosening. Her eyes dart around the room nervously, but she sees only bright eyes of acknowledgement and a few delighted nods. When she turns back to Olive, her friend is incredulous. She is about to start in on what looks to be a lecture on self-preservation and lunchroom politics when the interested monitor appears at her side.
“Everything all right, Olive?” the older woman asks in a significantly less posh accent.
“Yes, Mz. Chapel, it’s fine,” Olive answers in a friendly voice.
“I don’t know why those three are always giving you trouble,” Miss Chapel shakes her head, looking after Jones and her lackeys.
“Simple minds, Mz. Chapel, simple minds,” Olive jokes and the woman lets out a deep, hearty laugh.
“Now that’s an understatement,” Miss Chapel chuckles. “Who’s your friend?”
“This is Gracie. She’s new in my class,” Olive bubbles excitedly. “This is her first day.”
“Well, welcome, Gracie,” Miss Chapel smiles warmly and nods. “Don’t let those three sour your day.”
“Oh, I won’t,” Gracie assures her. She looks at the woman’s rosy cheeks and smiling eyes and likes her immediately. “I’ve dealt with worse.”
“Oh, dear. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad,” Miss Chapel remarks with concern in her voice as she scans the room and sees two boys who must look suspicious. “You’ll have to fill me in later. Duty calls. Bye, Olive.”
“Bye, Mz. Chapel,” Olive calls and then grabs hold of Gracie’s arm, pulling her close.
“Hey!” Gracie says irritably, but Olive interrupts at a mile a minute.
“What the heck was that? Are you crazy? Jones is the biggest bully in school.”
“You didn’t seem all that scared of her,” Gracie shoots back. “I just followed your example.”
“And if I jumped off a building, would you follow me then too?” Olive demands in exasperation.
“God, no,” Gracie blurts. “I’m not a complete idiot.”
Gracie is sure Olive had been about to say something, but she goes silent and stares for a moment instead. Her expression is unreadable and Gracie cocks an expectant brow. She is not about to be scolded by someone who knowingly goaded a bully. Olive finally opens her mouth, but what comes out is a burst of a giggle. Gracie’s eyes widen as Olive continues laughing, a quite undignified snort punctuating it, and Gracie dissolves into giggles as well. They sink down into their seats again when something occurs to Gracie.
“Your surname is Holmes?” she asks almost before her bum is on the seat. It can’t be. It’s too much of a coincidence, but is the only explanation for Jones calling Olive by the name.
“Holmes with an L, yes,” Olive nods once.
Gracie watches with her brow furrowed as Olive plucks up an orange slice and pops it into her mouth, giving the blonde a stern look.
“Seriously, that was really stupid,” she says. A drop of juice slips down her chin and she wipes at it.
“Hmph,” Gracie harrumphs, putting aside her wonder and shoving a slice in her own mouth. “She was ready to knock you on your butt. You should be thanking me.”
“No, really, Gracie,” Olive leans forward in her chair and rests her arms on the table. Her grey-green eyes are intense, her face deadly serious. “Samantha Jones is not a good person to have as an enemy.”
“Real people don’t have enemies,” Gracie replies with a snort.
“Well, you’ve got one now,” Olive states gravely. “You still real?”
Gracie meets her eyes and swallows her orange slice. It starts out as a pointed stare, but both girls are laughing again in no time.
“I guess we’re in this together then,” Gracie quips. Olive watches her for a good minute, her face open and a grin shining brightly. The bell signalling the end of lunch sounds, but the two girls don’t move for a beat. Olive’s smile grows as she rises slowly. Gracie does the same, both grabbing food containers and shoving them into their bags as they get to their feet. Once they have gathered everything, the two girls stand to face each other with sober expressions. Olive tips her head toward the door where the other kids file out into the hallway.
“Once more into the breach,” she says with a sparkle in her eye. Gracie grins and they start off, but Olive pauses. “Gracie?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
 ***
Olive Holmes jumps out of the sleek black car that picks her up from school each day and drives her home. Her father hates asking his brother for anything, which is why Olive’s uncle arranged for it without consulting him. Her father conceded quickly, however. It is the safest way to get her to and from, especially considering his profession, and he would do absolutely anything for his daughter. Even put up with his pompous older brother.
Olive throws her school bag over her shoulder and slams the car door. Half turning to the building before her, she waves at the driver in the car window.
“Bye, Charlie,” she calls. “See you tomorrow.”
“Good evening, Miss Olive,” he replies and then watches her walk up to the building, digging in her bag for the key. When she opens the door, she walks headlong into one of the most delightful scents on earth. She closes her eyes and inhales contentedly, angling her face toward the open door of 221A. The woman inside is clearly making her famous meatloaf and has left her door open to draw Olive’s attention, which can only mean one thing. Olive’s father has a case on and will be home late tonight. 
“Hello, dear,” Mrs. Hudson appears, drying her hands on a white dish towel. Olive flashes a warm smile and runs to the old woman, throwing her arms around her waist. “I thought I heard you come in. How was school?”
“Great!” Olive exclaims, pulling back and adjusting her bag. “Dad’s on a case?”
“Afraid so, dear. He wasn’t sure when he’d be home,” Mrs. Hudson tuts before smiling brightly. “But now you and I can have dinner and catch up.”
“I know! I can smell it,” Olive licks her lips. “It’s my favorite!”
“I know, dear,” Mrs. Hudson laughs. She smooths down Olive’s hair and brushes a curl from her forehead. “Would you like to help make the potatoes?”
“Can’t, Mrs. H.,” Olive replies with a shrug. “I have some homework first, but I’ll be done before dinner.”
“Homework?” Mrs. Hudson follows the girl to the stairs that lead up to the flat she shares with her father. The old woman wears a look of concern as she watches Olive begin to ascend. “That doesn’t sound like you. Is everything all right?”
“I didn’t do as much of it in class,” Olive explains. “I made a friend today. A best friend.”
“A best friend? Oh my, that’s exciting,” Mrs. Hudson beams. Olive is well-liked by her peers and will go to birthday parties and the like, but she does not interact with any outside of that. She has never really had an interest in it and has certainly never referred to anyone as a best friend before. Her obvious excitement speaks volumes. “You can tell me all about her over dinner.”
“Yes!” Olive grins. “I can’t wait! Her name is Gracie and she’s the best. She’s new in my class today and sits right by me.”
“Fantastic, dear,” Mrs. Hudson rests a hand on the banister and the other on her hip. “You run up and finish that homework and then we’ll talk all about it.”
“Ok,”Olive heads up the stairs again, calling back as she goes: “I’ll be down as soon as I’m done.”
---
“So how was your first day?” John Watson asks his daughter as he sets a glass of milk before her and sits at the dinner table. Gracie has just put a fork-full of rice in her mouth, but doesn’t let that stop her from answering. 
“So good,” she says enthusiastically, two grains flipping out of her mouth and onto the table. John knows he should be reminding her not to talk with a full mouth, but her good humor is infectious and he is beyond pleased. She had been so nervous and trying not to show it when he left her at the school that morning. The principal had assured him they would do all they could to make the transition as smooth as possible, but that look in her eye when he last saw her had lingered in his mind all day as he attended to patients.
A grin spreads across John’s face as he picks up his own fork and spears a piece of chicken. Gracie slurps milk from her cup and places it back on the table. Her blue eyes twinkle over her milk mustache as she continues, her elation building with every word.
“I made a friend named Olive. We sit together in class and she ate with me at lunch too. We even played at recess,” Gracie speaks so quickly that John couldn’t get a word in if he tried. “She’s lived here all her life and told me lots of cool stuff about the city. Did you know there are lots of parks here?”
“Yes, I did,” John laughs, finally able to respond when she takes a breath and another bite of rice. “One of them is just up the street, you know.”
“It is?” Gracie gasps, her eyes wide with wonder.
“Yeah,” John chuckles. “We could go on the weekend if you like.”
“Yes, yes, yes! Let’s go right now!” Gracie cries, utterly ignoring the fact that it is 6:30 in the evening.
“Whoa. Hold on, Gracie,” John cautions, chewing a piece of chicken. “It’s too late and a school night to boot. We can go on Saturday.”
“Ok,” she replies, disappointed. She gets another fork-full of rice and slips it past her lips. The corners of John’s mouth curl and he takes pity.
“It’s only a few days away,” he consoles.
“Dad, it’s Monday,” Gracie says flatly.
“But it’s dinnertime and then bedtime. It’ll be Saturday before you know it,” John reminds her. “And you can find out more about your friend all week in the meantime.”
“That’s true,” Gracie considers thoughtfully.
---
“I made a best friend today, Dad,” Olive tells Sherlock Holmes as they pack her lunch together. She glances at the kitchen clock and reads 7:30, which doesn’t leave her much time before bed. She needs to talk fast if she wants to tell him all she’s learned about Gracie. His case, a double murder, had wrapped up faster than expected and he had walked into the entry way just as Olive was leaving Mrs. Hudson’s flat to go upstairs for a shower. As always, Olive had rushed to throw her arms around him in the biggest hug of all-time. Sherlock had chuckled and lifted her off her feet, making her once again rue the day when she would be too tall for him to do it. She was already tall and just kept growing. Two years ago when she was six, Olive had asked her father if he could do an experiment to slow it down.
“Why wouldn’t you want to grow up?” Sherlock had asked her.
“I want you to always pick me up and hug me,” she had told him in a very serious tone. “You’re growing up too and I’ll get too tall and heavy.”
Sherlock had laughed then and picked her up, so their eyes were even. He assured her that it would be a very long time before he grew that much. He also told her that there was no experiment to stop her from growing and she had cried.
She understands all of that now, of course. She is eight, in grade three and very smart. Incidentally, she has also read three of her father’s medical books from cover to cover in search of a way and there is none. She furrows her brow at the memory, but is drawn back to Sherlock, Gracie and her lunch quickly by the sound of her father’s voice.
“A best friend, eh?” Sherlock’s baritone thrums. “You’ve only just met her. Perhaps you should reserve judgement.”
“I don’t need to,” Olive replies decisively. “I can just tell.”
She meets Sherlock’s eyes as he looks at her skeptically. Olive knows he trusts her to make her own determinations. He has spent a lot of time teaching her all he knows about reading people and making deductions. She has never made any quite so quickly before, but Gracie is different. Olive can tell. Gracie is special.
“There was a well-worn copy of Nancy Drew and the Clue Crew #20, Treasure Trouble,” Olive begins as a sly smile spreads across her face. “She obviously likes to read and loves mysteries, like me. When she had the chance to unpack her school bag and organize her desk, there was a small purple notebook covered with stickers that she writes ideas and thoughts in. So she likes to write, examine and think things through carefully, like me. I think she even has a specific section in it where she’s writing a story. She also has a special pencil case for her writing utensils and one particular purple pencil seems to be her favorite. Like. Me.”
Olive pauses here to survey her father’s features as he gleams with pride. He tilts his head and looks at her thoughtfully.
“Based on the Nancy Drew, I’d wager she likes pirates too,” Sherlock comments with a light laugh in his tone. Olive’s eyes widen and she inhales dramatically.
“I thought so too!” she exclaims. “I’m going to ask her about it tomorrow.”
“Just remember to pay attention to Mrs. Jennings,” Sherlock reminds her as he puts a pear in the lunch bag. “You are there to learn, after all. Even if you know most of it already.”
“Obviously,” Olive snarks, shoving a pudding cup in the bag, Sherlock cocks a brow and looks at her with eyes that want an explanation. “May I? I want to share it with Gracie.”
“You may,” Sherlock answers after a moment’s hesitation. Olive grins and thanks him. They turn back to her sandwich, adding cheese and lettuce. “What did she have for breakfast?”
“Egg and toast,” Olive says quickly.
“Oh. Well, I can see why you like her now,” Sherlock teases.
“Dad, stop,” Olive scolds, but there is no bite to it. She wraps the sandwich and puts it in the bag as she continues: “She’s as smart as me. She knew all the answers in class almost as fast as I did and didn’t hesitate raising her hand.”
“Well, I’m convinced,” Sherlock grins and walks to the refrigerator with the lunch bag in one hand. He opens the door and places it inside. “Gracie sounds like the perfect best friend for you. Give me the cheese and things, will you?”
Olive picks up the container and a few other things. Stopping before him, she offers them up and he takes them one by one, adding to the shelves and swapping things around.
“You haven’t even heard the best part,” Olive tells him as she fetches more food stuffs from the counter. “The thing that makes her most like me.”
“There’s something else?” Sherlock questions. “Now this, I must know.”
Olive stops moving entirely and watches Sherlock as he closes the refrigerator door. He turns to her, ready to speak again, but the words die on his lips when he sees her face. Her eyes are soft, her expression the most sincere he has seen in a long time. Concern begins to cloud his own eyes and he opens his mouth, but she cuts him off.
“She loves her father more than anything,” Olive tells him in a hushed voice that loses none of its intensity by being lower in volume, “and she’s fiercely loyal.”
Sherlock swallows around the lump in his throat and holds out his arms, hands open. Olive immediately rushes into the waiting hug. They wrap their arms around each other, Olive pressing her cheek to Sherlock’s belly. He bends down to kiss the top of her head, sighing into her dark curls left untamed after the evening’s shower. 
“I’m so glad you met her today, Olive,” he whispers softly. “She sounds wonderful, like just the right best friend for you.”
“Obviously,” Olives replies in her standard ‘Don’t be an idiot’ voice. All Holmeses have it. It’s a trademarked thing at this point. “She’s also either very brave...or very stupid.”
“Oh?” Why do you say that?” Sherlock’s brow crinkles in confusion and Olive pulls away to look at him. She wears a triumphant deduction face he recognizes from nearby windows and mirrors on his own cases. His lips curl up and he only just keeps a grin at bay.
“Jones and her minions started a row at lunch and she stood up to them,” Olive tells him smugly.
“Did she?” Sherlock lets the smile overtake his resolve.
“Yep,” Olive pops the P and giggles, “and then she…”
Sherlock’s brows raise in expectation when she stops and then lower in suspicion as he narrows his eyes. He knows that look. Olive is up to something. She hides her plots well at times, but has never been able to fool him for long. Sherlock turns his head slightly and studies his daughter.
“Olive,” he says slowly in a tone of warning. The girl bites her bottom lip and fidgets a bit before sighing in resignation.
“She punched Jones,” Olive tells him, watching apprehensively. “Right in the face.”
Sherlock’s mouth falls open in shock, his eyes widening tenfold. Completely overtaken by disbelief, his brain doesn’t tell his mouth to close or to speak and he stands gaping at his daughter.
“None of the teachers saw so she didn’t get in trouble,” Olive rushes on, looking nervous, “but some of the other kids did. Word gets around fast. Half the school was saying hi to her by the end of the day. Pretty good first day, eh?”
Olive is grinning now and just a bit smugly too. The initial surprise has worn off and Sherlock’s lips are quirking up again. He must meet this Gracie before too much time passes because he can tell his daughter will be by her side until the end of time if she has any say in it. 
“Indeed,” Sherlock agrees wholeheartedly and then gives her a knowing look. “And what about you?”
Olive furrows her brow in confusion.
���Which do you believe based on the evidence?” he asks. “Is Gracie brave or stupid?”
Olive smiles again immediately and gives a little jump of excitement.
“Brave,” she declares with pride. “Gracie doesn’t have enemies. At least, not until today and she made the decision carefully. She didn’t just stumble in blind. She’s loyal to her dad and her friends. And fast too.”
“Yes,” Sherlock mutters as his mind begins to wander to a time when he knew someone like that. Olive watches his expression change and leans in a bit, closing her small hand around his long fingers. 
“Did you ever have a best friend like Gracie?” Olive asks him in a soft voice. Sherlock’s eyes shift to her face, but he remains silent. “A best friend?”
Sherlock almost sighs. He has taught her too well. Olive is much too perceptive for an eight year old. She absorbs knowledge and masters it even faster than he did as a child, which isn’t really surprising. Like father, like daughter. What really amazes him are her innate abilities to unlock and understand sentiment, both the feelings of others and her own. With all that working against him, he knows he cannot hide the truth from her and braces himself to answer.
“I did once,” he tells her.
“Your man Friday?” Olive inquires with a warm tint to her voice.
“Yes,” Sherlock chuckles quietly. He has told Olive the stories of past cases and villains, and her favorites are the ones that include John. Sherlock has never mentioned him by name though. He does not know why exactly. Saying it out loud felt too close, too painful. So he borrowed a page from Robinson Crusoe and started referring to John as “my man, Friday”, Olive found it extremely amusing from day one.
“What happened to him?” Olive’s voice breaks Sherlock’s reverie and his gaze focuses in on her again. He smiles kindly as he places a hand upon her head and smooths down her long curls. Exactly what became of John Watson is the last thing Sherlock wants to think about right now.
“It’s getting late,” he says instead of answering her question. “Why don’t you brush your teeth and get up to bed? I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Okay,” Olive gives his hand a squeeze and bounds off down the hall. Sherlock watches her go, straightening his shoulders and resolving to not think about John Watson.
---
“See does get intah tubble,” Gracie tells John around her toothbrush. She spits in the sink and continues before starting on her teeth again. “Some girl in grade six, Olive said she’s her enemy, started bothering us at lunch and what does Olive do? Mouths off to her.”
John fixes her with a stern expression, a sinking feeling in his gut. While Gracie has never been called out for any incidents at school, John knows there have been a handful. He did not address them per se because they were always in defense of a friend or weaker child, but this is not the way to start anew in London.
“Gracie,” John says in a low tone, “what happened?”
“I told her to leave Olive alone or she’d answer to me,” Gracie shrugs and spits again. John looks at her expectantly, but she says nothing more. 
“And…” John prompts. Gracie meets his eyes and heaves a sigh.
“I punched her,” she tells him in a pouty voice, knowing she will be on the receiving end of a lecture.
“Gracie!” John’s voice is loud and incredulous.
“I know I shouldn’t have, but she was going to flatten Olive. You always say it’s not okay to be a bully.”
“It isn’t, but I don’t want you in trouble on your first day,” John scolds.
 “I’m not in trouble,” Gracie grows defensive and puts her hands on her hips, one hand still clutching the toothbrush. “No one but a few kids saw and they just told other kids. Lots of them are being really nice now. Fastest way I’ve ever made friends before.”
John considers this for a moment and runs a hand through his hair in resignation. It’s no less than he would’ve done for his best friend. Nothing he hadn’t done. He’d even done worse.
“Okay,” John sighs. He looks at Gracie’s reflection in the mirror as she continues cleaning her teeth. “Looking out for your friend…”
“Bess friend,” Gracie interrupts, the toothbrush mincing her words again. John nods hurriedly and rushes on to the point.
“...is all well and good, but fighting is not something you want to do,” John tells her firmly. “Get a teacher’s help next time. Do not take matters into your own hands again.”
Gracie spits one last time and meets his eyes in the reflection. She resists rolling them as she shifts her weight.
“All right,” Gracie full-on pouts now. She leans over the sink to rinse her mouth and then puts up her toothbrush, grabbing a hand towel to wipe her mouth.
“Thank you,” John says, already feeling relieved and yet, uneasy too. “Get into your pajamas and I’ll be there to tuck you in.”
---
“I can’t wait until school tomorrow! I have so many questions for Gracie,” Olive exclaims as she climbs into bed. 
Sherlock snugs the covers under her chin and cannot help the smile blooming on his face. Olive has always had friends and loves unraveling the mysteries of new people, but has not been quite this excited about a single person before. Yes, Gracie is definitely an excellent addition to her life. That much is certain. Without having even met, Sherlock feels as though he knows her after everything he has learned from his perceptive daughter. More than that, young Gracie reminds him of a time in his life when he was at his happiest. He never thought he would have that again, but then Olive came along and everything changed back.
“I want to know more about Bath,” Olive is saying when Sherlock returns to the present. “That’s where she used to live. Can we go there one day and see the baths? Except Gracie says you can’t swim in them.”
“You can’t?” Sherlock feigns surprise and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, that’s ridiculous.”
“That’s exactly what I said!” Olive tells him emphatically. As she recounts more of what she and Gracie spoke of throughout the day, Sherlock clicks on the bedside lamp and rises to turn off the overhead light. His little girl is still going a mile a minute when he sits down on her bed. “And I want to know more about her dad. He’s a doctor, you know. That’s why they moved here. He has a practice. Can we have a playdate?”
Now this is definitely a surprise. Never in her life, no matter how much she has enjoyed another child’s company, has Olive asked to have a playdate.
“We’ll have to see what her father says, but yes,” Sherlock tells her in a measured voice, watching as face grows even brighter.
“Oh, thank you, Daddy!” Olive sits up quickly and throws her arms around him.
“We still have to see what Gracie’s father says,” he reminds her, “and we need to get you to sleep. You have a big day ahead. Which book would you like?”
“Would you tell me one of your cases?” Olive asks hopefully as she lies back again. Sherlock eyes her with doubt as he brings the covers to her chin again.
“They aren’t really appropriate for bedtime,” he says and she shakes her head swiftly.
“It’s fine. It won’t scare me. I want one I’ve heard before,” Olive assures him. He cocks a brow, still questioning whether or not this is wise. “Just one. A Study in Pink? Please?”
Sherlock inhales sharply. Olive is thinking along the same lines as he. She has met a girl she believes will be her best friend for years to come and it has taken her mind right to the very moment Sherlock met his best friend. He lets out a long breath and his face softens.
“Of course, sweetie,” he says quietly. She perks up instantly and whispers thank you just before he begins. 
“We met just outside to inquire about sharing this very flat when I got a text from Graham…”
“Greg,” Olive interrupts with a big grin on her face, knowing Sherlock is only teasing about not recalling the CDI’s name.
“Ah, yes,” Sherlock chuckles, gently tapping a fingertip to her nose. “Greg.”
---
“Gracie, you’ve talked non-stop since you got home,” John laughs, pulling back the quilt and sheet on his daughter’s bed. “You’re exhausted.”
“No, I’m not,” Gracie replies as defiantly as she can around a huge yawn. She stumbles to her bed and nearly face plants right into the pillow, but catches herself. John chuckles softly and pulls up the covers while she turns over slowly to look at him.
“I don’t think you can even stay awake for a story,” he remarks playfully, knowing she will deny this every day of the week and with one eye already closed.
“No! No, I’m awake,” Gracie insists, grabbing his hand with her smaller one. “Please tell me a story. You know I can’t sleep without one.”
That is patently untrue, but John just looks at his daughter fondly and brushes her fringe from her forehead. 
“All right, sweet pea,” he concedes, his voice already taking on the gentle quality he reserves for bedtime. “Any requests?”
“The first one,” Gracie yawns again. “When they met.”
John leans back a bit to look at his sleepy girl. He had wondered if she would pick this one after meeting her new friend. Gracie told him absolutely everything she had learned about Olive today, as well as all she wanted to find out tomorrow. It was enough to make him wonder if they would pay attention to their lessons at all, and he said as much. Gracie assured him that they only talk when allowed, naturally and eye roll. John had just given her a knowing look and she promised to keep her word.
John brushes her hair from her face again and inhales deeply.
“When Sam Williams and Dean Jensen got to the scene, it was obvious foul play was involved,” he begins. “Dean marveled as he watched Sam work on this, their first case. He saw every detail, every clue that every other person on earth would glaze right over. He was amazing.”
---
“We ran through the back alleys, jumping over fences and around skips,” Sherlock’s voice is urgent. He knows he should not make the story suspenseful since it is just before bed. Olive stares at him with wide eyes and rapt attention, but he cannot stop himself. He has not told this tale in some time and is completely absorbed in the memories and rush of feelings. “I knew we could catch the cab if we were only fast enough.”
---
“But when they got to the street, the cab wasn’t there,” John’s tone is full of hushed intensity. Gracie’s eyes are wide and yet, she can barely keep them open. When she blinks, her heavy lids stay down a split-second longer than normal before she tears them open again to meet her father’s.
---
“We returned to the flat to find Greg and his forces conducting a thorough search of the premises,” Sherlock does not even try to keep the disdain from his voice, remembering how Anderson and Donovan had volunteered in hopes of finding drugs. “They found the pink case and leapt to the wrong conclusion. Idiots. If Greg hadn’t been in charge they would’ve arrested us on the spot.”
---
“And just like that, Sam was gone,” John shakes his head, still remembering his own disbelief when Sherlock was suddenly missing. “It didn’t take Dean long to figure out what had happened, so he hailed his own cab to follow.”
Gracie’s eyes are closed now, her breath evening out and deepening, but John doesn’t want to stop. His mind is flooded with memories and images as the case plays out in his words.
“Dean jumped out of the cab and stared up at two identical buildings. He picked one and ran up the stairs, two at a time, only to find himself looking out the window to see Sam and the cabbie in the other building,” John murmurs, suddenly out of breath. Gracie makes a soft noise and shifts slightly. Her eyes flutter open and then close again. John detects the movement, but is so wound into the case that he just keeps staring at the bed’s headboard like he’s looking through that window again. His voice comes out in a defeated whisper: “He made the wrong choice.”
---
“A shot rang out and struck the cabbie, knocking him to the floor,” Sherlock says dramatically, caught up in the story as much as Olive. “I ran to the window, but couldn’t see anyone in the opposite building. Later when I started deducing the shooter for Greg, I knew.”
---
“Sam knew it was Dean,” John breathes, his words nearly inaudible, even in the stillness of the room.
---
“I walked away from Greg, but made it clear to Friday that I knew what he’d done for me,” Sherlock meets his daughter’s wide eyes, full of wonder. “He smiled at me and I knew at that moment…”
---
“We both knew,” John almost gasps, unable to maintain his distance from the tale now that his daughter is asleep. His eyes have grown soft and watery.
---
“We would be best friends for life,” Sherlock finishes, nearly in a trance that breaks as soon as Olive exhales loudly with the word wow.
“That was better than any other time you told it before,” she tells him in awe. Sherlock’s lips turn up into a small smile and he bends to kiss her forehead. “So what happened?”
“What?” Sherlock’s brow furrows in confusion.
“You were best friends,” Olive clarifies. “So what happened?”
‘Where is he’ is the unspoken question hanging heavily in the air between them. Sherlock licks his lips, trying to decide what to say. Oddly enough, Olive has never before asked for an explanation as to why his best friend is no longer in his life. A pang of despair surges through his body, leaving weariness in its wake. He looks at Olive with some apprehension, pushing thoughts of John and Mary from his mind. 
“He got married and they moved away,” Sherlock shrugs uneasily while trying to sound casual. “We grew apart.”
“Hm,” Olive presses her lips together. She looks unconvinced, but mercifully does not push the issue. “I don’t think that’ll happen to Gracie and I. We’ll be friends forever.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Sherlock says sincerely and kisses her head again. “Good night, Olive.���
“G’night,” she grins and pulls a stuffed bee from beneath the covers as Sherlock stands. She turns on her side and snuggles it close.
Once Sherlock is out of the room and the door is closed, he leans his back against it and sighs sadly. Unwilling to dwell on the memories, he walks down the stairs and into the kitchen where he starts loading the dishwasher he had installed shortly before Olive was born. He knew he would have little time for washing up with an infant in the flat. 
Sherlock tries to keep John from his thoughts as he works, but the face that still haunts his dreams will not relent. Mycroft had tried to tell him what had become of John a few weeks after he and Mary had left London, but Sherlock could not bear it. He could not know anything about John without being able to share it. Sherlock had been so broken and hopeless, nearly turning to cocaine for release, but would not do that to John. He knew John would not give a damn at that point, but Sherlock still refused to go back to his old ways. 
Sherlock could not really blame John for leaving. He had been the one who pushed him back to Mary after she shot Sherlock, and she wanted to leave London. She seemed to want John all to herself and Sherlock had not expected that. Nor had he anticipated John going with her without a word. That had cut more deeply than any cruel words could have and Sherlock was lost as a result.
That was ten years ago and so much had changed in Sherlock’s life since then. He had healed and repaired his broken heart, but never forgot John, the one true love of his life. Never at any time, however, did he allow Mycroft to tell him anything about the doctor or his new life. His meddling brother knew exactly what John was up to and still did. He would never stop his minions from spying, much the same as Sherlock would never ask what they had observed. In spite of this fact, Sherlock would never delete John and revels in telling Olive of their adventures, but he does keep his distance from that part of his mind palace. It is the only locked door and he approaches it only to slip a case from the letterbox. Why then, does John so plague his thoughts tonight?
Sherlock closes the dishwasher and switches it on. He walks through to the sitting room and goes straight for his violin. Picking up the beloved instrument carefully, he props it under his chin and deftly moves the bow across its strings with a sigh. As a piece of his own composition fills the air, one he only plays on difficult nights, he closes his eyes and allows his mind to work so that it might ease.
_______________
So there it is! What do you think?? Too much pining? Not enough? The girls are the greatest, yeah? Third grade versions of John and Sherlock, but they have their own personalities too. They made me laugh so many times while writing and editing. Lol. I never would've thought I'd like writing kids, but I really do. Of course, I never pictured myself writing Johnlock fanfic either. Oh, how we change as we grow.
Logistically speaking, my plan is to post a new chapter every weekend. The whole story is finished, I just haven't typed it all and I need to edit. I'm sort of old school that way. That said, I may have to post every other week. I'll just have to see how it goes.
Your support means so much to me and I love you all!  Jane
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fnf-brain-rot · 3 years
Text
We're In This Together [Pico's School AU] Chapter 2 - Donut Rendezvous
Today was the day..
Wednesday..
It was a half day, being the day before a teacher work day. They didn't have school on that Thursday. Teachers had donuts available to them in the break room every Wednesday.
Pico and Darnell have been planning this for months.
They got the whole class on their side, having started a little protest in the cafeteria. "We're tired of adults hogging the sweets to themselves!" They cried out to the other students. "This time we take the sweets for ourselves!"
They were being normal at first, all arriving when the bell rang, sitting in their seats, and listening to the lecture. Most of the students shot each other knowing glances. Pico was the leader of this rendezvous, of course. On his signal, the others would move.
Ten minutes into class now, Bee was curious about the restlessness of the other students, looking around himself, having made eye contact with a few. Right, he's new. Pico had a grand idea. He'd lead in the front with him, like his queen of the army or something. He snickered at the thought, looking down at his blank paper. Right, perfect move. He and Darnell looked to each other, then nodded.
It felt quiet. Too quiet. The seconds ticked by loudly from the clock above them. Usually the teacher that buys the donuts would buy two boxes, which should be enough for two classes to feed each student one time.
Oh, right, the other class was in on it too. This would be big.
Pico stood up from his seat, slowly, as to not alarm the other students. Mrs. Fee's back was turned to the children, the woman mindlessly explaining some math equation and writing on the chalk board. He walked over to Bee, gently grabbing his hand. "Bee-" He almost started, but Pico covered his mouth, as to not alert Mrs. Fee as well. "Follow me.." He whispered. Bee nodded and stood quietly as well. The two shimmied from between the desks, and Pico held up one finger.
One...
Two....
Three...
The cacophony of screeching desks an chairs startled the woman up front, and many children began to yell at the top of their lungs, mostly those also known for causing trouble. A thunderous rumble of feet crossed the floor, and Pico raced for the classroom door, Bee just barely able to keep up with him. He threw the wooden slab open, and bolted out of the classroom, not looking back, but he could hear the monstrous amount of kids following him.
"Beep!! Beep bop!!" Bee cried over the noise, then heard the door next to theirs slam open. The second class took the message, and now raced after the other. Pico could hear Darnell's laughter over the noise as the group of students scattered around down the hall. It was a straight shot to the break room, right down the hall. Their school had no security, all they had to worry about were the teachers.
"What are you kids doing?!" The voice of one of the teachers rang out, muffled by the sound of stomping feet and ecstatic screams. "Scatter!!" Pico yelled out. Some of the taller kids blocked view of Pico, Darnell, and Bee, entering the room in which the donuts resided. Bee stood off to the side, hiding behind the wall as Darnell closed the door behind them. "B-Beep?? Brappity-"
"Yeah, you weren't here for instructions. You see, me and Darnell been planning this for a long time." Pico began to explain it to the shorty, quickly grabbing one of the boxes. Still warm. Nice. "Darnell grab a bag." Darnell saluted and went to look for a plastic bag. They would snag a little under half the donuts exclusively for themselves, being Darnell, Pico, Nene, Gigi, by Nene's begging, and Bee, because Pico said so.
"Bep bop.." Bee breathed out. Pico could damn there hear his heart thumping in his ears. It wasn't over yet. "Darnell, assess the situation." Pico then ordered. Darnell poked his head out the door. "No teachers in sight, sir." He responded. "Good, let's book it." Pico grinned maniacally, Darnell holding the door open for him and Bee.
"Boop bepoo?" Bee pointed at himself, and Pico raised a brow. Their next stop was their secret spot, but they had to go past the main office to get outside, since the doors were chained during the day. "Why did I grab you? Well, cause you would have been left alone in there with Cassandra." Pico gagged as he said her name. the goths wanted no part in it. He didn't care, more donuts for everyone else. "Now come on, there shouldn't be anyone in the office right now." He led the two past the glass room, which as he stated, was devoid of any staff. They most likely went to deal with the kids, which the screams still echoed faintly down the halls.
They scampered past the view of some cameras, then accessed the side door. The empty area behind some trees across the walkway was visible. They were in the home stretch. "Hey, Darnell, carry one of these will ya? My arms are dying." Pico huffed softly, and Darnell snurked. "Whatever you say, sissy." He teased. "Hey, I'm the leader of this whole operation. I ain't no sissy." The ginger shot back, making Bee giggle lightly.
They made it without error to the hiding spot in the trees. Bee fumbled with his hands awkwardly, staring at the bag of donuts Darnell held. Pico laughed a little, setting one of the boxes on top of the other on a tree stump. "Wait just a second there Bee." He walked over, elbowing the smaller's shoulder, who winced a little, but rubbed it with a goofy smile. "Those are the special donuts. We're gonna go heat them up in the lounge." Bee made a face. "During lunch dummy."
"There's a part two to this plan??" Darnell quickly asked. Pico shook his head. "I just know how to get in and out. Me and the janitor are on good terms. I'm close to him letting me into his closet." He nudged the brown boy's arm, and they made their way back into the building.
_______________
"Now, I don't know what's gotten into you kids, but this behavior is unacceptable."
Mrs. Fee had decided to give the kids a lecture after they all returned to their respective classrooms. "The only one who didn't leave was Cassandra, which means the rest of you get workbook homework for the rest of the week." Darnell groaned, but Pico had a shit eating grin on his face, his cheeks flushed in triumph. "Fucking worth it." He muttered, holding his fist out to Darnell. "Yeah, I guess." He responded with quiet laughter, returning the fist bump. the other kids probably thought it was worth it. Hell, Pico controlled the distribution of the donuts. They better think it's worth it or they ain't gettin' shit.
Pico looked over to Bee, who was smiling and kicking his legs a little, fiddling with his pencil. That whole ordeal must have filled him with quite the adrenaline. "Stick with me, and you'll be on top of the food chain dude." He had told him when they were coming back in. Bee didn't seem opposed to the idea, but he still didn't wanna scare him off. They did things like this pretty often. Having the parents Darnell had, usually others had to get involved so just those two, or three, including Nene, wouldn't get in trouble.
After the end of first period, Pico waited for Bee by the door, of course being teased by Nene and Darnell as they left. Bee stumbled a bit as he threw his big bag on his shoulders, walking over to Pico with a big smile on his face. "You like that chaos, huh?" He asked the boy, returning the grin. "Beep boop!" He responded, bouncing on his toes a bit, and they left the room.
"That's just how it is in this school. Of course I'm the instigator, got kind of a reputation. I make my father proud." Pico laughed a little. His ego was inflated as hell considering the dads he has. Well, dad. Steve didn't like to entertain the chaotic nature those two shared. Said he didn't like to lose sleep while those two jousted with frying pans at two AM.
"Bep bop.. Skdoo beep.." Bee muttered softly, a bit of a bitter tone to his voice. "What, your dad doesn't like that kind of mess?" Bee shook his head in response. Must be on closer terms with his mom huh? Yeah, he's lucky he had a dad who didn't suck ass. "Well when lunch rolls around, you can have your donuts, okay?" Pico reminded him to reassure him. He didn't wanna see the sad look on the kid's face. He was too bright to be frowning like that. "We could work on that homework together too, if it'll make you feel better." He then offered him. There it is, that bright smile.
Man this kid was just so precious..
_______________
History was mostly uneventful, save for Bee falling asleep in the middle of writing a sentence. He must have crashed from all the excitement. It was so abrupt that his face banged against the desk, and his head shot back up as he let out a yelp. Pico snurked from beside him, and heard some others begin to laugh as well.
Once the class had ended, Pico made sure he and Boyfriend were the first ones out, so they could run and grab the donuts. Thankfully the boxes were still there, untouched. "Come to papa." Pico rubbed his hands together, and lifted the boxes. he hoped all the glaze didn't melt off, it's hot out here.
They made their way back into the school, walking in through the side door to the cafeteria, where all the students waited eagerly for their treats. Darnell, Nene, and Gigi caught up to them when they saw them enter. "Wow, you actually managed to pull it off. I'm impressed." Gigi commented lightly as they set up the boxes on the end of one of the lunch tables. Pico cleared his throat, his cheeks reddening as he put a hand on his chest. "Well, they don't call me Pico "danger" Neil-Griffiths for no reason."
"literally no one calls you that." Nene snorted. Bee held back a laugh, turning his head away, while Darnell just openly cackled. "Whatever, I like my name." Pico scoffed in response, then opened one of the boxes. He was right to be worried. It's a mess in there. "You sure they'll want these?" Nene asked him, doubt in her voice. Pico waved his hand dismissively. "They're idiot kids, they'll take anything with sugar in it." Bee reached for it, but Pico smacked his hand away. "We get the nice donuts. Darnell?" Said boy held up the large plastic bag of almost half a box of donuts. "You sneaky.." Gigi mumbled, sweating nervously. "That's capitalism for you. Now take the best looking ones outta here, and we'll let them have the rest- quit your yappin', you'll get your turn!" Pico glared at some kids that had gathered around the table, and allowed his buddies to grab whatever ones they wanted. He had a mind to sock one of these greedy children in the face.
He often forgets he's a child himself, but he doesn't associate with these gremlins.
Once each of them were satisfied with what they got, the group began to move to leave out of the cafeteria. Pico stayed behind to whistle, signaling to the others to come get their donuts. And like a pack of starving dogs, the children rushed over, once again, save for the goth kids, who glared at Pico knowingly. the ginger only flipped the bird at them, and ran off with the others.
"What are you guys doing for the half day?" He heard Gigi talking to the others. She and Bee were walking pretty closely. Pico stayed back a bit, narrowing his eyes at the little pit in his stomach. He felt nauseous, or something. He didn't know, but he didn't like it. He didn't linger on it for too long though, noticing Bee glance behind him. "Bep!" He slipped between Nene and Darnell, who looked to see where he was going. They cooed when they saw Bee grab Pico's hand, which made the taller flush exponentially. Geez this guy could pull. He must have been an annoying toddler.
"C'mon man, how are we gettin' in?" Darnell then asked as Pico was brought to the front. Pico laughed to hide how flustered he was, then cleared his throat. Literally everyone, except for Bee, weren't buying it. Oh whatever, he didn't need to convince everybody. "Simple, just walk in." Pico walked over and opened the door. "We're on schedule, so the teachers should be on their way in a little bit. Hurry and throw that in there." The others filed inside, looking around and snooping through drawers. "Nice. Sharp scissors." Nene pulled a pair of scissors out of the metal cabinet, and Bee flopped onto the couch, letting out a content, "Beeeeeeep.." Gigi laughed and sat beside him, causing his face to go red.
Pico forced himself to look away, as to not seem weird.
_______________
As everyone wouldn't shut the hell up about, school ended early. Pico was so ready to leave, he even had a couple spare donuts. He stashed them away in his backpack for safe keeping. "Geez P, how do you understand Bee so well so fast?" Darnell had asked them, the group hanging out in the front of the school. "I dunno, it's like.. telepathic." Pico looked to the blue headed boy in question, who was mindlessly tapping away on his phone a a bit away from them. "Bee, you're sitting in the middle of the staircase, someone can trip over you." Pico pulled him closer, just barely missing some kid who wanted to launch himself off the top stair. Dumbass..
"Bop.." Bee mumbled softly, turning his body to face Pico, then continued what he was doing. Gigi and Nene talked with each other some bit away. He didn't care to listen in, they were probably chatting about girl stuff.
"Hey, who the hell rides a limo?" Darnell grumbled in question, and Gigi's head shot up. The horn from said vehicle honked loudly, and some people stared at it. "God, that's so embarrassing.." Gigi covered her face. "That's mine.."
"What?!"
"Beep?!"
The group had shouted simultaneously, and the red head girl giggled. "What are you, rich??" Darnell questioned her, and she made a nervous sound. "I'll explain some other time. See you guys!" She gripped her backpack and ran off, the group watching as the door opened for her, and she hopped in. It left just as quickly as it came. "Huh.." Darnel murmured thoughtfully. "New objective. Find out if Gigi is rich." Pico joked lightly, and Nene scoffed.
"Knock it off. You've done enough today." She went and sat with the three. "Hey Bee, you wanna hang out with us today? We always stop at this playground on the way home." Pico then offered. Bee hummed in thought, but paused when he noticed Pico give him the puppy eyes. He giggled, then held up his phone. "Bee bo bop." He responded. "Is that.. a yes?" Nene questioned. "He'll text his mom." Pico answered for her, standing up from his spot. "Wizard." Darnell mumbled, and followed suit.
Thankfully Bee was able to go. Pico thought he would have to rant to his dad about mean parents.
_______________
Pico wanted to do everything and absolutely nothing all at once.
He sat in his favorite spot near the slide, Bee sitting beside him. "Behp beppo." He muttered nervously, and Pico scoffed. "We steal the playground every day, those kids should know better by now." He huffed.  Bee went quiet after a moment, and Pico looked up to him staring at him. His cheeks flushed red. "Uh.. What?" He then asked. The boy only responded quietly with "Hm?" as if he were spacing out. Pico clicked his tongue and looked away again. "Hey, you got your mic, right?" He then asked. Bee popped out of his trance almost immediately, and nodded excitedly. He reached into his back pocket and pulled it out. "Bee-dep?" He then asked the other, and he nodded, a light smile on his face.
Bee seemed ecstatic to sing for him again, and so he did, gaining Nene and Darnell's attention as well over some time. Just like at P.E, they listened to him sing for quite some time. It was calming, Pico would argue he enjoyed it the most.
"You know, you should hang at my place sometime. I got games and stuff." Pico offered, about an hour after Bee's little jam session. "Beep?" He turned to look at him. leaning against the bars of the playground structure. "I mean, I live with Darnell when my dads go off in the army. Oh, you get to meet my dads sometime! They're cool. I'll be completely honest, one of them will tease you for speaking in bee-bops." He then snickered lightly at the thought.
"Baps?" Bee tilted his head, holding up a two with his fingers. "Yeah, technically, I call them both dad. They're real close, but they're not married or in a relationship or anything." Pico then hummed softly. Sure they also sleep in the same bed when they're at home, but that's just because it's more comfortable than bunkers out where they are.
Bee hummed in thought, then nodded. Cool. It's a date.
Yes, he meant to think that.
It's a date.
Pico's mind swirled with thoughts of what he could do when they met up again. He pulled one of the donuts out of his back pack. It was a little mushed, but still good. He ate at it slowly, wanting to savor the taste. He could eat cold donuts, they were fine. He caught Bee staring at him again, then raised a brow. "What? What's up?" He then asked, his voice muffled with food. Bee's cheeks flushed, and he pointed at the donut. "Oh.. I can give you a piece." Pico looked down and tore off a piece of the treat, handing it to Bee, who took it thankfully. He popped the entire piece in his mouth, a happy "mmmmffff" emitting from his throat. Pico laughed a little. "You like donuts, huh?" He teased him, and Bee curled up a bit, still chewing away happily so he could get every little bit.
Pico spent the rest of that afternoon with the three. Darnell and Nene definitely understood Bee a little bit more after today.
Even if it is just a little bit.
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imaginethathaikyuu · 4 years
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a dono request for my dear, sweet, beloved, favorite person ever and great friend lauren :) i love u so much, thank u for making a donation and letting me write this for u in return!!!! i rlly hope u enjoy it, MUAH
if you would like a personal scenario, headcanon or a match up, please visit this post for information on charity donation requests :)
nishinoya yuu x fem reader word count: 2080 NSFW warning featuring: needy noya, dom-ish noya, and uhhh sex 
-
“Just one more.”
Nishinoya Yuu wasn’t one for lying, but he had been lying to you all evening. 
“One more!” he was giggling and tugging on your shirt. “That’s all. I promise.” 
“You don’t mean that, you’ve said that all night,” you said with a sigh. But a smile was evident on your face, because despite the minor annoyance, he was still cute as a button. “I’m studying, Yuu.”
It’s true that when Nishinoya asks for one more of anything - especially when it comes to you - he didn’t mean it. You weren’t sure if he knew what the words even meant. 
Yuu thought about it for a moment before shaking his head, “No, I do mean it this time. I only need one more kiss. Really.” 
You gave up on fighting back and decided to just give in, because it was late and your boyfriend would never let you keep studying until he got what he wanted. And this was meant to be a study date - you intended on actually getting some studying done. 
Yuu stole your smile from your lips with his own, kissing you soft and slow as if he was savoring it. He had his hands on each side of your face and he was kissing you like he meant it - he was giving you no chance to move away and you could hardly even kiss back. It was all him; he was kissing you and you were letting him do as he pleased because it felt too good not to. 
You weren’t sure when this kiss turned into a total make out session or when his hand gravitated to your hair or when your hands were sliding up his shirt. All you knew was that Nishinoya was still there, holding you in place with your head tilted back, kissing you so deep it felt like he was trying to find your soul. And you were his for the taking; he tugged your hair gently as his tongue lapped into your mouth, and by now you’d forgotten all about any studying that was meant to be done. 
You didn’t take a breath until he pulled away - slowly, because he was absolutely trying to tease you, and you were left looking like a fish out of water. You chased his lips, desperate for him to kiss you again, but Nishinoya only pulled back and looked at you with furrowed brows. 
“I told you I only needed one more,” he smirked; your obvious need only fueled his ego. “You can study now, bunny. Don’t forget that important exam tomorrow.” 
He knew what he was doing, but his giggling kept him from looking as cool as he wanted. Ever the bad actor, he just couldn’t hide his true intentions no matter how badly he wanted to. Especially when it comes to you. 
“That’s not fair,” you whined, having fallen into his trap easily. “You did that on purpose.” 
“I know,” he laughed, poking the tip of your nose before leaving a kiss on the same spot. “I did it on purpose. But only ‘cause I want you. I’m not teasing on purpose.” 
“You are!” 
“I’m not!” He crossed his arms and scooted back away from you, exaggerating his pout. “You’re the one teasing on purpose, with your studying nonsense. You’re even wearing my shirt! You only invited me over to tease me, didn’t you?” 
“No!” you claimed, but you were laughing way too much for him to believe you. And you were only laughing because he wasn’t wrong. “...Did it work?” 
And then he erupted into laughter as he tackled you to the ground, completely forgetting about the workbooks on the table in front of you. Studying be damned. 
“Yes, it worked, you dork.” 
“I’m not a dork.” 
He hummed as he pressed kisses along your jaw. “You are a dork.” More kissing, nibbling, sucking the sensitive skin on your neck, “but you’re my good little bunny, too, aren’t you?” 
You were going to reply when you felt his fingers wiggling against your waist; you laughed because of the feeling and Nishinoya laughed along with you. “See?” he whispered. “Dork.” 
So to get payback, you tucked your hand under his arm and wiggled your fingers, making him laugh loud and push your arm away fast. “If being ticklish makes me a dork, then you’re an even bigger dork.”  
He huffed, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he took your wrists into one hand and pressed them above your head. 
“I should punish you for that.” 
You challenged him, “Should you?” 
“Yeah,” he replied, saying it like it was obvious. “You’re bratty tonight. What happened to being my good little bunny?” His head fell until his lips were pressed right against your ear. “I’ll give you another chance to be good.” You felt his free hand creeping up your shirt and your breath hitched in anticipation. “Only ‘cause I know you can be good for me.” 
He pulled back just to wink at you, and you nodded at him to let him know you heard him. 
“Keep your arms up here,” he told you. He pulled his hand away and then moved down to your chest; with both hands, he lifted your shirt up until it was tucked under your chin and your chest was bare. He made no comments about the fact that you were missing a bra - you expected him to at least point it out -  but it was because his lips were too busy kissing your skin. 
This was always Nishinoya’s favorite part. Of course he loved to tease, and he loved to play up his dominance, and he loved what always happens after this, but nothing beats the sight of you underneath him, anxiously letting him kiss and bite your skin. Nothing beats seeing you bare, your chest rising and falling with each breath, arms up above your head just like he told you. 
He’s convinced that it’ll never stop feeling like the first time. There will never be a day that he looks at you like this and doesn’t immediately feel breathless, feel completely in awe at the natural beauty of you. It will always make his heart swell and his blood rush and his dick hard as a rock - always. 
His fingers grip your sweatpants because he just can’t wait anymore. He wants to see you and feel you and hear you. He wants to make you drip and moan and drool. He wants you to be bare of everything besides his hands and his shirt and him. 
With a harsh tug your pants come off, and his movements are haste and almost rough but he doesn’t even notice and you don’t mind. Just like him, you’re too ready to care about anything else. 
He leaves his shirt on but kicks his shorts off, struggling to get them down his legs because god, he’s hard and needy and ready. But he gets them off and then he’s back at your lips, searching for your soul once again. 
“I love you,” he says and breathes and moans, and you have to fight the urge to touch him as you say it back. 
A whine of frustration left Yuu’s throat because he couldn’t figure out what to do next. He wanted you more than anything, but he had a bad habit of taking things too fast and, in turn, ending things quicker than he wanted. He wanted to savor you, to take you nice and sweet and slow; he wanted to pump his fingers into you and watch you fall apart around them; he wanted to move his lips down your body until he was relentlessly fucking you with his tongue and listening to screams of your name. 
But he couldn’t. Yuu’s desires were selfish and he couldn’t hide it. He wanted all of those things, but he wanted his own release more. He wanted to bury his cock in you and be reminded of how well you take him. He wanted to watch as your breasts bounced with every thrust. He wanted to paint you in his cum, both inside and out. And he just couldn’t wait for it. 
When he tucked his hips against yours and you wrapped your legs around him, he felt a shiver run through him - the two of you fit together so perfectly. Your bodies weren’t even connected yet, and still, it was a perfect fit. 
There was no point in holding back anymore. Nishinoya didn’t know why he was trying to stop himself - you obviously didn’t want him to wait, so why was he waiting? 
He didn’t need to, so he didn’t. He let himself do the one thing he wanted, which was slide his cock into you as deep as he possibly could. 
“Oh my god, fuck,” he cursed, and he was hardly aware he was even speaking. But he couldn’t control it. “Oh, you feel good - so fucking good.” 
He took a hold of your wrists and kept them pinned next to your head - you hadn’t moved them, but he was just making sure you weren’t going anywhere.  
It always caught you off guard that Nishinoya’s pace was never hard and fast and rough and sloppy, and when you first met him, that’s what you expected. With all his energy, how could you not?
But Yuu’s thrusts were deliberate and particular. He learned what you liked and memorized it; every one of his movements were for you. He knew exactly how to hit the spots you loved, and he knew how fast you wanted it. He knew how to make you moan for him - he didn’t have to ask. 
And he loved it. He loved knowing that those moans were real and all for him; you were groaning and cursing and whining because of him. Nothing would ever make him feel better than that. 
He loved teasing you for it, too. “Just a little louder, bunny, I don’t think the people on the first floor can hear.” 
You replied with the cutest whine and, “Yuu,” turning your head away and biting your lip to keep your mouth shut. 
“Don’t you dare,” he said, tugging your lip free. “Don’t even think about hiding them. Be good. Keep that pretty mouth open.” 
His thrusts hadn’t stopped, and it was getting much harder for you to ignore the pressure that was building up in your coure. 
“I’m close, Yuu,” you whimpered. 
“How close?”
“Close,” you said, completely annoyed by his teasing. “Really… close.”
That’s when he sped up, and he was obviously chasing after his own orgasm. It wasn’t helping you hold yours back, but you didn’t have to; with his lips against your ear, Yuu whispered, “then cum for me,” and when you did, he was quick to follow your lead. He’d be damned if he didn’t cum with you. 
Both of your moans filled the room, and maybe the rooms of your neighbors, but you were both way too lost in each other to care. It was electric and sparkly and amazing for both of you, just like always, and Yuu loved it. 
And it ended way too soon, just like he knew it would. Both of you struggled to catch ragged breath while Nishinoya was trying to figure out where he had gone wrong; he came to the conclusion that he shouldn’t have rushed things, and next time he’ll offer more foreplay so that he can stretch it all out longer, and - 
“Yuu. Stop. It was perfect.” 
“It ended too soon.” 
“You didn’t like it?” 
He gasped at the accusation, and you laughed at the look on his face. “No, I loved it, baby, don’t say that.” 
He finally let go of your hands as he tucked his face into the crook of your neck, and you stretched your arms out. 
“Okay, well now we actually have to study.” 
Your boyfriend completely deflated at that, but you pushed him up off of you anyway. You brushed his hair out of his eyes for him and tugged your shirt back down, ignoring Nishinoya’s pout. 
“Wait. Give me one more kiss before we start.”
Knowing where one more kiss would lead, you pressed your hand against his face and pushed him away. 
“Fine! I’ll get it after we’re done, though, bunny. I’ll be patient, just you watch.” 
You laughed at him, because you knew that wouldn’t be true. But if it made him feel better, you’d let him believe it. 
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girlgrouptrash101 · 4 years
Text
Doyeon (Weki Meki) - Opposites Attract
Request: “Can I fulfill all our dreams and ask for a biker, rebellious Doyeon fluff with her girlfriend who’s a rule follower and how they got together? I hope that makes any sense but pls take this prompt in any way you want!”
Word Count: 4,059 Words
Warnings: nothing but fluff!
A/N: i know i’ve been inactive for a while, but i hope this scenario can make up for it a lil bit :’] 
p.s. stream crush for biker doyeon heheh (https://youtu.be/bT2AMc8hI6A)
- C
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I.
The sun was beaming down upon you as you walked to school, your backpack weighed down with textbooks you needed for homework last night. You had all your buttons done up on your shirt, your uniform tie laying perfectly below your collar. It was clear you were proud to live up to your goody two shoes nickname, with immaculate grades and a pristine track record that has been kept that way ever since you stepped foot into high school.
After a few minutes more of walking, you found yourself approaching the school doors. Your best friend, Choi Yoojung, was sitting on the wall outside school waiting for you to arrive. She hopped down as soon as she saw you, walking over with her signature bright smile.
“Hey Yoo, how did you find the maths homework last night?” You asked as both of you headed towards the main entrance of the school.
“It was pretty easy, I got it done in about an hour, you?” Yoojung countered, your conversation carrying you all the way into the school until you reached your lockers. After taking your textbooks out of your bag, you grabbed your biology copy and workbook to prepare for your morning triple class. You quite enjoyed biology, finding it one of your easier subjects. The only thing you didn’t like about that class was the seating arrangements. Most notably, your benchmate, Kim Doyeon.
Doyeon was known by every student, teacher and staff member in the whole school. She was notorious for being a delinquent, your typical highschool rulebreaker who seemed to get off on making everyone else’s life a misery. Everyone could hear her coming whenever she arrived at school, her motorbike making enough noise to deafen the whole town. You could only hope that today she had chosen to skip class so you could be left alone to do your work.
However, it seemed all your hoping and wishing had changed nothing, as Doyeon found herself sauntering into the biology lab five minutes after class had started. She barely acknowledged the teacher as she headed towards you, a lazy smirk painted on her features that made you want to roll your eyes and blush all at the same time. It was unfair that she got to look so good, it made disliking her so much harder than you’d ever like to admit.
“What’s up princess?” She asked smugly, slouching down on the lab chair in her scruffy uniform and leather jacket. You did your best to ignore her, your hair falling down to cover your face as you tried to focus on the handout your teacher had given you earlier. It was hard to deny that your heart skipped a little at the pet name, but you shook off the feeling, knowing that she’d probably said the same thing to every other student in this building.
“Ignoring me already? That’s not very kind of you is it? I thought you were nicer than that, Y/N.” She pressed further, sitting sideways on her chair to face you.
“What’s wrong Doyeon, what do you want?” You replied coldly, not wanting to miss out on any more class time. You wished she would just turn back around, and stop staring at you with those deep brown eyes, or you’d be sure to forget about your work completely and give into her charming ways. Doyeon was about to flirt with you again when, thank god, your biology teacher interrupted your conversation.
“Hey, Y/N, Doyeon, keep it quiet back there!” Your teacher said sternly, giving you both a look before returning her attention back to the papers she had been marking since the beginning of the lesson. You were quick to shut your mouth, not used to being scolded by your teachers.
“I just want to talk to you Y/N, is that such a crime?” Doyeon pressed once again, paying no mind to the teacher, or the fact that she hadn’t answered a single question on her sheet. You did your best to try and focus on your work, putting up a cold front in an attempt to stop Doyeon from talking to you, or even worse, trying to make you fall for her. As much as you wanted to give into the taller girl, you knew it would only end in heartbreak. Her track record with relationships was notorious throughout the school, and you knew that you’d be no exception to her cruel ways.
“Doyeon, really, you don’t ever want to talk to anyone except your group of dumbass friends. All you want is to bother me, then forget my name as soon as you leave this class.” You finally huffed out in response, watching Doyeon’s smirk drop at your words. Instead of responding, she just lowered her head and turned away from you. A pang of guilt could be felt in your stomach, and you wondered if you actually hurt her feelings. The minutes sped past as you sat there, completely unfocused and figuring out how to apologize to the girl beside you. In all your worrying, you completely lost track of time, and soon, the class was over.
“Alright, I expect those worksheets should be done by now, if not, well there’s your homework tonight.” You looked down at your unfinished paper, groaning as you knew you’d be done if Doyeon hadn’t been bothering you in the first place.
“Aside from that sheet, your finals are coming up soon. Instead of your result being 100% based on a written exam, I’m designating 40% to be given on a project. Make note of who your bench partners are, because they’ve now become the key to you getting your full marks in this assignment.” Your heart dropped at her words as you heard a scoff from beside you, and you knew you’d really pissed Doyeon off earlier. You had to apologize and focus on getting a good grade in this project, and you could only hope that Doyeon would accept and help you with the workload.
“Well, looks like I’ll be doing pretty well in biology this year, doesn’t it princess?” Doyeon asked, the cocky smirk back on your lips. The kindness she had shown in her compliments had disappeared, as she spat out the pet name in a way that just felt so wrong. You sighed a little as you watched her leave, before grabbing her wrist in an attempt to make her stay for a second.
“Give me your sheet.” You asked her.
“What?”
“Just pass it here.” You sighed, taking her worksheet and using the pen on her desk to write down your number. 
“I’m sorry for what I said earlier, Doyeon, I didn’t mean to be insensitive. But, I know your reputation when it comes to school, and I’ll be damned if you think this project is being done by me alone. Text me when you’re free, you’re not getting out of this one.” And with that, you spun on your heel and left, not sparing a glance at the stunned girl sitting at her desk.
Doyeon was laughing to herself as you left, amused by your sudden bold actions. She couldn’t help but look down at the number written on your sheet, thinking about how cute you are when you’re annoyed. She hadn’t even been angry at you at all earlier, she just figured that acting upset would be the best way to get your attention, and she was so glad it worked.
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II.
Two days had passed without a word from Doyeon, so you found yourself at home alone, researching topics on your computer. You scrolled endlessly through websites, videos, anything to give you some inspiration on your topic. Almost an hour into your research, your phone pinged with a notification from an unknown number.
“What’s up, princess.” The message read. Your eyes rolled back in annoyance but your heart fluttered at her words. However, you were more annoyed than you were smitten, as the two of you were running out of time to get things done, and it was clear she didn’t care as much about her grade in biology as you did.
“Nice of you to finally text me, Doyeon.” You replied. 
“Well, it’s been a busy couple of days, you know. You’re just lucky I’m texting you now.” You couldn’t help but giggle at her reply, feeling the sarcasm coming right through the screen. 
“Whatever. When are you free?”
“I’m always free for you baby.” She responded almost immediately, making you freeze, unable to think of a reply to such a text. You decided to keep it short and sweet, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of the charming girl, even if it was only over text.
“Tomorrow, after school. My place.” You responded, quickly turning off your phone, not wanting to wait for a reply that could leave you even more flustered than before.
You lay in bed that night, thinking of everything that could go wrong if Doyeon came to your house… If she even turned up in the first place, of course.
In an attempt to push back your worries, your mind started to wonder as you thought of the girl in question. You couldn’t help but allow yourself to picture her in her leather jacket, with her flowing, brunette hair and those brown doe eyes that always seemed to have a hint of joy in them no matter how grumpy she tried to come across. Even though you weren’t the biggest fan of the girl’s reputation and the stories you heard, you’d still be a fool to deny how attractive she was. Sometimes you tried to ignore those stories, and focus on how nice she was to you in biology, hoping that it wasn’t all a ploy just to break your heart like she did everyone else’s.
You fell asleep eventually, your mind on overdrive about the mysterious girl that you really wanted to get to know better, but you were just afraid to do so.
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III.
After another long day of gruelling classes, you found yourself sitting on the wall outside of school, waiting for Doyeon to show up. After a few more minutes of waiting and constantly checking your phone, you weren’t feeling confident that Doyeon was going to show. She struggled to make it to school usually, so you highly doubted that she’d make any effort to meet up after school hours to do more work. You decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and wait for ten more minutes, in case she was running late.
The minutes slowly ticked by, students pouring out of the school gates to head home for the evening, but none of them were Doyeon. You used your hands to lower yourself off the wall, your feet hitting the ground with a thud as you grabbed your backpack and slung it over your shoulders. You were just out of the school gates, heading home when a loud rumble started coming down the street. You turned to look behind you, seeing a familiar black motorbike heading your way. You scoffed as Doyeon pulled up beside you, dressed in all black, her leather jacket around her shoulders as usual. You merely watched as she parked her bike on the side of the road, pulling off her helmet and grinning at you.
“So nice of you to show up.” You deadpanned, making the tall girl laugh. She held out a spare helmet for you, motioning to get up on the bike with her. Your eyes widened at the thought, already adamantly shaking your head to say no.
“If you don’t hop on this bike right now, I’m not coming over and I’m not doing any of the project work.” She said simply, shrugging and holding the helmet out again for you to take. You crossed your arms, a frown set in your features as you looked the bike up and down, the fear making you swallow and look down at the ground. 
“Come on, Y/N, just hold on tight. I promise you’ll be okay.” As much as you didn’t want to admit it, the sincerity in her voice really did put your mind at ease. You released a sigh, holding out your hand and reluctantly taking the helmet. You fumbled with it for a bit, not really knowing how to put it on your head, until Doyeon noticed and called you over. She helped you onto the bike, turning around to fit the protective gear onto your head. Your breath hitched in your throat as she leaned in closer to adjust the helmet a bit, your eyes scanning her face. It was the first time you’d ever been this close to her, and it was safe to say you really didn’t mind the view.
You were snapped out of your trance by Doyeon knocking on your helmet, laughing as you scowled at her antics. 
“Hold on tight and don’t let go, okay?” She asked, looking back to see you nod once. You wrapped your arms around her waist, hugging tight out of fear. You gulped as you felt the bike moving, squashing yourself against Doyeon as much as you could. Your eyes were shut tight and your arms were like a vice grip around the taller girl’s waist. You could feel her laughing every time she felt your grip tighten, pulling her impossibly closer.
You had to yell the directions to your house over Doyeon’s shoulder, squealing every time she sped around a corner. Thankfully, you had reached your house a few minutes later, Doyeon pulling over in front of your gate.
“No one home?” She asked as she noticed the empty driveway, hopping off her bike before giving you a hand off the bike too. You explained that your parents were away at work, leaving you and Doyeon home alone all evening. You took the older girl’s hand and hopped off the bike, pulling off your helmet with your other hand. You both headed towards the front door, neither of you realising that you were still hand in hand as you went. After unlocking and stepping in the door, you stopped and looked down at your still intertwined hands. Doyeon noticed what was going on, shaking her hand out of your grip and awkwardly clearing her throat. A slight blush settled on her cheeks as you looked up, and you grinned at the intimidating girl’s sudden shy behaviour.
“Come on, my room is up here.” You kicked off your shoes, motioning for Doyeon to do the same, before following you upstairs. Doyeon stepped into your room after you launched yourself onto your bed, watching her take in her surroundings. You felt a little shy as she picked up a picture frame, a photo of you and your family being displayed on it.
“I really like your room Y/N, it’s very… you.” She said finally, before sitting down at the chair in front of your desk, spinning around on it while she waited for your response.
“And how would you know anything about me, Doyeon? I think I’ve seen you in class a total of four times this year?” You asked, a smirk gracing your lips. She simply turned to face you, her brow raised as she took in your comment.
“Believe it or not, I’m always in school, and I see much more than you’d know. I just don’t like biology.” You both laughed at her cheekiness, enjoying the unexpected comfortable silence that fell between you. Doyeon stared at you, your eyes meeting her gaze until you got flustered and looked down, clearing your throat out of nervousness.
“Uh, about the project, I did some research on topics if you wanna take a look..” You trailed off, watching as Doyeon came and sat beside you. You opened your laptop and pulled it onto your lap, the tall girl beside you leaning closer to see the screen.
“I think you should pick the topic, I trust your brain more than I trust mine. Just tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll get it done.” She replied, turning to smile at you. It was the first time you’ve ever gotten a real smile out of her, and it was so much nicer than the cocky smirks you’d become accustomed to. After picking a topic and assigning different parts of the project, both of you were working faster than you’d expected. Almost all of the project was done, and you just had to start putting together a presentation to give in front of your class.
“Doyeon, can I ask you something?”
“Mm, go ahead.”
“Why are you being nice to me?” You asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor as you leaned your head against the side of your bed. The taller girl was paying full attention now, turning to sit and face you.
“What do you mean? Have I been mean to you before Y/N?” She asked, her head cutely lilting to the side as her eyes showed nothing but genuine concern. You were honestly taken aback by the girl sitting in front of you, it seemed like a completely different person than you were used to.
“Well, not exactly I guess, but you’ve never had a proper conversation with me, and you always call me pet names in class and then go on and ignore me whenever you see me outside the biology lab.” You explained, looking straight into her big, brown eyes.
“Well, I guess we were just never in the same friend group outside of class, but I do apologize if I ever hurt your feelings, princess.” She laughed a bit at your reaction to the pet name, even though you didn’t really mind it.
“Come on Y/N, you know you love it when I call you that.” She continued, her tone a bit more serious than it had been before as she looked for your reaction to her words. You bit your lip slightly, trying to hide the blush that was threatening to creep up onto your cheeks.
“I mean… I guess I dont hate it…” You said finally, scratching the back of your neck and trying to look anywhere else except at the girl who was sitting across from you, chuffed to know that you didn’t really dislike her.
“This is a lot coming from the girl who tried to ignore me in class and called my friends dumbasses just a few days ago,” She piped up again, making you groan as you thought of what you had said back in the biology lab.
“I’m only gonna say this once, so listen up.” You said, half serious, half joking. “I’d like to apologise for what I said, and I’d also like to say sorry for judging you before I’d ever spent time with you. I’ve actually really enjoyed myself today, and I wasn’t expecting to. So… Thank you.” You finished, looking up to see a soft smile on Doyeon’s face.
You weren’t quite expecting her to crawl over beside you, nor were you expecting her to wrap an arm around your shoulder, but you can’t say you minded either of those actions. You stiffened a little at the unexpected contact, but you couldn’t help but lean closer into the girl’s side, feeling comfortable against her.
“Is this okay?” Doyeon asked, and your heart melted at her considerate words. You nodded, resting your hand on her thigh as you continued chatting away for the rest of the evening until Doyeon finally had to go. Both of you reluctantly got up, neither of you wanting to leave the other’s comfort and warmth. You walked her to the door, waiting for her to put her boots back on before she stepped out onto your porch.
“We can finish everything next week or whenever you h-”
Doyeon’s words were silenced by your lips on hers. You don’t know what came over you when you saw her standing there, the orange light of the sky framing her as the sun was setting in the distance. Your lips didn’t leave hers as she pulled you closer, both of you standing on her porch. Her hands gripped your waist tightly, her fingers squeezing you out of affection. After eventually pulling away in need of air, the two of you were shocked at what just happened.
“Sorry… I don’t really know why I did that…” You said,mumbling away to yourself as you tried to process what just happened.
“It’s okay, I… I liked it.” Doyeon said, her hand reaching out to grab your own. The blush on your cheeks was impossible to notice, even more so as Doyeon cupped your face with her free hand, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. 
“Listen, I’d love to stay, but It’s getting late and I really have to go. Can we meet up after school tomorrow to… talk?” Doyeon asked, rubbing her thumb gently over your knuckles. You looked up at her with a smile, nodding as she smiled back, her eyes crinkling with joy. She leaned down once more, kissing you softly, before kissing the top of your hand and stepping off your porch to get back on her bike. You watched with a small smile as she drove off, her hair flowing from the wind as she headed into the distance.
After shutting the door and running back upstairs, you leapt onto your bed like a little kid, jumping around as the butterflies in your stomach went crazy. You pulled out your phone to text Yoojung what had happened, and it was safe to say that there was an alarming amount of exclamation marks and random love emojis thrown into the text, more than you’d ever like to admit to using.
You stayed up most of the night thinking about what had just happened, and praying that Doyeon would really stick around. Heartbreak wasn’t something you were ready for at this stage in your life, but you were confident that the tall girl felt the same way about you as you did for her. It was truly hard to believe that the Doyeon you had known yesterday was the same girl you kissed on your front porch mere minutes ago. Love worked in mysterious ways, and it was clear that you and Doyeon were no exception to the strange workings of fate.
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IV.
“Can you believe that was a whole year ago, baby?” Doyeon asked, her arm around your shoulder. You were both laughing as you thought back to how awkward you’d been with each other. You couldn’t imagine life without Doyeon by your side now, the two of you were practically inseparable.
“Best year of my life though.” You finished, earning a kiss on the temple from your girlfriend at your sweet words. Doyeon had driven you both out to your secret spot on her bike, the two of you loving the privacy you had. It was just a small beach a little out of town, but not many people came here beside you two. You were sitting on the sand together as the sun set above the sea in front of you - the orange hues another reminder of the first kiss you two shared. The smile on your face could never be taken away, you felt like the happiest person in the world now that Doyeon was yours. This was love, it really was.
“I love you Y/N, thank you for brightening up my life when I really needed it.” You turned your head to face your girlfriend, your eyes closing as you saw she was already leaning in. Her kisses still brought butterflies to your tummy, and you could feel her smiling against your lips. You giggled as you pulled away, smitten and joyous, all thanks to the girl in front of you.
“I love you too Doyeon, so much.” You whispered out, pulling away from her lips slowly as you rested your head against her shoulder. This was true happiness, and you were never, ever going to let go of the girl beside you for as long as you could. Real love like this only comes around once in a lifetime, and it would be a crime for you to ever let something like this slip through your hands.
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Continuation of ask:
Favourite character and why?
I think, this will probably come as no surprise that my favourite character is Miss Kieu My Vu herself. Not only in Druck, she's my favourite character in the whole skamverse!
Yeah, so you know how I said I'd probably end up writing an essay about Kieu My at some point...you probably weren't prepared for this anon, because this is legit like a thesis 😬😆
I can't tell you how much I love Kieu My, honestly, after every clip with her, I would actually say it out loud.
I had my headcanons of what I thought she was going to be like based on S5 and her activity on IG (who she follows etc.). I thought she was probably a bit insecure, a nerd, and going to be a really soft LI. When she said 'Bro, what heart', I laughed because I knew she was going to be one of the greatest LI in Skamverse, and boy is she! So one reason she is my fave is because I literally watched the character that I had written in my head, come to life in front of me! ✨
It actually really hurts me and makes me sad knowing that a minority of people in the fandom are sending DM's to the writers saying Kieu My wasn't written well and underdeveloped because they want a Kieu My S7😰😡. They did such a stunning job with her and it pains me to think they might think they didn't.
Some people are saying that her background didn't get explored, but I would argue that it definitely did, we know she has a good, supportive relationship with her parents, that she cares about her Vietnamese heritage, that she feels insecure speaking Vietnamese as she's a 3rd generation immigrant, and her parent's didn't teach her it in great detail. She feels she owes her parents for giving up their dreams and all the hard work they do to make sure she has a good life, which I really relate to because that's how I feel with my mum, even though they don't expect anything back.
Also, you never get the whole background of a LI explored🤷‍♀️ I also argue that a detailed 'background' does not = development or a character getting fleshed out. For example, Maya in SkamFr got a really detailed background, which she explained to Lola in ep 3. I love Maya, so this is not a dig at her. Yet, besides from explaining why she ghosted Lola when she found out about her addiction problem, they didn't give her much more personality than 'the sunshine' to Lola's darkness, and imo she's quite 2D. Development is loads of things, it is a personality being exposed, insecurities being addressed, change in behaviour.
Even in just episode 1, Kieu My already goes through great development. In 5x10, she is still seen as the aloof Insta and quite superficial. Then in the first clip of 6x01, you can see how awkward she is (I cannot express how good Nhungi is with the little details). The way she doesn't understand Fatou's question about what she's doing and replies straight faced that she's walking on the pavement 😂 The stuttering when she asks to use the skateboard. The first hint of her insecurity when she says she bets Fatou never fell off. Which can I just say, I love that line! Because as if Fatou would be able to use a skateboard the first time she tried. It shows Kieu My's insecurity but also how she views Fatou as this cool and collected person. Then when Fatou says she did fall off and laughs, Kieu My lets out a nervous breath to herself. Then laughter is heard, and she starts looking around self-consciously. I think it's probably a mix of thinking people may be laughing at her putting herself out there and looking like an idiot on the skateboard, along with her inner biphobia.
Then the clip in the Physics class we saw the first on screen hints at nerd Kieu My. I went nuts that day as we also got the text between Zoe and her talking about the Bio test, and how Kieu My was studying for it despite the answers being leaked. Druck said Nerd-Kieu My rights!✌ I love that Physics clip so much because as soon as the teacher finishes the question, Kieu My has her hand raised to answer, but also note she doesn't make the hand high or easy to see, showing us she doesn't draw attention to it. So, already in ep 1 you have Superficial-Kieu My -> awkward, nerd Kieu My. DEVELOPMENT!
Please don't interact with this if that's your opinion that she isn't developed. You're entitled to your opinion, but I will not read or answer it.
One of the things I was pleasantly surprised with was that although I thought she was going to be soft and insecure, I thought she would try to hide it behind the Ice queen personality more, and fight her feelings.
It was probably during the NYE clip (which is also maybe why it's my no.1 clip 🥰) that I realised they weren't going to go down the route of her holding onto the 'cool girl' image. She was so shy and could hardly keep eye contact with Fatou when she was talking about her dream of studying Mars❤
I remember there was genuinely like 2 people other than me in the Kieu My fan club when she wasn't responding, and it was strange to me because she said in ep 2 that girls scare her and she doesn't know what to do. It didn't make sense for her to ghost Fatou for any other reason, as girl had spent 11hrs talking with Fatou a week before. The moment in ep 4 when Fatou talks to her in person and she's the shook Mr Krabbe meme 😂💀
She really spent the whole week reading Fatou's texts and then f*cked it up herself by trying to get Constantin off her back. Then my girl came through texting Fatou everyday Sun-Wed, until Fatou responded on Thursday. She really grabbed the bull by the horns and straight up asked Fatou on a date in the geekiest way possible. I'm sure she suggested the table tennis bar because Fatou did, so she thought 'this must be an appropriate first date venue' 😂. The last line on Thursday when she said she can't get Fatou out of her head 🥺 The amount of vulnerability, she's so brave 🤧
Volunteering to do the project with Fatou, again showing her bravery and not caring about what anybody else thought even with the rumour going around and Constantin sitting next to her!
Turning up with the plate of Vietnamese pancakes, and doing the nervous bounce she does. Revealing to Fatou that she doesn't think she's good enough, and everybody thinks she's perfect, and the pressure she puts on herself to live up to that. Crying when she thought she had blown her chance to be with Fatou. She's too soft I can't take it! 😭Even the detail that she always tries to hold Fatou's hand for comfort 🗣🗣
Getting her girl, and then immediately setting up a date. Laying herself bare about her inner biphobia, and Fatou being the first girl she's been with, her dreams of being an astrophysicist, and nerding out about the history of the universe 🥰
I absolutely love how she's the one to initiate the first kisses and touches, she just went in with both feet and never looked back, fighting her fears to be with Fatou. She is so brave! Which makes all her gestures of love even more immense! They would be incredibly romantic gesture anyway, I mean climbing a roof in her fancy clothes *swoon*, but the fact that she is doing it, despite being terrified🗣🗣
Being a straight A student, but not caring about the presentation and just Fatou's wellbeing. I burst into tears when she asked the teacher to stop and then argued back to him.
Showing how she finds it hurtful that no one really sees her and they only care about her looks. One of the things I was constantly blown away with was how Kieu My kept being given the space to speak. There's at least 3 key scenes where she is just allowed to breathe, and talk about her fears and issues, which I think is so rare.
How she is also an absolute 🤡 Referring to Fatou as Axolotlgirl in texts, sending Fatou songs and that she can't help think about Fatou while listening to them, but not knowing why and that she is in love. When she is too scared to talk to Fatou, but got her nails cut ASAP, and was liking all of Fatou's IG posts. Telling Fatou to stay away from her because she is so hurt but then having a full on breakdown for 2 weeks, calling people at 3am, and stalking Fatou's IG, accidentally liking posts, and thinking Fatou was moving on with Ava 🤡
Being such a caring person and going to help Constantin at 11pm, no questions asked, and keeping an eye on him at the party, making sure he was drinking water. Being there for Fatou because she knows something is going on, even though she's been hurt in their last interactions. Helping her parents at the store with no complaints, but fitting in time to print old Maths workbooks to help Fatou 🥰.
Getting a gold turtle and carrying it in her pocket because she was too scared to give it to Fatou! Setting up a stargazing date in someone's bedroom in the middle of someone else's birthday party 💀
Apologising to Ava because it's the right thing to do and not because she's with Fatou.
So, as you can gather, I think Kieu My is alright 😜
Thank you to the writers and Nhungi, because you really knocked it out the park with her!❤
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Teacher’s Day
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(©GIF cred)
A/N: Happy birthday to our comedic meme material prince Hendery!😘 This is a re-upload from my old acc so I hope you guys enjoy! (P.S. Reuploaded again since the previous one failed to show up in tags)
Genre: Smut
Word Count: 3027
Warning:  Bratty Sub!Hendery, Dom!Reader, Femdom, Teacher/Student Roleplay, Profanity, Hair pulling, Spanking, Wedgie, Degradation, Anal play, Sex toys, Titty sucking/worshipping, Writing lines as punishment
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  “How much longer?” Blindfolded Hendery whines while you are leading him to the designated room for his birthday playtime, but this impatient boy obviously can’t wait.
  “What is my surprise, to be exact?” The boy continues to inquire. “I hope I won’t be walking blindfolded for too much longer or I am starting to think that you are taking me to the slaughterhouse like I am a piglet!”
  “I’ll make sure your surprise is worth the wait if you stop being this inquisitive.” You stop your leading steps. “Seriously? A piglet? Can you not ruin the mood by goofing around and exaggerating things this much?”
  “Okay okay I am sorry.” Hendery playfully apologizes. “First asking me to wear the uniform from the Back to School Kit, second blindfolding me like this, I am really dying to know what it is!”
  “Shh be patient.” You smirk while finally leading him inside the room, instructing him to sit down in a chair. “Do you know what’s special about today?”
  “My birthday, of course! Why ask?” He asks, puzzled.
  “It’s also Teachers’ Day in Taiwan as well.” You half-whisper in his ear while taking off his blindfold. “So I’d better teach you some manners as well as something unforgettable on this day…”
  Hendery’s vision clears up as he glances around his surroundings: a blackboard with capitalized letters “DETENTION” written on it, a podium in the front left of the room, and several sets of desk and chairs arranged in neat rows while he’s seated in one of them, with a typical school bag hanging from the hook on the right side of his desk.
  “Wow this looks legit…” He compliments. “So this is why the school uniform?”
  You reply in a sly hum, picking up the 50-cm iron ruler originally leaning against the podium before approaching him. “I remember you mentioning role-play to spice up our sex life, so I figured this can be the peak of your birthday. You like that, my naughty schoolboy?” You smirk alluringly while tilting his chin up with the ruler.
  “Fuck yeah, this will be amazing…”
  You slam the ruler menacingly loud against his desk, startling him a bit. “Words, Hendery. No profanity allowed in this class. Aren’t you aware of the trouble you are in right now?” You motion toward the capitalized words on the blackboard.
  “Hmmm...I have no idea…” He feigns innocence in those bright piercing eyes, in an obvious attempt to annoy you.
  “Such an impudent lad. You are in detention because you don’t hand in assignments on time, slacking off in your studies, and last but not least, bad-mouthing your teacher.” You close in on him while maintaining a glare. “Are you sorry for what you did?”
  “No, y/n-”
  “How dare you call me by my first name?”
  “Look, Miss Y/L/N I don’t really care. I am a very busy guy and you are just wasting my time.” He grins cheekily. “I am going to miss my club practice. I promise I will do better, so can’t you just let it go this time?”
  “I don’t trust your empty promises, Hendery, especially this isn’t the first time you let me down.” You cross your arms. “And you shouldn’t be allowed any club activities since you fail to prioritize things correctly. You should sit here, properly complete the assignments you have missed under my supervision, and you are free to go after that. It’s that simple.”
  “Why are you giving me such a hard time, Miss?”
  “I am not being hard and unreasonable on you, all I am asking you to do is something that aids your learning and done by the rest of your peers, plus, you won’t know what your problems with learning are without these practices.” You sigh while taking out the workbook from the schoolbag and place it right in front of him. “Now stop complaining and do it.” You order as you sit down next to him.
  Hendery huffs and reluctantly flips through the book to find the marked pages for this session. “20 pages of mathematics with 30 questions on each one? Are you insane?”
  “This is the accumulated result of your indolence, boy. And you sure it’s appropriate to call your teacher insane?”
  “Right right I am so sorry Miss-” 
  “Apologize properly.” You grab his arm to get all his attention, starting to get sick of his dismissive attitude and playing nice with him.
  “I am really sorry that I called you insane, Miss Y/L/N...” His voice trails off at the end of the sentence while he diverts his attention to the questions in front of him again.
  You watch him scribble down answers on the pages intently to see his every move, so when his arm scoots suspiciously close to the corner of the page where he’s writing something, you immediately take notice of it.
  You abruptly stand up and snatch away the book from him with a strong force, making his eyes widen with disbelief. “‘Miss Y/L/N is an annoying bitch’? This is what I get after being this patient and communicative with you?” You continue to read the contents of the page. “And none of the answers are correct! You are really giving me attitude, huh?”
  “Why should I listen to you when you’re such a pain in my ass?”
  “Pain in my ass isn’t it? Now I should really inflict some real pain on your ass.” He yelps as you yank him by his hair, forcing him to stand up. “Bend over.”
  Hendery winces at the burning sensation on his scalp as he complies, then you let go and press his waist down firmly against the desk as your other arm immediately delivers a sharp blow on his bottom.
  “Apologize.” You order sternly after a dozen spanks.
  “Never.” He retorts with a grunt.
  “Such a shameless brat.” You muse while pulling down his trousers, then pull up his boxers between his cheeks and give a firm tug on it, causing him to whine in discomfort.
  “Still unapologetic?” You sneer before giving a harsh slap on his bare flesh.
  “Please stop...Miss...and I am really sorry…”
  “Sorry for what?”
  “I-I am sorry for disrespecting you!”
  “Then? What about your horrible work on your assignment?” You resume spanking him again.
  “Mmmf- I am sorry for messing up my homework! Please stop wedging me I beg you, Miss.”
  You snigger at his plead and how easy it is to break him, but still you aren’t satisfied. “Combine your apologies into a sentence together and I will consider, and you’d better be earnest enough.”
  “Ahh-I apologize sincerely for calling you bad names, a-and slacking off in my studies then failing to do my homework properly! Please Miss I feel so guilty right now…” He whimpers and shifts his butt, trying to minimize the soreness.
  “Very well.” You decide not to be too hard on him at first to save it for later and release the fabric. Hendery sighs in relief, only to experience a similar mishap soon after again. 
  “You forgot to thank me, you poor-mannered lad.” You smirk at his misfortune, tweaking the clothing harder than last time, feeling amused that your boyfriend always falls into this trap by forgetting to express his gratitude when you just decide to have a little mercy on him.
  “P-please Miss I am sorry for not remembering to thank you...ahhh…please I’ll be good...just spare me some mercy please…”
  “How should I believe that you will have the brain to remember such basic manners next time, you airhead?”
  “I-I will endure whatever it takes for you to believe in me, Miss. I am truly sorry…”
  “Whatever, huh?” You mock his tone while shoving both his undergarments down his ankles. “You are going to take a sound spanking. Better remember to count out every spank and thank me afterward. Is that clear?” 
  “Yes, Miss. I won’t forget it this time.”
  You swing the ruler in the air, warming your arm up, before striking his bare bottom.
  “One! Th-thank you, Miss.”
  You smack him again, but harder this time.
  “Two! Ahh-thank you, Miss.” He kicks his legs, but only to find them restrained with his garments, which just excites him more.
  You then continue to mercilessly redden his ass, interspersing the punishment with some sensual soothing rubs in between to prepare him for the sting and arouse him, and remain the same dynamic and rhythm until the twentieth spank, when you suddenly pick up the pace and inflict him with four consecutive blows.
  “Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four. Hnngh-thank you, Miss…” His voice falters.
  “See? You are not that bad at calculating. Why did you mess up your math homework that much then?” You ask before smacking him for the twenty-fifth time.
  “Twenty-five...thank you, Miss. I am sorry that I deliberately screwed up because I am just a defiant brat!”
  “Then you promise to do your best in your work in the future?” You inquire, amused by his admittance while continuing his punishment.
  “I will...I promise I won’t let you down ever again, Miss.” He assures you after counting out and thanking you.
  “You promise you will be a pliant pupil that listens well to his teacher?”
  “Ah-twenty-seven, thank you, Miss. I promise I will listen to you and obey you like a good student should do.”
  “Very well. So you should never violate any school rules again, right?” You foreshadow what the plot of your session will lead, before whipping him for the last time.
  “Twenty-eight...thank you, Miss. I promise I will abide by the rules.” He replies obediently, oblivious about the whole thing since it’s arranged as a surprise event.
  “Good boy.” You praise before caressing his sore butt, brushing his inner thighs from time to time as he moans at your sensual touches. “You didn’t just miss out on math, but other subjects as well. Should I take out the other study materials for you so that you have an overall understanding of what you should do?”
  “Yes, please. Thank you, Miss Y/L/N. May I sit down now?”
  “Just a minute…” You reply, searching through the schoolbag while taking your mischievous plan to work. “What are these doing in your bag, Hendery?” You demand sternly, laying two objects in front of him.
  Hendery becomes speechless at the sight of the large, rounded realistic silicone boobs and the veiny, ridgy dildo.
  “Care to explain what this is for?” You deliberately ask while pointing at the tits. Excitement boils inside you as you expect his answer.
  “This…is to fuck myself between them.” He shamelessly responds, with a devilish grin and a twitching dick, indicating his liking toward this turn of the plot.
  “How about this?” You motion at the dildo.
  “This is what I use to get a hot girl like you to fuck me to paradise…” He smirks dreamily, thinking of what you will do to him with it as you smirk at his sudden compliment.
  “Now I see the main reason that your grades are slipping. You are not only unwilling to study hard, but also you are a lecherous slut! You should know well porno stuff is obviously prohibited in school, but I remember you promising me that you will not break any rule just now?”
  “It was too late then, I already brought them before promising you.”
  “That still doesn’t justify your behavior. You should be punished again. Remember you saying that you will obey me?” You grin knowingly as you lightly patted the ruler against your palm.
  “Yes, Miss. Please punish me all you want as long as you won’t tell the authorities.”
  You simper at his literal beg to get punished. “Why should I report you to my superiors,” You position the fake boobs right under his face, “when I can have all the fun and enjoy the little show myself?” You tap the ruler against his ass once again. “Now suck it just like what you will do to your dream girl, filthy boy whore. You may not be the best at your studies, but you’d better not disappoint me with this.”
  Hendery happily commences engulfing the artificial mound while grimacing at the blooming tingle on his behind. The lewd sounds of him greedily slurping and lapping on the toy, the sight of his body squirming under your punitive ruler, and the corruptive contrast of his aristocratic profile doing the most sordid thing ever, all turn you on with the growing need for him to pleasure you.
  “Are you wiggling your naughty ass just to direct me to hit where you crave the pain the most, you seamy little slutboy?” You comment on his writhing backside as he nods in affirmation while continuing servicing the tits.
  “Perhaps you will love it when I abuse you here, right?” You wickedly tuck the ruler between his cheeks, earning a moan from him.
  “Would you like sucking real tits, or maybe you just prefer fawning over silicones?” You sneer, knowing the answer too well as you rub the ruler on his rear entrance.
  “I love real beautiful boobs more, of course, especially those of yours, Miss…” Hendery replies through moans, finally looking up at you from the saliva-covered toy while not forgetting to flatter you.
  “Hmm you finally know how to properly treat your teacher now, huh?” You remark as you unbutton your blouse then free your boobs from the lacy cups. “Worship them.”
  Hendery starts sucking on your breast after an admiring stare. “Since you’ve got your mouth worked up, I think I should stuff your other orifice too…” You say while coating both his ass, your fingers and the dildo with profuse lube. After gradually adding fingers to stretch him wide enough, you begin to slam into his needy prostate with the dildo, savoring the feeling of his wetness and vibrations coating your sensitive areas as well.
  Both his hands grab and fondle the base of your boobs for support as his knees buckle a little at the sensation deep inside his behind. You tangle the fingers of your free hand into his hair, forcing him to make eye contact with you with a firm tug.
  “Why do you turn to sex toys and risk bringing them to school, while your teacher is here to counsel you with both your studies and insatiable needs?”
  “B-because I want you to f-fuck and punish me for being a slut…” He flicks his tongue on your erect nipple after replying.
  “Is this why you got yourself in detention in the first place? Acting bratty in hopes of the opportunity to get some sexy discipline?”
  “Mmm yeah…” Your “student” that used to be so deviant is now moaning mindlessly between pants and sucking while looking up at you so lovingly yet indecently, urging you to ram his ass even harder and faster. Blissful tears start to stream out of his lust-filled eyes as you shove his uniform jacket down below his shoulders, loosen his tie then undo his first few upper buttons to turn him into a disheveled mess even more. Seeing him rendered to a state like this plus the stimuli on your nipples cause your core to drip with satisfying needs.
  “Such a messy needy baby...do you want to cum?” You coo as he quickly nods in response.
  “Then will you manage your time well and complete your assignment properly?”
  “...Yes, I will, Miss.”
  “Will you be respectful to your teacher from now on?”
  “Mmm of course I will, especially to my favorite teacher…”
  “Last but not least, will you turn to your teacher for help when necessary instead of wanking with stupid toys?”
  “Definitely, because my teacher feels so much better…”
  “Good. Now you are allowed to cum as much as you want.” 
  Hendery cums after muttering some gratitude, not forgetting his manners this time. You indulge in a slow sensual kiss with him afterward, drawing him out of the orgasmic haze while whispering some praises to him, slowly guiding him back to his senses as well as doing a quick clean-up of body fluids.
  “Did you know you just came with your dick completely untouched?” You playfully taunt.
  “I know you are that good…” He sheepishly grins at you.
  “Now one more thing for you to do as a reminder to always be a good boy.” You gesture toward the blackboard. “Write 28 repeated lines of ‘I will respect my teacher at all times’.”
  “Sure.” He quickly answers while reaching down to pull up his trousers.
  “Did I give you permission to re-dress?” You disapprovingly question.
  “No, Miss…” He slightly blushes. “But it’s so embarrassing…” He mutters in protest while wobbling toward the board. covering himself.
  “That’s the purpose of this punishment, making you so humiliated and disheveled that you will never forget your lesson.”
   Hendery sighs while picking up the chalk, and starts scribbling down the requested line. The first ten lines look passable but after that, his writing begins to get sloppy.
  “Rewrite this.” You erase the line that you deem intolerable.
  “But-”
  “No ‘buts’, unless you want some thrashing again.”
  Your schoolboy groans but still has no choice but to comply, peeking at the board eraser in your hand while making efforts to win your approval. Finally, he reaches the 28th line without the need for you to demand him to rewrite anything.
  “Well done, that’s my good boy.” You continue to compliment his obedience and hard work, embracing him while massaging some cool lotion into his still rosy ass, before helping him to re-dress.
  “Do you like my way of discipline?”
  “A lot. But you hit me so hard…” He jokingly glares before nuzzling against the crook of your neck, planting some wet kisses on it.
  “I am already giving you enough privilege to suck my tits for this long, so be grateful.” He whines in response upon hearing this but holds on you even tighter, while subtly grinding against your chest.
  “Happy birthday.” You utter affectionately, completely immersed in the intimacy while sensing his gorgeous features beaming in return.
  “Happy Teacher’s Day.”
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sleepyowlwrites · 3 years
Text
find the word tag CLXXXII
ghosty caught up on some tags so I guess I will too. @zmlorenz 
avid (youth story)
Irina stood with her arms cross, mouth arranged in a derisive pout. “That’s certainly a lot of books.”
Daniel had the patience of a saint but Evie could feel he was about on his last legs. She’d given up on extending Irina any kind of generosity far earlier in the morning, but decided to let Daniel answer for himself. She took one of the bags from him and turned her back on them both.
Behind her, she heard Daniel’s barely there sigh, followed by his answer. “Bell is an avid reader. She’ll get through these in no time.”
art (youth story prequel)
His fingers rub at one of the buttons. Roland licks his thumb afterward. The lemonade was perfectly made, too. Callum has long since mastered the art of refreshing summer drinks, and his lemonade is no exception.
“Maybe I should keep this on and smell sweet all day.” He turns around in time for Callum to throw a damp towel at him. It lands neatly on his head. “Thanks?”
alarm (ellipses of thought .07)
your rage quiets. it sits like a leaf on a still pond. don’t be alarmed by these threats I’m making. I won’t yet burn down your house. I’m just here to inform you that your time of significance is at an end. and the leaf floats away placidly. after all the shore cannot rise up to follow. it leaves no footprints. not even a memory. all has been erased.
amble (shots)
"Who's this Chaucer guy, exactly?"
"That's me," Chaucer answered, appearing from behind a row of shelves. He ambled up and peered at Jay, scrutinizing him from behind his spectacles for several moments. "Can he be trusted with my books?"
"Yes," both of them said in unison, though they meant different things.
aware (youth story)
Bell was wonderful and he was constantly aware of how much he desired to be in her good books at all times. R still couldn’t look her directly in the eyes whenever he was in an emotional crisis, even if she was the best person to talk an emotional crisis out with.
A paper slid itself over top of his workbook, pushed there by a dainty hand. R squinted at the neat handwriting.
“If you’re close to a stopping point, let’s talk.”
wisp (blood ties)
As they walking further through the trees, the resentful energy became more palpable. Instead of a wisp or a whisper too faint to properly sense, it was more like a stench too heavy for a breeze to carry away.
wilt (youth story)
Mark was exhausted but he was hardwired to hear brokenness in people and R - indomitable, incorrigible, R - sounded so broken. He didn’t know what to say but he couldn’t bear to hear anymore.
“I don’t hate you.” Mark surprised himself, because until that point he hadn’t known how he felt about R, but looking at the wilting boy in front of him, Mark was sure of that one thing. “I don’t hate you.”
where (this is discord poetry)
sometimes when I'm reaching to pick up my thoughts from the floor I can feel my file folders slipping and sliding all over this place. this makes it hard to remember what thought belongs to which hand and where my feet are going.
it's a little bit of the end of the world here. every day has happiness sprinkled in the singular moments and underneath my river Styx rolls on and collects my memories and shows them to me while I drift toward the end. and the world doesn't care.
who (tumblr short!)
“The cat.”
“What?”
“He’s a magic dampener. Helps keep wayward magic from flying everywhere. Your innate ability for truth seeking is kind of the exception.”
You scratch the cat rather morosely. “So I’m not actually good at my job?”
Your roommate snorts. “Obviously, you’re very good. You just use unconventional means. Who cares? Finish watering the plants. I made breakfast.”
whip (what other snippet besides this, really)
Evie took off her jacket while still looking at Daniel balefully. “Why are you just the most.”
“The most what?” Nyks inquired, eating his whipped cream with one finger until Daniel intercepted it and wiped it off with a napkin.
“The most,” and Evie gestured with her hands, her head shaking as she did. “Just. Just the most. Everything.”
Daniel gave Nyks a spoon to continue eating his hot chocolate with and lifted one eyebrow. “I have to make up for your deficit, clearly.”
I ordered ghibli stickers from etsy and my life has significantly improved. in a very figurative way. but still. @viskafrer @lanawritesalittle @ashelynnrowanwrites @uraniumwriting @writingonesdreams OR ANYBODY: shirt, spoon, silver, storm, spent. BONUS: sneak, scratch.
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spicysoftsweet · 3 years
Text
Chapter 4
Tumblr media
Masterlist
Regardless of what anyone says, time really does heal most wounds, and particularly so for middle schoolers with terribly short attention spans and even shorter fuses.
Pain is both enduring and fleeting, its dual nature the only constant.
A year had passed since Shinichiro’s death, and things had essentially returned to normal for the burgeoning Tokyo Manji gang and their affiliates minus Kazutora. Kumi’s biggest concern today was that she was now faced with a tutee who had the shortest attention span and fuse of them all, and she had not even seen it coming.
“B-Baji?” She said, dumbfounded as her eyes settled on the young man sitting in the corner, chewing a pencil with irritation as he pored over a workbook in front of him. Kumi looked around the deserted classroom, ran quickly outside to check that she was indeed in the right place before returning quietly to stand at the entrance. Baji hadn’t heard her soft voice or her light footsteps the first time, but feeling her eyes on him, he then looked up in her direction, his mouth pulling into a grimace once he saw her.
“You’re not-” he started.
“You can’t be-” she began.
The pencil snapped in his hand under pressure, and he groaned audibly, running his hands through his hair.
“You’re the tutor?!”
Kumi wrinkled her nose and crossed her arms.
“It’s not like I knew it would be you! If I did I wouldn't have come over here!"
“Then don’t!” He hissed. Kumi frowned, keeping her irritated but slightly concerned look on him and his face reddened for a split second before he turned away, staring out the window to avert his gaze as though her very look would pierce through his skin. “What?!”
Her frown deepened and she hesitated for a moment before stepping forward and rearranging the desk right before him so that she could face him.
She leaned in just slightly so that she could look at exactly what math problems he was struggling to comprehend, then glanced up at him. Entirely too close for Baji’s comfort, he shifted back his chair, which made a loud screeching sound, but Kumi was too geared into academic mode to be offended.
“Are you really struggling this much? I was told to start as though you were two grade levels behind.”
With this comment, she opened up one of the textbooks and pulled out a couple pencils because she sure as hell was going to get the extra credit she had been offered for this task, no matter what it cost her.
The tomato shade Baji’s ears had taken on seemed to deepen, and he whipped his head back to face her, now clearly between anger and embarrassment and Kumi considered for a moment scooting her own seat back before he lunged at her. But instead, she remembered what Mitsuya had said a while ago.
First, that Baji was, deep down, a good guy and second, that he might actually like her.
Her ears warmed at the thought briefly, then she banished it completely as she had done the entire past year, remembering that whether he liked her or not, he was a delinquent failing math hard enough that he had to repeat the entire year and that simply would not do, no matter what.
His foul mouth especially reminded her not to entertain any positive thoughts, even though now that she was close to him and face to face, she could actually admit that he was a little attractive, especially now that she was no longer terribly afraid of him.
“Bring someone else. I don’t want your fucking help,” he barked, crossing his arms and raising his foot onto the desk in a gesture of defiance.
Kumi pressed her lips together and let out a sigh of defeat. Then, she smiled widely and closed her books.
“Well, I give up. Good luck, Baji.”
Before she could rise to feign leaving the room, Baji grabbed her quickly by the wrist and pulled her to him, semi-roughly. She made an unintentional yelp and he immediately let go, and she whisked in his direction, offended that he grabbed her.
But before she could actually say anything, he murmured in the quietest voice she had ever heard from him.
“Don’tleavejusthelpme,” he pleaded through his teeth.
Kumi’s cheeks burned a little hotter as she settled back into her seat, but she tried her best to keep an air of superiority.
“Only because you asked so nicely.”
---
Going from seeing Kazutora almost every day to not seeing him at all was difficult, to say the least. While her boyfriend wasn’t the only thing that kept her occupied, the void that he left while he was away felt incredibly loud. But there wasn’t much she could do except wait for him, occasionally visiting his mother in hopes of hearing some good news. Unfortunately, Kaksi quickly realised that Kazutora’s mother had barely any interest in her own son.
That didn’t really come as a surprise considering what the boy had told her despite not remembering much about his childhood. Still, Kaksi couldn’t even begin to imagine how Kazutora was dealing with juvie. A year had already passed though and she would be able to see him again after the next, picking up exactly where they had left off. This was what kept her smiling through the days.
But things had changed quite a lot already. While Kaksi wasn’t part of Toman, she had heard that their numbers were increasing, which was steadily making them more famous, a fact that wasn’t exactly thrilling to her. After Shinichiro’s death, she could only hope that none of her friends would get in any more trouble. But it wasn’t like they ever listened to her.
So she kept quiet, trying to distance herself as much as possible from any type of business involving the gang while also keeping a good relationship with the founding members of Toman, more notably, Mikey. What had originally started as some way for Kaksi to repay herself for the imaginary implications that she had with Kazutora’s mistakes turned into friendly dates with Mikey.
Every week, on Saturday at exactly 12:30 p.m., the girl would have him pick her up with his CB250T near her place then drive them to his favorite restaurant. At first, it felt a little strange, knowing the history of his not-exactly brand new bike and also considering that Kaksi only ever rode on Kazutora’s bike. However, it turned out that sitting behind Mikey felt somewhat safer and actually quite enjoyable.
Kaksi had learned that Mikey was actually pretty talkative; while he never talked about his emotions, he did enjoy speaking to her about a range of things. He also started displaying his childish side to her more and more, which Draken quickly taught her how to handle. She found that she didn’t mind carrying little flags around in her bag for when Mikey’s meals needed them.
She also enjoyed seeing her gift around his wrist, which she noticed was missing something today.
“Mikey,” she said as he hungrily took a big bite from his sandwich.
The boy hummed and looked at her, his mouth full and with a little  bit of mayonnaise at the corner. Kaksi chuckled, before wiping it off and speaking.
“The Taiyaki charm on your bracelet,” she pointed out. “It’s gone.”
Mikey took a moment before answering, not wanting to spit out some of his meal on his companion.
“Yeah, I took it off.”
“Oh. Did you not like it?” she questioned.
“No, I kept it,” the boy explained. “I prefer wearing the bracelet all the time, like you do, but I didn’t want to lose the charm in a fight or something.”
Kaksi’s eyes widened slightly at his explanation and she could feel her face getting warmer all of a sudden.
“Looks like you really like it,” she teased him, nonetheless.
“Yeah, I do,” he replied, before taking another bite of his meal.
Kaksi didn’t usually have other boys flustering her, and she didn’t know how to feel about it.  
---
Kaksi found that it was easy to forget her own confusing feelings when she was faced with addressing her friend’s feelings instead. Kumi had come over for a sleepover, and one of the first things the young girl did once Kumi had settled down her bags and curled up into one of her bean bag chairs was ask her how her tutoring session went.
“Why do I feel like you had something to do with this?” Kumi accused once she’d finished recounting her surprisingly productive session. Baji seemed to actually want to learn, the threat of repeating a grade a second time a sufficient enough motivator.
Kaksi’s brown eyes almost sparkled with glee while Kumi wasn’t the least bit amused.
“Was it just math you went over? Did you study chemistry too?”
Kumi hurled a pillow at her across the room at full strength, which Kaksi dodged expertly before laughing.
“Come on, it’s funny!”
Kumi raised an eyebrow.
“I need you to try to set me up with normal boys,” Kumi said, tonally emphasizing the word ‘normal’ while she fiddled with a tangled mess of fabric in her hands. She was trying to follow Kaksi’s bracelet pattern in red and white and was getting more and more frustrated by the minute.
Kaksi gently took the growing disaster out of her hands and teased the messy flosses apart, smiling sadly to herself. The smile made Kumi uneasy as she anticipated what she was thinking about.
“It’s good if at least one of us ends up happy.”
Kumi sighed.
“He’s not dead, Kaksi. It’s just juvie. He’ll get out and you can be all lovey dovey again.”
Kaksi seemed to consider this, and nodded her head. Kumi noticed that her friend had almost immediately made order out of her mess and looked at her with both awe and a mild embarrassment.
“I was trying to fix that for the past 20 minutes, what the hell?!”
Kaksi grinned, this time sincerely, and handed the separated flosses back to Kumi to start over.
“I’m good at damage control, I guess.”
---
Damage control was a little bit of what Kumi was attempting, she liked to tell herself.
If Baji was with her, catching up to grade level in math, he couldn’t be out on the streets and cause trouble. It gave her a sense of civic duty that she was molding this menace into a productive member of society.
Munching as quietly as possible on a Pepero stick, she watched him curiously as he wrote numbers and symbols, working out the answer to a complex algebraic equation. She was less focused on the work he was showing on the page, instead observing the gentle furrow in his brows as he focused silently.
Now that he was concentrating, he was visibly less volatile. Kumi thought he even looked like he had brushed his hair a little bit today, but she wasn’t so sure. A dark lock fell forward into his field of view and before she could contemplate whether or not she wanted to tuck it behind his ear, he spoke suddenly.
“Bambi, what are you staring at?” He didn’t look up.
Kumi’s eyes widened as she repeated, “B-Bambi?”
He paused writing, then glanced up from his sheet finally, his eyes meeting hers.
“Your eyes are huge and you always seem to be staring. Like a lost deer.”
His voice was neutral enough that she wasn’t sure if he was actually making fun of her or not.
“W-why…?” She trailed off. Had he just forgotten her name and was coming up with a surrogate?
Baji blew air out of his nose and shook his head, murmuring a ‘never mind’ as he erased something off the page.
Baji and ‘Bambi’ continued to march through the problem set through the late afternoon and into the early evening.
---
Hearing Baji’s latest nickname for her friend, Kaksi couldn’t help smiling. While Kumi had argued with her that it was definitely not a term of endearment that the boy had started using for her, Kaksi decided to believe that it was. Therefore, teasing would be endless from now on.
She knew that provoking Baji was a bad idea, but she correctly believed that she was one of the few people that could get away with it mostly unscathed. Yet before she could say anything, walking next to the boy on the sidewalk on their way to their respective places, he spoke.
“Mikey and you are looking very friendly lately.”
Kaksi’s eyes widened slightly, not exactly sure what to answer. She immediately got defensive.
“So do you with Kumi!”
“Shut up! That’s not true,” he protested, eyebrows furrowed. “She’s just been helping me with school a lot.”
Baji didn’t really know why he immediately felt the need to justify himself.
“I know,” she replied, with a little smile. “She’s great, I told you.”
Baji looked away. “Whatever.”
Kaksi couldn’t help chuckling, not having seen his face but picturing him rolling his eyes still.  
“But for real, what’s up with Mikey and you, though?”
The girl took a moment before answering.
“Nothing. I just felt bad after… Shinichiro’s death, you know?” she explained. “Even though I know there was nothing I could do about it. So now I treat him to lunch every week.”
Kaksi was unsure about what exact good this little action did to Mikey. But as long as she could make him smile, this was satisfaction enough. Baji took in this new information quietly for a moment, then laughed.
“Damn and what do I have to do for you to give me some money?” Baji joked with a smile, noticing the slight change of tone in his friend’s voice.
The girl chuckled.
“Be nicer to Kumi,” she teased.
“I’ve been nice enough to Bambi.”
Kaksi laughed, he was definitely heading in the good direction she had to admit. She pressed a little.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if you had a girlfriend too when Kazutora’s out of juvie?”
Baji made a gagging noise before speaking again.
“And look as gross as you two? I’ll pass.”
“I’m pretty sure you meant cute,” she teased him with a smile, before letting out a little sigh. “I can’t wait to see him again.”
Baji instantly felt guilt wash over him at those words. If only he had been more insistent on that day and had convinced Kazutora to give up on that idea instead of following him. But he had already had that conversation with Mikey and Kaksi separately and everyone knew that there was nothing anyone could have done to prevent this incident. Still, it was difficult sometimes to accept this thought.
“We’ll see him soon,” Baji reassured with a little smile.
They didn’t say anything further for a little while, walking in silence.
“I never talk about Kazutora with Mikey,” Kaksi spoke again. “It feels like I shouldn’t.”
The boy understood that feeling all too well; besides, Kaksi shouldn’t be the one to address this situation despite her close ties to Kazutora and now to Mikey too. 
“I did,” he told her. “Not much, but someone has to defend Kazutora.”
Kaksi hated that Kazutora had to be defended. How could anyone do this for him? She felt bad thinking about this. Could anyone blame Mikey if he refused to forgive her boyfriend? Could anyone even expect forgiveness from Mikey? The girl understood Baji’s complicated position, he just wanted his friends to get along like they used to.
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth,” he explained. “That it was all an accident and that Kazutora only had good intentions for him, as stupid as it sounds now.”
The girl didn’t think anyone doubted Kazutora’s intentions. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure this was enough to fix what had been broken.
“I know he is upset, even though he won’t talk about it,” Baji continued. “But he knows Kazutora would never hurt his friends on purpose.”  
“Kazutora’s not a bad person,” she said, almost whispering, more to herself than anyone else.
“No, he’s not and I’m sure it will be better once he’s out of juvie.”
Kaksi smiled at her friend, she could only hope it would be.
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