#and i will move some posts there and contact mutuals so they know but still. change is so scary

[theolddivorcedzukka]

sigh

[quin-ns]

Assigned Seat (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Word count: 2.8K

Summary: JJ won’t sit in the correct seat because it’s not next to you

Tags: fluff, mutual crushes, lots of flirting, JJ being cute, slightly oblivious reader, getting together, everyone ships, just cute fun fr

A/N: binged obx and this is my first fic for it and of course I had to write for JJ- he’s my fave. also, it’s s2 when school starts but let’s say they know that john b is alive before the first day of class bc I don’t want this to be angsty lol

cross-posted to ao3 • obx masterlist • writing masterlist

First day back in your first class of the day—Mr. Sunn’s history class—and you were greeted with a seating chart. Usually, you would just sit with your friends, but now you saw that Pope and Kiara weren’t in the same row like they usually would’ve been when you all shared a class. You didn’t even see JJ at all yet. You wondered if he’d show up. It was the one class that you actually had with him, so you hoped he would. Otherwise you wouldn’t see him until lunch break.

You found your seat with ease, but gave Kie a light frown when she turned around and saw you weren’t anywhere close to her or Pope.

About a minute before class was about to start, JJ walked through the door. He spotted you and grinned. He headed for the empty seat beside you and dropped down in it.

“Hey,” JJ greeted. “I was almost late but here I am.”

You laughed a little (mostly because of how proud he sounded). “Yeah, I see that.”

“So, what’s up?” he asked, side eyeing Kie and Pope. “Are we avoiding them for some reason or…?”

“What? No,” you replied quickly. “Appreciate that you were instantly on my side, though,” you said with an amused tone. 

JJ smiled at the comment. “I appreciate the appreciation.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled back nonetheless.

“If you two are done flirting, perhaps Mr. Maybank could move to his correct seat and we can get class started,” Mr. Sunn called out suddenly. You and JJ both were startled, realizing he was talking to you

JJ furrowed his brows. “Correct seat?” he whispered. “What is he talking about?”

“There’s a seating chart,” you muttered back, finally remembering.

“What?” JJ asked a little louder. “That’s lame,” he grumbled. 

“Well, tough,” Mr. Sunn replied, clearly having heard. “And according to my lame seating chart, you’re on the other side of the room.”

“It’s an empty seat,” JJ pointed out. 

“Actually, it’s Mr. Kane’s seat,” Mr. Sunn gestured towards a boy standing near you guys that you embarrassingly enough just now noticed. 

“Well, great, he can have my seat,” JJ suggested with that cheeky smile of his. 

Mr. Sunn looked from JJ to you. “You must be something special, Ms. Y/L/N. I’ve never had someone fight so hard to keep a seat.”

All you could do was laugh awkwardly, very aware of all the eyes on you. You gave JJ a look, asking for him to save you from being the center of attention on the first day. The only way he could was by relenting. 

With a sigh that you would deem dramatic, JJ stood and grabbed his backpack. Mr. Sunn held up the seating chart paper. Everyone watched as he went to the front of the class and glanced at the paper, and then found his actual seat on the opposite side of the room. 

“You can see your girlfriend after class,” Mr. Sunn commented in response to your friend losing the argument.

You weren’t his girlfriend, but neither you or JJ corrected him. You didn’t because frankly, you’d gotten your fill of attention. You weren’t sure why JJ didn’t, though. 

Besides, you weren’t totally against people thinking that. It was still weird having a teacher call you out like that, though.

The kid who had been waiting for JJ to vacate his seat gave you an apologetic look before turning his attention to pulling out a notebook.

You made eye contact with JJ across the classroom and he winked.

“Now that everyone is in their correct seat,” Mr. Sunn announced. “We can get started with class.”

Everyone turned to focus on Mr. Sunn going over the first day syllabus, except for Kie. You caught her looking at you and you met her eyes. She raised her brows as if to ask, “what was that?”

You shrugged, telling her that you didn’t know. It was true, you didn’t. 

After class, no one brought it up so you didn’t say anything about it either. You all went about your day and soon, the whole seat incident left your mind.

The next day you were reminded of it.

You arrived to history with Pope, chatting about the syllabus and what supplies you still needed to get. Kie was already in class. You said hi and then bye and headed to your seat. JJ was the last to show up, cutting it close again. You gave him a small wave, assuming you weren’t going to get to talk to him until after class.

Except, he walked right up to you and sat down next to you. 

You raised your brows at him. “What are you doing?”

“Well, hello to you too,” JJ acknowledged with a light chuckle. 

“He’s gonna tell you to move again,” you predicted. 

JJ shrugged it off. “Like some seating chart is gonna keep me away from my favorite girl,” he retorted in a playful tone. 

You smiled, ready to go along with his flirting. “Favorite, huh?”

He put his elbow on his desk and leaned on his hand. “What, you didn’t know that? I coulda swore I made it obvious.”

You hummed, ready to hit back with a sly comment. Until you were interrupted.

“Is this going to become a daily occurrence?” Mr. Sunn’s voice tore you and JJ away from the gaze you held. You both looked to the front of the class, where he stood watching you two. “I believe you know your correct seat, Mr. Maybank.”

“I forgot, actually,” JJ lied easily. “I’m pretty comfortable here, though.”

Mr. Sunn rolled his eyes and held back any indication that he found the situation as funny as you did. “I can’t have my students revolting,” he decided. He pointed to JJ’s assigned seat, waiting for him to move.

“It’s only 45 minutes, JJ,” you told him. “I think you can survive.”

“Fine, fine,” he told you and Mr. Sunn. He got up and moved to his seat. The boy that sat next to you came out of nowhere and took the seat. 

After class, you met up with your friends. You were about to walk with JJ to the hall where both your next classes were, but Kie decided something different.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” she announced. “Y/N- come with me?”

Except you didn’t really feel like she was asking. 

“Um, sure,” you agreed and headed off with her in the other direction of the boys.

“Why do girls always do that?” JJ wondered, watching as the two of you turned a corner.

“Girls just do that,” Pope explained. “This time they’re going to talk about you, dude. For sure.”

“About me?” JJ furrowed his brows. “What about me?”

“About how you like Y/N and that it’s totally obvious now. To everyone.” 

JJ just shrugged. He thought everyone already knew. The only person he really wanted to know was you, but you never seemed to think he was serious. You always flirted back and that was fun, but maybe he had to up his game.

Oddly, no one brought up the seat incident yet again as a group. Kiara and Pope did observe you and JJ closer, but even if the flirting was a little more obvious, it didn’t go beyond that.

Next day in history, it was a repeat of the previous days.

“I’m starting to think you like me,” you joked to JJ when he sat down beside you.

“It took you this long?” he responded teasingly. You tried to not read into it, not wanting to get your hopes up. Not realizing that he was hoping you would read into it.

Mr. Sunn looked up from his desk when the bell for class to start rang. Immediately, as if in a force of habit, his eyes landed on you and JJ. Once again he would have to start the class period by telling JJ to move.

“You must have amnesia,” Mr. Sunn directed towards JJ. Everyone knew that, he didn’t have to say his name.

You and JJ exchanged a look and a small laugh. You’d gotten over any level of embarrassment that came from people chuckling and eyeing you and JJ. 

“Can’t you just make an exception?” JJ asked. He was bargaining but didn’t have anything to offer.

Kie threw a smirk over her shoulder at you, but you avoided eye contact. 

Yesterday she had spent the “bathroom” trip convincing you that JJ really did like you—as more than just a friend. She knew you liked him, but also knew you were avoiding telling JJ. You didn’t want to mess with your friendship by making what you had always assumed was just friendly banter into something awkward and feeling like an idiot for thinking it was some kind of signal if it wasn’t. 

If she hadn’t sworn to JJ that she wouldn’t tell you how he felt, she would have cleared it up yesterday. But of course you didn’t know that.

Mr. Sunn’s lips pulled into a tight line. You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely annoyed or amused. “If you’re next to her, how can I expect you to pay attention in class?” 

At that, the whole class chuckled. Even you. At least Mr. Sunn had a good sense of humor.

JJ blushed a little at that. You hadn’t seen him flustered like this in… well, it had been a long time. He couldn’t think of a comeback as quickly as he usually did. Too many seconds passed for him to recover, so he had no choice. 

JJ grabbed his backpack. “I’ll see you after class,” he promised. 

“You always do,” you replied just loud enough for him to hear as he stood. He shot you a smile before walking over to his assigned seat.

Class moved slowly, although at least the subject was mildly interesting compared to your other ones this semester.

When the bell rang, you waited for your friends and you all walked out of class together. 

“JJ, are you trying to get in trouble?” Pope asked, almost accusingly.

JJ scoffed out a laugh. “Don’t be dramatic, I’m not gonna get in trouble over a seat.”

“Interesting that you keep going for a seat that’s right next to Y/N,” Kiara mused in a knowing tone.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” you told her, but not in a serious way. You and JJ flirted but you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable by her comments, implying that there was more.

Turns out it was the opposite. You didn’t see the way JJ looked at you. You were focused on the eye roll Kie gave before saying bye and heading to her next class. Pope followed suit, leaving you and JJ to walk to your next classes together.

“Y’know, if Kie wants to think… that,” JJ started, referencing her very obvious implication. “Or if anyone else does… I wouldn’t mind.”

You stared up at him, a bit taken aback. You and JJ had always been close and flirted, and even though you had a crush on him and all your friends were convinced he had a crush on you, neither of you brought it up or confronted it. JJ was taking the first step.

“I wouldn’t mind either,” you admitted, smiling lightly. 

JJ looked surprised, then relieved. “Really?”

You only let out a small laugh, “I’ll see you later,” you told him. You were about to walk to your class further down the hall, but stuck around for a moment longer. “Tomorrow, just sit in your seat,” you suggested. “Mr. Sunn is a chill guy but it’s gonna be a long year if we start off annoying him.”

“We’re not annoying,” JJ faked offense. “But yeah, alright,” he relented. “I guess I’ll just have to stare longing across the class,” he teased.

Your smile grew. “Yeah, I guess so,” you replied smoothly. Then, you walked away towards your class.

“We’re still meeting up with Pope and Kie later, right?” JJ called after you.

“Yeah,” you called back, not looking over your shoulder.

You hung out with your friends later and gone about your day. You and JJ of course flirted, but nothing more than usual. Pope didn’t bring it up again and Kiara just shot you knowing smirks. 

Next day in Mr. Sunn’s class, much to your surprise, when JJ walked into class he gave you a light wave and continued on to his assigned seat. He was following your advice, which was a hard thing to get JJ to do. You looked over and realized he was standing near where his seat was. 

And that someone was already in it.

The guy who was supposed to sit by you was in JJ’s seat. Meaning there was an empty seat right beside you.

JJ looked over his shoulder at you and grinned. He waltzed over, suddenly in a much better mood.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked you cheekily.

You looked past him to see the guy in JJ’s seat. He gave you a shrug and a look that said, “you’re welcome.” You almost laughed. 

“I guess not,” you answered JJ, looking back at him with a smile of your own.

He sat down in the seat, victorious. 

Mr. Sunn walked in when class started and went to the board.

“I see my words mean nothing to you, Mr. Maybank,” Mr. Sunn said, spotting JJ.

A smirk crossed your friend's face. “Actually,” he started, perking up. “My seat was taken.” 

Mr. Sunn looked at JJ's actual seat and sighed. The kid looked a little guilty but didn’t say anything. He looked back at JJ. “Fine, you win,” he decided. Then, he began to write on the board. 

After class, you and JJ parted from Kie and Pope to walk together to your next class. 

“I can’t believe he finally gave in,” you said with a laugh.

“I can be persuasive,” JJ replied smoothly.

You let out another laugh. “That was not persuasive. That was…I don’t know what that was,” you admitted.

“Fine, but I got what I wanted,” JJ revealed. It was no surprise, but there was something underlying in his tone. 

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” you held your hands up in surrender. The two of you stopped outside of your class and faced one another.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “I would hope not.” 

“I’ll see you later,” you told him. “Don’t miss me too much,” you decided to add on. 

“Oh, baby, I always do,” he played along casually. 

Your face felt warm at the nickname, but you didn’t say anything more. When you all hung out later, the interaction played through your mind.

You were too distracted to realize JJ was staring at you all night—or at least that’s what Kie had told you later.

The next day in Mr. Sunn’s class, JJ was there before you. You couldn’t remember the last time he was ever in a class before you. You walked to your seat and he smiled up at you.

“Hi there,” you greeted, sitting down beside JJ. “For once you actually came to class early,” you pointed out. 

“Well, I had a reason to,” JJ replied with a smile. “I wanted to ask you something.”

You chuckled, thinking of a joke. “Do you need an alibi?”

“Ha ha,” he said sarcastically. “I’m serious though.” Your expression turned confused. “Not like, serious serious. Don’t look so worried.”

“Alright, what is it?” 

“After school today would you wanna hang out? Just me and you?” JJ asked with a hint of nervousness.

“We hang out all the time,” you started knowingly. “So if you’re asking…” you mused, suppressing a smile (you were having a hard time with that, though). “Is this you asking me on a date, JJ?” 

“Maybe,” JJ said with a tad of nervousness. “Would you want to?”

“Yeah,” you answered without hesitation. You could’ve held out longer and maybe messed with a little, but you decided against that.

JJ looked pleasantly surprised. “Really?”

In your head, you were beaming with excitement. Out loud you confirmed, “it’s a date.”

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Mr. Sunn called to you and JJ, interrupting. “But since it seems important, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind sharing with the class.”

“Well, I’ve got a date later, so that’s pretty great,” JJ practically bragged, not missing a beat. “As for how that goes, I don’t kiss and tell.” 

JJ shot you a wink after that, Kie and Pope looked over their shoulders so fast you thought their heads were gonna spin, and Mr. Sunn actually looked impressed.

“About time,” someone in the class spoke up. It was an unfamiliar voice. When you located the source, you found it was the boy in JJ’s old seat.

And what did you do? Well, all you could do was let out a laugh and share a smile with JJ.

You had a feeling this class was going to be much more fun now—although, maybe not as much fun as your date with JJ.

[cowgirlcherrie]

☆ WISHFUL THINKING. loser! sbf! ellie williams headcanons

♪ 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠…wishful thinking by benee

a/n: here are just some quick head-canons of loser ellie, ellie is best friends with the readers sister, basically like bbf! ellie but girls girl coded dynamic.

warnings/content: 18+ MDNI. a nsfw section. breeding kink. switch!ellie. kissing. petname usage. ellie is so loser…LOL but it intertwines with canon ellie. cursing. dirty talking. finger sucking. edging. mostly toothrotting fluff for the first section

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

౨ৎ loser! Ellie owns an obscure amount of graphic tees with silly slogans on them:

“I ♡ HOT MOMS” or “I ♡ MILFS” or “BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN”

** I can’t find the post but one of my mutuals had an exact post of how she would dress…adam sandler core fr

When she gets complimented on them, she does not know how to take a compliment. When you found one of the slogans funny, your hands delicately intertwined with the fabric of her shirt as you tugged the fabric — with your phone hovering over the bolded text to take a picture – Ellie was sweating bullets beneath your touch.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie dismissed you the first time that the two of you met; she moved like a shadow whenever you were around; if you were talking in the kitchen, she would completely walk out of the room and just avoid the area. At first, you thought Ellie stopped coming around and being friends with your sister until you actively caught her turning on her heels and just heads in another direction.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie goes to your college and is a year above you but you didn’t know she was going to JSU (Jackson state university) because you thought she was planning on community, so it was a shocker to see her around campus because she actually would say hi to you or sit and chat if she wasn’t with Dina or Jesse.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie is obsessed with Jurassic Park and owns all of the DVD collections. She even has posters up on the wall that is stills from the movie and ones she was able to find with a deep dive online *cough* Reddit *cough* Facebook marketplace *cough* 

Frequently she tried to get your sister into it who gets sick of her asking–  but kept on nagging at Ellie to ask you instead, and with many dab pen hits and a quick pep talk in the bathroom, Ellie built up enough courage to ask you to watch it with her. 

The two of you bonded over having crushes on Ellie Sattler which was the first time that Ellie realized that you liked girls and she might have a shot with you.

“It’s even better to watch when you’re high because the dinosaurs are all like-…woahh”

౨ৎ loser! Ellie enjoys it’s always sunny in Philadelphia and parks and recreation, and would definitely enjoy emergency intercom or just podcast-y youtube channels 

౨ৎ loser! Ellie sucks at eye contact, whenever you start talking to her she rubs at the back of her neck, and looks at her feet, twirling the necklace that’s tucked closely to her skin and her shirt. She just doesn’t stop fidgeting. Her face gets all red but she plays it off that Joel kept on turning the heater on when there was no need for it.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie wears flat-brim vintage hats, especially some with corduroy fabric, and apart from her standard arm tattoo gets silly patchwork ones, like one of a drawing she did for Joel. Has a lot of rings and especially enjoys the spinny ones.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie who collects Savage Starlight comics, as always, is surprised when you tell her you found some copies in the bookstore that was actually going to get thrown away but you bargained with the owner to buy the barrel of the books because you knew she would like to have them. She gets all flustered when she realizes that you were thinking of her and it brings the craziest smile to her fast that you took enough time to remember such minuscule detail about her. 

“Do you– uh- do you want me to pay you back?”

౨ৎ loser! Ellie wakes up late all the time when she sleeps over at your house like I’m talking 11-12:30 pm and will walk around the house with messy hair, a large t-shirt and boxers, and dry drool patch on her mouth and down her cheek until she realizes she had been watched for the past few minutes by you who was scared shitless because you didn’t even she spent the night.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie in traditional Ellie fashion uses cursing as a coping mechanism when she gets nervous and doesn’t know what to say:

“I don’t fuckin’ know ask your sister”

“That’s fuckin cute… I guess”

“Oh – Fuck you!”

౨ৎ when your sister started this thing every two weeks where there is a girl’s night, she’d invite Ellie over for a sleepover and the sleepless night would be full of gossip, painting each other’s nails, drinking cheap wine that Ellie got from the gas station down the way —  primarily a self-care night, it takes a lot of convincing to get Ellie to join in but once she does, she regrets it slightly. However, she tolerates it because she can use it as an excuse just to see you and learn about what is up with your life or if you started seeing anyone.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie who bitches and cries when she has a facemask on, and is hissing and spewing curses under her breath every few minutes, with a fluffy headband on that is pushing her auburn hair back, begging you to take it off; meanwhile, you are applying a clear coat on her nails because she would complain about any other color but she keeps tensing up.

“Ow! What the fuck is in this…it hurts, take it off! Take it off!”

౨ৎ loser! Ellie when the summertime rolled around, meant she would be spending way more time with you and your sister – eventually, your sister goes to the locksmith and get Ellie her own key. Ellie will be indulging in pool days with you which is a recipe for disaster

She is tripping all over the place, and terribly applied sunscreen on her face which cast a slight ghostly white cast on her face, adding to how stunned she was to see you in a swimsuit, but she couldn’t look away and caught herself wandering her eyes to places she probably shouldn’t have. 

Underwater kiss! Underwater kiss! 

But she tries to play it off and acts like it never even happened the next day. But when Ellie closed her eyes all she could feel was your wet lips on hers, as the two of you were grabbing at each other and the way for a second time slowed down and all she could feel was the movement of the water and your hands on her skin.

When she applied sunscreen wrong and asks you to fix it for her, gets so embarrassed as you rub your hands over her face to moisturize the sunscreen into her face, but every time she opens her eyes she just sees the view of your boobs in the bikini you are wearing and just squeezes her eyes shut. Visibly pretends to bite her fist when you’re done

౨ৎ loser! Ellie 100% asking strangers on Reddit how to confess for you with crazy ass headlines, 

F(22) IN LOVE WITH MY BEST FRIEND'S SISTER F(21) ADVICE? If a girl’s arm lingers on you for too long does it mean she likes you? (F) Good pick-up lines that aren’t cringy for gays only…please How much does astrology and birth chart compatibility really matter? 

౨ৎ loser! Ellie splits her sandwiches with you and gives you a jacket when you are cold because even though she asks you a million times and you said no each time she asked. She still brings a jacket just for you — and how she would scold you for not bringing one. (all out of love though)

“You fucker! I knew you would be cold, see this is why I said to bring a jacket” 

Pretends to be angry but really she was waiting for this moment.

Eventually, you build a collection, having 3 of Ellie’s jackets in your room, which was Ellie’s subtle excuse to be able to talk to you. 

౨ৎ loser! Ellie doesn’t hesitate to pick you up from an on-campus party, and her heart shatters when you are crying because you had a shitty night and you don’t want her to tell your sister. Takes you to whatever fast food is open at that hour even if that means she’d have to drive 30 minutes extra just to make you smile.  

“Shh…sweetheart terrible nights happen it’s okay”

“Are you hungry?…cuz’ like I’m fuckin hungry” Ellie whispers amidst a thick awkward silence, mentally cringing and wanting to bang her head on the steering wheel as she grips the wheel until her knuckles turn white.

Suddenly becomes good with comforting people when it comes to you, but anyone else – the spinny wheel of death appears above her head as she struggles to formulate a good sentence. 

౨ৎ loser! Ellie who hates when you bring up anyone you start talking to or that you are going out with, will sit there with her fist tight and jaw clenched whispering to you:

“There are people who can treat you way better”

And by people she really means herself. 

౨ৎ loser! Ellie who set off the fire alarm once by accident because she was hotboxing in her room with Jesse and Dina and almost got a dean’s office summons and tried to blame it on the neighbors next door. 

౨ৎ loser! Ellie when Ellie tells your sister that she likes you, your sister makes the most disgusted face at her, but becomes Ellie’s wing-woman and kinda tells Ellie all of your likes and dislikes, which Ellie has a whole page in her journal with facts about you. 

“can I have your blessing to uh…date your um, fuck sorry your sister?”

“ellie please shut up I’m gonna throw up”

౨ৎ loser! Ellie has pictures of michael cera as her icons on every form of social media.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie gets flustered easily over indirect kisses, like sharing food or sharing drinks, and suddenly she becomes so hyperaware. 

nsfw 𖦹⋆彡🫧꩜♪⋆

౨ৎ When Ellie started having more than just friendly feelings for you…her whole demeanor changed, the tension was so thick it could cut with a sharp knife. Subtle touches suddenly had more meaning and her body felt like someone lit a match with gasoline dripping from her body and set her aflame. 

౨ৎ after an accidental confession that leads to the two of you dating, lewd thoughts from the shadow of her brain came after and she couldn’t control it — initially was too embarrassed to tell you and had nights where she would just walk to the bathroom and try her best to get off in the shower but it only got her so far before it wasn’t helping or doing enough and at this point she needed to actually touch you

౨ৎ That time she slept over and was sleeping on your couch, hoodie on her body with the hood up covering her face, blankets falling off of her body giving a full view of her sleep boxer shorts. When you walked by to go grab a drink of water around 3 am you could hear her moaning your name in your sleep.

౨ৎ is one of those people who seem bashful, sparky, and innocent throughout the day but in the sheets is the biggest freak ever, she becomes another level of unholy.

౨ৎ a breeding kink! Definitely owns one of the squirting dildos because she loves to watch the way liquids drip out of you when she’s done, will sit back pulling at your folds with her fingers with the shit-eating grin on her face that reads I did that 

“Look at you~” “all fucked out for me” Ellie speaks coly and in between breaths as her head reaches down to put kisses all over your face.

౨ৎ Ellie likes to see how much she can get away with, smacks your ass, pulls you back by your belt loop, sticks her hand way too far up your thigh, moans high pitched in your ear during public settings 

౨ৎ falls asleep with her hand on your boobs, god forbid she’s having a nightmare, she starts squeezing them in the midst of it. 

౨ৎ makes dick jokes talking about some:

“My pullout game is not weak thank you very much, if that was the case we would have had a lot of children already”

When listening to rap music that goes into heavy description about fucking humps the air sometimes to the lyrics...not elaborating she's hella immature LOL 

౨ৎ The minute the two of you go out and one of your friends says how she is a simp and how you have all the control in the situation, Ellie will make sure you know that she indefinitely has the upper hand. It’s like a switch flips in her head she gets so ruthless and so mean, she doesn’t want you to forget it either and fucks you until you can’t think

You will be moaning and clawing at her back as she pounds in a rhythmic motion in and out of you, her mouth would get so filthy, smirking as her fingers rub over your lips as she slips her thumb in for you to suck,

“but …do your friends know that you cry like this under me? that you look so pathetic under me?”

“Who’s in charge again cuz’ I fuckin’ know it’s not you”

“Are you cumming? Oh no you don’t…let me see you” “What if I just stopped right now?”

Likes to edge you, no doubt.

౨ৎ a switch likes to be topped or touched but also likes to be the top

౨ৎ whimpers whenever you touch her like a puppy, her eyes get glassy and her face gets red as she lets out low mewls of your name, and suddenly it’s like you’re an angel hovering over her and your touch is an addictive drug that she never wants to stop having.

౨ৎ  Overall just the best girlfriend ever, with a combination of silliness and fun in one, a big ol’ dork that is really just obsessed with you.

© cowgirlcherrie

taglist

@beforeimdeceased @starologist @destielcore @luvrgalore @ellsss @zahraaziza @emluvselandabs @abbyily @elliestrwbrry @mossc0vered @spacewlf @as2rid @spaceshipellie @lottiematthewsceo @emonopolyman @mikasbby @trulygnomed @machetegirl109 @munsonsfairy

[shiny-jr]

Get you a guy with thighs bigger than yours.

- Warning: Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: König.

- Summary: Thick thighs do not save lives.

- Note: This came about because I was just talking crazy in the dms with a mutual. I originally wasn't going to ever let this see the light of day, but then I decided, why the hell not? If I get smacked with delayed embarrassment, I'll just delete. Yeah, I know this isn't what I usually write and post, but oh well. Anyways, after this, we will be back to our regular scheduled content shortly. Oh, and sorry for minor mistakes, I wrote this like at midnight.

. . .

You decided to put a movie on. Just for a distraction. After about an hour into the movie, the leather couch got a bit uncomfortable since it stuck to your skin. So you slunk down to the floor, bringing a pillow or two down with you to use in case extra comfort was needed. The movie was beginning to lose your attention, but you still watched the screen attentively as if you were still focused on the film's plot.

What ended up catching your attention, was the slight shifting couch. Well, slight probably wasn't the correct word, as the movement was anything but light. It was safe to assume the shifting was from a guy who was well over 200 Ibs and a few inches short of 7 ft, although you didn't know the exact numbers because you never wanted to ask König outright.

It was easier to hear the movement, as the large figure scoot a few inches over. Instead of sitting beside you like he was a few seconds earlier, he had not so discreetly moved to take your vacant spot and sit directly behind you. He tried to stay quiet, he really did, but it wasn't so easy for him given his size. At the very least, he treaded carefully, not bumping your back once with his legs or accidentally knocking the back of your skull with his kneecaps.

You didn't move, but your eyes slowly glanced downward, where you could see the tip of his boots. Custom made, as most department stores didn't carry anything in his size. Most articles of clothing he had were custom-made or bought in special stores, save for that odd black diy mask he often wore over his head like a hood to hide himself from the world. Too afraid to lean back and accidentally make contact and disturb this fragile peace, you remain still despite the slight ache in your lower back that make you want to lean back and stretch. But you don't. All you could do was try to revert your attention back to the movie and not think any unholy thoughts, that is, until you heard more movement.

To not bump his knees against you, Konig spread his legs a bit and leaned down. The edges of his homemade cloth mask brushed against your back as you stiffened up, and you could make out the shape of his head beside yours as he whispered, "Do you, uh, want some...?"

Yes. "What???"

"Popcorn? Do you want some popcorn...??"

Oh.

After deciding whether or not you'd accept his offer, silence ensued, only fueled by the movie playing on the television. You weren't gonna lie, you have no idea what the hell was going on in the story anymore. A solid minute passed when he spoke again, sounding just as unsure as the first time. He spoke, as if whatever thoughts he had on his mind earlier where left to simmer for long enough.

"Scheiße. Sorry, should I have not moved here...? You can still lean back if you want?"

"Oh, okay... I, um, I'll do that."

Your back was starting to ache a little from sitting up without support, so, feeling just as awkward as he was feeling, you leaned your back against the couch. Instantly, as soon as you did that, your peripheral vision was covered by his knees and part of his legs. The movie was pretty much pointless now, as you were currently wondering whether you should thank whatever gods existed or curse them for the fact that König did not have shorts on. Even without shorts and with specially fitted cargo pants, they could not conceal the insane bulk of his legs. Especially his thighs. Good lord. The two pillows you brought down before from the couch were essentially useless now because on each side of your head were his limbs that rivaled the best of My Pillow.

Think of something else, anything else, is what you tried to tell yourself.

That idea would go out the window as soon as you felt something in your hair. Carefully twisting a few strands, you felt some thick and calloused fingers gently try and feel the texture of your hair. But it lasted only for a brief second, as he immediately pulled his hands away and murmured a tiny bit louder from his whisper earlier, "Ah, sorry, I should've asked first. I should not have done that. I am sorry––"

"It's okay, I... don't mind." You shrugged it off, and much to your surprise and contentment, he continued.

The first few seconds had a bit more hesitancy, but as time ticked by, seconds turned to minutes, his boldness increased. It started with his large hands carefully feeling the texture of your hair, then it became slow brush strokes as his thick fingers ever-so-carefully untangled knots in your stands of hair. Until eventually it escalated, and he gathered the courage to do something so bold as to scratch your skull. He could easily take your entire face in one hand and crush your skull, but he didn't. There was no sign of any such roughness. Instead, his fingers and nails continued to comb through your hair, lightly scratching your scalp. At first when he did this, he paused, and waited for any objections or signals of a negative reaction, but after no such thing, he continued and seemed pleased.

It was after about five-minutes and heavy mental debating in your mind that you decided to suck it up and go for it. What's the worst that could happen? Honestly, you didn't even expect to make it this far.

So, after taking in a breath, you let your head fall to the side. It wasn't like those romantic scenes where you watch the character lean their head against a love interest's shoulder. Oh no, you were skipping that part, your ear landed right on his thigh. Which was probably due to the cushion you placed underneath you on the floor that elevated you a few extra inches, or else you might've missed. In that moment, right as the side of your head landed on its intended target, you felt him freeze. His fingers stopping, nails still on your scalp. A second passed, then two, then three, like time froze.

You were almost tempted to pry yourself off and apologize, but you really didn't want to. But you had to ask. "Is this alright...?"

"J-Ja... I mean, yes..."

Your eyes widened, and you were sure you had on some goofy kinda grin but at least you weren't facing him so he couldn't tell. Once you heard his response, your shoulders slumped, relieved of tension you didn't even know you were carrying.

Even with your head against his thigh that wasn't plush but was still definitely comfortable, you realize you were no better than a man as you resisted the urge to just reach out and squeeze his other thigh that had gotten closer without you even realizing it. You had to dig your nails into your knee to prevent yourself from acting on impulse.

It was definitely almost pure muscle from what you could tell with your head on one of them. Firm but somehow still soft. Thick thighs, in fact, do not save lives, because these thighs have ended who knows how many between them in finishing moves on the battlefield. Lucky bastards. Trying your luck agian, you place a shaky hand on his other thigh, but he didn't react. A good sign? Possibly?

Forget goth gfs and thick plush thighs, apparently giant anxious austrian soldiers with thighs as thick as tree trunks and strong enough to obliterate skulls like melons were the new fad.

Movie totally forgotten, your vision was entirely covered when König leaned down a bit from his spot on the couch and you tilted your head to look up and meet his gaze. The masked man stared at you, his blue eyes peering down at you through the two small slits cut into his mask for his eyes to see. His mask partially dangled, but not fully, so not revealing himself to you. When your gaze traveled away, abruptly his thighs got closer, squishing your cheeks and the sides of your face but not enough to hurt. Just a bit of pressure to get you to look up again.

Oh god.

There was literally no space between your face and his legs anymore, and your arms instinctively went to the outer side of his thighs to try and pry them apart a bit. You didn't try much, maybe because you enjoyed it or because you didn't exactly have strength strong enough to rival his, so all you could do was clutch the pockets of his cargo pants that were just above his knees, your nails digging in softly just to get a quick feel.

Once he saw he had your attention again after he applied a bit of pressure, he cocked his head to the side and continued to look down at you through half-lidded eyes darkened by the shadow of his hood. Then he spoke, but this time with no apprehension in his quiet tone.

"You do know I've ruined others that were in a similar position to what you are in right now?"

[lovehurtsandilikeitthatway]

Nightmares

Male Yandere x Reader

Hi everyone!! This my first ever time posting my writing on here, so I'm a little nervous- English isn't my first language so sorry if there are some grammar/spelling mistakes or anything like that 😭 Please know that I don't support any kind of "yandere" behaviour irl and if you have any person like that in your life, make sure to distance yourself from them and stay safe 🙏 I tried not to romanticise the yandere-ish in this either so I hope it doesn't come off that way.

WARNINGS‼️: Yandere behaviour, cursing, abuse, needles, mentions of panic attacks, drugs, kidnapping, manipulation, noncon touching/kissing (nothing nsfw), blood, biting, knives, death

Four years. It had been exactly four years ever since you managed to escape the hellhole that was your abusive boyfriend's apartment. Four years since you left Japan too; as you wanted to make sure he'd never find you again. Now you lived in London as a librarian, in a small run-of-the-mill apartment all by yourself. It was a quiet life; but you liked it that way. You had to change your name to make sure he couldn't get to you, and thus you couldn't have much contact with your family and friends still in Japan. It hurt you, knowing that you were so far apart from them, but it was much better than being stuck in that place with no way out.

Of course; it had started out like any other relationship. You were both in university; he was a business major and quite popular, as his parents owned a well known company which he was bound to inherit. But his riches weren't the only thing that made him popular. He was also known for being very charismatic with a large social circle, having near flawless grades and (amongst the female school body, mainly) being fairly handsome on top of all that too. You'd be a liar to say you didn't have a bit of a crush on him at first too; but it was very similar to a celebrity crush. He was unobtainable and you had created an ideal version of him in your head; so you could fantasize yourself going on a date with him or some other crush of yours from time to time for the funsies. You thought that would be all he'd ever be to you; but boy were you wrong.

Surprisingly, you met at a house party. The host was a friend of a friend; and you were basically convinced to go by your friend group despite being hesitant. It turned out that, just as you suspected, the party wasn't really your vibe; but your friends were having fun. So you decided to go hangout in the backyard by yourself until another friend of yours had to go, so you didn't feel awkward being the first in the friend group to leave. Surprise surprise, he was there too. You two ended up striking conversation; and he sheepishly confessed that he didn't really like the party either, but had to stay because the "friend of a friend" was actually a close friend of his. So you pretty much spent the entire party talking with eachother; and the ideal version you had made up of him in your mind was gone by the time it was over. Not in a bad way. You guys had a lot of things in common after all; and he also had his flaws, just like you. He was no longer the popular mr.perfect guy you thought he was; and it was rather attractive.

You became friends; and your friendship soon blossomed into much more. He was a good boyfriend at the start. Dates, flowers, heartfelt conversations, mutual love and respect. You know, all the very basic factors of any healthy, loving relationship. Within a year into the relationship, though, things began to...change for the worst. He'd grow paranoid whenever you went out with friends without him; he kept pestering you about moving in with him even though you weren't ready for something like that yet.... You had mentioned multiple times in the past that you were skeptical about marriage, kids, all that mambo jambo. Still, he'd often bring up how he wanted to get married and have a family with you. It was kinda sweet, at first. You understood that it came from a place of love; but the affection smothering and how controlling he was slowly becoming grew far too much.

The straw that broke the camel's back? He proposed. On your "a year and a half anniversary" date, he got down on one knee and proposed. You were very taken aback; and the fact he wanted to marry you and start a whole life with you was again very touching in theory, but not so much when all the times you two had this very conversation came in mind. All the times you expressed how you weren't sure and needed more time; and he seemingly understood and accepted that just to pull something like this on your anniversary. You explained your side, yet again, and he wasn't pleased. An argument broke out; and it got bad. By the end, you told him that if what you both wanted didn't match up; this wouldn't work. You tried walking out. Again, he wasn't pleased.

And what did he do? Oh, just smashed a bottle of wine on the back of your head.

It was a miracle you didn't die; but you did pass out. And what followed after was the most hellish year of your life. Your dear boyfriend turned kidnapper basically lied to every single person in your life; saying you had decided to drop out of uni to move in with him and start a family. And because his family was very influential, with many connections, and also because he had such a prestige reputation, no one batted an eye. Your family did, of course; they knew you best. But why would such a kindhearted, hardworking honour student from a good family ever lie?

He spent a year trying to brainwash you into giving in; brainwashing you into giving him the perfect life he wanted, with a stay-at-home partner and children and everything, not allowing you to get out of the apartment or as much as breathe without him supervising. Nevermind that you were screaming your lungs out, begging him to let you go home and reminding him how much of a monster he was despite the gentleman-like façade he'd put not only in front of others, but also in front of you.

Eventually, after many failed attempts, you managed to bust the cameras in his apartment and pick the lock while he was out. You stole just enough money to get you an one way ticket to whatever place was available and also got back your phone; only being able to part with your friends and family via text messages and calls. Going to the police was out of the question. Why? Cause you had tried that in the past; and it didn't end well for you. The police weren't going to help; the only one who could protect you was yourself.

You didn't like thinking about it; the year you had spent in his apartment. Your therapist had advised you to stop living in the past and focus on the present; but it was so hard to try and put all that trauma behind you. Everytime you had to go outside you'd always look over your back; afraid you'd see him again. Afraid he'd somehow find you and make you pay for leaving him before dragging you right back. Sometimes you'd even think you caught glimpse of him across the street; causing you to have a mini panic attack. It was never fun. You hated it. You hated the fact that even though you managed to escape him; it felt like he came along with you.

Nevertheless, you tried to continue living. You met new people at the library, became friends with a sweet old lady from your apartment building, even started writing your very own book as a hobby, which you always wanted! You were doing well for yourself. You were slowly able to pick the pieces that had broken off of you; and you were proud of it. You were proud of managing to wake up everyday, making sure to eat, get to work, go through the work day- and reach the end of said workday. Just like you did today.

Work had ended for today. You said goodbye to your co-workers and began working home; fantasising about crashing onto your couch and staying there for the rest of the evening. It had been quite the tiring day and all you wanted to do was just get home, put on a random TV channel and maybe take a nap. Eventually, you reached your apartment complex. You lived on the first floor; so thankfully you didn't have to climb any stairs. Soon, you were standing right outside your front door. Your hands reached into your shoulder bag and pulled out your house key, inserting it into the keyhole in order to unlock the door.

However, the door was already unlocked.

Your blood immediately went cold; hand still on the key as you stared at the door with wide eyes. There was no way it could be him, right? If he hadn't found you in four years now, what could possibly lead him to you? Your heart began racing; breathing already getting heavy. You were panting, you just realised. You could hear your own heartbeat echo in your ears. Were you on the verge of another panic attack? Closing your eyes tight, you tried to take a deep breath and compose yourself; focusing on your environment instead of your ever growing panic, as your therapist had instructed you to do at moments like this one. The way the handle's metal felt cold against your grip, bird chirping from a nearby window, the sound of the elevator going down; most likely for the old lady you had befriended, as this was the time she'd usually get home from feeding the stray dogs in the neighborhood. She was so sweet.

Let's think rationally: you were far away from Japan, you had changed your name as well as your appearance (as much as you could force yourself to) and you had managed to maintain this quiet life of yours for four whole years. In those four years; you had received no calls or messages from him either, because you of course also had to change your number, email and delete any social media you had just to be sure. All that being said; the door was open when it was not supposed to- and then it hit you; did you actually lock the door this morning? Even though you were extremely paranoid; there had been an instance or two of you forgetting to lock the door before leaving for work, usually when you were feeling extra tired or stressed. Even four years later; sleeping didn't come easy to you. You started having sleep paralysis quite often, but instead of feeling like someone was pushing onto your chest hard, there was the suffocating sensation of his hands wrapped around your waist so tight that you'd think your organs would pop out any second.

Admitting that you're a complete idiot isn't easy; but you'd take it any day over the possibly of him somehow having gotten into your apartment. So, with the mentality of a broke middle aged man taking the risk of one last gamble in order to hit the jackpot, you decided to put your fears aside and push the door forward so you could get home.

Because, guess what? You were so sick of this.

Sick of living in fear, of having panic attacks every other day and jumping like a terrified kitten whenever you see a man who slightly resembles him pass by you. Sick of not being able to close your eyes every night because instead of the back of your eyelids, all you see is each and every time he'd touch you like he owned you.

And now that he didn't 'own you' any longer, your trauma did. And he was technically the personification of your trauma. He still owned you.

Fuck him. Fuck this. All of this. You just wanted to lay down and sleep like a normal person. Talk to your friends like a normal person. Sometimes you'd forget that you were actually that: normal and a person, since he had spent an entire year making you think otherwise. So no; you weren't going to let your fear control you and remain standing outside your apartment after an exhausting work day. You weren't going to deprive yourself of the basic right and necessities everyone else had.

You were now inside the apartment. Your small, cluttered apartment that had only one bedroom; a bathroom that could only fit a shower rather than a bathtub and a living room that was connected to the kitchen, all in the very same space. You immediately took off your shoes, locked the door behind you and hung your shoulder bag on one of the two chairs you had at the kitchen table before basically collapsing onto the couch, not caring to change into something more comfortable just yet. Your clothes weren't all that uncomfortable, actually. You didn't have much energy this morning; so you had worn a more casual, comfy outfit, not putting much thought into it. It was an outfit that you could easily sleep in no problem; which you started to realise when you began feeling yourself already drifting to sleep. Deep inside, you knew that there were other things that probably had priority; like taking a shower or making dinner but....did they really? You could do all that after taking a nap. You hadn't been able to sleep a full eight hours without waking up every hour or so for awhile now anyway. The moment you wake up, you'd get to all those important tasks that were needed for you to continue functioning- but it had been the first time that sleep sought you out rather than you taking sleep medication in weeks, and you weren't going to waste such a rare act of mercy by your system. Within a few minutes, you were out like a light.

“Look at you, all curled up in the couch....Is it that much better than the king sized bed we'd share?”

A voice called out to you. You couldn't make whose voice, however. You were still pretty much out of it; half asleep. You didn't even know what day it was, much less where or who that voice came from.

“Oh, you must be sleepy. These eyebags on your pretty face tell me enough; you haven't slept properly in awhile, hm?” the voice questioned, and you swore you could feel something hot blow against your ear before it spoke again, this time closer. But also ice cold in terms of tone. “Guess what? Neither have I, not without you in my arms.”

Oh. Oh. You knew who this voice belonged to. You might've been still asleep practically; but it was like an alarm had gone off in your head, like some natural instinct telling you a predator was nearby and you shouldn't be sleeping right now. It wasn't the first time you had felt like this, though. You'd have this feeling whenever you'd randomly feel like you're being watched, whenever you'd see an unknown number call you, whenever you were all by yourself. You had grown too used to this feeling. You'd respond to it everytime, jumping up and looking around frantically with yet another panic attack waiting for you just around the corner. This feeling had been ruining every waking moment from your life ever since you managed to free yourself; and this feeling was about to absolutely demolish the amazing nap you've been having so far. The nap that you've been needing for months, week, years now.

Not this time. You knew what was going on. You were most likely about to star in the psychological thriller of a dream every single one of your night terrors were. But you wouldn't play along, again, this time. You didn't budge, even with someone's breath right next to your ear. The only thing you did was turn in your sleep, now facing the back of the couch.

“Poor thing..... I told you all about this, did I not? The outside world is full of stress. It sucks the life out of you, it makes you miserable. Just look at what you got yourself into without me; all alone in some foreign country, working yourself to the bone and living in this cockroach infested, century old apartment.” it continued to whisper condescendingly; dripping with fake sympathy. It was truly a wonder how your brain could remember every single one of his patterns in the way he spoke and put you down. His words, despite being absolutely just part of your nightmare, didn't fail to make your heart swell up with the feeling of inferiority and uselessness.

But a second later you couldn't feel his breath on your skin any longer; and you assumed this nightmare was going to progress further differently or you'd just wake up.

“You see, when I came home that day and couldn't find you anywhere I went through such a rollercoaster of emotions,” Ah. Seems like the fact nightmare him had pulled away didn't stop his voice from going on and on. Wonderful. “I was devastated and panicked and frantic- I looked everywhere for you. But I think that the main emotion that has been stirring me for the past four years is anger.” It breathed out, “At first it was all directed at you. The fact that you just left me like that after everything I did for you, all the love I showed you... Did you think that whenever I'd tell you how I couldn't breathe without you near me, I was just trying to be romantic?” scoffed his voice. “I haven't been breathing, actually. It doesn't feel like breathing anymore. It feels like something hallow and bitter comes out of me; like pitch black smoke. You poisoned me the day you left.”

Of course the blame's on you. It always was, no matter what would happen between you two. When he'd cuff you to the bed to the point that you'd almost lose circulation in both wrists, it was your fault for staring at the front door for too long. When he'd shove food down your throat, since declining food was the only form of protest you could pull off sometimes, it was your fault for not wanting to be fed by your kidnapper.

“But I forgive you,”

How generous of him.

“I forgive you because you're the only person who's ever loved me. And the only person I've ever managed to love. You might've poisoned me, my love, but you're also the only antidote.”

You couldn't deny, that even if it was just another stupid nightmare, it brought shivers down your spine. This wasn't the first time you had seen him in your sleep, but this was the first time your mind had crafted such an accurate depiction of him and that was much scarier than the more violent nightmares you've been having. You wanted to rest so bad; but it wasn't worth going through this. And you were feeling a little hungry anyway. Sure, you wouldn't be able to nap again for like a week, but it was a necessary sacrifice if it meant not having to listen to his voice playing over and over again in your head like a broken record.

Instinctively, you turned around to sit up, but before you could get to the sitting up part you felt a hand cup your cheek and your body went frozen on impact, not daring to move a muscle. A very familiar cologne then reached your nostrils; and you were one hundred percent sure of whose cologne it was. Just like how you were one hundred percent sure about who the voice that had been tormenting you for these past few minutes belonged to. You knew it was him; but you tricked yourself into believing that it was just a nightmare. But it had to be a nightmare, right? How could he possibly find you after four years- how could he possibly know you fled to London? You had envisioned this very scenario in your head countless times on restless nights, thinking of every possibility and every single detail so you'd be ready if it ever were to happen; but now you remained stuck in the face of danger.

You didn't want to open your eyes; but you were trembling. He could tell you were awake. And you could tell that he could tell; as you could've sworn you heard his lips forming into a twisted smirk. With his right left hand still cupping your cheek; he leaned closer again and wiped away the tears you hadn't realised were forming in your eyes before starting to rub supposedly soothing circles into your back. “Aw....there's no need to cry, everything will be fine now that we'll be together again. I might've been angry at you for leaving; but now I'm more angry at myself. Angry that I couldn't keep you with me. This time, things will be different.”

His hand finally left your back, and even though your eyes were still shut; you heard his footsteps. He had went to get something, and without a second thought, you stood up; only for him to quickly push you back to the couch. That's when your eyes opened and finally met his own, four years later. But your eyes didn't focus on his facial features. They didn't care to observe whether he had changed or not, the way he looked at you; or if he too had the very same sagging eyebags as you did. All your eyes saw was a monster. A terrifying creature made of all your fear, anxiety- a sight that brought you terror and a nausea inducing sensation in your stomach. What you were looking at didn't feel human, this situation didn't feel real, the line between nightmare and reality had been blurred. There had been instances in the past where you'd pity him somewhat; reminding yourself that he was too a person and the reason he was this way was because he had been damaged from a very young age, gone through terrible things that molded him into what he is today. He had told you all about it himself.

But right now; all you saw before you was a boogieman. And like the scared child you always had been deep inside; you could do nothing but let out a blood curling scream.

“Sssh! Quiet-” He hushed you, forcibly putting his hand over your mouth, “...Still a screamer. Some things never change. Adorable.” he chuckled, in such a disgustingly lovey-dovey way. It felt like he was being genuine; like he truly does find it cute. As if there truly was some absurd form of love behind his words. And honestly? It made them all the more repulsive. It made you want to gag; but gagging wouldn't help, so you did the next best thing. You bit down on his hand as hard as your teeth allowed you and he hissed in pain; but didn't pull away. In fact, he backed you even further into the couch, seemingly searching for something in his pocket with the hand you weren't currently sinking your teeth into. When he found it; he plunged it into your neck with zero hesitation.

For a second, you thought it was a knife. His own way of making sure you'd never leave him, you reckoned, because how could you ever attempt to run from him if you were dead? He had always been a narcissist after all, something you realised a little too late into your relationship back when you guys were still in one. You wouldn't put the possibility of him wanting to be the very last thing you see before you die above him. The satisfaction of knowing you died in his arms; and that you'd never speak to anyone else ever again (including him, but you doubted he cared anymore), as your vocal cords wouldn't be able to work as a decaying corpse; with no beating heart to pump blood into you.

Until he took the unknown object out of your neck; bringing it into your viewpoint. It wasn't a pocket knife or scissors or anything like that. It was a syringe. A syringe that was definitely filled with something which is currently entering your bloodstream. And you knew what that something was; because you remembered him doing the very same thing multiple times before in your sole year of captivity, whenever you'd fight him for far too long and his patience would run thin.

A syringe pumped with drugs to put you to sleep; as well as keep you all docile and rag-doll-ish for a couple of hours.

“It's okay. Go back to sleep, sweetheart. It's just a nightmare, shh.....” He murmured; removing his wounded hand from your mouth and pressing a light kiss on your half-open lips. You didn't know whether his words were mockery or a genuine attempt at comforting you; but neither would make you hate him any more or less.

Still, in that moment, you chose to believe him. You chose to believe that this was truly all a nightmare; you'd wake up at your couch, go make some food, watch some TV and continue your quiet life. It was definitely better than accepting it was about to become a living nightmare all over again.

___________________________________

Thank you for reading!! Feel free to ask me whatever you want or give me feedback on my writing, I'm open to all feedback cause I do genuinely wanna get better <3 Have a great day/night 🩷🩷

Word Count: 4,219 (I think!!)

[cherryflavoured7777]

Do you miss me, dear? [h.c]

Summary: Stuck at a graduation party, surrounded by memories of your past relationship and your own loneliness, your night takes an unexpected turn when you find yourself dialing the number of the one person you vowed you wouldn't contact.

Pairing: College!Hazel x College!Fem!Reader 

Contains: smut 18+ only, explicit language, drinking, smoking, mutual pining, slightly toxic reader I think, fingering (r! receiving), oral(r! receiving), break-up/make-up sex, idiots in love, this one gets straight-up MUSHY I’m not gonna lie

Word count: 4.1k

a/n: I just need to say I am deeply obsessed with all of you who interacted with either of my last two fics. reading your comments/ replies seriously makes me SO happy you have no idea. Got me giggling and shit fr! I don’t know why my writing always ends up including partying and drinking but maybe it’s because I just graduated college and am having an existential post-grad crisis. Anyway 💀I hope you enjoy and thank you again for reading!!!

Also, this is inspired by this song by one of my favourite bands:  

“I don’t know what I’m still doing here.” You say out loud to yourself, standing up from the musty green couch you were sitting on. An empty beer bottle falls from the cushion onto the ground, shattering into pieces beside your foot. 

This party sucked. Pushing your way through the crowded, stuffy kitchen, you couldn't shake off the feeling of suffocation. Tipsy couples entangled in each other's arms seemed to be everywhere, a painful reminder of what you once had and lost. The memories of being that annoying person in love at a party flooded back, amplifying the ache of your loneliness.

The thumping music in your ears only made your head pound harder. Desperate for a breath of fresh air, you stumbled toward the door, ignoring the intoxicated laughter and clinking glasses that filled the air. As you stepped outside, the cool night breeze hit your face, offering a momentary rescue from the overwhelming atmosphere inside.

The darkness of the night sky above seemed to swallow you whole, but it felt strangely comforting. Leaning against the porch railing, you closed your eyes, trying to regain your composure. In the silence outside, you could hear distant laughter and the faint sound of music, muffled by the walls of the house.

You settled into a seat around a glass table, next to a guy you recognized from one of your classes. You exchanged a quick nod of acknowledgment before reaching into your purse, retrieving a box of cigarettes. Smoking was not a regular habit for you, but you reserved it for moments like these—after a few drinks and a growing sense of irritation. 

You lit the end of the cigarette, watching it crackle, and took a long drag. As you exhaled the smoke, you tilted your head back, noticing the full moon glowing brightly above.

"Full moon tonight," the boy beside you remarked, his voice carrying a note of intrigue. "They say some crazy shit can happen on full moons."

You chuckled bitterly. "Yeah, well, that could explain why I'm stuck at this party right now."

He leaned back, studying you intently. 

“I wish I could be an astronaut and get the fuck out of here.” You mused, gaze fixed on the bright glow of the moon. "I only came to this party because she said she would be here." Another drag of the cigarette punctuated your words.

"Who's she?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"My ex," you replied, trying to seem nonchalant. His gaze was fixed on you, "Hazel."

-

Until today, you hadn't spoken to Hazel in over three months, choosing to cut off all contact in an attempt to speed up the process of moving on. You're both surprised that you managed to endure the silence for so long, and disappointed that she hasn't made any effort to reach out, not even once. 

That was until about six hours ago when you were sitting at a coffee shop on campus with your roommate, Brittany, studying for your upcoming statistics exam. 

"Don't look now, but Hazel just walked in," she whispers, her tone hushed, and her eyes widening. "And she's with another girl."

Your heart plummeted into your stomach. You were seated with your back to the door, and you watched as they both approached the corner, heading in your direction.

"Brittany!" the blonde girl accompanying Hazel exclaims, leaving the three of you momentarily stunned.

Hazel follows a few steps behind, clearly taken aback by the encounter. She looked annoyingly hot, her disheveled brown hair, baggy white t-shirt and black jeans, adorned with her signature silver chains and rings. It takes all your strength not to stare. 

"Hey, Amanda," Brittany replied, forcing a polite smile. "Hazel."

Hazel offers a nod in greeting to Brittany and then to you. You feel like a middle-schooler again, awkward and unsure of how to act around your crush.

"Did you manage to finish that paper for Professor Sharpe's class?" the girl asked. 

As Brittany carries on the conversation with Amanda, you can feel Hazel's gaze on you, catching her eyes occasionally. 

You never anticipated the aftermath of your breakup with Hazel to be this awkward. All those nights spent tangled up together, where you both believed you could read each other's minds, now reduced to this.

"So, Hazel, are you going to Emma’s graduation party tonight? All of us are going," Brittany chimed in, attempting to steer the conversation away from the obvious tension.

Hazel smiled sheepishly, replying, "Yeah, I’m going."

"Cool," Brittany replied, her smile masking the underlying awkwardness in the air.

A beat of uncomfortable silence hung between you all.

"Will you be there?" Hazel asked breaking the silence, turning toward you, her voice almost hesitant.

"Yeah, I'll be there," you said, mustering a small smile. "Wouldn’t want to miss it."

Hazel smiled, "Cool," she said, her voice soft, "I'll see you there then."

Just as the atmosphere began to ease, Amanda abruptly intervened, her grip firm on Hazel's hand. "Hazel, let’s go, I forgot something in my car," Amanda said, her tone strangely possessive, and she dragged Hazel away before you could utter another word.

-

This breadcrumb of information has led you here. You spent the first fifteen minutes at the party searching for her like a lost puppy. When you couldn't find her, you contemplated leaving but opted to drown your thoughts with tequila shots instead. Now, you're clinging to any scrap of attention you can find, desperately trying to purge her from your mind.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the male voice beside you. "D’you have a light?" he asked, his cigarette aimed in your direction. You stare at him for a moment, deadpan, still frozen in your thoughts from the events that unfolded earlier today. 

"Fuck it," you muttered under your breath, reaching for your phone. You’re calling her.

-

“You’re soaked,” Hazel says as you climb into the front seat of her car, her tone a mix of concern and annoyance. “Seriously, you’re getting mud all over the floor of my car.” While you were waiting for Hazel to pick you up from the party, It started raining, you thought enduring it outside would be better than being stuffed in that small house full of people you didn't even really know. 

“You lied.” You retort back. 

“What?”

“You said you were coming to the party.” 

“Yeah well, my plans changed. Put your seatbelt on.” As she shifted the car into reverse, she placed her hand on your seat to steady herself. With a quick glance over your shoulder, she backed out of the driveway in one brisk movement.

You attempted to keep your composure, trying not to make it entirely obvious that you were basically drooling over how hot she looked doing that.  

“I can tell that there’s someone else,” You say after a few moments of silence, trying to disguise your jealousy with innocent curiosity. “Come on, tell me,” You finally click your seatbelt into place. “I can take it well.” 

"Oh, I know you can," she replied, shooting you a smug look, trying to divert this conversation from getting too deep right now.

“Hazel.” You groan at her dumb attempt at an innuendo, throwing your head backward and hitting the headrest. “Just be honest. Is it the girl from the coffee shop earlier? Or what about the girl Isabel saw you with last week at the library? Or both? Who am I kidding, there’s probably even more than that.”

“Do you have like, personal spies assigned to watch over me?”

You don’t respond right away, deciding to avoid her questions like she’s avoiding yours. You crank the window open and throw your head out. The spring wind cool on your face. 

“God, you’re so annoying sometimes.”

She’s quiet for a moment. 

Look, I know I wasn't where I said I'd be, but I was busy, doing stuff," she replied defensively.

"Yeah," you scoffed, your words tinged with a hint of anger. "I'm sure you were."

You sit the next few minutes in silence, wondering if this whole thing was a bad idea. You couldn't pinpoint why you had called her in the first place. The intensity of seeing her earlier mixed with the disappointment of the lackluster party had left you missing her, even though you weren't entirely sure why.

"So, where am I taking you?" Hazel asked, her gaze shifting from the road to you. Strands of her brown hair were tousled by the wind.

Your buzz had faded, and with it, your initial courage waned. Swallowing hard, you hesitated before speaking. "Can I sleep at yours? Not— not like that," you hurriedly clarified, feeling a sudden need to explain. "It's just that Brittany has her new boyfriend over, and I could go back there, but I don’t really want to."

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.” 

After a moment, Hazel hesitantly rested her hand on your thigh, both of you aware of the significance of the touch, even if neither acknowledged it. Her fingers gave a gentle squeeze, the subtle pressure made your tummy flip. Beneath the surface, an unspoken understanding lingered, hinting that this night might entail more than just a ride home.

-

Hazel's apartment is full of brown moving boxes, an aching reminder of why you broke up in the first place. 

“Wow, this place is pretty much all packed up.” You say, slowly walking through the place, eventually landing at the doorway into her bedroom. 

She nods in response, her face reflecting a mixture of anticipation and sadness, settling down at the end of her bed.

"So, when do you leave?" The question weighed heavily on your heart as you voiced it. You wished you didn't have to ask these questions, yearning for a time when you were part of her plans, not just a spectator.

“Two weeks. My Aunt is gonna meet me at JFK and help me move into my new place.”

You sighed, feeling brave, "I wish I had the date circled on my calendar, helping you move, or going with you." You say the last part quiet, mostly to yourself.

The conversation lingered in the air, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

You walked over to her dresser, where a mirror was propped up, decorated with photos of you two from a photobooth, still clinging to the glass. Your heart swelled with mixed emotions.

Hazel says your name, breaking you from your trance. 

“Come here,” she says. 

You walk over slowly, standing between her legs. Your hands rest on her shoulders and you take a deep breath.

With both of your gazes locked, her hands came up behind your thighs, gently grabbing them and pulling them on either side of her one by one so you’re straddling her. Her hand comes up to brush a piece of hair from your face. 

“You’re so beautiful, baby” Her voice is barely a whisper as she stares up at you, her eyes practically shimmering with your reflection, Her hands settle on your waist, the warmth of her touch sending a pang of guilt through you. This breakup was unlike any you'd experienced before, and the raw emotions lingered, making you hesitate for a moment.

Your hands move up to cradle her face, your thumb dragging on her bottom lip. Still maintaining intense eye contact, you slowly slip your finger into her mouth, watching her with a mix of awe and longing.

The silence as you stare at each other is anything but awkward. It was charged with the weight of shared mourning, each of you navigating the complexity of a relationship's end.

You removed your finger, and in response, she grabbed your head gently, guiding it down towards her face, her eyes locked onto yours. Your lips barely grazed each other, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear your rapid heartbeat. Hazel kissed you slowly at first, the touch of her lips sending a rush through your entire body. It quickly escalated, and there was a certain neediness to the way you both kissed, scared it could be the last time.

"Missed you," She whispered against your lips. Your mouths slid together, tongues pressing and exploring. The intensity of the kiss speaks volumes, like you were making up for lost time. Her lips found their way to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, lingering kisses, setting your body on fire. 

“Fuck, Hazel.” It was almost embarrassing how quickly you melted beneath her touch. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” You say, your voice strained, a soft moan escaping your lips. You very much wanted to be doing this, you just thought you should at least try to seem like you had stronger breakup morals than you did. Her hands found the curve of your ass, and you instinctively started to rock your hips slowly back and forth, seeking some much-needed friction. 

"Do you want me to stop? Say the word, and I'll stop, pretty girl," she murmured against your neck, her open-mouthed kisses and gentle suction on your pulse point sending shivers down your spine. You didn't reply with words, but your fingers found her hair, silently urging her to continue. "I need an answer, babygirl," 

"Don't stop," you breathed, your voice catching in your throat. "Please, don't stop." Your hips still lazily moving on her. Her mouth was back on yours, deepening the kiss as she guided you both down, her hands roaming over the back of your legs and your ass. She tugged at the hem of your shirt, helping you out of it and leaving you in your black lace bra.  

"So fucking perfect. Missed you so fucking much," she confessed, 

"I missed you too, Haze, every day," you whined, 

"You ever think about me? she asked, breathless. "About this?" she continued 

You nodded, your breath hitching as you confessed, "All the time. Couldn't stop thinking about you, your hands, your mouth."

Her eyes darken as you sit up and effortlessly unhook your bra, leaning back down, your lips finding their way to her collarbone, marking a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along her skin. Your hands slowly creep their way up under her shirt, seeking permission. She nods, a silent affirmation, and you gently peel her shirt off over her head. Your stomach flips as you feel her arms effortlessly turn both of you over, trading places, landing on your back as she hovers over you. Her silver chain dangling above your face. It felt like your first time all over again, you felt a sense of shyness creeping over you under her gaze. Anticipation and excitement blooming in your chest.

“Fuck, look at you.” She says. The way she’s studying you makes you feel like the most beautiful thing to ever exist, as if every curve of your body is a masterpiece deserving of praise. Unable to contain your impatience, you pull her head down to meet your lips, your hips instinctively bucking up, frustration showing in the heated moment. Her fingers start to trail downwards under your skirt, meeting your clothed cunt. “You want me to fuck you? Hm?” She whispers in your ear, “Is that what you want baby?” She taunts, her fingers slowly grazing over your underwear. 

You nod vigorously, your enthusiasm evident. She responds by sucking on your neck again, sending shivers down your spine, your face flushed with heat. Your hands instinctively tug at her hair.

“Yes, Haze, please, fuck.” You arch your neck, pressing it firmly into the softness of the pillow beneath, a small gasp escaping your lips as you surrender to the moment. “Want your fingers inside of me.”

She makes a noise of desperation, her warm breath fanning over your face. “Gonna make you feel so good baby” She moves your underwear to the side, running her fingers through your slick folds. You gasp and she groans. “Wanna make it up to you.”

She tugs at the waistband of your skirt. You lift your hips as she guides it down along with your underwear. Hazel curses under her breath, “You’re so wet, it’s so fucking hot.” She plants kisses all over your chest, each one feeling like it could set you on fire. 

She slowly fucks you with her middle finger, the touch leaving you reeling. She adds her ring finger, her free hand snaking under your neck. Her fingers gently grab the side of your face while she fucks you, slightly tugging and grazing them against your parted lips. It's an intimate gesture, conveying both tenderness and desire.

Your hips buck up to meet her fingers. “Holy fuck” you groan as she pumps them faster into you. “Like that,” your voice is completely shot. Your entire body fizzed from the contact. You gently bite down on her fingers near your mouth while she places kisses all over your cheeks and your lips. Your head spun with thoughts of her - her mouth, her hair, her scent, Hazel was everywhere, all-encompassing. 

“Fuck, you’re so good” She half slurs, her voice wrecked, pupils blown and her lips parted. “So good for me.” She whispers, keeping her pace, dragging her digits through the wetness at your core.

Her mouth makes its way down your body, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses until she’s on her stomach between your thighs. Pumping faster, her lips suck at your clit. Her other hand presses down on your abdomen, holding you in place. You cup your aching tits, feeling them move with every motion she makes.

“Hazel,” you whine, “Haze, I-” Her fingers pick up the pace, curling inside of you. You tread your fingers through her hair, tugging slightly, the coil in your tummy growing tighter and tighter. 

“I know, honey, I know,” She says in response to your moans. “You sound so pretty baby, missed those sounds so much.” She keeps babbling, telling you how good you are and how pretty you look for her. 

“Fuck, don’t stop” you moan as she continues fucking you with her mouth and fingers, her pace alternating between teasing and fast, pushing you toward the edge. The contrast in her movements intensifies the pleasure, almost giving you want you want but flaking at the last moment, it’s torture.

“Shit, you’re almost there sweetheart” Hazel swears under her breath, voice laced with her own arousal. Her words drive you closer to the edge. You swear you can see stars as the overwhelming feeling shocks through your body. Your heart rate picks up immensley, pounding in your chest.

“Gonna come for me baby, yeah?” “Want you to come all over these fingers.” 

And you did. Your body clenches around her fingers, trembling, moans and curses spilling from your lips. Your eyes form with tears from the overstimulation. Her face landed in the crook of your neck, planting sloppy kisses and whispering reassurances as she guides you through the climax.

“Good girl, that’s it, honey. That’s it,” she murmurs.

Her fingers still slowly pumping in and out of you, riding out your high.

“Holy shit," you say once you've caught your breath. "Haze, c'mere." She lifts her head back up and you yank her face down to yours, tasting yourself on her lips as she lets out a soft moan. When you eventually pull away, both breathless, you lock eyes before bursting into disbelieving laughter.

“I can’t believe that just happened.” You whisper.

"I can," she says smugly. You playfully shove her before she collapses beside you. Both of you lie face to face, studying each other's features, committing them to memory, afraid you might forget what they look like. Her hand rests on your waist, mindlessly grazing up and down.

"What's the real reason you didn't come to the party? You ask. Were you with someone else?" Hazel shakes her head.

She pauses before speaking, "I thought if there was any chance of you being there, that I was gonna walk in and maybe see you with someone else. There was no way I could've handled that. I've been distracting myself with other girls, yeah, but..." Her voice trails off. "You have no idea how in love with you I still am." Her voice cracking with emotion. You can see a tear forming in Hazel’s eye, glimmering in the low light of the room.

“Hazel..” Your own voice slightly breaking. You reach out and drag your thumb delicately against her cheek, wiping the stray tear away. Your heart is breaking with a mixture of guilt and longing for the girl lying beside you.

“I still play pretend, in my head.” She whispers.

You smile, your hand resting on her neck, giving it a gentle squeeze, a signal of encouragement for her to keep going. 

“I picture us, living together in our apartment in the city.” 

Hazel was moving to New York City to work for her aunt after graduation. The reason you broke up, neither of you wanting to do long distance.

“Waking up next to you everyday, cooking you breakfast, fucking you on the countertop for hours” You both laugh at that. “Ever since I met you, I’ve always pictured you just being there. And these past few months…” 

“Absolute hell.” You finish for her. 

“Absolute hell.” She agrees. 

You take her hand and squeeze it, a silent form of reassurance. 

She shifts slightly and hovers over you again, brushing your damp hair off your forehead with her hand, and scans your face. “I don’t want this to end” she whispers. 

You wish you could capture this moment, tuck it away, and replay it whenever you wanted. You’ve been waiting for her to say these exact words for the past three months, you just never thought it would happen. The reason for your break-up still heavily taunts the back of your mind. 

“I love you” you reply, your voice barely a whisper. Taking her face in your hand and capturing her in another kiss. She kisses you sweetly and desperately.

You pull away, gently coaxing her back towards you, and cuddle her into your chest, assuming the role of the big spoon.

She nestles into your arms, finding comfort in the warmth of your body. With a soft sigh, she murmurs, "I wish we had more time.”

You tighten your hold around her, "We'll figure something out, I promise," you whisper, though you aren’t even sure of the reality of your own words. You choose to let go of the uncertainties, preferring to revel in the present moment. She looks back at you, and you kiss her forehead, a silent promise to cherish what you have, even if time feels fleeting.

“God damn full moon.” You mutter to yourself, remembering your earlier conversation at the party.

“What?” She asks.

“Nothing.” You say. “Don’t worry about it.” You kiss her shoulder, settling into the softness of the moment.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

tagging @astroph1les @vster0769

[starrluvs]

summary: bi han thirst because i need him carnally ... so it's just pwp

cw: bi han being a meanie (he calls reader a whore once or twice), dom/sub undertones, piv, afab reader, degradation, dumbification, lowercase intended, minors shoo pls and ty ^^ , i think thats about it!

wc: 551

a/n: this is basically my first post here. so i think whoring out for bi han is a suitable introduction... enjoy <3 ! (also looking for some mutuals on here ^^)

all you were able to do was whine into the mattress as your lover pounded into you from behind. the fierce impact of his thrusts jerked both you and the bed forward, showing a display of his brute strength and causing the headboard to clash against the wall with his rhythm. 

“bi-han..!” his name was the only coherent thing that could roll off your tongue along with a few pleads of telling the cryomancer to slow down, which only resulted in your head being pushed further into the mattress with a strong, cold grip. “you’re in no place to make orders,” bi-han’s violent thrusts come to a halt and you take the opportunity to catch your breath, “you are meant to obey and take what you are given by your grandmaster, is that understood?” you glance back at him as best as you could with his hand still holding your face down. he looked absolutely beautiful…

his hair was out of its usual bun and was now a disheveled mess that fell to his shoulders with strands sticking to his forehead, and the tip of his ears were tinted with a flush of pink. Knowing only you could see your grandmaster like this made you feel like you had truly won in life. “y-yes, grandmaster…” to no surprise, your obedience caused him to let out a satisfied groan. 

without any more wasted time, bi-han places both of his rough, frosted hands on your hips once again– hard. –and you were sure you were going to see bruises on your skin the next morning that were left on all the places he touched you.

that violent force of his thrusts had returned, except this time he pressed his bigger frame against your back, moving close enough to hover his lips right above your ear. “being used like this…” his breath was cold against your heated skin, letting out occasional groans, “...it’s a privilege to serve and submit to the lin kuei’s grandmaster. isn’t that right, my love?” hearing all the sounds he made along with his deep voice has your mind spinning and unable to concentrate. Perhaps you were truly drunk on his cock– which is something you were used to during your time with bi-han.

as hard as you tried, you couldn't muster a proper response out of your mouth, which was currently hung open with your tongue lolled out, making bi-han scoff. “such a pathetic mess beneath me. are you going to answer my question..?” he licked the lobe of your ear and bit it lightly, “..or do i have to put you in your place?” a shiver runs up your spine… but you couldnt tell if it was due to his threat, or from the close contact he’s been keeping with you. You were able to feel bi-han sharpen his thrusts on purpose, making you squeal out louder than before. “i’m.. honored to serve you, grandmaster,” the words trembled as they left your mouth. but hey, it was the effort that mattered.

you hear bi-han chuckle and hum in what sounds like approval.

 “so my little whore can speak, hm?” for some reason you couldn't exactly read his tone…

“perhaps i may have to go a bit harder, then.”

well shit… Your body was going to hate you the next morning.

[littlexscarletxwitch]

Hi, would you be able to do a mutual pining yelena x avenger!reader kinda thing where yelena has been ignoring reader because she doesn’t know to how to deal with her feelings and when reader confronts her, yelena admits that she likes her? Mainly angst with fluff at the end if possible. Love your fics!!

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗶 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂

paring: yelena belova x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, some angst, mutual pinning, nat being the big sis

warning(s): yel having a hard time admitting her feelings, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 1.8k

note: Soooooo sorry it took me soooo long to post this. I FUCKING LOVED THIS REQUEST btw. Also guys, it's taking me so long to post fic because a) my laptop is just a bitch and won't work, and b) I guess I'm going through a writer's block and it's kinda hard to find the motivation to write. But I'll try my best. Lots of love, M <3

requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

Your legs were sore, you couldn't feel your arms anymore and you were gasping for air, but it wasn’t over until one of you was down.

“Can’t we take a break?” you whined out as you tried dodging Yelena’s fist but still made contact with your body and you groaned out in pain. 

“Focus, Y/n,” Steve called out, before Yelena would punch again. 

You knew she was holding back, measuring her strength, she always would when training with you. And you didn’t know if you found that reassuring or mocking. You kicked her in the stomach, but it still did not affect her, it was quite the opposite really. 

“That’s all you got?”

“Why? Wanna try something else?” you teasingly said while winking at her. 

You got her off guard, she wasn’t expecting your cocky self to show up while training, and seized the moment to swift her off her feet and got on top of her. 

“Was this what you had in mind?”

Your hands quickly found her wrists while your body pressed into her abdomen pushing her down so she wouldn’t get out of your hold. 

“Okay, I think it’s enough,” Steve called out, sensing you had gone off track. 

Both you and Yelena knew that she could easily get out of your hold, but still it took her two minutes to do so. You didn’t want to let her go that easily, you felt your whole body burning just by the thought of her skin against yours, still you stood up and got on moving before the two of you could have a say on what just had happened. 

That was how it always went with Yelena, one moment you had the courage to openly flirt with her and a second later you would run back to your dorm second guessing the whole interaction. You wanted to do more, each and every time, but she was so nonchalant about you flirting with her that you convinced yourself that it was just that, a flirty friendship. 

And most of the time you were okay with it, playing dumb about your own feelings. But then shit like that would happen, you would brush her skin, or would make her laugh, or just look at her, and the thought of a friendship would fly out of your mind. That was why you would lock up in your room, trying to calm and persuade yourself to not let your stupid feelings get in the way. 

And the same stupid thing would happen to Yelena, which you didn’t know about. 

“You want to talk about it?” Yelena heard her sister's voice as she watched you heading out the training room. 

“I wasn’t holding back, I swear.”

“Not about your punching,” she raised her brow at her little sister. 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Yelena shrugged it off as she grabbed her bottle of water and took a big sip. 

“Lena, I know you,” Natasha took advantage of the fact that her sister was chugging down water. “I know we don’t do feelings, we don’t trust people. But that was the old us, that was the red room. We have to put that shitty part of our lives behind us for good.”

“And I have,” Yelena scoffed. 

“Then why haven't you done something about it?” Yelena knew her sister meant you, she didn’t have to clarify. “At least, give it a go,” Natasha sighed. “If not for you, then for her.”

“She doesn’t—.”

“You never know, Lena. Neither will she, if you don’t tell her,” and with that Natasha left her sister to her own thoughts.

“Suka,” she mumbled under her breath, because Natasha was right. She was always right about everything, it was the power that came with being a big sister—her big sister—, and she hated it when she was right. 

She knew she had to do something about it, about you. But the fear of rejection, of feeling unwanted felt too much to bear. She wasn’t going to open up her heart just for someone else to crush it. But maybe, just maybe she could trust you not to crush it. 

[...]

Still, it was easier said than done. It took her a full week to finally come to the conclusion that she was, actually, madly in love with you. A week full of stress and anxiety because deep down she felt like she didn’t deserve to have these feelings towards you. 

And now that she knew exactly how she felt about you, it fucking terrified her. So she did what she thought was best and put some space in between the two of you. The thought of you clouded her brain and it was starting to affect her line of work, and she couldn’t have that. Being part of the avengers gave her life meaning, and she was not going to let her stupid feelings ruin that for her. Even though she wanted to be close to you, and just melt into your arms.

Of course, her coldness didn’t go unnoticed by you. You were confused, though. It wasn’t like Yelena to just shut you out. Even though you wanted more than just a friendship out of her, you wanted to consider yourself a friend of hers and it hurt that she was just avoiding you. 

You didn’t know what was going on, she just felt out of your reach. You asked her sister about it, she just told you to give her space and she would be okay, before muttering something under her breath and went on with her day. You asked Kate and she just completely avoided the topic and changed the subject.

The more she didn’t talk to you, not even glance at your direction, the more you felt like you had done something wrong, maybe she had found out about your feelings and now she was avoiding you because of them. She probably felt uncomfortable about them, she probably wanted nothing to do with you. And who were you to decide otherwise?

You talked to Steve, making sure to not have more training lessons with her, only to find out she had already asked the same thing. You knew it was stupid to feel as if your heart was breaking since you wanted the same thing, but it did feel like shattering to pieces. You just nodded, a tight smile finding its way to your lips and went to your room before shedding any tears. 

This whole thing was bullshit. Yes, maybe she didn’t feel the same way you did about her. But the both of you were full grown-ups, you should be professional about it and act like nothing had happened. Because in reality it didn’t, not that you were aware of it. So you decided that you were going to give her a piece of your mind. 

You searched for her throughout the entire building and finally found her in the training room. Of course she was there, you should have thought of coming there earlier. 

For a trained assassin she didn’t notice your presence, too caught up in her own mind, focusing on her breathing and throwing punches at the boxing bag. 

You cleared your throat. “Got a minute?”

She looked over her shoulder, finally acknowledging you there, and you swore you watched as her whole body just tensed up by the sound of your voice. 

“I’m kinda busy right now,” she mumbled before throwing two more punches. 

“It won’t take long,” you insisted, wanting to get this over with. 

“Look, I really need to—.”

You cut her off. “I don’t know who told you or how you found out, but yes, it’s true, okay?” you finally got her attention. “I just thought you would be professional enough to not let this get in the way and pretend like nothing happened. Which is what I also wish for.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You avoiding me,” you quickly mumbled, a tint of concussion in your tone. “I get it, but let’s just put this behind us and act like propper adults.”

“No, I’m aware of that part,” she scoffed, embarrassed to admit to you what she had been up to. “What I mean is, what have I found out?”

Your brows furrowed. “About my… me… and you,” you gave yourself a second to think her words through. “Hold on a second, you don’t know?” 

“What don’t I know?”

“You don’t,” you finally added two plus two and realised that Yelena had no recollection whatsoever about your feelings, but still something was off. “Why have you been avoiding me then?”

You watched her as her mouth opened and closed, searching for the right words. 

“What did I ever do to you for you to completely avoid me, huh?”

“You did nothing, I just…”

“You just what?” you scoffed, now anger filling your tone. “You just decided it was fun to ignore me?”

“No! God, no.”

“Then what is it?!” the two of you were pretty much screaming at each other. 

“Because I like you, damn it!” she finally confessed. “Is it so hard to see?”

Your eyes winded. “You like me? You have been avoiding me because you like me?”

“I know, not my brightest moment. But it's just that you… you just…” she gestured to her brain. “You’re just stuck here, and I can’t get you out. At first I was scared to admit my own feelings to myself,” she took a deep breath. “But then Tasha said something and it made me realise that there’s nothing wrong with having feelings. But then I had to admit to myself that I really fucking like you. And I just… I just got scared because you might not feel the same way, and you might just push me away,” another deep breath. “And I decided that I would push you away first… and so I did.”

“So you like me.”

“Yes,” her brows furrowed.  “Was that all you got?”

“I mean… it’s the part that matters most,” you grinned at her. 

“What do you mean?”

“I really fucking like you too,” you said cupping her cheeks. “I thought you knew and that was why you were avoiding me. But now I get it, I make you nervous,” you said teasingly. 

“I wouldn’t use that word…” you rolled your eyes before shutting her off with your lips, finally giving in and kissing her. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now,” you whispered over her lips as you deepened the kiss. 

Her lips were soft and rough, and they had some saltiness to them due to her being all sweaty. But you didn’t mind at all, in fact you really like it. 

“Remember last time we were here?” you whispered in her ear, trailing a path of kiss down her jaw and neck. 

“You mean… that time we last trained?” she sounded breathlessly and it sent a shiver down your whole body. 

“If I remember correctly, which I know I do…” you gently bit her skin earning a hiss out of her lips. “You were on the grown and I was on top of you, remember?”

“Yes…” she said as her fingers ran through your hair. 

“Want to pick up where we left it off?”

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I blocked my Zionist

“”friend”” after she gave condolences for my dog?

Content warnings: pet death, Zionism, genocide mentions

Hi. I’ll try to keep this brief and cohesive. So for some background, I (24F) gave this “friend” from middle school, let’s call her E (24F). We were best friends, but she moved away about halfway through our time in high school. She was from Israel, and not being as informed as I am now, I never thought that much of it. When she moved away, we stayed mutuals on social media, but didn’t chat much. She’d hit me up sometimes, usually after months would go by, and we’d chat a bit, but it would normally end with her disappearing again, and we both just went on with our lives.

Between 2021-2023, I ended up losing a lot of people. Falling outs, rifts, drama etc. Needless to say I don’t have many friends rn. So when she hit me up again at the beginning of 2023 and then later that summer (more consistency then usual), I was excited to reconnect with her. Then, Israel began it’s current violence and genocide in Gaza. Since the beginning of the violence, I took the time to learn more (and am still learning) about the injustices inflicted on the Palestinians by Israel for the past 75 years, and have kept up with Palestinian journalists like Motaz and Bisan on the current aggression that’s been taking place for the past 100 DAYS.

Now remember when I said E was Israeli? Yeaaa, and I brutally reminded of that. She was eating up and regurgitating the lies from Israel on her Instagram stories, blaming Hamas for everything etc. Meanwhile the rest of my feed was of horrific on the ground footage of innocent Palestinians being slaughtered simply for being Palestinian and for living on their land. I believe in the cause for a Free Palestine and an end to the Israeli occupation, and I resolved that a Zionist is not who I want to be friends with, and that I would unfollow E and cut contact.

But this is where I fucked up and am an AH - I stalled. I just restricted her and kept telling myself “I’ll get to it.” I’ll admit the nostalgia of our bond we used to have got the better of me, and I was taking my time cutting the contact cuz I was upset that I have to cut my losses with a connection AGAIN. So I stalled. And kept stalling.

Now this past weekend, my dog passed away. I posted a memorial post to my Instagram, and saw E commented her condolences. Which was nice, but I feel icky taking the sympathy from a Zionist, from someone who does not have sympathy for the lives of the innocent Palestinian men, women, and children being lost in Gaza. And most likely never will.

Since she’s restricted, I don’t think her comment is public. And I don’t want to accept it. Accepting it and responding would call all my support for the Palestinian cause into question. Hell, the fact that I stalled unfollowing her so long calls it into question already, I know that. But I also can’t ignore her forever.

So now comes the time to do what I should of done months ago. I have to unfollow her and block her. But a part of me still feels bad doing after she had sweet things to say about my late pet. I KNOW I’m already the AH for not unfollowing her already, but my query is, WIBTA to do so now after she offered her condolences, and to block her on top of that?

What are these acronyms?

[mikkaeus]

house md hilson fic rec - medium to long fics (10k+)

Other house rec lists: short fics | episode tags | postcanon | infidelity trope (all of these are mutually exclusive apart from the infidelity one) // Edit: I added the longer postcanon fics to this reclist as well because this one got the most traction!

These are all House/Wilson unless otherwise stated. Before we get into the fics, here are some of my fave authors that have written several house fics.

fourteencandles: im literally in love with them . 10/10 writing no notes. also long fics?? hello???

ictus: this author has the range! from emotional to fluff to funny. very smooth writing. all of their fics have different vibes which was fun to read. they’re all very good. 

Transformatron: fics that are transcendent and porny, all featuring a d/s undertone or theme (wilson as the dom)

Namaste (livejournal / ff.net): Some short fics, some much longer ones. Mostly gen focussing on H&W friendship, with some fics on canon pairings. Interesting character studies and discerning prose.

In order of length. *faves, ***underrated faves

*Brain Damage by fourteencandles (8k) (Ok I know this isn’t over 10k but I wanted all of their fics on one post and it’s close enough so.) This was brilliant. Like a real episode of House, with Wilson as the unfortunate patient-of-the-week, with bonus House/Wilson. Characterisation was bang on, and the plot was original and engaging and had a satisfying conclusion. Love to see House taking care of Wilson.

Down to the Water + Bound for Home by blackmare (~10k) Aftermath of season 4. House and Wilson go on a road trip. Quiet and sad and fragile, with excellent writing. This fic appears to have been fairly well known in lj days but I don't think a lot of newer people know about it.

*A Smaller World by fourteencandles (10k) The thing between them works, if Wilson doesn't push for more. God I’m so soft. I have so many feelings!!! In love with this established relationship hilson, still a little precarious, but with Wilson adapting, and House willing to put in effort.

*What's Past by fourteencandles (10k) The guy who used to have Wilson's job comes back for a visit, and it turns out they have more in common than Wilson ever knew.

*Touch Therapy by nomad (10k) It's not that House needs the human contact. It's just that when you're sharing an apartment, these things happen sometimes. Light hearted and funny, canon divergence from when Wilson’s staying on House's couch in s2. This is pretty much the homosexual waters have started flowing in House's direction post. Excellent dialogue.

***not another medical drama series (10k) by captainharkness Retelling of season 1 with House and Wilson as an established relationship. Great slice of life stories! Ongoing. The first is H/W POV, the second is Cameron, and the third is Chase. My favourite is definitely the second one (someone else’s story). I adore seeing H/W through the ducklings’ eyes. 

Synchronicity by copperbadge (10k) Dead patients, car wrecks, drug overdoses, journalists, Comatose Charlie, and orange chicken. Must be love.

systemic by ictus (10k) Ever since Wilson moved in, House has presented with some inexplicable symptoms. Fortunately, he has a team of talented doctors to aid him with his diagnosis. Season 2 fic! This one is funny and sweet and overall a great read.

Rush Down Darkness by Starlingthefool (10k) House MD/World War Z crossover. Told mainly through interview dialogue from house’s pov. Engaging story. House/Wilson definitely takes a backseat to the plot — there’s no grand getting together or anything. That's not to say it's not about them though, because there were still lots of good moments (good in the sense that my heart hurts). More succinctly, it has the vibes of an established relationship fic., although it isn't technically one.

Defensive Strategies by Milkshake Butterfly (~10k) (lj) In which Wilson is tired of being asked out by women when he's not ready to date again, and naturally House proposes a simple solution: pretend to be together. An enjoyable read.

******Commonplace and True by celestialskiff (11k) It would be a simple story--House and Wilson meet at a medical conference, have sex, and enjoy each other's company--but nothing is ever easy, or simple. Explores Wilson's relationship with House, with women, and with himself. House and Wilson throughout the years — with the version of canon where Wilson has cheated on every wife and girlfriend with House. When I tell you I am FROTHING!!! Pining while fucking?? The way it’s never the right time?? The greed of wanting to have your cake and eat it too? (That one’s specifically for Wilson, our beloved three-wives guy.) The vibes are immaculate. The prose is elegant verging on poetic. I’m eating this fic whole and it will be on my mind always. It is THE hilson fic for me. It is criminal that this fic has been up since 2012 and it only has 200 kudos. Go read it immediately & give the author some love.

***Declarations of Independence by Namaste (ff.net, also on livejournal) (11k) House and winter, throughout the years. I really enjoyed this. Excellent writing. Copy pasting a part of a comment by bedawyn which articulates why this fic is unique better than I can: “So far, I've seen a lot of focus in the fanfic (and the eps) on the pain and the Vicodin, but very little awareness of the practical aspects of limited mobility and the emotional impact of those even apart from the pain. So this was a very nice change.”

***Rule of Three by Transformatron (11k) (House/Wilson/Foreman) Foreman sees something he shouldn't have. And, maybe, wants something he shouldn't have, too. This was well written and super hot, with fun dialogue and descriptions that do justice to the excellent writing of the show itself. Foreman is faithfully characterised in a way that made me sympathetic. Also H/W outsider perspective as a third is such a treat to read. Lower me into my grave!!!!

*Warning Signs by out_there (12k) Excerpt: House looked to the left, staring down at the open box. Wilson knew that expression on his face: House was torn between denying it all and gleefully acknowledging his schemes. Normally, his ego won out and, like a comic super villain, he'd explain all. Wilson just needed to stay quiet and wait. This fic was fantastic. I am disgustingly fond. Superb characterisation. Light hearted and funny.

The Oncologist Trap by zulu (13k) (2007) House subtly seduces Wilson. Somehow.

The Line of Thought by tevinterimperium (13k) House and Wilson pretend to be together to play a prank on the ducklings, which is an extremely plausible scenario. From the perspective of the ducklings. Set sometime after 3x15: Half-Wit.

hail mary by ictus (13k) A post-canon fix it! In the weeks since finishing the show and reading this fic there are times I forgot that this wasn’t canon. It’s such a believable (and well-researched) alternate ending that feels like an actual episode.

Son of Mine by simoneallen (14k) Sherlock is House’s long-lost kid. Usually I’m not a fan of cross-over fics but I enjoyed this one. Established relationship on the johnlock side, getting together on the hilson side.

***hearts turn red by ictus (14k) In my head this is the counterpoint to Commonplace and True. When I found it after reading that one it really was a holy shit two fucking cakes?? moment. The delicious infidelity vibes are similar, but the vibes of the writing are pretty different -- whereas the above fic has a more quiet, subdued atmosphere, this one has more snappy prose and it’s more light-hearted with funny moments as well as emotional ones. It’s not just the infidelity theme that makes me crazy about both of them though; it’s how they play on the great tragedy of House and Wilson. In the author’s own words: In a way they do feel a little bit doomed to never quite be on the same page with each other until the very end of the series and by then it's too late. Of course, in these fics, they’re rescued earlier than the end, but the wretched vibes remain. Also, I’m obsessed with this line: By Wilson’s read, House is somehow simultaneously joking and sincere: Schrödinger’s sexual advance. That is the entire fucking show.

An Inconvenient Truth by annathaema (15k) Wilson helps out Cuddy and reveals something about himself in the process. House freaks out accordingly. Also features banana-colored babies, the men's room, and Skee-Ball.

*at the rind by ShanaStoryteller (19k) An AU where Wilson experiences all the near death moments House has in the show as a series of nightmares. Set between 1.19 and 2.05, but spoilers for the whole show. Protective Wilson!! We love to see it. I also like Wilson’s characterisation here - you can very much see how not-normal he is. We love unhealthy co-dependency.

***Esopus Creek by shaycat (24k) An eighty-year-old widower by the name of Eugene Skinner ventures out one September day in upstate New York for his usual morning activity - fly fishing. His leisurely hobby is interrupted by a bickering pair nearby in the river. That chance encounter with Greg House and James Wilson changes the course of his life. Told from the perspective of the last friend the boys make on their final road trip. This was the perfect post season 8, Wilson-still-dies fic. A sad fic but not a depressing one. It’s quiet and heartwarming, in a bittersweet way. Highly recommend. It has great use of outsider POV — I’m always a sucker for it but it worked particularly well in this case to have the angst but not be drowning in it. Also I just really liked the OC.

***Howler Tone by baffledbear (25k) The calls always happen late at night, and they're extremely sporadic, with weeks, sometimes months bridging between them. They talk on the phone otherwise, of course; about patients, or dinner plans, or carpooling. Typical stuff. But the calls that always end a certain way always start a certain way. Wilson is so repressed but so attracted to House. House is taking as much as he can get while still remaining in relative safety. Together they push a platonic relationship to the absolute limits of plausible deniability. Overall totally realistic within the canon of the show — the natural step up from the gay chicken already depicted. It’s just such a perfect scenario for them! That combined with silky smooth prose, faithful characterisation and accurate dialogue makes this fic is a definite hilson favourite and also a hilson-thesis fic.

*The Open Road by Pun (25k) A fandom classic. Road trip fic set in the earlier seasons. It's good; read it.

*He Won't Tell You That He Loves You by hellshandbasket (25k) [In which Nolan pulls at the Wilson thread, and House can't stop it all from unraveling. Repression is a hell of a drug.] Early s6. Another fandom classic that is worth its salt.

no need to worry (making up your mind) by scribespirare (25k) House makes the mistake of telling his mother he can't join her for Christmas because of his new boyfriend. Somehow, this becomes Wilson's problem. Cute and fun. I put off reading fake-dating fics because I was worried about them being OOC but this one definitely wasn’t!

***Sticks and Stones by Transformatron (25k) (WIP) House has an innovative new idea for managing his chronic pain. Wilson’s not sure he approves - but when has House ever asked for permission? This is such a great concept I am climbing the walls!!! D/s with House as the sub. The story is currently still at pre-relationship stage, with House experimenting with BDSM and Wilson being unhappy with the proceedings (for some unknown reason /s). Also the writing is nice and snappy with some great figurative language that manages to incorporate medical themes impressively well. 

Fresh Feeling by justkeeptrekkin (30k) House is tricked into going on a team-building trip with his colleagues. He does far more bonding with Wilson than anyone else. Funny and well written. The team interactions are very cute.

***Tracking Time by Namaste (37k) (ff.net) A look at House and Wilson's friendship over the years and how it has changed from their meeting through the end of the first season. I don’t usually read long genfics but this one was exceptional. I like Namaste’s take on House and Wilson’s characters. And they are a very good storyteller — one thing that you don’t tend to see as much of in fanfiction is the old adage of ‘show not tell’. The writing in this fic is careful and subtle, and lets you read between the lines, making it so that no part of the 37k words is a drag to read.

*The Body Found by fourteencandles (46k) Wilson's missing. When I tell you I cried... Premium angst & hurt/comfort. Excellent dialogue with some alternating POV (House mainly, but you also get the three ducklings & Cuddy).

You Already Know How This Will End by fourteencandles (46k) What if House had gone to rehab right after/around "Merry Little Christmas"? (3.10) This fic was interesting. It’s told in a series of short vignettes with a variety of different perspectives. It’s not really a hilson fic (or a fic for any ship). It just explores the characters. I did wish for more hilson but it’s a good read (I mean, it’s fourteencandles). The one hilson scene near the end where they hire a hooker in Atlantic City lives in my head rent free. Warning that the ending is rather abrupt and I didn’t find it satisfying, but I think it works for this kind of story, in a way. Messy people and their complicated relationships, with a lot of loose ends left untied, because that’s just what life is. 

***For Every Closed Door by starlingthefool (around 50k?) (lj) Overview of the chapters (14 with 4 interludes and an epilogue) is on the author’s lj (scroll down).  House MD/Dead Like Me crossover.  I love this fic a lot! It’s canon divergence from Season 3. House gets killed in a freak accident and becomes a reaper, remaining in the mortal world to harvest souls, able to interact with people but not be recognisable to those that know him. As the author says, this is an Afterlife!Fic and therefore a deathfic. They also said it’s not depressing — which is true, because it’s more plotty than an angstfest, and there are lots of light-hearted parts, but it is definitely heartbreaking at points. I literally cried all the way through the last chapter. Happy ending though!!! Don’t worry about the cross-over aspects. I haven’t seen Dead Like Me, and as far as I can tell, it just takes the premise of the show. I’m glad I found this fic whilst trawling 2000s livejournal because it’s really a hidden gem. Great plot, dialogue, compelling OCs — the whole package! I got so emotionally invested in the story. I think there were maybe a few parts that were a little unpolished but just keep reading. It’s really worth it. 

*A Modest Proposal and Involuntary Commitment series by ignaz (98k) The one where House and Wilson get married so Wilson can’t testify against House in the Tritter arc.  I have an unfortunate habit of downloading fics and then forgetting to bookmark & comment once I’m done, so I don’t have anything detailed to say about this one, but it’s a classic and a favourite of mine.

Twenty Years of Stealing My Food by hwshipper (100k) A backstory taking place over twenty years, from how House and Wilson met all the way to canon. A reimagining of their fucked up, magnetic relationship, with a straightforward writing style. They get together nearly as soon as they meet and maintain a steady open relationship whilst cheating on their various girlfriends and wives throughout the years. 

[underhousearrestblog]

Lost In Translation | Pedro Pascal

(summary) a drunk confession makes things weird between you and Pedro

(warnings) an age gap (oh the horror)

(pairings) Pedro Pascal x reader

(genre/ tropes) angst, lemon-y fluff, miscommunication, mutual pining, friends to lovers

(word count) 7.7k

(also) Pedro’s point of view (of sorts) is in Italics

(also) minors, scram (I’m kidding. Kinda. I was reading these types of things when I was twelve. I’m not the one to advise anything. Just, please, don’t interact. Better for my conscience and your digital footprint.)

(also) damn – I’m actually doing something here now... a step up from my usual one-post-per-six-months activity...

HAPPY READING!

Things around you blurred, people’s faces were distorted and music was giving you a headache. You lost count how many drinks you had about an hour ago and now you were regretting having any.

Your friends – who were more work acquaintances than friends – had ditched you, you had no car that you wouldn’t be able to operate in this condition anyway and not enough money to call a cab. All you had were a very revealing dress with a deep cut up your right thigh and a phone with around twenty percent charge left.

You stepped outside. Evening air did some but still not enough good for you to feel confident enough to walk those two and a half kilometers to your apartment building. Especially not in these knee-high boots. You would probably end up murdered. Or murdering yourself by accidentally stepping in front of a car. Either way, in a ditch.

You checked over you contacts for anyone who would pick up a phone and pick you up at the club at this ungodly hour. Since you had moved, most of your contacts were pretty much useless for this type of shit.

You pulled out your wallet. There were several business cards that you had gotten since you had started to work as a PR manager for The Last Of Us production team. Your eyes scanned over some of the names. Nico Parker. You weren’t sure she even got her license yet. Bella Ramsey. You knew for a fact she didn’t have a car.

Pedro Pascal.

Shit.

Well, from a purely objective stance, he was the best choice. He could pick you up and he didn’t give creepy vibes so technically you should be fine.

The problem was – he probably didn’t even know who you were. You had been on, like, two lunches with him with purely professional intentions. There had been more people from both the cast and the PR team and, even though you had spoken to him one-on-one multiple times, he had these types of conversations every day.

Worst he could do was say no.

To be fair, he could theoretically also cuss you out.

Or look at an unknown number and not even pick up.

Before you let your mind talk itself out of it, your fingers typed in his number and called.

It was quite chilly, now that you were out in dark alley with only your stripper dress on. It was pretty but god was it doing a shit job at keeping you warm.

The phone was calling and after the very first ring, you started to doubt yourself.

Maybe it would be less embarrassing if you just called your boss? Sure, she would know you indulged in an occasional living of your life but she was a woman and maybe would be more sympathetic than most of the men you worked with...

Two-

- Y/N? – unprepared for Pedro to actually pick up, you startled.

Your brain was foggy from all the alcohol and your body was still trying to decipher the sudden temperature drop so it took you several seconds to even put words together.

- Hey, are you alright? – it was actually him.

He really picked up at a quarter to midnight.

How did he know who was calling?

- Hey, Pedro, - up until this point you had used the formal “Mr. Pascal” just like everybody in your team but now it would feel weird. – So I have a bit of a... situation?

What was the term for getting drunk and placing all your trust in people that you had met two weeks ago?

- Are you alright? – he sounded worried. – Where are you?

Not wanting to appear nervous yourself, you tried to put on a smile, hoping it would make your voice sound lighter and careless.

- I’m at the... – you looked over your shoulder at the sign in front of the club, - Sensual Vibes, - you cringed at the name.

He definitely thinks you’re at a strip club.

- It’s a bar downtown. And I’m kinda drunk and I don’t really have any money, and my asshole friends left, and I’m also kinda col-

- Do you need me to pick you up? – he didn’t sound mad.

If anything – he sounded almost careful. As if he didn’t want to push any boundaries by insisting.

You were silent for a second.

Why was it so hard for you to ask for help when it was clear you desperately needed it?

Fucking pride.

You can cringe in shame tomorrow when you haven’t been murdered trying to walk home drunk...

- Yeah, - you said quietly before adding, - but it’s totally fine if you can’t. I’m sure two kilometers of walking will be fine if I can get off these stripper shoes-

- I’ll be there in twenty, - he said in a voice that left no arguments. – Go back inside. I’ll come in and get you.

- Who was that? – Oscar asked, stuffing the leftover pizza back into the box.

- Y/N, - Pedro put away his phone and went to get his car keys.

- Y/N? Who the fuc-

His hand stopped halfway to close the lid.

- Oh shit, - Oscar laughed, turning towards his friend. – Is that the girl from the PR team? It’s that Y/N?

Pedro didn’t answer and went to get his jacket. Oscar, in true friend fashion, followed him into the hallway, while teasing:

- Is that the same girl who still calls you Mr. Pascal even though you corrected her, like, thousand times?

Pedro just rolled his eyes.

This wasn’t exactly new. Oscar had never really met you – at least, in person – though there was abundance of information regarding you given by his friend every time Pedro had a drop of alcohol in his system.

- You know, if you weren’t so famous, I’d think she actually didn’t even know your first name by how much she uses the surname... – Oscar went back to pick up the leftover pizza, before turning back and looking at his friend suspiciously. – Are you sure she meant to call you? I mean, if she called you by your name, the call might have been meant for another Pedro. All I’m saying is-

Pedro threw him a dark look and turned to leave. Could that be true? You never really called him by his name and he was almost one hundred percent sure you didn’t even have his number...

- Lock up before you leave, - Pedro murmured before opening the door.

You were drunk and alone so, either way, you’ll have to make peace with it.

Once Pedro had ended the call, all you could do was blankly stare at the screen. To be fair, you were very intoxicated so... could you had hallucinated this whole conversation?

Either way – waiting inside was probably the best choice here...

You dropped down on a sofa in the foyer. You felt a headache coming on.

God, this is gonna be embarrassing...

After fifteen minutes of waiting and contemplating about leaving on your own, a hand lightly touched your shoulder, making you startle yet again. You had been way too focused on a painting on the wall to notice anybody approaching.

- Pedro? – your eyebrows shot up as if you were surprised that the person who you had called had actually shown up.

- Were you waiting for someone else? – there was a note in his voice you couldn’t quite decipher and your foggy mind refused to cooperate.

- N-no, - you stammered out. – I just wasn’t sure you would actually show up...

Now was his turn to look surprised. He opened his mouth to say something but, when you lightly swayed on your feet, he quickly put an arm around your shoulders to steady you.

When he lightly pressed his palm on the skin between your shoulder blades, a small shiver ran through your body, making you look up at him. He had probably seen or feel you shiver and had interpreted that as you being cold which was technically true. He pulled off his jacket that looked way too big for you.

You were by no means model-thin but the jacket was oversized on him so it looked like it would end up around your knees.

You shook your head.

- I’m not taking your jacket after you drove all this w-

- Don’t argue, - was all he said before lifting your arm, pulling the sleeve over it and then repeating the same on the other side. – And it’s still longer than that pretty thing you call a dress, - his eyes ran over your half-naked body.

Not in a leering way. But he did gulp when his eyes touched on the slit across your thigh.

Great, there’s no getting this out of memory, he chastised himself for enjoying and savoring you while you were very clearly drunk.

Shit, he’s probably uncomfortable, was all you could think about.

His car was pleasantly warm. You managed to climb in on your own but when it came to the seatbelt, you fingers still lacked focus and were stiff. After two unsuccessful attempts at connecting the two parts, Pedro gently peeled your fingers from the belt, reached over and buckled you in himself.

Before he could step back, you placed your hand on his bicep to stop him. The touch itself was innocent enough but you felt your skin lightly tingling as if you had touched a wire with low charge.

Pedro’s eyes followed you to where your skin had touched his. All he could do was stare at your fingers around his arm.

- Shit, sorry, - you decided he was probably uncomfortable and withdrew your hand, - sorry, I didn’t mean-

- It’s fine-

- I just wanted to say thank you, - your gaze held his. – I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise.

There was something intoxicating in doing favors for you. He would’ve driven to pick up any of the women he knew if they were drunk and alone but your trust in him made him a bit delirious.

He wanted you to call him if you ever needed to get home drunk but he also wanted to drive you to a meaningless appointment and pick you up after work.

- It’s fine, - he swallowed before stepping back. – You’re welcome.

He could hear Oscar’s teasing voice in his head, telling him how absurdly romantic it was for him to simp after a girl who probably read his number off a business card when hers had been cataloged in his phone since day one. He probably could recall it from memory at this point.

Pedro closed the door on your side and walked around to get into the driver’s seat. He tried to take in some of the chilling evening air before getting in.

- ... and my friend said just go up to him and ask him out, - he heard you say once he got in, - but every time I looked at his pretty face I chicked out... – you hiccuped, - chic... chickened out! And then-

Your words were slurred and half-coherent.

Pedro started the car, pulled out of the parking lot and then threw a glance at you.

- Who were you trying to ask out?

- I wasn’t trying... And he wouldn’t come anyway...

Alcohol had made you braver and in a stupid attempt to rip your own band-aid off, you turned towards Pedro and whispered in an almost broken voice:

- Would you go on a date with me?

You needed his answer. Tomorrow was gonna be shameful but you could, at least, write this off as a drunken mistake. You had finally done it, you had finally gathered all your courage and taken a step-

But it was the way you had said it. With the accent on the word ‘you’. All Pedro heard was your confession about liking another man and how busy he was, and now you looked at him with glossy eyes and it made him wonder if this stupid man you were talking about had said something to make you insecure. You had just confessed about your crush and needed confirmation that other men – smarter men – would still date you.

But knowing that you trusted him enough to take you home drunk, he knew he couldn’t just confess about wanting you for himself. That was a dick move used by every false male friend around the world.

- I... – you watched his throat work, as he was putting words together, then he ripped his gaze away from where you sat in his car, in his jacket, for the first time ever giving him your undivided attention. – I think you’re amazing and any man would be lu-

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. His figure got distorted through the rapidly increasing moisture.

You are amazing.

Any man would be lucky to date you.

Not me though.

Last one wasn’t said out loud but, in your defense, it was usually never spelled out when a person was rejecting someone.

This was a rejection speech.

He was giving you a rejection speech!

You lifted your hand to silence him. He immediately did and you looked out through the window on your side.

- Please, don’t, - your voice broke at the end. – I respect you way too much and don’t want to start saying things I don’t mean while drunk.

It was said and done.

You had asked and he had rejected you. Work’s gonna be a bitch but PR, thankfully, was a team effort so you could probably take meetings with another member of the cast and make one of your colleague meet with Pedro. Eventually, your stupid little feelings would stop hurting and you would move on.

Eventually.

Until then you probably should avoid Pedro every chance you got.

It was said and done.

Even drunk, you had realized his incurable crush on you and in a very “I’m well-versed in public relations” manner had put an end to his confession. What was it that you had said? I respect you way too much...

Respect you way too much to outright say “no”.

You had a crush on a man you worked with. Probably someone your age. Probably someone who’s life wasn’t constantly dissected on every media platform.

You were a real pretty girl so even if you never gathered the courage to take the first step, that man you talked about would probably do it for you. He would be stupid not to.

Which meant that at some point you would be seen on set, laughing and kissing some other man who probably had no idea for how long you had lusted after him. And Pedro knew that if your crush forgot what he’s got, he would be way too tempted to teach him a lesson or two about not throwing away life’s biggest treasures.

Maybe even way too tempted to put the fear of god into that man. To threaten to never dare to break your pretty little heart.

But you had good taste in most things. And the man you were talking about asking out was probably good. More than good. He probably was respectful in public and would make you scream his name in private. Buy you a nice dress and later rip it off your body. Pick you up to take you places and then wait patiently for you to come back to him.

You deserved the best. And you were probably way too good for that boy you liked. Granted, Pedro thought you were way too good for basically everyone, including himself, but he also wasn’t one of those men that would pass on an amazing woman all because “she’s too good for him”.

Nah. He knew he would greedily accept your love and lust if only you offered. He might have thought you were too good for him but he also knew there were many things he could provide for you. He was successful, had money, a stable job, he was mature and wouldn’t play any games. Besides, he was damn near sure he loved you and even with you reciprocating just half of that love and affection, it still would be perfect.

- What’s your add-

Once he looked over to where you were watching him just a minute ago, Pedro found you fast asleep with your head pressed against the window. His jacket, way too big for you, had fallen down your shoulder, revealing that distractingly little napkin you bravely called a dress.

Shit.

This was definitely not good.

If he had to bring you back to his home, he knew he would see ghosts of you every time he stepped inside his own house. And that would be bad. Right now you were already everywhere at work, he couldn’t afford to let you make yourself at home in his private space too. Damage would take months to undo.

He contemplated waking you up but even then there would be no guarantee that you would even remember where you lived in this condition.

Pedro started driving towards his own home slower than necessary, hoping you would wake up at some point and give him your address.

All he could hope for was that Oscar had already left because, otherwise, Pedro would never hear the end of this...

Shitshitshit.

Your head was hurting even before you opened your eyes. That was never a good thing. Once you did, you were met with a semi-dark room that was vaguely lit by a small lamp left on on the nightstand.

Where the fuck where you?

This looked way too homey to be a hotel and way too impersonal to be someone’s bedroom. You lifted the thick blanket that was draped over you to check out if you weren’t missing any clothes. Or some more important things, like body parts.

Your eyebrows shot up in confusion when you were met with the same light blue dress you had worn at the club with just more wrinkles in it now. All you were missing where the boots that you saw placed by the bed.

You checked the small alarm clock on the nightstand.

5:06 AM.

It was early.

On a day off, you probably wouldn’t have woken up this early but your body had most likely dealt with the alcohol in your system and had woken up naturally once you had sobered up.

Then you noticed the small note placed next to the clock.

I’m not sure how much you remember but I picked you up from a club. You didn’t give me an address before passing out, so I brought you home with me. You’re in my guest bedroom. I’m in the one down the hall. I got you some aspirin and water. And some clothes.

Pedro.

There was something else written on the paper but it was scribbled out. You lifted the note and placed it before the small lamp, letting the light shine through.

Cute dress.

You smiled, however that smile lasted for exactly one second before you remembered the conversation in the car. You had asked Pedro on a date. He had given you the “there’s more fish in the sea” speech.

God.

You had excused your bravery with “you can live today and be embarrassed tomorrow” but now, when tomorrow was finally here, you weren’t sure it was actually worth it.

Thank god you didn’t work closely with Pedro because this would be ten times more awkward if you were an actress.

You quickly changed into the clothes Pedro had left for you. It was a white t-shirt with something spelled in a foreign language you didn’t understand. The shirt reached down to your knees and covered more than your dress had. You could technically leave in just the t-shirt but your sudden sobriety would probably result in you freezing to death so you decided to wear sweatpants as well. You rolled up the ends of the pants that were too long, threw a glance in the mirror and decided that you looked presentable enough.

Once you left the guest room with the dress still in your hand, you tried to find out if Pedro had already woken up. It seemed unlikely. It was very early.

And that seemed to be the truth, as none of the lights were on in neither the kitchen nor the living room. Or in the hallway.

Thank god the key was still in the door and you didn’t have to wake him up to unlock the door. You carefully tiptoed through the hallway and sneaked out through the front door, leaving nothing but a vague scent of your perfume and a note on the living room table.

Thank you. Truly. You have no idea how grateful I am. Don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever need anything.

That’s exactly how Pedro found your note three hours later when he woke up. Note had no name. Apparently, you didn’t assume he rescued women every night and didn’t think he would mix you up with someone else.

As if he ever could.

He was quite grateful to have missed you, in case you remembered how he had come onto you in the car. He didn’t want a pitying glance and you saying sorry, as if you had anything to be sorry about.

Don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever need anything.

Pedro let out a bitter laugh. That’s what you sign at the bottom of a work email, in hopes the recipient never truly reaches out for anything. You just felt like you owed him.

three weeks later

Pedro felt somebody brush a makeup brush over his temple to add some last touches before the filming started. People were running around, adding and taking down some props. Camera crew were doing some last check-ups. And in what Pedro thought was a torturosly ironic touch to an already important scene that caused some nerves to resurface, you were there.

In fairness, you weren’t here on your own and by your own wish. Some people of the PR and social media management teams were here, hoping to take some photos of behind the scenes for marketing.

And they were all pretty irrelevant because his eyes didn’t leave you for one second.

Pedro, Bella and some of the others were placed good ten meters from where you were standing by the door of the room that seemed to shrink every second. You were either unaware of his intense gaze or simply ignored it.

Pedro didn’t know which one would piss him off more.

There weren’t many things that didn’t irritate him these days. Oscar had started to call it Y/N withdrawal. As if he was an addict. A junkie who’s been cut off from his favorite drug of choice.

At first, Pedro was understanding. You probably felt weird you had clocked him liking you and wanted space. Fine. He would be an asshole not to give you space. Then he called you but the call always went to voicemail. On week two he had the first PR dinner since ‘the incident’ and when you didn’t show and had sent one of your assistants in your place, it only soured Pedro’s mood. The assistant had lied about you not feeling well but when you were still nowhere to be seen on the next meeting – and the next – he knew it was an excuse.

You were making excuses.

Week three took the crown when at one of the advertisement meetings that was mandatory for all cast and production team members, you had apparently ‘had a doctor’s appointment’.

Now he was pissed at the whole world and especially himself for fucking this up. You were a smart girl and he should’ve expected you to put two and two together that night. And, in addition, he was just a tiny bit pissed at you for not giving him a chance to apologize.

When you excused yourself and went into the kitchen, Pedro quickly stood up.

- Sorry, - he murmured to the makeup artist. – I’ll be right back.

Filming was set to start in ten minutes.

That was all he needed to say the things that needed to be said.

You were facing the open fridge when Pedro walked in. You read something that was written on the side of what looked like a protein shake.

You looked good. There were no signs of tiredness in your eyes. No sluggish movements. No yawning.

That was good, Pedro tried to tell himself.

Would it hurt for you to be a little affected that he was absent from your life for three whole weeks?

Then his eyes caught a thin bracelet around your wrist. It was shiny and had a minimalistic heart charm on it.

Pedro recalled Oscar once mentioning getting something similar to his wife because “the only time women wear heart jewelry is if it’s gifted by a man who’s interested”.

It was quite a big assumption that the bracelet was, one, a gift, two, from a man, and three, that it was the same moron you wanted to date. And yet it only fueled Pedro’s irrational jealousy and anger.

He let go of the door and it fell shut with a loud bang.

You jumped.

- It’s really unprofessional, you know, - Pedro accused. – This behavior of yours lately.

It only took a second for you to go from a startled look to a glare. You put the drink back in the fridge and shut the door. Loudly.

How matching.

- Excuse you? – you pushed back.

- I get that you’re avoiding me and that’s fine but you also have a job to do, - he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. – You’ve missed several PR meetings and allowed your underage intern to replace you.

You chuckled under your breath and looked away.

So that’s what this was about...

- So you feel a bit neglected because an intern – highly skilled, might I add, - was attending a few of the meetings? Is he not good enough for you?

Pedro looked at you as if you’d grown a second head.

- I don’t care if he’s as useless as a toddler – don’t change the subject!

You blew away a strand of your hair that had fallen in front of your face.

God you looked hot angry.

When you tried to side-step him and leave, Pedro followed your movements until his back hit the door, leaving you without an escape. He leaned against it, wrapped his right palm around his left wrist and looked down at you.

- You’re avoiding me, - he was glaring at you.

You glared back.

- No shit.

Pedro had expected more resistance. Or more excuses. He definitely expected you to look at him with a confused stare and say ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’. Now that you had done none of that, it felt a bit weird to “confront” you because you had had every right to avoid him.

- I’m just making sure you don’t get a write-up for skipping work, - even though the words were genuine, the tone was rude and you recoiled.

You looked up at him as if he’d slapped you.

- Are you threatening to snitch on me for skipping few meetings?

His eyes widened.

Shit.

- That’s not wh-

- Fuck you.

Now he looked like you had slapped him.

This was going downhill and fast. He had never accused anybody of bad work ethics and you had never cursed at someone for essentially doing nothing wrong, really.

You had spent three weeks, trying to soothe your ego. But rejection still stung. And, for the first time in your life, your personal feelings had affected your professional life. There was no excuse for that.

So you exhaled, counted to ten, got to five and decided to push your emotions down. You didn’t actually believe that Pedro would ever attempt anything to harm your career but he was still a big star and, would somebody come across this very unprofessional conversation, your future job opportunities might be in jeopardy.

- Listen, I’m sorry, okay? – you said, then quickly added. – For missing those meetings.

You didn’t want to voice that you were also apologizing for taking rejection badly.

Even though, you were.

- Won’t happen again.

His eyes softened.

- I’m sorry too, okay? – he lifted his hand to place it on your shoulder or upper arm but decided against it in the last second and let it fall back against his side.

You laughed. Genuinely.

- What are you sorry for?

- For what I said in the car, - he explained.

Your eyes returned to the startled expression that they were in when he first came in. You had wanted to avoid that night but he had brought it up voluntarily. He could see your prey-like expression and shook his head:

- I didn’t mean... – he got quiet for a second. – That would be a lie. I did mean it. But I think I could’ve worded it better. Maybe. Or explained it to you when you were sober...

I didn’t mean... That would be a lie. I did mean it.

His words, even though soft and placating, still grazed your heart like a knife.

You could respect him for not leading you on.

Leading someone on was still worse than letting somebody down gently.

Be a big girl and accept defeat like a champ, you motivated yourself.

- That’s fine. It didn’t mean anything.

It didn’t mean anything.

You had realized he liked you, damn near loved you, and it didn’t mean anything.

His love meant nothing.

Pedro swallowed and nodded. When you gestured towards the door that he was still blocking, he stepped aside, letting you leave.

- Did you feel harassed by me? – he asked before you left.

You laughed. But when you realized he was dead-ass serious, your smile fell.

- What?

- In my car. That night. Did you feel harassed by me?

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Even though it was absurd for him to ask this, you felt warmth engulf your heart.

He’s making sure you didn’t feel unsafe with him...

God.

He’s gonna make a great partner to someone someday...

- God no, - you grinned, trying to put him at ease.

- You sure? – he asked.

- Of course, - you gave him a bittersweet smile. – How could I have felt harassed? Nothing happened.

Nothing happened, as in, I asked you out and you turned me down, simple as that.

Nothing happened, as in, you figured I liked you and that realization meant nothing, I still mean nothing to you.

When week four rolled in, things had went back to normal. The weird kind of normal. The professional kind of normal. You were present in all PR meetings you needed to attend, Pedro went out of his way to treat you like a friend.

He had started bringing these weird mini cupcakes from around where he was living. Every meeting, he would show up and give them out to all, usually five or six, attending persons. He would never skip you, giving you exactly the same amount of pleasantries, sweets and eye contact as to every other person from the cast and PR teams. It was as if he had timed your interactions to make sure you felt identical to everybody else here.

You translated his actions as he’s making sure to drive home the point of “I treat everybody like this, don’t make this weird, you’re not special in that sense”.

He translated his actions as making sure you saw that even after you rejected him, he still wouldn’t be passive-aggressive towards you and wouldn’t exclude you from anything.

“Don’t make things weird” had become a motto for both of you, at this point. This was exactly why Pedro had advised Oscar to also invite you to the party he was throwing in honor of ending the shooting of one of Oscar’s movies. Even though Pedro knew you would show up all dolled up and, most likely, with a plus one, as suggested the invitation.

And “don’t make things weird” was exactly why you had accepted, even though the last time you had attended a formal function, it had ended with you at a club and with no ride or money.

You had showed up in a black sleeveless dress that reached your knees. Pedro had had exactly one drink and he was using the hell out of it as an excuse why he couldn’t – and wouldn’t – take his eyes off you. The dress was simple and maybe exactly because of that your own beauty shone through more than usual when there was nothing to distract people from it.

Then you turned towards the small home bar and his eyes slid over your frame, landing on the dress’ very deep slit. This time it was on the behind of your dress’ skirt.

You and the fucking slits. Making every piece of clothing look like it was designed specifically for you...

- Thank god moods are not contagious because this would be the saddest happy event ever, - Oscar’s hand landed on his friend’s shoulder, as he followed Pedro’s gaze down to where you were standing.

Pedro unintentionally moved to block you from his friend’s eyes which came as a surprise to both. It was very clear that Oscar had no negative or positive intentions regarding you so it was even more weird when Pedro felt small pang of jealousy when he saw the bottle of wine you had gifted Oscar for hosting the party.

Oscar raised his eyebrows, amused.

As if asking, really?

You, on the other hand, were doing everything to avoid Pedro that evening. He looked good. He looked so handsome even though he was one of the very few men here who had chosen to wear a sweater instead of a suit or a dress shirt. You definitely needed a distraction and given how it had ended with drinking last time you got drunk, you avoided alcohol like it was the plague, only drinking virgin cocktails.

The biggest problem with avoiding someone is that that person is living in your head rent free, in order for you to be where they are not. Which meant that before you avoid them in a room, you have to check specifically for them. The biggest support for you in this was the fact that Pedro seemed to avoid you as well, so it was quite easy to keep your distance.

- Is there a guest I’m not aware of? – Oscar humored lightly. – Or are you stalked by someone?

Only the ghost of your best friend.

You smiled, shook your head and asked a few questions about the movie to whose ending this function was dedicated to. After some time he excused himself and said to go look for his wife but before he left, Oscar casually threw out:

- I’m sorry things are weird between you and Pedro right now, - he seemed apologetic.

You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

Pedro had clearly told him about what had happened.

It was already embarrassing enough for you to realize that Pedro had been sober that night and remembered every word your drunk self had confessed. And, to add insult to injury, the rejection still kinda stung. But he had clearly told everything to another man. And that one made you even more upset because you knew Oscar by reputation only but that reputation was quite good. So he probably felt sympathy for your little groupie act by asking out someone clearly out of your league.

You averted your eyes. How many other people knew?

- Look, he’s a grown ass man, he’ll be fine, - Oscar put his hand on your shoulder in a pacifying manner. – It’s just that this was his longest crush ever so it will take more time than usual...

Because you actively tried to block out his voice, the words didn’t register at first. And, once they did, they still didn’t make much sense.

- But it will-

- What did you just say?

Your tone was harsh and it made Oscar do a double-take.

- I... I’m not trying to pressure you into anything by what I said about being his longest crush, if that’s what you meant. I promise.

Your eyes searched his face for any signs of amusement or humor... or confusion. When you didn’t find any, you put down your drink and turned your full attention towards him.

- What did he tell you happened that night?

Oscar looked at you like you were a child asking to explain the alphabet.

- I’m not sure I should-

- He clearly told you something! – you raised your voice – not loud enough to be heard by everyone but enough to make some of the closest people turn heads.

Oscar nodded:

- All he told me was you figured out he liked you. And you don’t like him back, - Oscar used the tone he probably used with his kids. – And that’s fine. You have every r-

- What kind of fairy tale did he fed you? – your first thought was that Pedro had lied to his friend.

But why would he ever do that? What could he possibly get out of telling people you were the one who rejected him? Letting someone down wasn’t a crime and it didn’t make you a bad person.

- He rejected me! I straight up asked him out and he gave me the whole speech about there being men who would be oh so lucky to date me. And then he kept on friend-zoning me for a month just for funsies. Making sure I knew my place was with all the other people who worked for him!

When you turned to leave – and maybe give that free alcohol a shot or two – Oscar unceremoniously grabbed your upper arm and turned you back.

- That can’t be true, Y/N! You were the one drunk! Are you sure you remember everything okay?

You rolled your eyes, trying to pull your arm away.

- I was drunk, not stupid! I know rejection when I receive one!

Oscar’s grasp wasn’t hurting you or anything but it probably looked like you were fighting from afar, at this point.

- Look, Y/N, calm down, - he lowered his voice so other people wouldn’t hear a thing. – All he told me was that you had confessed liking someone you worked with, and-

- And who do you think that someone from work is, genius?

You could almost hear gears turning in Oscar’s head.

- So... When he said that you had asked if... When you were wondering if he would date you, it wasn’t because...

You waited.

- ... it wasn’t because you were insecure about nobody being interested in you?

- Why would I give a shit if other people were interested in me?

It was a good thing you were sober because it was taking a good amount of time to understand this even sober. Your eyes widened when you finally put the pieces together.

The way Pedro looked almost crushed when you had interrupted him to silence him in the car.

Please don’t. I respect you way too much and don’t want to start saying things I don’t mean while drunk.

Could he had mistaken it for rejection?

You silencing him out of respect so you didn’t have to tell him you didn’t want to date him? Did he thought that you were thinking his ego couldn’t handle being rejected by someone who was not rich or famous?

Shit.

You tried to find his pink sweater somewhere in the crowd. He couldn’t have gone home already, could he? You had relatively little knowledge of the layout of Oscar’s house so your best shot was to run into Pedro somewhere.

Your wish manifested a bit too literally, when you roughly rounded a corner and ran straight into someone.

Pedro’s fingers wrapped around your upper arm in the same manner Oscar’s hand had just mere seconds ago. Just to drive home the point of your attraction to him, a small shot of electricity shot through your arm whereas nothing even similar had happened when his friend had touched your arm.

- Careful, - he steadied you and then removed his hand.

When you looked up, you noticed that he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

You thought you had gotten over this awkwardness...

Guess not.

With music still sounding throughout the house, you looked around, grabbed the front of his sweater and pushed him into one of the many guest bedrooms here. Once you closed and locked the door, you turned towards Pedro who was looking a bit thrown out of the boat.

For one moment, nobody said anything. Then you pushed down the dress that had ridden up your thighs while you were frantically looking for him throughout the house, and stepped closer to him.

The height difference was always a turn on for you but right now it did nothing but annoy.

- Sit down, - you commanded.

He took a step back and sat down on the bed.

When he looked up at you, you realized that you probably shouldn’t have asked him to do that. Your foggy brain finally decided to give you back few of the memories missing from that night month ago.

When he had gently lowered you onto the bed and you had finally woken up just in time to see him drop down on his knees to take off your boots. Out of concern, he had looked up at you with a very similar expression as he was having right now. With his lids lowered, eyes dark and pupils dilated.

When his brows furrowed in confusion, unaware of your flashbacks, you snapped out of it.

- Why does Oscar think I rejected you in your car that night? – you demanded before you lost your courage.

Pedro looked away.

You had had a long day at work today and still most of your energy had went into dodging Pedro at every corner, trying to not even look at him, while simultaneously keeping an eye on him at all times to not accidentally get close. Your patience had worn out long before you got here.

You unceremoniously grabbed his chin and turned his head back towards you.

- Look, I’m sorry I told him, - Pedro raised his eyes to meet yours. – I needed to tell someone and you were avoiding me and refused to even look at me!

You shook your head and tried to step back before he grabbed your hand in both of his.

- I’m sorry.

- What are you even sorry for? – you ripped your hand from his. – For lying?

When all he did was stare up at your in confusion, you took a step back to keep some distance.

- Do you get pity points or something for act-

Pedro stood up and you lost any advantage you had due to height. When he advanced towards you and you still stepped back, he caught your wrist, refusing to let you leave.

- Stop running from me! – he demanded. – Talk to me!

Fine.

- Fine, - you still tugged on your arm and he still didn’t let go so at some point you had to give up on it and leave your hand in his grasp.

- Tell me why you were avoiding me for a month, - he used a painfully soft tone as if afraid you would run at the very first sign of confrontation.

You were silent for a moment, trying to find the right words to sound like a mature adult.

- I guess... – you sighed and decided to just get over it. – I was hurt that you weren’t interested in me when I asked you out that night after you picked me up. I was butt hurt and it wasn’t fair to you because you have ever-

You didn’t get to finish when he closed the small distance between you and pressed his lips against yours. You would’ve pulled back by surprise if not for Pedro’s hand cupping the back of you neck.

Your heart seemed to simultaneously skip a beat and stop altogether. After the initial shock, you slid your hand into Pedro’s hair and lightly pulled him back by it.

Amusement danced in his eyes with a light shake of his head.

- To think we could’ve done this weeks ago, - he laughed.

You felt a bit giddy inside, still not really comprehending every piece of this misunderstanding but, in your defense, it probably had been quite hard to catch any love signals that night when you were wasted.

- You want me to ask you out again? – you proposed.

- Nah, - he shook his head. -  I’ll do the honors, - he cleared his throat. – You’re going on a date with me.

You cocked your head.

- Are you asking or telling?

- I assumed you were a sure thing, drunk words being sober thoughts and all that...

This felt a bit too good to be true but you weren’t going to question it. Once you both left the guest room, with Pedro’s hand still wrapped around yours, and turned the corner to return to the party, you found Oscar leaning against the wall in the hallway with a drink in his hand and an amused look in his eyes.

- No freaky business under my roof, - he gave his friend with a stern look. – That’s like the only rule I have.

Only when his eyes found your intervened hands, he chuckled under his breath.

- Love must be hard when you’re both idiots, huh?

[pluckyredhead]

Please ship Orion and Lightray with me, thank you

If you've been reading my Fourth World posting, you might have noticed me mentioning Orion and Lightray's relationship. This is because they're in love and I'm obsessed with them. Please join me in grumpy/sunshine-but-they're-alien-demigods hell, with visual references below.

So Orion, as we know, is the son of Darkseid who was raised on New Genesis but has always felt different and monstrous compared to his peers. Lightray is his best friend, who thinks Orion is just the best thing since sliced bread and says so constantly.

This is literally how we're introduced to them, in New Gods #1:

Lightray: Don't be sad. Hug time! Orion: Hugs are not for one such as me. But you're still my best friend. Lightray: Please let me enter your chambers. Orion: NO THEY ARE TOO DARK. Lightray: D:

This panel, from #6, sums up their whole dynamic really well:

Lightray doesn't crave battle the way Orion does but he is determined to stay by his side, while Orion doesn't want Lightray to fight beside him because he thinks Lightray is too good and pure to be tainted by violence.

Zero personal space.

So one of the things about Orion is that his real face is sort of brutish and not traditionally handsome (the eyebrows are WILD), but he uses his Mother Box (like a living pocket computer that loves you) to make himself look more like the people of New Genesis. In #8, he gets into a knock-down, drag-out fight with his half-brother Kalibak that nearly kills them both, and Mother Box can't maintain the illusion (and also his face is, like, pulverized). And then this happens:

I WEEP. LIGHTRAY LOVES YOU JUST THE WAY YOU ARE, ORION.

New Gods was canceled soon after this, but when Kirby returned a decade later, he went all in on the homoerotic devotion. So Orion goes to Apokolips to kill his dad and rescue his mom, and who do you think follows him?

That second panel makes me laugh so hard. "Here, honey, you forgot your Scooty Puff Jr!"

My favorite thing about this is that Lightray is playing dumb. He shot at Orion earlier and then said something vague about missing on purpose...but he didn't:

HE REALLY TRIED TO WOUND ORION ENOUGH TO STOP HIS SUICIDE MISSION. And the way he just shuts his eyes and takes Orion's anger because he doesn't care what happens as long as he saves his friend's life...! (Orion doesn't hurt him, they just touch each other a lot.)

Anyway they argue for multiple pages, with Orion insisting that Lightray go home and Lightray insisting that he stay, until finally:

This is so intensely romantic and also so unintentionally hilarious that I can't stand it. The homoerotic gazing into one another's eyes and then the stupid mutual thumbs up! Whatever is going on with that closeup of Orion in the second panel! I die!

...And you know who else dies? Orion! Or at least he comes very close (it's unclear), but is rescued by a freedom fighter named Himon and nursed back to health by Himon and his daughter Bekka. We get a little romance between Orion and Bekka, but we also get Lightray coming to visit:

That is some FULL CONTACT wrestling, boys. Orion pinning Lightray to the ground while telling him it's good to see him is so much, but the fourth panel is even mucher. My goodness.

And then things get serious, because they both believe they are going to die in the upcoming battle (they don't), so they bid each other farewell and Lightray leaves, and then:

Orion yells after Lightray how smart and funny he is and then collapses in despair because his friend is gone. "HOW LIKE A WANDERING STAR HE SEEMS." Oh my god, Orion.

That's it for Kirby, so I'll move on to other writers and artists, but I want to clear that I'm only sharing the most intense scenes between them. There are so many panels, from Kirby and others, of Lightray faithfully following Orion around, joyously welcoming him back to New Genesis, gently teasing him, and talking about how brave and noble he is. And of Orion only smiling for Lightray, going feral when he gets hurt, and telling him he's too good and pretty for battle. And of the two of them touching each other. A lot.

Literally just two random examples. THEY DO THIS SHIT ALL THE TIME.

The next really big moment comes in New Gods (1995), where the Source (basically God/Heaven) becomes corrupted and Lightray goes evil and Orion has to beat him up to stop him and I will never ever ever recover from these pages:

"You want the beast? Do you like it?" on its own is...hoo boy, SOMETHING. But it is eclipsed by the tremulous "Maybe...maybe if I can just hold him" and Orion gathering Lightray up in his arms while telling him he loves him. LIKE. THIS IS SO MUCH. (P.S. Lightray's fine don't worry. And yes, he does want the beast.)

Then we get to Orion (PLEASE read this comic) and the biggest smile Orion has ever smolt:

Look at how happy he is!!! You need to understand that his mother died in his arms ten minutes ago and he's still like "Lightray! Omg hi!!!" (To be fair, his mother was terrible.) Plus bonus unnecessary touching, Lightray's love language being gifts, and Orion giggling and twirling his hair while going "Omg you're so smart."

(Also, when Lightray mentions his "brief but troubling visit" to Apokolips in the second panel, what's not saying is that he put on a silly disguise and went to see a fortuneteller to try to figure out if Orion's mom was lying about Darkseid not being his real dad (she was; again, she was terrible), and when the fortuneteller is like "You DARE come to Apokolips?!" he goes "I would dare anything for my friend!" I know you would, honey. I know you would.)

The next bit requires some explanation. So, as briefly as possible: Orion kills Darkseid (or so he thinks), takes over Apokolips, and tries very hard to change it for the better. He also accidentally gains possession of the Anti-Life Equation, the formula Darkseid is always searching for that eradicates free will, and gradually is driven to use it to FORCE everyone on Apokolips to be good. And Earth. And New Genesis.

Eventually, Orion is seemingly killed, but actually he's been teleported somewhere unfathomably far away, where he realizes what he's done and sinks into suicidal despair. In the midst of this, he manages to both destroy the Anti-Life Equation AND save all of reality (and nearly die in the process), but he still thinks that because he used the Equation, he's irredeemable and doesn't deserve to exist.

So when he's teleported back to Earth and captured by a human who blinds him and rigs him up to a torture device so that he can drain Orion's life force and use it to be eternally youthful, Orion just...lets it happen. Because he thinks he deserves it. For SEVEN MONTHS.

But eventually he's like "Wait...I deserve this, but probably whatever is being done with my energy is not good and I should stop it." He tries to escape but only manages to let out a single scream.

Luckily, Lightray has been searching for him nonstop for those seven months, despite the face that Orion is supposed to be dead. And then we get this:

To be clear: this is sweet, gentle Lightray absolutely obliterating the men who kept Orion in the torture device.

Nakey.

Lightray gives Orion the crushed remnants of his wrist cuffs, and Orion does a magical girl transformation about it:

For everyone playing along at home, that's the second time Orion has canonically told Lightray that he loves him.

Anyway, Orion goes off to get revenge on the guy who did this to him (it's very satisfying, please read Orion), and then he's depressed some more until he has some brotherly bonding time with Scott and finally feels well enough to go back to New Genesis. His last line of dialogue in the series is "For it is late, and the sunrise and friend Lightray await us in the gleaming city of the gods." OKAY!

Tragically, almost every New Gods appearance after this is complete dogshit, although there is a great moment in Hal Jordan and the Green Lantern Corps (a Rebirth series) where they need information from Orion but he's comatose so they bring in a telepath and the only word he can get out of Orion's mind is "Lightray." I'LL BET.

IN CONCLUSION: Orion and Lightray love each other so so much and I believe it is honoring Jack Kirby's legacy to think about them smooching. It's what the King would have wanted!

[transmutationisms]

yeah fuck that anon but their second question is legit do you know how to check for other fundraisers??? I know the one you’re promoting is legit but what about others?? Is there like a database or something?? Sorry if its a dumb question Im just concerned bc I got scammed once by a friend of a friends alleged medical issues :/

i actually have a whole tag where i've been collecting posts about the legitimacy of palestinian fundraisers, how to boost and promote them, and details on the vetting process.

here on tumblr, the most centralised part of the verification process has been this spreadsheet of fundraisers that are checked (details on that process in my tag above) by palestinian users. formerly these users included @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi; currently the vetting is being done by @/mohameddd, who is in gaza. there is more info on this in el-shab-hussein's pinned post, and he is slowly shifting fundraiser posts over to @gaza-evacuation-funds, so that's a great blog to follow for vetted campaigns.

not all verified campaigns are on the spreadsheet. click on the notes of a fundraising post or search their url on tumblr; look for posts or comments from palestinian users who have checked and vouched for them. @/90-ghost is probably the most well-known; he has had to take a step back from tumblr recently, but there are still lots of people fundraising whose campaigns he's shared or vouched for. @/bilal-salah0 is another palestinian who has verified and vouched for people he knows personally or has reached out to. many users who get their own campaigns verified will later vouch for their friends or family members. if you trust the first person's verification, you can also take their word about other people they know.

off tumblr, there are several grassroots organisations that have their own verification processes. this post (also in the tag i linked above) lists the ones i know of currently. victoria of Pali.pals on instagram has also recently established a tumblr presence @/victoriawhimsey. she shares campaigns that she has vetted through mutual friends, contacts in gaza, video calls, etc. you can reach out to her if you have other questions about her process.

if a fundraiser has not yet been verified at all (this happens especially for new campaigns), some people may share it with a note about whether it seems provisionally legitimate. sometimes the person fundraising will link to their other social media accounts, which can help you determine whether they're likely legitimate. some people also try checking by reverse-image searching, although that's a very imperfect test (details on that in my tag above). for a full verification it's generally important that someone who (at the very least) speaks palestinian arabic, and/or is in gaza, is involved. however, this process takes time, and can be harder for people with more internet connectivity issues.

it's always a good idea to do due diligence when someone asks you for money, but to be clear, the vast majority of palestinian fundraisers i have seen on here have verification from the spreadsheet, other verification orgs, palestinian bloggers, or a combination of the above. at the very least, always check the notes of a fundraiser post or search the url; most of the time you will turn up verification info this way.

if you're not sure about someone's legitimacy, just move on and put your effort into other fundraisers.

[queenofthedisneyverse]

Technology from 1870-1899 (For Encanto fic writers)

So, A mutual of mine @miracles-and-butterfliess pointed out that everyone (including me) tends to forget that Encanto was literally made when the triplets were born. Which is literally 1900 or 1901. Regardless, it was the very beginning of the 19th century so let me tell you about the technology/things they would/wouldn’t have. (And please keep in mind that most of these may or may not have been imported into Colombia yet.) 

1870 - 1879

1872—A.M. Ward creates the first mail-order catalog. NO

1873—Joseph Glidden invented barbed wire. NO

1876—Alexander Graham Bell patents the telephone. NO

1876—Nicolaus August Otto invents the first practical four-stroke internal combustion engine. NO

1876—Melville Bissell patents the carpet sweeper. NO?

1878—Thomas Edison invents the cylinder phonograph (known then as the tin foil phonograph). MAYBE

1878—Eadweard Muybridge invents moving pictures. NO?

1878—Sir Joseph Wilson Swan invents the prototype for a practical electric lightbulb. YES? 

1879—Thomas Edison invented the first commercially viable incandescent electric light bulb. NO?

1880 - 1889

1880—The British Perforated Paper Company debuts toilet paper. YES

1880—English inventor John Milne creates the modern seismograph. NO

1881—David Houston patents camera film in roll format. NO?

1884—Lewis Edson Waterman invents the first practical fountain pen. YES

1884—L. A. Thompson built and opened the first roller coaster in the United States at a site on Coney Island, New York. NO

1884—James Ritty invents a functional mechanical cash register. YES?

1884—Charles Parson patents the steam turbine. NO

1885—Karl Benz invented the first practical automobile powered by an internal-combustion engine. NO (even before Encanto, Alma’s town looked rural so I doubt the automobile reached them yet.)

1885—Gottlieb Daimler invented the first gas-engine motorcycle. NO

1886—John Pemberton introduces Coca-Cola. NO

1886—Gottlieb Daimler designs and builds the world's first four-wheeled automobile. NO

1887—Heinrich Hertz invents radar. NO

1887—Emile Berliner invented the gramophone. YES

1887—F.E. Muller and Adolph Fick invented the first wearable contact lenses. NO

1888—Nikola Tesla invents the alternating current motor and transformer. NO

1890 - 1899

1891—Jesse W. Reno invents the escalator. NO

1892—Rudolf Diesel invents the diesel-fueled internal combustion engine, which he patents six years later. NO

1892—Sir James Dewar invents the Dewar vacuum flask. NO

1893—W.L. Judson invents the zipper. NO (zippers didn’t become popular globally until a little bit later; buttons, ribbons/laces and whatever else were still the norm/in fashion for fastening and tying (which is still the case in some places today)

1895—Brothers Auguste and Louis Lumière invent a portable motion-picture camera that doubles as a film-processing unit and projector. The invention is called the Cinematographe and using it, the Lumières project the motion picture for an audience. NO?

1899—J.S. Thurman patents the motor-driven vacuum cleaner. NO (if you're running from being killed, the last thing you're going to bring is a vacuum cleaner) 

I remember a post listing the sort of jobs there would be in Encanto but I forgot so I’ll just list the ones I know (let me know if I need to add anything.): 

Seamstress/tailor

Embellisher

Field worker 

Teacher (of any kind; music, dance, art, etc)

Woodworker - wood carver

Toy maker

Construction worker

Joining a Local band/ Orchestra - being apart of a choir 

Carpenter 

Metal worker 

Jeweler (though I’m not sure if Jewelery of the diamond/gem kind is common in Encanto)

bladesmith/ knifemaker 

Inventor? (Inventors should exist in Encanto by now…just one other genius besides Mirabel?)

I know some of these are very obvious but I’m just giving people options okay? 

@miracles-and-butterflies you seem to know a lot more about this kind of stuff so if you have anything to add/take away or me to fix please let me know. I tried to search up “When was X invention imported into Colombia” and literally nothing of use comes up. 

[ereawrites]

SHISUISHISUISHISUISHISUI CHOO-CHOO. I’m on the train for this man. 😩😩 I honestly don’t even know what to ask. I just—EVERYTHING SHISUI. I’m down bad and it’s RIDICULOUS. Just throw out some wild ass hc for this man. Idk. Maybe some post fight adrenaline hawt ass f*cking. 😭😭🥵

UNDER THE CUT FOR HORNY JAIL

I don't think a fight will get shisui going per se. after a battle he just wants to rest and recuperate. but sparring?! he's so into it

he probably lowkey treats training together as a kind of flirty foreplay, ESPECIALLY if they aren't together yet/haven't confessed their feelings to each other, but he knows there's a mutual attraction. it gets him so worked up to be close to them like that

that's not to say that he won't still give the sparring his all. because he will. shisui doesn't half-ass training, and he doesn't want them to either. he finds it really attractive to see them focused, and tbh if they're able to keep up with him or even beat his ass a little bit... he likes it a lot

let's say they're pretty evenly matched, so they've spent a while battling, and they've ended up resorting to good old-fashioned taijutsu now that they're exhausted. they're both sweaty and panting and end up grappling on the floor. shisui somehow manages to get the upper hand and pin them on their back

he's feeling pretty bold from the adrenaline and the physical contact, so he leans down to their ear to make some kind of quip. and honestly if he knows they're into him, and there's no one around, he kisses them. he can't help himself when they look kind of dishevelled, it gets to him

it's going to turn into a heated make-out session pretty quick. he also gets a boner embarrassingly fast lol. he accidentally starts grinding onto their thigh which has him kinda sheepish, but if they're just as into it as him, neither of them are really going to care. he just laughs it off and starts kissing their neck. and he BITES the neck too

okay as much as shisui lowkey gets off on public/risky sex - and he is really tempted to just fuck them right there - he's not insane. after a few minutes he's going to pull them over behind the treeline to continue. it's honestly pretty cute, how they kind of fumble their way over to the trees, still kissing and laughing

by this point, he's probably too into it to bother fully undressing them. he's going to move what clothing needs to be moved, pick them up under the thighs and press their back against the tree trunk, and go at it

manages to keep enough sense about him to bury his face into their neck to bury his moans. and WOW does this boy moan when he's in one of these moods. it's so good. towards the end, as he gets louder, he has to bite down on their shoulder to cover the sounds. they're going to be covered in marks whoops

fucks deep when he's like this. specifically likes to do the thing where he rolls his hips. his thrusts are kinda sloppy but in a good way

between the adrenaline of sparring and the risk of being caught, neither of them are going to last long. he definitely covers their mouth when they cum, but he wants them to keep eye contact with him during it. he might beg for it actually if he's really worked up

very chill afterwards. laughs and apologises for getting so feral. he does feel bad for not being a gentleman, especially if it's their first time together. he's not too embarrassed, it was a good fuck so he's happy lol. but he's definitely going to try to make sure that the next time is more special

[evadoupixii]

DRIVER'S ERA // CHAPTER 1

➸ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: (18+) Slow burn/ mentions of traumatic experiences and depression : Eventual smut* Mutual masturbation and mentions sexual as*ult //Fem!reader // Bad driving! Swearing: Toxic relationship dynamics: Phone s*x! Descriptions of alcohol abuse. Fluff! Mentions and descriptive scenes of blowjobs/handjobs at some point in the story idk. Set in the last year of high school (All characters are 18) : Art credits!!: Niharikajetty twitter 

➸ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: Splitting up this fic into parts because there’s so many ideas gong on in my head and i just wanted to put something out there in the meantime. All Tags seen above will be in upcoming chapters of the story! Thanks for reading! 

To put things into perspective you never passed your driver's test. In this current moment, as you sat in a bland white waiting room adorned with blue chairs and the occasional ring from a cellphone, you had a refurbished memory. Throughout the last three years of high school, you had made friends and one by one everyone in the group had either got a car, a license, a learner's permit or something equivalent to a drivers license. Skipping classes every other day to go get ice cream or go on a target run, with the occasional mid-day movie during your chemistry class. which for all your parents knew, you were in. 

Up until last week, you and your friend Sasha had been the only ones in the group without any sort of completed driver's education. That is until Sasha and the near-death experience she had with her instructor on the road,had somehow got a cool passing grade on her first road test. The group was elated and this in turn made you finally step up to do the thing that was long overdue.

As you scroll on your phone, you hear the ding and the woosh of the sliding automatic doors, as footsteps enter the building. You glance up and almost feel yourself wanting to blink two times more than you normally would at the sight in front of you. And you did just that, probably looking half-blind and a little bit crazy. 

Standing at the receptionist desk in the room was a tall 5’8 man with dark brown hair touching his shoulders,a slender build and dressed with a dark green t-shirt that hugged his lean chiseled muscles and black jeans. He scanned the room and locked eyes with you. Finally giving you a clear view of his dark green eyes. 

Where do I know you from? You thought as you quickly broke eye contact and looked back down at your phone. 

You heard a deep voice say something that sounded like a “Thank you” to the receptionist and heard footsteps coming toward you. Not looking up from your phone you watched the soles of his black vans move down the aisle you were sitting and sat at the end of the opposite aisle of yourself. You don't know why, but you noticed how your breathing became a little shallow as he was walking towards you. You brushed it off as being irritable, as you were still frustrated from the post-driving lesson that went worse than you expected. 

Taking a breath, you got up from your seat and walked down the aisle towards the receptionist's desk. You are being sought on scrolling on through your phone trying to avoid awkward eye contact with anyone. Even if you were the one who felt someone boring their eyes into your back as you greeted the receptionist. 

Having set up a date for your next driving lesson with the receptionist she had told you to wait a moment as she got up and moved to the printer beside her to print a confirmation of your next appointment. As the whirring of the printer filled the silence of the room you glanced over your shoulder to see the man with brown hair getting up and following a woman into a room. As he walked into the room first the women reached up to put a red slot down on the wall of the side of the door to indicate the room was occupied. Your eyes drifted to a sign on the side of the door labeled “Driving therapy”. 

Staring at your ceiling,the fairy lights that adorned your room still cast a yellowish mellow tone as it was only 6 in the morning and you wanted some alone time before the stress of the day came—today marked the second week of the beginning of your senior year. Track season was here and you had in no fucking way looked forward to weekly 4 am practices on the field. Getting up and making your bed, showering, and picking out clothes from your closet. A fresh face of makeup and you were ready. 

As a frank ocean song played from your speaker, you Looked in the mirror as you touched up your hair one last time. Appreciating the way you had physically evolved from freshmen year as you looked in the mirror at yourself. Maybe it was all the stress that uplifted from your shoulders knowing that in 6 months time, your life would start/.. The life YOU wanted.  your phone buzzed on the bathroom counter next to you. Grabbing it and sliding up to unlock it, you saw the group chat come to life with you and your friends from track. 

Everyone talking about how you were all telepathically connected because it seemed like every one of you woke up early, with the track flashbacks in mind. Sasha had texted something about how she genuinely thinks seeing her dirty-ass new balances in the corner of her room looming like a ghost gives her PTSD. 

 A good 10 minutes later, you were downstairs raiding the refrigerator, Just in time for you to hear a loud honk outside your home. You ran to your parents and gave them a kiss on each of their cheeks wishing them a good day. Their voices wishing you a good day at school, are cut off as you close your front door and rush to the passenger side of Sasha’s car. 

Before a word could come out of your mouth, Sasha leaned over to the passenger's side and wrapped her arms around your neck giving you a hug that seemed like it was meant for goodbyes. 

“What’s this about?” You said laughing nervously, patting her on the back. 

“I can’t miss my best friend?.” She said letting you go, pulling out of your driveway.  She rolled down the windows a bit to let the wind consume the car. Her auburn hair waving around her face. 

“How did your driving lesson go yesterday? With your slow ass.” She glanced at you with a smirk on her face. 

You scoffed and sighed. Leaning back into the passenger seat and looking out the window as the car passed the tower of pine trees on the side of the road. “ It was……good?. Let’s just say the instructors probably have never had to replace so many cones.” 

“Oh no that was definitely on the agenda after i took my test.” She says.

A moment of silence passed in the car before your eyes found each other and you both burst out laughing.  Before long you and Sasha were pulling up into the high school parking lot, finding a spot next to Annie and Historia. As Sasha pulled up you rolled down the window on the passenger side and waited for them to notice you. Annie was on the driver's side of her black jeep reapplying her lipgloss in the mirror. Historia was in the passenger side with her headphones in, scrolling on her phone. 

“These bitches.” Sasha said, pulling out her phone. 

You watched Historia roll her eyes as she looked at her phone and pulled down her headphones to rest on her shoulders, answering her phone. 

“Hello?” She said on the other side.

“ Look to your left please and thank you .” Sasha said, while gathering her backpack out of the backseat. “And let me catch you rolling your eyes at my notification again bitch!” 

You watched Historia look over to see you, a snide smirk enveloping her face. Sasha hung up the phone before the both of you could hear her witty comeback. Annie turned to you smiling and waving. You playfully looked around as if you were searching for the person she was waving at, as Sasha stuck her middle finger up to them from behind you. Annie smirked and mouthed “Let’s go”. 

The first couple of periods of the day went by smoothly. The four of you had the majority of your classes together except electives. Historia had taken music appreciation, Annie took art and Sasha was taking culinary Arts. 

Walking into the classroom designated for Plant science you scanned the room for familiar faces and smiled recognizing a familiar blond head in the back. 

Armin waved you over and greeted you as you sat down and exchanged stories about your summer. Of course, the stories of your friend group going to the lake and bumming around the mall didn't match up to Armin’s extravagant trips to Europe, but nevertheless, it had its meaning. 

You looked him over and noticed Armin’s features had gotten more sharp and he seemed to have more….body mass. You didn’t know how to put it but besides the trips, Armin had definitely spent some time in the gym. 

You noticed the slight blush come across his face as he noticed you staring. “I-I’m thinking about joining the football team this year…” 

 You turned to him mouth agape. “What made you want to join in so late?” 

He sheepishly smiled and started to play with the hem of his dark red long-sleeved shirt. “I just made it a goal for myself to get out and do something memorable when it comes to getting involved with the school. I-i mean we are about to graduate and all and I just feel like I haven't really done enough-” 

You turn to him and dramatically place both of your hands on both sides of his shoulders and look him dead in the eye. Your face inches from his.  “But you have Armin. You have done enough,” you said smiling. 

Besides Armin running for class president freshman year and being secretary of two of the most well-rounded clubs of the school. Placing second in the mathematics UIL competition and won a $50,000 scholarship for writing an essay about why Spider-Man was his role model. If anyone in this school was an inspiration to you it was Armin. Even if it wasn't conventional, if he wanted to do something then he would do it diligently. 

As you two continued to talk you watched the slew of students rush into the classroom as class was about to start, and that's when your heart did an unfamiliar flutter. Walking into the classroom was the man you had seen at your driver's lesson last night. Same tall and lean build, with black tattoos peeking out of his dark gray long-sleeved shirt that had rolled up to his elbows. Bundles of brown leather bracelets adorned both of his wrists. His hair was tucked into a bun, with strands of hair framing his face. Something you hadn't noticed when you had seen him last was the silver stud piercings that were placed on both sides of his nostrils. As he walked toward a seat on the opposite side of class from you he looked over the room and locked eyes with you. Again. 

“Do you know him?” Armin said next to you, as he watched you break eye contact with the boy. 

“No, I don't, he doesn't look familiar.” You said smiling sheepishly, looking down at your crossed arms on the desk. 

Armin looked at you with a puzzled look on his face as he looked over at the boy with dark green eyes that never took his eyes off you. The boy’s Jaw became tense as he slowly diverted his gaze from you over to the front of the classroom. Even from a distance, Armin could see the boy visibly become rigid as if he had just remembered something from looking at you.  

“I heard something about him moving here a couple of months ago from Jean,” Armin said reaching into his backpack and pulling out his laptop. “Apparently he played football at his old school, I don't know why he moved though.” 

The teacher had turned off the lights and turned on the projector to show the class a film about germination to which you were barely able to pay attention too. Throughout the entirety of class, you caught yourself stealing glances at the boy. The light bounced off from the projector in the back of the classroom illuminating his side profile. Your rational mind telling you that he looked like every other alt boy in the school, but in all honesty, knowing if he turned to you and mouthed “Come with me,  you would get out of your seat and be whenever he wanted you to be in a matter of seconds. The chorus of chairs scrapped across the floor as students got up and scurried out of class as it came to an end. You say your goodbye to Armin, pack up your things, and make your way out of the classroom looking everywhere but at who you wanted to.