#and it’s not that bad i actually don’t hate mopping

[lilgynt]

also L for the dub of my mom being nice about confirming i look okay and then forcing me to eat when i was putting it off ✊😔

[ode2rin]

1 | ANYONE BUT YOU .ೃ

summary. as lines get blurred, hearts get flustered, and a scheme ensues, your brother's best friend suddenly seems way more interesting than he used to be.

content/warnings. 5k+ wc (part 1/3) reader has little to no college friends | reader hates kaiser's guts | PROTECTIVE kaiser lol | | pet names (dollface) & a lot of profanity (it's kaiser) | minimal proofread

💭 masterlist | next part

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can go with you anymore.”

Your ears were ringing.

After the words hung over the line, a heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the dull thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The phone line seemed to distort, and the world beyond reduced to a distant murmur as a disorienting ringing filled your ears. Yet, despite the shock rippling through, you managed to maintain a facade.

“Ah, I see. It’s no problem. See you around!” Your chirped voice made you cringe internally, but it was a better front than sounding like a defeated kid whose mom said no over a piece of candy at a grocery store.

Before he could say anything else, you clicked the end button faster than he could spew some tacky excuse. Throwing your phone to the side, you settled onto your bed, lying on your back, staring at the uninteresting ceiling of your room.

Sure, it was no problem at all— the music festival was just six hours away, and your date had just canceled on you over the phone. It’s no big deal facing your college blockmates without a companion as initially planned, and it’s totally not a problem that you will most likely be a third– hell, a seventh wheel, actually, and have them talk behind your back – speculating about why you're going alone or if you were just making it up that you had someone to bring.

Yes, it’s not a fucking problem at all.

You don’t even like the artist lineup, anyway (maybe you’re mildly interested with one band that’s attending).  You wouldn’t bother if you weren’t just a sophomore still trying to find a group of friends you can call your own. It's embarrassing enough that freshmen even had it better than you. It’s not a race, for sure, but in college– the truth lies blatant that support systems help. A lesson you learned the hardest way.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Three soft knocks on your door and a muffled voice, surely coming from your older brother, interrupted your pity party.

“Yes. Come in,” you confirmed. The door creaked open, revealing a mop of magenta hair leaning over your door frame.

“There’s food downstairs. We ordered your favorite.”

“We?”

“Kaiser is downstairs.”

Of course, he is. 

Your brother’s best friend must have really taken it to heart when your mom told him he can treat your family as his own. Too deep into his heart, if you could comment. You see him around the house more than you see your parents, and if that wasn’t tiresome enough, he’s literally a damn superstar in your university. Every corner, every room, in halls and library, everyone can’t seem to be over his name like a broken record.

You wouldn’t be this annoyed, hostile even, if said man was just as nice as your brother. But instead, he was far by the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you’ve ever known. Alexis should have never kicked some ball with that conceited oaf a decade ago. Life would have been so much better. But no— reality is, the bane of your existence in the form of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, is in your house’s kitchen, probably gulping down your favorite drinks in the fridge. 

If you can’t seem to have friends, your older brother seems to be goddamn bad at picking his.

“Hey, dollface. Missed me?” Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.

The first thing you’re met with after coming down is a sight of Michael Kaiser, sitting high and comfortably on one of the counter’s bar stools. Your gaze trails down to his hand where you see a peek of his crown tattoo— and would you look at that? He’s holding a can of your Coke Zero.

“Oh, so that’s why my life was going sideways again,” you feigned a sigh in disappointment, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear, “because you’re back.”

In your unwanted years of knowing this guy, you’ve soon realized that none of your words, no matter how sharp or snarky they get, would ever faze him. Evidence would be how he just openly chuckled at your remark. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I missed you and your smart mouth, too. Don’t worry.”

“Trust me, worry is not in the list of emotions I would ever feel for you.”

“Well, does attraction make it to the list?”

Years ago, perhaps it would have. Not that he needs to know—no chance. Your silly childhood crush on him was your deepest, darkest mistake. You might be overdramatic, but this was Michael Kaiser, and god, you would rather get caught having feelings for anyone but him.

Rolling your eyes at him, you sneer, “You wish.”

“Oh, trust me, I do wish,” he mocks your tone.

“Fuck off.” 

“That won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,” he shrugs before winking at you. You shook your head in annoyance.

You took the seat across from him and settled. You were about to lean to reach the box of pizza at the other end of the countertop, when Kaiser reached for it first and placed it in front of you.

You turned to look at him, half expecting a smirk or yet another wink from the blonde, but instead, he was preoccupied browsing on his phone as if his body moved on its own to attend to you.

You shrugged off the weird occurrence and turned all attention to the pizza and its heavenly scent sipping through the gaps of its box, just in time for Alexis to take the seat next to his best friend. You drowned the noise of their conversation as they started talking about last away games.

Your brother and Kaiser had been the most valuable players of your university’s soccer team for as long as you’ve remembered. They were two years older, so by the time you entered university, they were already making big names in the field. Rumors had it that there were already offers lining up at their feet.

If you come to think of it, it wouldn’t be this hard making friends if you would just be vocal about being Alexis Ness’ younger sibling, but the limelight and pretentious popularity it came with was something you wouldn’t wish upon yourself. You wanted real and genuine friends, not people who wanted to be around you because it was a step closer to your brother and his best friend.

Like earlier, Alexis’ voice came reaching your eardrums, snapping you out of your thoughts. After hearing what he had to ask, though, you wished you had a way to physically block out his words.

“Are you not going to get ready for the festival?” your brother asked, meanwhile, his dear friend seemed to take great interest in what you’re about to say as both of them peered over you.

“Not going anymore,” you said, as nonchalant as you could to play pretend.

“Why? You’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.”

Heat crept into your ears and cheeks as embarrassment filled you. Sure, you might not be prancing around being all excited about it, but if your brother was able to notice it, your enthusiasm must have been evident then. God, you felt like an utter fool now.

“It got canceled,” you looked away from them.

Alexis looked at you with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? It’s not–”

“My date canceled on me. I’m not going anymore to save face and not make a fool out of myself. There, happy?” you snapped.

Before you could even feel the guilt from bursting out unprovoked to your brother, you swiftly got up from the stool heading back to your room, leaving the two of them in the kitchen looking concerned contrarily. One with worried eyes glancing at your room hesitantly, and the other one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

It seemed everyone was testing your patience today, as for the second time, your ears rang—not from a last-minute cancellation this time, but from the persistent sound of your ringing phone.

Your heavy eyes fluttered open, weighed down by the sleep from your ignoring-the-world nap after the exchange with your supposed date and your brother. Disoriented and groggy, you reached out, fingers fumbling to check the caller deserving of your unrelenting fury.

Kaiser, the screen read, and suddenly, the urge to throw your phone at the nearest wall almost overwhelmed your senses.

But you answered the call anyway, because logic says that he was still your brother’s closest, and sometimes, that warranted a call that might be about him.

“I swear to god this better be important–”

“Get ready,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“Look out your window.”

Groaning, you rose to your feet, moving your drapes aside to see what awaited outside.

Outside your house’s gates, a midnight blue sports car, all too familiar, was parked across the driveway. Its owner leaned lazily over its door, one hand in his pocket while the other held his phone pressed to his ear, looking right back at you with that shit-eating grin.

“What the hell are you on?” you muttered into the phone.

You instantly closed the drapes after meeting eyes with him.

It’s infuriating—He’s infuriating. But damn, does he look good when he smiles like that. And it’s not helping your case that he was clad in loose-fitting denim pants and a black shirt, sufficiently showcasing both his tattoo and his lean yet toned build.

It’s sorcery how he makes simple and ordinary clothing look like it was screaming high-end and luxury. Only he can do that, you admit.

“As I said, get ready,” he repeated over the phone, “We only have less than two hours before your music festival or something starts.”

He’s taking me to it? “Why?”

Only one word in response, yet the two of you understood what you’re pertaining to. Silence filled the line for a moment before you heard a subtle click of his tongue.

“Because you look ugly when you sulk,” and he hung up.

You should be irritated at him hanging up abruptly and calling you ugly, but for some reason you don’t know, it puts a smile on your face. 

The first one today.

Kaiser wishes he had a bigger car— which one would deem ridiculous, given that his car could easily match the price of two or even three minivans.

But if it meant having you sit not so close that your scent infiltrates his senses beyond his sound judgment, he’d gladly trade his lambo for a minivan any day.

You were intoxicating— not akin to the grip of liquor, because it would be inadequate in comparison. But rather intoxicating in the same way as the irresistible magnetism that beckons a madman to its vices.

And he must be really mad because you weren’t even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to him. You’re sitting comfortably at the passenger seat, a good distance in between, and yet he acts like a raging teenager who got locked up with his crush in the utility room. It is absolutely embarrassing, even for someone like him.

“Did Alexis ask you to do this?” you suddenly inquired, your gaze fixed on your side of the car.

Thank heavens you broke the silence first, because who knows what ungodly phrases he would come up with in an attempt of small talk with you?

“No. Though I bet he would have taken you himself,” he snorted, of course your brother would, “If our coach weren’t so pissed at him these days.”

Ah, so that explained why you hadn't seen Alexis around the house before hopping into Kaiser's car.

Momentarily, you turned to him. It was so swift that he might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper aware of your every move in this damn confined space. “Is he in trouble?” you inquired to the blonde, your voice concerned and hesitant.

“Nothing you have to worry about, doll.”

“Stop with the nicknames,” you hissed, attempting to intimidate. 

Unfazed, he countered with a cheeky “Make me,” under his breath. His smirk practically audible, even without you glancing his way.

Silence overtook between the two of you once more. You fixated on the road ahead, noting the nearing destination as the glow of the festival stage lights peeked into view.

It’s your chance— your chance to release the words that have lingered at the edge of your tongue since he urged you to get ready almost an hour ago. You stole a glance at the man driving beside you. His eyes focused on the road, his left hand steady on the steering wheel while his timepiece-adorned hand rested comfortably on the gearshift. In another frame of mind, you might have found yourself lost in the rhythm of his long, slender fingers tapping against it. You snapped out of it before he could point it out.

You stole one last glance before turning away to whisper, “Thank you… Kaiser.”

Instead of saying welcome like a polite person would, your companion would of course, choose to say something as, “You owe me something now.”

Of course, you thought. Mentally rolling your eyes, you ask, resigning to his antics, “What do you want?” 

“Call me by my name.”

“Did you not hear? I said, thank you Kai–”

“The one you used to call me.”

Mikka.

It was a silly nickname you gave him– back when Alexis first brought him home for snacks nearly ten years ago. He and Alexis were eleven, and you were barely nine.

You remembered the blonde kid, all sweaty in his mud-stained clothes, clutching a worn-out ball by his hip, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity. “This is Kaiser,” your brother introduced, but the blonde stranger approached you, extending his hand.

“I’m Michael.”

“That’s… long.”

“What?”

“Your name– it’s long,” you echoed, looking up at him, “can I call you ‘Mikka’?”

“What?” Kaiser’s deep voice sliced through your reminiscence. “You had no problem calling me that before,” he pointed out.

“That’s before you beat up the boy you knew I like,” you scoffed at him, a familiar pettiness clouding your mind.

He chuckled at your retort, seemingly lost in his own memories. “Beat him up on the soccer field, you mean,” he corrected, though he wouldn’t particularly mind if it were an actual fight.

“Same thing.”

“Oh, come on! It was highschool!”

“Your point?” you countered.

“He was a snotface, anyway.” he rationalized.

“He was nice to me!”

“I suggest you rather get a dog instead— if nice is all you need. I heard dogs are fun to be around,” he sneered, “What do you think of pomeranians?”

You brushed off his question, preferring the depths of silence over the hypothetical responsibility of tending to a pup that bore more than a passing resemblance to him, both in appearance and, perhaps, in demeanor.

“I knew agreeing to come here with you was a mistake,” you sighed, exasperation lacing your words.

Surprisingly, Kaiser offered no retort. Taking his silence as a cue for your own, you settled into quietness, hoping for a peaceful remainder of the drive. Minutes drifted by until Kaiser broke the stillness with a whisper loud enough for you to catch.

“He was a slimy jerk,” he began, pausing as if hinting his careful choice of words, “and he was nice to you because he was trying to get into your pants.”

“How did you know?” you asked, meek and shy, fumbling with your fingers in your lap.  Seeking love advice and opinions from none other than the mighty Kaiser seemed absurd, but maybe, wisdom might sometimes fare well with age.

“Trust me when I say I know how boys can be,” he scoffed, a displeased furrow settling in his brows. “He wasn't the gentleman you thought he was.”

“And you? Are you a gentleman?”

Before you could stop your thoughts from escaping your rebellious mouth, the words spilled out like water through a breached dam. The lack of response from him compelled you to chew on your lip and fix your gaze on the road, refusing to spare even a glance his way, despite feeling his stare burning into the side of your face.

Meanwhile, Kaiser was aware he might be staring too long at your side for someone controlling a vehicle, but he couldn't help it. Not when you caught him off guard with a simple question, and especially not when you were trying so hard to avoid looking at him, your discomfort palpable in the air. You looked so cute—it made his mouth twitch.

Staring ahead at the road, he contemplated your question, needing no more than a minute to reach his conclusion.

When a man looks at his best friend's younger sibling in a way he shouldn’t, he’s not deserving of the title “gentleman.”

He was far from it, he concluded. With one last glance thrown your way before bringing the car to a full stop, he muttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

“Especially not one, doll.”

“Y/N! Over here!” a familiar voice cut through the cacophony, prompting you to scan the crowd until you finally spotted them.

Relief flooded over you at the sight of a familiar face amidst the crowd. Checking your phone had proven to be a wise decision; otherwise, you might have spent the night searching aimlessly through the vast expanse of the venue.

The venue stretched out before you was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that danced upon the senses. Laughter and chatter mingled with applause and the occasional roar of approval as performers graced the stage. 

Everywhere you looked there was movement and so much life. Yet amidst the bustling crowd and pulsating music, one figure occupied your thoughts more than anything else.

Kaiser's towering 6-foot frame loomed behind you, his broad shoulders carving a path of confidence through the crowd. He stood behind you like an immovable rock amidst a rushing river. And if your senses weren't deceiving you, you swore you felt the occasional brush of his hand against the small of your back, gently guiding you forward.

He was so close behind you that his breath on your nape soaked into your skin like ointment— warm to the touch, yet icy on your spine.

“Where's your date?” one of your blockmates inquired after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.

The question lingered, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. Mentally counting heads, you realized you were really on track to be the seventh wheel if you attended without a companion. Speaking of companions— you turned behind you with the intention of introducing Kaiser (not that they didn’t know him already), but your intention faltered when you noticed the scowl on his face.

“I’m the date, if you couldn’t tell,” he interjected. 

From his vantage point, he observed the widening of your eyes at his declaration. Yet, when he didn’t hear any immediate retaliation from you, he flashed you— and everyone else watching— a lopsided smirk. He sensed your blockmates’ curiosity lingering, some perhaps wondering if he was truly dating you. But none of them dared to probe further—maybe because he wasn't exactly the approachable type.

After a few murmurs of ‘oh’ and ‘really’ from your blockmates, they returned their attention to the stage, where the next performer was beginning their pre-performance monologue.

You, on the other hand, look like you were out for his blood from how you’re glaring at him. “Are you out of your mind?” you hissed under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Yes. Perhaps he was. Irrationality had seized him upon hearing the question. After all, he was there with you, visible for all to see. Did they not see him? Did he look like a fucking chair to those people? Common sense must be a luxury these days, given its absence in this situation.

Yet, a small voice of reason within him attempted to intervene, suggesting that the question might have stemmed from genuine curiosity.

As his best friend's younger sibling, seeing the two of you together wasn't an unusual occurrence for those who attend the same university. They likely concluded that your presence with him at the music festival was simply a matter of normal friendship (which it was, but they don’t have to know that, nor does he desire for these extras to reduce it to just that).

“I’m helping you save face like you said earlier,” he tells you, still wearing that annoying smirk.

“How does telling them you’re my date help me save face?” If anything, you'd be hiding on campus after his stunt. You could only hope words won’t travel fast.

“Would you rather I tell them I'm chaperoning you because some jerk canceled on you?”

Your words stalled at the base of your throat, unable to counter his remark. That shut you up, much to your chagrin. He was right.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he quipped, grinning at your silence. “Come closer, there’s a lot of people.”

You huffed in irritation and decided to ignore him behind you, determined to make the most of your experience here. You’d let this slide for now. After all, he was here because of you.

But it wasn’t too long before you realized that ignoring him would be as futile as trying to pluck roses without being pricked by the thorns. You knew very well that this man thrives in getting under people’s skin.

“You should be flattered.”

Genuinely appalled, you ask, “I’m sorry?”

“Accepted.”

If it wasn’t night time and the blaring lights were replaced by the sun, he could have seen the twitch that your eye did at his retort.

At this point, murder is a tempting option. Sure, he’s taller and much bigger in physique terms, but you have the rage for it. Just one more insufferable antic—one more word— from this man and the whole university will be mourning their star player’s demise first thing tomorrow morning. 

You took a deep breath to calm your murderous nerves, “Is that so? What part of telling people— oh wait, our schoolmates who are probably whispering behind our backs— that you’re my date, is flattering to you?”

The asshole had the audacity to shrug, “Calling me yours was.”

“Well then, you should be flattered. Not me.”

“You don’t know how flattered I am to be yours,” he mused.

If you didn’t know any better, his attempt at flirting might have sent warmth to your cheeks. But this was Kaiser— no one can tell when he’s being serious or just being his usual menace self talking shit like he’s employed to do so. Good thing you had better plans than spend it on his guessing games.

Just when you’re about to berate him once more, words halted on your throat because of a sight you least expected to see.

Han— the guy you’ve been talking to for almost a month now. The same guy who was your supposed date, to be more specific.

“What? Cat got your tongue, doll?”

If cats come in the form of a familiar man who’s a few good meters away, clearly having the time of his life dancing with someone, and clearly showing no signs of unavailability to go to a music festival he asked you to, then yes, it got your tongue.

You stayed silent far too long for Kaiser’s patience. Your lack of snarky clapbacks were starting to unsettle him more than he would allow. Shifting closer to you, he followed your line of sight to see what got you stunned in silence.

Recognizing what, or rather who, got your attention, he turns to you, his voice coming out too indignant, “Do you know that guy?”

“Do you?” you counter, picking up on his tone being all too casual as if they’re acquainted. 

“He’s last week’s opposing team’s goalkeeper,” or was it ‘striker’? He couldn’t recall, so he’s more or less incompetent to him. One thing he remembers, however, “and he hates me.”

You threw him a glance, “Not surprised.”

“And do I give a fuck,” he shook his head, “Why do you keep looking at him?” Don’t fucking tell me.

Your answer wasn’t any better to what he was starting to imagine, “He was… supposed to be my date to this music festival,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

You didn’t want to see the look on Kaiser’s face, fearing you might see pity, and so you nailed your gaze to the ground. Totally oblivious of the man peering over you rather softly.

“Why can’t he then?” he asks, voice an octave lower.

“He said they had late notice training, so he can’t come.” 

“Well, that better be his fucking ghost yapping with a brunette then,” he scoffs, looking straight to the lying man who canceled on you.

Sick of his face and sloppy dance moves, Kaiser turned his gaze back at you, only to be filled with rage because of it.

You look sad— and it made his blood boil. Not towards you, but for you.

“Y’know what? Let’s go there,” he urged, head pointing at where Han was.

Is he fucking crazy? You immediately shook your head at his scandalous suggestion. You might be feeling a little betrayed and angry, but rationality still had its hold on you— and it’s saying to not let Kaiser go with his idea. 

Instead, you tug on his forearm, eyes still on the floor before looking up at him, “Can we leave, please?” 

Kaiser was taken aback by your sudden meekness. He wasn’t used to this— to you, being all deflated and zoned out. He was used to your deadpan expressions and your eyes that seem to roll every time he utters a single word. He was used to you being, dare he say, feisty. 

And he would rather have you stay like that all day long, even when he’s the receiving end of it.

But this? You, saying please to him, of all people? He doesn’t like it. 

If this is how he gets to make you say please, then he doesn’t want it. Fuck that, and fuck that guy. How dare he.

Kaiser didn’t say anything back at your request, but you felt big calloused hands grasp on your hand still resting on his forearm. The next thing you knew, you were walking with him, shoulder-to-shoulder while his other hand was on yours guiding you to walk out of the scene.

“If I see one—just one drop of tear, I swear I am turning this damn car around.” 

Your thoughts abruptly halted at the sound of Kaiser’s threat—his ultimatum, rather. It sounded more like a promise than a threat, and you knew this man well enough to understand that he never ate his words.

You shot him a glance and snickered. There was no way in high hell you’d ever cry in the same space where he was. It was the last thing you’d ever do, even if it meant convincing yourself that what you saw earlier was just a mere look-alike of Han.

“It's nothing. We aren’t even a thing,” you dismissed, your voice flat.

“But you thought you could be,” he countered, and damn if he wasn't right. “How do you even know him?”

“We're kind of talking, well, sort of—”

“Kind of? Sort of?” he scoffed.

“God—it's like a talking stage or something casual, Kaiser! There, got it?”

“That's not exclusive,” he remarked, adding insult to injury.

Irritation bubbled in your throat as his interrogation continued. But even before you could unleash your venom, you caught yourself. He was right. And while this man had never brought you good, it wasn't fair to make him the target of your bad.

“Yeah, it's not,” you admitted, a dry, humorless laugh escaping you. You recalled the brunette he danced with earlier. “I wasn't exclusive material for his reputation, I guess.”

What reputation? “That’s bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, his hand itching towards the steering wheel, clearly tempted to turn back to the festival.

“You said it yourself, he’s an athlete,” you pointed out, “You people never like to go exclusive with someone.”

“You people? Oh, please. Do not insult me by comparing me to the likes of him.”

The sass in his voice drew a chuckle from you. It was amusing how he said it with genuine horror, as if the mere idea of being associated with Han was an insult. “Why? Are you telling me you can commit to someone exclusively?”

“Someone like who? You?” He met your gaze briefly, “Absolutely.”

What the hell. “Stop messing around,” you snorted, effectively ending the conversation.

He was playing a dangerous game, saying that to you. Did he even realize what it did? Did he hear your stupid heart hammering in your chest? It was too loud, too obvious, a frantic drum solo against your ribs. 

And the realization settled— he made your heart flutter. 

His words, so simple, so casually tossed out, had landed like a bomb, sending shrapnel through your carefully constructed walls.

Michael Kaiser, of all people, made your heart flutter.

Suddenly, the air felt thin, the car an echo chamber amplifying the frantic rhythm of your traitorous heart. You knew you should scoff, dismiss it as another one of his infuriating jabs, but the truth was like a hot coal lodged in your throat.

“I’m not though,” he countered, eyes steady on the familiar road ahead. He sounded serious– too serious. 

As you were about to retort back, the car lurched to a stop, announcing your arrival. You glanced out the window, the familiar sight of your house doing little to ease the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach.

“We’re here,” Kaiser announced, his voice a low rumble.

Hurried and flustered by the unexpected shift in the conversation, your clammy hands fumbled with the buckle, the metal cold and unyielding against your sweaty palms. You tugged, then tugged again, frustration building with each failed attempt.

“Easy, doll.” 

Before you could protest, a large hand swooped in, effortlessly unlatching the buckle with a practiced flick. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. You met his gaze, his eyes a blazing blue as he held your stare for a beat too long before turning away.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. You reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping out onto the familiar pavement. Before slamming the door shut, you paused, turning back to Kaiser with a newfound resolve.

Crouching down to meet his gaze, you surprised yourself with the words that tumbled out. “Be careful on your way home and,” you paused, “Thank you... Mikka.”

The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, leaving a blush blooming across your cheeks.

Before Kaiser could react, you slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street. 

Mikka. He repeats your words in his mind.

He watched you disappear into your house, a slow grin spreading across his face. Only when you were safely inside did he start the car, the image of your flustered face lingering in his mind.

Damn it, doll.

Meanwhile, you hurried to your room, clutching your chest where your heart still hammered a frantic rhythm.

Why did I call him that? you asked yourself.

The use of his nickname, a name you rarely uttered now, was a stark reminder that the two of you weren’t as close as you were younger.

It’s not a big deal, you tried to reason with yourself. He literally said you owed it to him, and calling it quits would be in the form of a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean anything. Right— you were just returning a favor.

Your obvious self-deception was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone, tossed carelessly on the bed. Picking up your phone, you opened one of the notifications, your breath catching in your throat.

It was a post on your university's gossip page, and there, plastered on the screen, was a picture of you and Kaiser. 

The image froze a moment in time, capturing him standing protectively behind you, his arms caging you against a barricade. Panic clawed at your throat. This picture, out in the open, could be misconstrued in so many ways. 

What were people going to think? Who took this photo, anyway?

Your eyes darted down the comment section, scrolling through a sea of unimaginable speculations, desperately searching for clues about the culprit.

Just then, a knock on the door startled you.

“Y/N? Can I talk to you?”

It was your brother— and his voice suggested he needed answers too.

Shit.

note. first mini series lmao xD will add cw as i go!

[captain-hawks]

till one of us caves

atsumu miya x f!reader

In which Osamu asks his brother to keep you company while you're closing the shop alone one night. And it wouldn't be an issue...if Atsumu wasn't the bane of your goddamn existence ever since your stupid drunken hookup years ago.

wc: 3.7k

c: 18+, smut, enemies to lovers speed run, the complete and utter defilement of onigiri miya (sorry osamu), miscommunication, fingering, unprotected p in v, atsumu is down so bad and also he's an idiot, protective!atsumu, miya twin banter, best friend!osamu

“Absolutely not.”

Osamu pauses in the middle of counting cash at the register and glances up to follow where your narrowed gaze is focused—a head of blonde hair on its way through the front doors of Onigiri Miya. 

“I didn’t want ya closin’ alone,” Osamu replies, returning his attention to the stack of bills in his hand. 

“Hey dickhead, I hope yer feedin’ me for this!”

Instant headache. 

Instant fucking headache. 

You let out a long-suffering, exaggerated sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re only leaving an hour early. I can handle this alone, Osamu. I promise.”

Osamu closes the register, turning around to look at you with his arms crossed. “It’s a Saturday night. I don’t like you dealin’ with the drunk stragglers by yourself.”

Glancing around, you pick up the only vaguely threatening object within arm’s length—a plastic spork. “I know self defense.”

Raising an eyebrow, Osamu glances from your face to the small utensil clutched between your fingers. “Wouldn’t be the first time Tsumu’s been stabbed with a spork,” he mutters. 

“Fooooooooooood,” said twin dramatically whines, plastering himself across the counter like a fainting Victorian maiden. 

“Get yer sweaty ass offa there,” Osamu grunts, snapping a rag against Atsumu’s arm. 

He yelps, muttering something under his breath before finding a normal sitting position on the stool. 

“Alright, now get outta here so you’re not late for your date,” Atsumu chides, running a hand through his hair. 

It’s obnoxious, actually—the way he still manages to look infuriatingly attractive even with his sweaty bleach-blonde hair sticking up in every direction, his face still flushed and voice a little hoarse from practice. At the very least, he had the decency to toss on a clean black tee with MSBY emblazoned in large gold letters across the back. 

You hate Atsumu Miya and his stupidly perfect face. 

And his calves—who the fuck has calves that nice. 

You also hate Osamu, your best friend and boss, for unceremoniously dumping your least favorite Miya into your lap at 8 o’clock on a Saturday night. 

“It’s not a date,” Osamu yells from the office, walking out with a jacket slung over his shoulder.

“Looks like ya showered for once today, dirtbag,” Atsumu shoots back, mouth full of rice. “Sounds like a date to me.”

“Choke,” Osamu deadpans as he heads for the door, “…but not in here. Don’t have time for all that paperwork.”

Atsumu salutes his brother as you stand in the middle of the shop with your hands wrapped around the broom. 

“Can’t promise what kind of paperwork you’re gonna have to do after leaving us alone together,” you mutter. 

Osamu leans in, patting the side of your face. “Just promise me you’ll mop up the blood.”

—

You’ve known the Miya twins for years now, though it was Osamu that you first became friends with after a shared class in your second year of university. 

Atsumu was more like the miserable cold that you accidentally bring home from vacation. 

The miserable cold who you’re instantly, stupidly attracted to from the moment his brother introduces him to you. Who you end up drunkenly making out with in bed after a party one night. 

Who passes out midway through and disappears before you’re awake the next morning.  

Who had a fucking girlfriend at the time, unbeknownst to you. Knowledge courtesy of Osamu, who nearly undeservingly took a textbook to the head when he told you. 

Who, to this day, three years later, has never even acknowledged that it happened. 

It wouldn’t have been so bad if you hadn’t been harboring a stupid crush on him for months. And if perhaps you’d been a little more drunk, enough to forget the taste of his lips, the press of his fingertips into your hips. But naturally, that little hiccup drove an irrevocable wedge between the two of you, leading you to regard the blonde Miya in a perpetually antagonistic manner until the end of time. 

Such is life.

“I think you might rile ‘im up better than even I can nowadays,” Osamu had observed once, after Atsumu balked in aggravation when you returned from picking up everyone’s fast food orders and handed him a kid’s meal instead. 

Atsumu, never one to back down from a challenge, met your piss poor attitude in spades, going so far as to barge in on your dates on occasion, plopping right down at the table and obnoxiously stuffing whatever appetizer was in front of him into his mouth like you’d invited him. 

—

Surprisingly, despite the restaurant’s minimal square footage, the two of you manage to avoid one another for the next forty-five minutes—Atsumu quietly sits at a table watching game replays on his phone while you wipe down the counters. 

You almost forget he’s there, until the bell above the door dings to announce what’ll probably be the last customer of the night. 

And—fuck. 

Osamu kicked this guy out last week when he wouldn’t take no for an answer after you refused to give him your number. 

“Hey pretty girl,” a tipsy voice slurs as the man settles down at the counter. 

“Sorry, we’re about to close,” you tell him, not looking up from the pile of receipts you’re sorting on the other side. 

“S’not why I’m here,” he chuckles. 

Take a hint, buddy. 

“We’re closing soon,” you repeat firmly. 

A hand grasps your wrist, and you yelp as he murmurs, “What’re you doing after this?”

“Get your fuckin’ hands off of her, and get the fuck out,” a cold voice interrupts. 

A hand clamps down firmly on the man’s shoulder, and you watch the pain flit across his face as fingertips dig into his collarbone. 

“Now,” Atsumu adds, his voice so harsh it brokers no room for argument. 

You may call yourself an expert in Miya antagonization. But as you look at Atsumu’s stormy, furious expression, the tense set of his jaw, you realize that you’ve never seen him truly angry. 

Not like this. 

The man quickly gets up from the stool, putting his hands up in front of him as he stumbles backward and says, “I didn’t mean anything by it, man.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Atsumu replies, his voice low. “I’m sure my brother was a real nice guy when he told ya to leave last time. I ain’t nice. Don’t fuckin’ come back here.”

The silence is deafening when the front door swings shut, broken only by the sound of Atsumu twisting the lock into place and flipping the sign to CLOSED. Your heart, meanwhile, is frantically pounding in your chest. 

Atsumu wasn’t even here when that happened last week, which means Osamu must have told him for whatever reason, and…

“You alright?”

Atsumu interrupts you from your thoughts, and you glance up to find a disarmingly concerned expression burrowed into his features. 

“Yeah…thanks,” you exhale, quickly turning around to busy yourself with anything but staring at the downward curve of his lips. 

You have all of ten seconds to yourself before Atsumu comes to stand beside you behind the counter, idly tidying a pile of napkins as he explains, “Samu was worried that creep might come back, so he was gonna cancel his plans tonight so you wouldn’t be alone if he did. I told him I’d come make sure ya were alright.”

You’re not sure why, but suddenly, you’re angry. 

You’re really fucking angry.

Maybe it’s because you’re a little raw in the wake of the adrenaline rush from that uncomfortable encounter, a little shaken by the stranger’s boldness and the way Atsumu stepped in without a second thought.   

Maybe you swear it looked like Atsumu was about to reach out to you afterward, his hand falling back to his side in an aborted gesture between one breath and the next. 

“Since when do you care if I’m alright, Atsumu?”

Atsumu startles beside you. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you led me on years ago and nearly fucked me at a party—you probably would have, if you didn’t pass out in my bed halfway through taking off your pants. You disappeared the next morning, failed to inform me that you had a girlfriend, and then conveniently acted like it never fucking happened.”

He stares at you, mouth slightly agape. “I’m sorry, I what now?”

You turn to face him fully, crossing your arms, an incredulous look on your face. “You’re joking, right?”

“Was that…oh….” Atsumu scratches the back of his head, trailing off. “That’s the night I blacked out.”

“I mean yeah, you were kind of trashed.”

“No, like that’s the night that made me realize I had to cut back on drinking. I’ve got no memory of what happened. Zero. Haven’t drank that much since.”

“So was it not concerning that you woke up in my bed?” you ask, brows furrowed. 

“I hardly knew ya back then. Didn’t even know that was your dorm room, and you were hoggin’ all the covers. Couldn’t even see yer face before I panicked and crawled my hungover, half-dead ass back to me and Samu’s.”

Well, this is certainly news to you. 

“…and Osamu never told you.”

Well, why would he, after you spent two hours bitching to him about it and then threatened to never speak to him again if he made the situation even more embarrassing by telling Atsumu you were upset. 

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p for emphasis before sobering a bit as he says in a more serious tone, “I’m sorry. For doing that to you, and for forgetting that it happened.”

You reach out, punching Atsumu in the shoulder. 

“The fuck was that for?” he exclaims. 

“So why have you been such an insufferable jackass all these years?”

Atsumu raises his eyebrows, looking affronted. “You haven’t exactly been a ray of sunshine either, sweetheart.”

Well, true. 

But still. 

(You try to ignore what the stupid pet name does to your heart, which is currently in the midst of a traitorous backflip inside of your chest.)

“At least I didn’t barge in and ruin your dates for no reason,” you glare. 

“That was like, twice,” Atsumu defends himself. “Maybe three times.”

You stare at him. 

“The fourth time doesn’t count, that guy was a dickhead. Samu wanted to punch ‘im, too.”

“You ate an entire basket of breadsticks.”

Atsumu shrugs, taking a step closer to you. “They’re bottomless for a reason.”

You’re not sure when it happened, but you’re pressed up against the prep counter in the back of the shop, and one of Atsumu’s hands is resting on the cool metal surface beside your hip. Not quite touching you, but you swear you can feel the heat of him all the same. 

“You ruined my dates for breadsticks?” you ask quietly, holding his gaze. 

Atsumu’s thumb twitches, and you feel the featherlight touch through your jeans. “I ruined your dates because I was jealous.”

Blood rushes in your ears, your mind struggling to comprehend the rush of emotion flooding through you. Embarrassment, elation, shock, annoyance—and something else, something with a darker, richer edge. 

Something that has the next words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them, “Did you think doing that was going to make me take you home and fuck you instead?”

Atsumu has the decency to flush, but he only further closes the gap between your bodies, his nose brushing against yours as he replies, “I hated how much you hated me. And I hated how much I still wanted you.”

“You’re an idiot, Miya.”

He laughs. 

He laughs, and it’s a low, rich sound that dances down your spine and curls up low in your belly.

“Yeah, yer probably right,” he exhales, his breath hot against your lips. “I should probably find another tactic.”

“I’ve heard drunken hookups work wonders,” you sigh, voice tinged with sarcasm. 

His free hand comes to rest on your other side, effectively caging you in. “I’d have to be a fuckin’ idiot to fumble the bag with you twice.”

“Who said I’m still interested?” you reply, putting an inch of space back between your mouths, if only for the sake of your own sanity. 

Atsumu hums. “I do have eyes, ya know.”

You don’t miss a beat, “Maybe I’m secretly dating your brother, and I just objectively like the look of your face, as his twin. Like a natural, biological reaction.”

“Yer not datin’ Samu,” Atsumu replies evenly. “He couldn’t handle ya.”

You glare at him. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Atsumu smirks at your indignation. “You’re outta his league.”

“And what exactly is my league?”

“Some stupid, sweaty pro volleyball player whose got it pretty damn bad for ya, who would settle for a hate fuck at this point if that’s all ya wanna give him.”

You know Atsumu clocks the way your breath hitches in your throat, the slight widening of your pupils that you can’t disguise at the bald, shameless truth of his words.  

The look on his face is so ridiculously endearing, you want to kiss it right off. 

Pushing yourself upward with your palms, you sit up on the counter, and Atsumu shifts forward to stand between your legs.

“Osamu would kill us.”

His nose caresses yours again, and he rests one hand on the side of your face. “For doing something other than fightin’? He’d throw a party.”

“For turning Onigiri Miya into a house of ill repute.”

Atsumu chokes.

“But there’s just one little thing, Atsumu,” you continue. 

“What’s that?” he asks carefully, each word a huff of warm air dancing across your mouth. 

You exhale, shuddering at the feeling of Atsumu’s other hand idly tracing the exposed sliver of skin between your t-shirt and jeans. “Can you handle me?”

Atsumu’s thumb skirts across the bottom of your chin before he leans in, mouthing his next words against your lips, “Have I ever told you how hot it is when you’re mean to me?”

Your answering laugh is swallowed by a kiss, an all-consuming kiss that has you gasping into Atsumu’s mouth as he licks his way into yours. 

There’s no preamble for the way Atsumu’s tongue dances across your own, the thorough way he tastes you—the groan that rumbles in his throat as you take his bottom lip between your teeth.

Kissing Atsumu Miya is like setting a wildfire loose in your chest, all the oxygen swallowed up by his greedy, hungry heat. Your nerves thrum, the vibration rattling to the tips of your toes, and you’re helpless to resist the urge to pull him closer.

The second one of your legs begins to hike up around Atsumu’s waist, he grabs both, urging you to wrap your thighs around him, and he groans into your mouth as you find yourself flush with the solid proof of his arousal.

“Ya have no fuckin’ clue how bad I’ve wanted you,” he murmurs, drawing a keening noise from your lips as he hotly mouths his way down the side of your neck.

On the court, Atsumu Miya is an indomitable force. He’s unwaveringly confident and effortlessly sure of himself as a setter, always in control.

The crowd falls quiet, the ball follows his trajectory.

It’s a practiced dance, and he’s the conductor.

But here, pressed up against the counter in his brother’s restaurant, with your fingers tangled in his hair and his warm, soft hands sliding up beneath your shirt to clutch your waist, there’s a lawless, frantic edge to him. For every precise, focused move—like a kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear that he somehow just knows will make you gasp, and the dizzying way he cups the back of your head when he kisses you deeper—you can feel the wild, barely-restrained desire in the unfiltered chorus of groans you’re not even sure he’s aware are falling past his lips.

It’s slipping—his control.

And you don’t want him to stop.

“Atsumu,” you whine into his mouth when he finally, finally slides a hand up under your bra, cupping your breast and teasing at your sensitive, pebbled nipple.

“Yeah?” he pants, kissing his way around the curve of your jaw, only pausing to help you in your endeavor to take off your shirt.

He wastes no time in unclipping your bra, his deft fingers making quick work of the clip, and his expression is nothing short of lustful reverence when he takes in the sight of your naked breasts before him.

“Fuck,” he murmurs quietly, taking a breast in each of his palms while he leans in to press a kiss to your sternum, and whatever you were going to say promptly exits your mind a beat later. Wet, hot heat engulfs your nipple, and you glance down, nearly choking on your own spit at the sight of Atsumu sucking on your breasts.

Rocking your hips into him, you let out a breathy whine at the feeling of his hard cock pressing into your cunt, the fabric of his athletic shorts doing nothing to hide his thick, throbbing insistence. 

Atsumu moans against your tits, and the filthy, wet sound of him shamelessly lapping at them sends a fresh gush of arousal between your legs, your underwear now soaked with it. You reach between your bodies, doing your needy cunt no favors at all when you feel just how thick Atsumu is as you wrap your fingers around him.

“God, I’m gonna fuckin’ come if you keep doing that,” he lets out a low, ragged sound caught somewhere between a moan and a laugh.

“I’d rather you come somewhere else,” you tell him, pulling down his shorts and boxers to let his flushed, leaking shaft spring free.

Atsumu takes your face in both hands, kissing you hard and filthy as he unbuttons your pants, sliding them off along with your underwear and leaving both in a forgotten heap on the floor. And when you wrap your legs back around him and rub your slick folds down the length of his cock, you’re already dangerously close to coming from that alone, too. 

He slides a finger into you, muttering a string of expletives under his breath when he feels the sopping squelch of how wet you already are for him. One digit soon becomes two pumping in and out of you, and while it’s still not enough to quell the greedy desperation he’s ignited, he’s barely begun rubbing circles into your aching clit when you’re already shaking in his arms and moaning in the throes of your climax. 

And then he’s stroking himself, groaning softly, like he thinks this is what he has to do now to take care of his throbbing cock. 

Like you’re satisfied already, as if you’ve somehow had your fill of him.

As if two fingers between your legs would ever be enough to encapsulate all that you want of Atsumu fucking Miya. 

(And really, it’s a lot, quite frankly. Now that you’re finally ready to admit it to yourself.)

“Fuck me, Atsumu,” you plead.

He pauses, chest heaving, voice rough as he asks, “Are you sure?”

“Please,” you exhale against his lips, and his mouth slots against yours as he notches his shaft at your entrance and sinks his cock into you.

Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you’re reduced to moans and whimpers while he stretches you open as your entire body floods with pleasure, your mind hazy with desire. Once he bottoms out, you feel so full you want to cry. You want to keep your legs wrapped around his waist and cockwarm him all night. You want him to fuck you stupid. You want to ride his cock until you both can’t move.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, hips rocking as he thrusts in and out of you, your walls fluttering with pleasure at the rhythmic push and drag. “Wanna take you home and do this again and again.”

“Me too,” you tell him, and you can feel the way his cock throbs inside of you at your admission, his fingertips tightening around your waist.

“Good, ‘cause I’m not gonna last much longer,” he admits, grinning against your mouth. 

The pleasure is rapidly building up inside of you again, the filthy slide of Atsumu’s tongue in your mouth only further fanning the flames, one hand trailing back up to tease at your hard nipples.

And you want to tell him, “Same,” because you’re dangerously close to the edge already, years of studiously ignored desire all spilling over into a crazed, insatiable need that’s making your pussy throb.

But instead what you whine is, “Harder.”

Atsumu groans, the noise nearly as lewd as the continuous sound of his cock pumping in and out of your soaking wet cunt, the only warning that he heard you before he picks you up off of the counter, plunging right back into you the moment you’re lying flat on the floor.

With the ground beneath your bodies for purchase, Atsumu begins to roughly pound into you, the fingers of one hand tangling with your own as the other trails toward your clit.

You moan his name repeatedly, like some fucked up carnal prayer on the floor of Onigiri Miya, and as he rubs circles into your swollen clit and whispers your own name just as desperately, you come so hard everything goes white, every sensation in your body drowned out by the sheer downpour of pleasure that you’re uncontrollably shaking with. Atsumu follows suit a moment later, pulling out of you and furiously fisting his cock until hot, thick spurts of cum are splattering all over your chest, groaning as he watches his seed paint your tits.

And just because you’re fairly certain what it’ll do to him, you reach down and swipe a glob off of your nipple while you both try to catch your breath, holding eye contact with him as you lick the cum off of your finger and swallow it. 

Atsumu’s lips part as he stares at you, eyes widening a little bit before he looks down at his cock, which is already twitching again with interest. 

–

Later, when you’re both lying tangled in Atsumu’s sheets, his phone lights up on his nightstand—

Samu: congrats Samu: there is literally a security camera in the shop Samu: also you’re disgusting you own a whole fuckin apartment to fuck in Samu: die slowly

-

likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated<3!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You wait. And wait. And wait. 

Each day, each week, your hope dwindles. Barrett doesn’t change. He’s not going to change. You know for sure as you watch him storm out. 

That’s why you didn’t talk to him sooner. It always ends like this. He gets defensive, you get emotional, and it all erupts. If he would just listen! 

You sigh and hold your chin in your hand. You look around at your small apartment. Even when you’ve just cleaned, it feels cluttered. You hate this place. You feel trapped. Or maybe that’s your relationship. Probably, both. 

You don’t think it was that bad to ask for a bit of understanding. All you want is for him to communicate. Instead, he sits on all his gripes until the bubble over in another rant about the squeaky bathroom faucet or the way you fold his shirts. It’s always on you. You’re the one who has to make him happy. Never the other way around. 

This time, it wasn’t the dishes or the mopping or the recycling. Nope. You’re not attentive enough. You’re depriving him. You’re punishing him by not having sex with him after working overtime four nights out of five. It can’t be that you’re tired or hurt. No, it’s an attack on him. 

That’s where it all fell apart.

You tried. Once you got past the frustration and tried to just let the waters calm. When you started talking to him again and fell back into your routine. You were both too busy to keep the fight going. And a few nights, you let him initiate but something would keep you from going all the way. 

Something... 

You saw Wendy last week. She didn’t mention anything about the night you went out. Didn’t mention a guy. She said she had fun and you should do it again. You told her you can’t afford it. Besides, you’re too tired. She called you boring. She’s not wrong. 

You get up and distract yourself. Well, it’s not really for you, is it? You’ll clean everything from corner to corner so he has nothing to complain about. You don’t need him to nitpick another reason to hound you. 

So much for time off. Once more you’re spending it in misery. You finish vacuuming then spray the couch with some freshener. Feeling accomplished but not less addled, you go to the bedroom and pull out some clothes for tomorrow. You’ll go to bed early and get a head start. If you’re lucky, you’ll be asleep before he drags his sorry ass home. 

You yawn as you stare at the time. It’s barely five o’clock and you could keel over. These days, you’re beat to the bone. You can’t remember the last time when you didn’t feel like a sack of dirt. You put your work clothes on the dresser then grab a fresh towel for the shower. 

You wash up, soothed by the warm water, and emerge in a hazy cloud. You go through the motions of applying the discount bin toner and moisturizer. You feel a little fresher. 

You tuck into bed and scroll on your phone for a while. Six-thirty. You black the screen and close your eyes. It takes as much to put you to sleep. 

You dream about flashing lights and the clink of glass. You’re swaying to a drone of music, spinning and swirling. The place is painted in streaks of colours as you keep moving. And when you manage to stop, the room turns on an axis, keeping you dizzy. 

Arms wrap around you from behind and pull you back into a thick body. You can’t escape. You look down and know those aren’t your husband’s hands. Where are you? Who is holding onto you? 

You try to turn around but it’s impossible. You’re stuck in the strange embrace as the neon lights melt and the air pulses with shadows. You push on the arms around you and wriggle desperately.

“Let me go,” you beg, “let me go.” 

Your words rise to a shriek and you wake up with a start. There’s a figure in the room watching you, as if waiting for you to wake up. You almost scream for real as Barrett stares at you. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay before he turns away. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he grumbles. 

You don’t argue as you catch your breath and lower yourself back to the pillows. You can smell the tinge of beer left behind. He’s been drinking. You can’t begrudge him that, not really. Last time it got bad, you did the same thing. At least he came home. 

You cringe. No. Stop. Nothing happened. No one can prove it happened. Not even you. So, it didn’t. 

Your stomach mulches and you turn onto your side. The nausea roils in your stomach. You must be hungry. You didn’t eat. Yet the thought of doing so makes you even sicker. You burp and swallow down the mouthful of acid that sears your throat. 

Stress. It’s stress. And it’s not going to get any better. Not with everything you’re running away from. 

[cyborg-franky]

Thank you @tenzeniths for the support and I hope you enjoy this <3<3 Marco, Ace, Thatch, Izou [POLYAM] x GN Reader with chronic fatigue SFW WC: 1,500

You hated how you felt all the time, your body betraying you at every chance it got You felt tired, exhausted daily. Before you’d taken to the sea it hadn’t been so bad, more of a mild inconvenience but now you were part of one of the strongest and most notorious crews in the world. You really, really noticed it and you knew everyone else could tell you struggled.

Could see how you’d be okay one moment, your normal cheerful self and helping around the place. Either in Marco’s office helping with paperwork or with patients. Helping Thatch in the kitchen with dishes or cooking. You’d go on a mission with Ace, sitting alongside him on his Striker as you checked out a nearby island. Or when you helped Izou teach his division skills on the battlefield. 

But after a few hours, sometimes not even that, you’d feel all your energy drained, your ability to keep up, pay attention, or even stand just depleted, and you’d curse yourself and your body for being so useless and weak. You knew you couldn’t help it but that still didn’t make you feel any better. You didn’t feel like an equal to any of your wonderful partners.

Marco

He understood it better than the others. After all he was a doctor. Whenever Marco saw you flagging, the tell-tail signs you were struggling. If you weren’t working with him at the time, and he saw you starting to lose all momentum, he’d ask for your help.

Anything to get you in the office and sat down. He didn’t want you to get hurt where you couldn’t concentrate.

If you were already working with him when you started to feel the fatigue hit, chances were Marco knew before you even felt it fully hit.

“Come sit on the couch,” he’d say with his hands on your shoulders, rubbing soft circles with his thumbs as you sighed, the sound heavy as you looked up at his lop-sided smile and kind eyes. “I’m fine Marco,” you’d fight him on it, not wanting to feel you couldn’t even do something as simple as sitting at a desk and reading.  “It’s just paperwork,” 

He clicked his tongue and gave you a tsk knowing he was going into doctor mode any second. “It’s still mentally taxing. There is no shame in needing a break yoi.” He said, voice firm as he gently rocked you, urging you to leave the chair and go do as you were told.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” You mumbled and rubbed your forehead, feeling the agitation at yourself growing as you stood. “Don’t be sorry, it’s a medical condition and as much as I appreciate you trying your best, I don’t want you pushing yourself baby bird,” He said and kissed your forehead, leading you to the sofa sitting you down.

“I feel useless,” you added as he fussed over you, getting a blanket to drape over you. “Not useless, never useless yoi.” Marco brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “You keeping me company, that’s all I need.”

“Really?” “Yes, I promise.”

Marco had a way of calming you down. You soon settled and felt yourself drift off into a well-needed nap.

---

Thatch

Less chill about things than Marco.

Will 100% be on your ass about have you eaten today? Do you need a snack? What about water? Are you staying hydrated?

Thatch is the actual mother hen of the four.

If he wasn’t satisfied with the answer, he’d give you this look, tapping his foot but you knew he meant well.

You’d been helping out around the deck that afternoon, trying to at the very least. You sighed and slumped against the mast as you closed your eyes and tried to stop the lightheaded feeling rushing through you as you gripped the handle of the mop tighter, something to ground yourself as you tried to shut the world out. 

You could feel it, the way your energy just drained. You’d felt so good this morning that you’d fooled yourself into thinking you could do everything. But now you were paying for such a bold claim as mopping the deck, which had well and truly sapped all you had moments ago.

“Hey pumpkin.” You opened your eyes to see Thatch, and he had a worried expression on his face as he folded his arms over his chest and examined you. “How ya feelin’?” He asked as you shrugged your shoulders. “I’m fine,”

He tsked and gave you a scrutinizing gaze as you practically wobbled in front of him. 

“Come get something to eat,” 

“I’m fine,” you were stubborn, a trait many of the Whitebeard pirates shared. Thatch sighed and dropped his arms by his sides before he lifted you up effortlessly, slinging you over his shoulder and ignoring your protests.

Soon you were sat in the kitchen as Thatch made you a sandwich, making sure there were veggies and protein to help you perk up. 

“You didn’t have to,” you mumbled, feeling bad as he’d obviously spent most of the afternoon prepping for dinner tonight. “I know, but I wanted to.” he gave one of his classic broad grins and handed you the plate, kissing your forehead. “I gotta look after you. The others would kick my ass if I didn’t right?” he said, chuckling and ruffling your hair as he looked at you with such adoration.

After that you were given a chair and helped him do some lowkey little effort chores so you felt useful but it wasn’t too much.

--

Ace

People assumed Ace wouldn’t understand what you were going through. They thought that he was young and so full of energy that he couldn’t possibly relate.

Except, he could.

The times he’d wear himself out [granted, it took way more than it did for you] he would be overwhelmed with the need to sleep and just pass out in random places.

A type of exhaustion-based narcolepsy Marco had explained.

You both could see the signs in one another and as much as you wouldn’t wish anything bad on people, let alone someone you loved, it was comforting to have someone in a similar camp as yourself.

You could feel your feet dragging, feeling the aches in your body and were aware your mood was starting to dip lower and lower as your ability to cope with the day whittled away. 

Ace walked over and saw you looking frazzled.

You could tell Ace wasn’t much better. He didn’t have his mischievous glimmer in his eyes, his dark circles prominent and the smile on his face was a shadow of a smirk. His posture was slouched and lazy as he nodded to you.

“Do I look as tired as I feel?” you asked with a sigh and collapsed against his chest, feeling arms around you as he used you to prop himself up as much as you needed him. “Worse,” he laughed and kissed your head.

“Maybe we need to get you to bed,” Ace hummed, running a hand down your back. “Ace.” you looked up at him, giving him a look. 

Ace scoffed and rolled his eyes, pulling away enough to see the frown on your face. “Not for anythin’ like that. Although…” he trailed off until you jabbed him in the side. “I’m kiddin’!”

“A nap, just a little power nap to get us through till tonight, huh?”

Now, that did sound nice…

“Oh Portgas, you tease…” You sighed and let him pull you away to his room, where you both promptly fell onto his bed, embraced by the soft pillows and tangled messy sheets.

Neither of you had even managed to take off your shoes as you cuddled together to recharge.

--

Izou

Izou was much more ‘tough love’ than your other partners.

But even so, he tried his best to understand and learn about your illness. Knowing you couldn’t help it any more than someone with a broken leg could.

He was more of a fan of ‘preventative’ measures. Seeing you exhausted and fighting to stand up was hard for him, unsure how to deal with it in a positive way without feeling he was being condescending or coddling you.

So you’d have these little tea sessions and pamper evenings with him. 

“This one is said to relax your body and mind, makes rest all the more revitalizing,” he said and poured you a tea as you sat across from him with a facemask on, feet in a tub of warm water with all sorts of oils and herbs.

You weren’t sure how much of these things would really work but it was nice to be so cared for and doted on. This was Izou’s way of doing his best to show he cared and wanted to help.

“Tastes… bitter?” you said, slapping your lips together. “All the best remedies taste bad,” Izou countered as he sat down and sipped his own, making a happy sound as he closed his eyes. 

The room was nice. His room always smelt like incense and flowers, and the colours he’d chosen to decorate his space with were also calming. You felt good here, felt good with him.

“How do you feel?” he asked as he watched you, taking in all your little movements and reactions as you basked in comfort.

“I feel good, I feel like I’m recharging.” you watched the smile grace his face as he nodded. “Good,”

[3cremepie3]

Slither

Synopsis - Jamil finds your spicy anonymous Twitter and he realizes you’ll do anything for him not to leak it.

Warnings - 18+ black mail, manipulation, roughfucking, deepthroating, hate sex, degradation, humiliation

A/n - I’m glad to be back writing. I recently got back into twisted wonderland and I wanted to write a fic on how Jamil would probably be in real life. I hope you enjoy!

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“Care to explain what this is?” He had you backed against a wall defenseless physically and mentally. Mops and brooms clattered as you back up further not wanting to meet his phone's gaze.

“It couldn’t be there’s no way,” you thought. But there was a way someway he found your Twitter you had made sure to conceal yourself as best as you could cropping out your face and any other obvious objects.

“I-I don’t know what that is.” You were gonna lie until you couldn’t anymore. The shame you felt was too heavy to admit to your sins. “There’s no need to lie I know how kinky you truly are,” he slithered.

“Pet play? Really Y/n someone as headstrong as you can’t be into something that degrading.” He laughed for a while probably at your horrified face. “Or how about this tweet right here… I want to be someone’s cumslut. Damn, I can’t get enough of this.”

He laughed for a while longer before he stopped remembering his mission. “Anyways I can’t point out at least 5 ways I knew this account is yours. And I won’t be afraid to point it out to everyone. How will the student body feel after realizing how lewd you really are? You’ll probably have half of the horn dogs lusting after you.”

“Just shut the fuck up,” you seethed. “Hmm, that’s not nice language for someone in your situation.” You sighed clearly defeated. “Then what do you want Jamil? It’s not like I have money to give you.”

“No you don’t have money but you have something else.” Something you and I both need.” Don’t look away you might as well get used to this face because you’ll be seeing it every day.” He grabbed your jaw making you face him. “It’s not too bad we’ll both help each other right cumslut,” he snickered.

And that’s how you ended up here. On your knees for the first time. It was dinner time at scarabia so everyone else was busy eating some type of stew Jamil prepared.

You were eating something Jamil prepared too. That something was his surprisingly big dick. “What’s the issue you’re glaring at it.” I’m just surprised it’s that big is all.”

“Normally good for nothings have good for nothing dick. But I suppose yours is decent.” You wouldn’t know a good dick like mine if you saw one you virgin,” he teased. You wanted to protest more but your mouth was filled with dick.

You gagged immediately being taken aback by the stretch your mouth was getting. “Ahh fuck your mouth is so warm,” he hissed. You looked up watching his mouth fall agape. While he looked down watching your hands grab both his thighs for support.

He chuckled a little bit loosening his grasp on your hair. You pulled off his cock coughing. “You look so much prettier with my cock down your throat.” He spoke while caressing your neck. By now the burning in your throat calmed down and you were ready to take him again.

Like a mind reader, he pulled you onto his cock yet again. This time you went all the way to the base. Spit poured out your mouth spilling onto his tone thighs and your uniform shirt.

“Look at how messy you are. You know you have to actually suck right?” He popped your head off of him so you could speak. “It’s kinda hard to do that when I’m taking you so deeply,” you yelled. “Shhh you don’t want to be caught looking all whorish right? Then I advise you to shut the hell up and do what I said Y/n.”

He grabbed your head and brought you down in his cock this time moving you at a fast pace. You couldn’t keep up your breathing quickly starting to choke. You looked up realizing Jamil didn’t care he was in pure bliss. “Fuck keep sucking that feels so good!”

He loved how pretty you looked on his cock your mascara now running because of your tears and your lipgloss smeared everywhere. So naturally he sped up his hips thrusting to meet your mouth. You gagged loudly one of your hands tapping at his waist begging him to tap out.

In that moment you realized he was practically blind and death. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open completely. Even while doing such devilish things he looked so heavenly. His hair somehow came loose falling over his shoulders.

You tried your best to breathe through your nose and brace yourself you knew what was soon to come. His dick was violently twitching in your mouth leaking enough precum to flood your mouth. And another obvious indication was his voice. For someone who told you to keep it down, he was pretty loud.

If someone walked by they would for sure know someone was getting sloppy. His groans were turning into long drawn-out moans. With every thrust, he began to curse more and more. “Fuck c’mon, you can do it.”

“So good you fucking slut. You want my cum that bad huh? Of course, he didn’t receive an answer since he was balls deep but he continued. “I’m gonna ahh,” he moaned. He came immediately flooding your throat. He sat there for a minute just holding your head making sure you swallowed every drop.

After what felt like forever he let go of you. You fell forward onto him your mind hazy from the amount of breath you lost. He patted your head moving your sticky hair out of your face. “I should fucking slap you,” you spat.

“Why you know you had fun Y/n.” I tapped out Jamil what if I died?” You wouldn’t have died.” And you wouldn’t have known you were death for a minute there. Was the head that good Jamil that you couldn’t hear anything,” you laughed.

He just glared at you not bothering to respond to your antics. “Well make a rhythm or something for a tap-out plan another day.” Wait,” you paused. “Another day? You plan on continuing this?”

“Of course, I do why would I lose my perfectly good cumslut when I just got her?” Now clean yourself up and be back here tomorrow same time,” he directed.

You sat there on the ground is disbelief.

[igotanidea]

No strings attached (2) : neighbor!JT x reader

masterlist

part. 1

***

„What happened?”

When Jason came into the staircase the first thing he noticed was Y/N, who was crouching next to her door with a sad face, cleaning something that seemed awfully like….

“Is that blood?!” he yelled, falling to his knees right next to her.

“What?” she scoffed “Of course not, are you crazy? It’s just paint.”

“sorry….” He mumbled. Jason had way to much experience with blood to not think about that particular thing when he saw Y/N’s door swimming in color red. “Who did this?”

“I have some ideas.” She retorted pointing at one half-scratched word, that at the moment were proudly announcing to the world that she was a bitch. “Guess your lady friend really doesn’t like me.”

“I’m sorry.” Jason said again, a bit of remorse showing on his face “let me help you with this. It’s only fair given the fact it’s all my fault.”

“I can handle it.”

“Please, Y/n.” he whispered and only then she turned around to fully look at him. Well he was fine. Tall and well-build with a mop of black hair with a single white strand right above the forehead and pretty green eyes that were currently showing all of his remorse for the situation.

“What happened to your hair?” she asked just to deflect the tension she felt and that question took them both by surprise.

“It’s…. kinda long story.”

“Really? So it has nothing to do with acting like a bad boy and trying to keep your cool?”

“What?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head and smiled lightly “it’s fine if you don’t want to talk. After all we don’t really know each other.”

“But…..” he tried to chime in but she didn’t let him.

“given the circumstances I think it’s better if you just stay away from me, Jason. I mean look what happened after the first time we talked. Next time some other of your ex-girlfriend see me with you, I’ll probably end up with a knife in my chest or an acid on my face. Not exactly a nice perspective, am I right?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Jason hissed trying to reach for the sponge Y/N was using to clean.

“Yeah, sure. Does she know that?”

“I told her!”

“Sorry sunshine, but take it from a girl with experience. She won’t let go easily. I know I wouldn’t.” She babbled and put her hand inside the bucket with water, accidentally touching Jason’s hand. Only then her eyes grew wide at the sudden realization of what she said dawning on her.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Jason smirked and raised an eyebrow, even if that sudden touch was … nice, to say the least. Gentle, delicate, like nothing he was used to. Definitely not while patrolling and fighting at night. And even when he had female friends it was always physical. Rough animal fuck just to satisfy the basic needs. And it was fine. Convenient for both parties.

Jason was only familiar with pain, anger and a flood of sudden contradictory feelings in both Red Hood and Jason Todd version. And to his own surprise he enjoyed something different coming from Y/N even if she almost immediately retrieved her hand, not giving him w chance to dwell on that feeling.

“No.” she simply said. Nothing more. No explanation, no blushing, no excuses. Just one simple no.

“Shame. I think you are hot too.”

“Sure” she laughed so hard she actually started crying “I’m hot. That’s a hell of a good joke Todd. I look nothing like the hot girls. I mean, look at me.”

“I am…..”

“I’m not skinny, I hate wearing short and dresses because of my curves and I definitely don’t skip on meals just to lose weight and it shows. To quote a classic: I ain’t no size two. I’m fine with the way I look, but I am definitely not hot.”

 “And yet, Madison clearly treats you like a threat.” He pointed out

“a threat?” the girl raised an eyebrow “nah, not at all. I’m nothing more than a stain on her fancy clothes. A stain you need to eradicate and that is precisely what she’s doing.”

“I don’t ….”

“I meant what I said, Todd. You better stay away from me. I really don’t need any more trouble than I already have.”

“Am I trouble to you?”

“You scream trouble. In more ways than one.” She rolled her eyes “I don’t know about you, but I’m fine with silently passing each other on the stairs. I’m not known for being too open with people.”

“Guess we have that in common.” He scratched his neck in an awkward way, wondering what he could possibly say to make her change her mind. The fact was, the more she was trying to push him away, the more he wanted to pull her in. He might have not been the one to form a true relationship, but the way she was acting and pointing at her body barely seconds before, got his mind spinning. He wondered how it would be like to have her. To have an innocent, maybe a bit shy girl and not a vamp, he was so used to, just to get himself off. How it would be like to feel her underneath him, get those soft hands on his body, to kiss all those places where she was insecure, whisper sweet nothings into her ear while making her feel good. Cause sure as hell he would. How it would be like to map her whole body, find the spots that would make her melt into him and elicit sweet whines and moans out of her, all of that while pressing her into the mattress or wall, seeing her face twisting in pleasure, maybe making her scream his name when she came …... Shit! What was happening to him!? He barely met her and she was his neighbor for fuck’s sake. Maybe all of those one-night stands finally messed up his brain. That was what he was doing. One and done? Sure, even if some girls were becoming clingy after one night (Madison being the best example). But fucking a neighbor he would pass by on a daily basis was surely not a good idea. At all.

“Great. I suppose we just made ourselves a deal.” suddenly she stood up bringing him back to reality “wanna shake on it?”

For a moment Jason hesitated. On one hand he wanted to feel her touch again, craved it even. On the other was fully aware that given his not-so-innocent fantasy-filled brain he wouldn’t be able to settle only on that. So he shook his head as an answer, refusing to fuel the fire inside him any further.

“Too bad.” She pouted “Anyway, it’s late and this stupid stain is not coming off. Guess that’s me saying goodbye to my deposit money” Y/N laughed bitterly “I’m just going to head to bed and I suggest you do the same.” She opened the door to her apartment, turning to face him before disappearing inside. ‘Good night, Jason.” she smiled lightly.

“Good night, Y/N” he whispered back, barely holding himself from grabbing her waist, pushing her into the wall and forcing his way in with her.  

*** 

It was not a good night.

Well, definitely not for Jason.

It was irrational and crazy on so many levels, but he simply wanted the girl next door. And once he felt that desire there was no chances for him to let this go.

And the fact that she was giving him mixed signals was not helping at all. Did she tell him to stay away? Yes. But did she said goodbye with that pretty smile and sparkling eyes? Also yes. And fuck if Jason didn’t want to take some action with her.

But then again. He wasn’t doing relationship and hooking up with the neighbor, especially someone who seemed as kind and nice as Y/N would only cause trouble.

“Fuck!” he hissed to himself, barely capable of focusing on patrolling, beating the shit out of the criminals in more violent way than ever, getting needy and horny just by thinking about her. What was she doing at the moment? Was she thinking about him too? In the way he was thinking about her? No, that was nonsense, she had every reason to hate him. But maybe that hate would turn into some tension relieving and getting herself off? Alone? Was she lying in her own bed, touching herself, trying to get that sweet high? Fuck, he would be more than happy to help her with that. To introduce her to new levels of pleasure and ecstasy, which he was perfectly capable of providing.  

If he were to knock on her door right that moment would she even bother opening? Dressed only in her pajamas or even better, wrapped up only in a towel, straight after shower making it so much easier for him to get what he wanted and needed?

Shit.

He could imagine her curvy body, still a bit damp from the water, her sweet smell, the softness of her hair. Her innocent, surprised gaze – the same she made when he first asked her to play his girlfriend in front of Madison.  Holy shit, was she a virgin? Oh, he would be more than happy to be her first. The first to touch her body in a way she never knew before, to make her a woman.  

“Fuck, just stop you idiot!” his mind was definitely falling into straight-from-porn fantasies. “Just stop it!”

But it was easier said than done and getting progressively more painful with every passing minute. And if he wasn’t careful some of the bats patrolling nearby would notice the tent in his jeans and tease him about it. So gathering all his strength, both mental and physical he started beating all those crime lords to a bloody pulp. The sign and smell of blood making him calm down a bit, drawing back the memories of the time when he was the one being beaten with a fucking crowbar and finally – killed.

Yeah, it definitely did wonders to his excitement, but nothing for his mental state and it quickly became more visible than the tent in the jeans.

‘Jace?” of course his caring older brother had to ask “are you doing all right? You got that gaze….”

“Just fuck off, Grayson!” Jason yelled not able to hold himself anymore. “Just fuck off!”

“What is wrong with him today?” Tim’s voice echoed through the comms, but before anyone could give him an answer Jason took off running leaving the surprised bats behind.

God, he just needed to be alone for a few minutes to help himself.

[lemoncrushh]

Comfort Food

Summary: Jessica, a self-proclaimed foodie, helps her classmate Harry study for their Biology test.

Warnings: None. Pure fluff.

Word Count: 4.9k+

A/N: College/Uni Harry x OC written in first person. Originally posted in 2019. I realize I've been reposting a lot of fluff lately, but apparently that was the mood I was in back then. I feel like this story is very relatable though, no matter your age. We all want to be liked, but sometimes we let our own insecurities stop us from believing we deserve it.

Most people didn’t notice me. Guys especially. They didn’t see me. I don’t mean they didn’t look at me exactly, but when they did it was like they were looking through me. There might as well have been a prettier girl standing behind me that they were really looking at, and I suppose at times that may have been the case.

“Five eighty,” the tired woman at the register said with a sigh. I handed her a five and a one before waiting for the clinking sound of two dimes that dropped from the side of the register into a little metal dish.

I gripped my tray with both hands and made my way to the farthest end of the cafeteria, choosing the booth next to the window where someone hadn’t already taken it upon themselves to open the blinds. I hated sitting in streaming, hot sunshine while I ate my food.

I’d just taken a bite of the macaroni and cheese - the main reason why I frequented this cafeteria - when I heard someone speak.

“Hey, I know you.”

I jumped as I looked up at the boy who stood near the restrooms, thinking surely there was someone behind me he was greeting instead. His name was Harry. I had a class with him, I knew that much, but there was no way he even knew I existed. He was tall with a curly mop of hair on his head and big green eyes that if I wasn’t careful, I could get lost in. I quickly blinked and looked back down at my lunch.

“I have a class with you, right?” he continued, stepping closer to my table. Okay so obviously he was talking to me after all.

I shrugged. “I guess.”

“Yeah. What is it, Psych?”

“Bio,” I muttered.

“What was that?” It was then that he took it upon himself to slide into the booth across from me.

“Biology,” I answered, glaring at him.

“Oh, right! Biology. Professor Graham.”

I nodded, sucking in my lips.

“You sit in front of me, end of the row. What’s your name again?”

“Jessica.”

“Jessica,” he repeated with a lopsided grin. “That’s right.”

Harry rested his elbow on the table, his chin in his hand as he stared at me. He seemed to be studying me for a while, though I wasn’t sure if he was really looking at my face or thinking of something else. Either way, he was silent for so long, even as I tried to ignore him and eat my mac and cheese, I began to get nervous. Finally he spoke again.

“Is that good?” he inquired.

“What?”

“That,” he pointed. “What you’re eating.”

I nodded emphatically. “Mhm. You wouldn’t think so, coming from a cafeteria, but it’s really good actually. It’s just like-”

“Hey, Harry!”

I turned my head to see a table full of people, one of the guys waving Harry over. I recognized him from class too. He sat next to Harry. I narrowed my eyes.

“You have your friends get your food for you?”

He made a face as he leaned forward to whisper, “Only 'cause I had to wee really bad.”

A giggle slipped from my throat before I could stop it. I quickly covered my mouth in embarrassment, but Harry only gave me another lopsided grin.

“I guess I should go,” he finally gestured toward the other table.

I nodded.

“Maybe they got me some of that,” he pointed at my mac and cheese as he rose from the booth. “Good to see you, Jessica. Have a nice lunch.”

“You too,” I managed a smile.

“Oh,” he stopped suddenly, his sneakers squeaking on the tile as he backed up. Then he turned to me, his big hands spread out across his chest. “I’m Harry, by the way.”

As if I didn’t know.

I could hear his voice before I saw him. I was already at my desk, concentrating on my notes from Friday when I heard Harry talking to Sam, the boy who sat next to him. I didn’t listen to what they were talking about, however, until I saw Harry’s legs stop on the step next to my desk and I heard my name at the same time a pen poked me in the shoulder. I removed my eyes from my notes and followed the long, denim clad legs up to a black t-shirt and finally green eyes.

“Sorry?” I asked.

“Just saying hi,” he smiled before bringing his pen to his mouth and biting on it. Then he took the final step and took his regular seat on the row behind me.

“Oh,” I whispered, though I figured he didn’t hear me. “Hi.”

“How was the rest of your weekend?”

For some reason I thought Harry had returned to his conversation with Sam, but then he said my name again.

“Huh?” I twisted in my seat.

“I asked how the rest of your weekend was,” he smirked. “After I saw you.”

“Oh,” I shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

“Good.” His dimples displayed in his cheeks which made me quickly look away.

“Oh hey,” I heard him add. “I did get to try that mac and cheese. And you were right. Surprisingly good.”

I felt myself smile just as Professor Graham took his place in the front of class and began his lecture.

I’d just slung my backpack over my arm when Harry said my name for the third time in an hour. I turned to look at him, his long arms slipping through the straps of his own backpack.

“Yes?” I asked timidly.

“I have a favor to ask,” he said, taking the top step down to my level. I noticed he was picking at his bottom lip before he tucked it between his teeth.

“Favor?”

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” he admitted. “I’m a fairly decent student. So I don’t usually ask for help. But this class...well, I’m not doing as well in it to be honest. And we got that test next Monday.”

My stomach lurched as I realized what he was implying.

“You need a tutor?” I asked.

Harry tilted his head and a curl fell over his eye.

“I was thinking more like a study partner?” He said it in a question, probably out of nerves. I thought it was cute.

But I knew the truth. Cute or not, Harry was wanting help to get a good grade. Guys like Harry didn’t ask girls like me to “study”. Study partner was a term used for pretty, bubbly girls who were probably making the same grade the boy was - an excuse to be with them without actually asking them on a date. Harry was not asking me for that. He wanted a tutor.

“Um…” I sucked in my lips, then nodded. “Yeah, sure, okay.”

Harry let out a deep breath and his shoulders dropped. “God, thanks Jessica. I really appreciate-”

“I’ll be at the Franklin Library tonight at seven,” I interrupted. “I can stay as late as you need.”

“That’s...that’s perfect actually. I’ll be there.”

I nodded sharply. “Okay.”

I turned to make my way down the steps, feeling Harry’s presence looming behind me.

“Thank you, Jessica,” he said again when we reached the bottom. Then I felt his hand on my shoulder for a split second before he turned for the door. For some strange reason I froze in my spot, watching him reach the exit, then look back one last time and smile.

With the sleeve of my sweater, I covered my mouth and made an inaudible squeal into my arm.

“No, see that’s where you’re getting confused,” I pointed to the diagram in the book.

“Tell me about it,” Harry let out a frustrated sigh. “Actually it’s not so much confusing, it’s just a lot of names and shit to memorize.”

I chuckled slightly and sat back. “Science is a lot of memorizing,” I agreed.

“If I have the book in front of me, I get it. But obviously I can’t do that for the test.”

“Then we’ll keep studying until we get it right,” I offered as Harry scribbled some notes.

Looking up from his paper, he peered at me behind the curl that had fallen over his eye again. It took all my gumption not to reach out and push it away.

“So, Jessica, can I ask you something?”

I instantly felt myself blush and looked down at my own notes.

“Um...if you’re asking if I was a straight A student in high school, the answer is yes. But no, I wasn’t valedictorian. That title went to Joseph Larkin.”

Harry snorted and I glared at him.

“I wasn’t going to ask that.”

“Oh.”

With a smirk that I would have deemed cocky if Harry didn’t seem like such a nice person, he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“Why the macaroni and cheese?”

“What?” I asked incredulously.

“From that cafeteria. You’d barely said two words to me until I asked you about it, then all of a sudden your face lit up and you were eager to tell me how good it was.”

With another pink blush to my cheeks, I pretended to doodle on my paper.

“It’s my ultimate comfort food,” I admitted.

“Why’s that?”

“It’s the closest to my grandma’s that I’ve found anywhere. The rest of the food there is…” I shrugged, “it’s okay I guess. But I go there just for the mac and cheese.”

“Ah, so it’s sort of sentimental for you.”

I tilted my head from side to side.

“That...and...I’m sort of a foodie,” I explained.

“Yeah? Do you cook?”

“A little. But I’m more of like...a connoisseur of particular things. Like I have favorite items that I like to order from almost any restaurant in town, even if it’s not particularly what they’re known for.”

“Oh!” grinned Harry, leaning forward on the table, his arms crossed in front of him. “I’d be interested in picking your brain, then.”

“Go for it.”

“So if I name a place, you can tell me what to eat?”

“Pretty much. Except that Mediterranean place on 5th Street. Nothing is good there, trust me.” I made a gagging noise which made Harry laugh.

“Alright then. How about…” he tapped his chin with his finger, “that steak place by the cinema.”

I rolled my eyes. “Are you kidding me? The double fudge brownie a la mode.”

“That’s a dessert!” Harry quipped.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the best thing on the menu. Plus I’m not a big steak person.”

“Noted,” he raised a brow. “What about Michaelangelo’s?”

“Chicken Marsala. And the stuffed mushrooms are good. Unfortunately there’s something in their marinara sauce I’m allergic to.”

“That’s too bad. What about Chinese? Do you like Asian food?”

“I like most of it, yeah,” I replied. “Oh! The best is this amazing chicken soup from that place on 8th and Morton. My mom used to get it for me whenever I was sick. I don’t know what they put in it, but I almost always feel better the next day.”

Harry smiled at me, his dimples dipping in his cheeks. I felt myself blush and looked down at the table.

“We should go get some,” I heard him say.

“They’re probably closed now,” I commented before I realized he probably didn’t mean right then.

“Oh! Yeah!” Harry looked at his phone. It was after eleven. “Shit, I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“Yeah I should get home.”

I shoved my book in my backpack and zipped it up.

“Can I walk you?” Harry asked.

“Oh, um...no, I have my car.”

“You don’t live on campus?”

I shook my head.

“Oh.” Harry looked disappointed. Or maybe I was just hoping he did. “Can I at least walk you to your car?”

I tried to hide my smile. “Sure.”

Stepping out into the cold night, I was glad I’d brought my winter coat instead of just my hoodie. Harry, however was only in a light jacket. I did notice how he walked a little closer to me, but I didn’t say anything until he did.

“It’s changing seasons now I reckon.”

“Yeah. Is it far to your building?”

“Nah, just over there,” he pointed across the street.

“Oh, that’s good.”

We made it to my car and I thanked him for walking with me before I opened the door and climbed inside.

“Jessie,” he said, his voice low, his arm on the door. “Can I call you Jessie?”

I bit my lip and nodded. Nobody else called me that, but I would gladly let him call me anything he wanted.

“Good,” he beamed. “You look like a Jessie to me. Anyway, do you think we could do this again? Studying, I mean, at the library.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“It’s just...the test isn’t for a week but I really wanna make sure I know this stuff…”

I reached a hand out and touched his bicep. “It’s no problem, Harry. I’m happy to help.”

“Great!” he said. “Is tomorrow too soon?”

“No, it’s fine with me. Same time?”

“Yeah. Thanks Jessie.”

“You’re welcome. Goodnight, Harry.”

“There’s no way Danny’s has better donuts than Esther’s,” Harry argued. “I’m sorry Miss Foodie, but I will have to disagree with you there.”

I laughed at his nickname and shook my head. “Not all the donuts,” I pointed out. “Just the jelly-filled. If I want a jelly donut, I go to Danny’s, no contest.”

“But have you had the cinnamon cake donuts from Esther’s?”

“I have,” I nodded. “And I agree, they’re good. But jelly is the best.”

Harry rolled his eyes which made me laugh harder. I covered my face with my hands, remembering we were in a library.

Harry and I had been at it since seven, studying for the Biology exam, but somehow we’d made it to the subject of food once again, just like we had almost all week, except for a couple days when we couldn’t meet.

“Alright, Harry,” I said once I calmed down. “Test is tomorrow. What do you think?” It was Sunday evening and the library closed early.

“I think I want another week,” he groaned.

“Harry!”

“Okay, okay, I think I’ve got it. I’ll at least squeak by and get a C.”

“Gee, thanks,” I scoffed.

Harry smirked, giving my chair a tiny shove under the table. “I’m teasing you, darling.”

I blushed for the upteenth time that week and gave a gentle grin. “Oh.”

“You’ve been a tremendous help, Jessie,” he added. “I’m actually sad the week is ending. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you.”

“Oh,” I repeated.

“You know,” he raised a brow as he packed up his books, “since we’ve been talking about food so much, I was thinking after this test is over we should go out.”

“What?” I stared at him in disbelief.

“Out to eat,” he offered. “Someplace you like. Not that Mediterranean restaurant or the one by the cinema, obviously.”

“Um...really? Um...I don’t know.” I stumbled.

“Yeah. Why not?”

“Um...I’m...I’m kind of busy,” I said.

Harry pouted, then blinked. “Every day?”

“Well…” I hesitated, knowing fully well that was a lie. “Maybe not. Um...yeah, sure we could do that...sometime.”

“Cool,” Harry beamed, “wanna give me your number?”

I stared at him while he pulled out his phone. Touching a few things, he looked up at me.

“Go ahead,” he urged. But I was frozen.

Guys like Harry didn’t ask for phone numbers from girls like me.

“Jessie?” he asked.

Finally I cleared my throat and recited my number. With a genuine smile, Harry typed it into his phone.

“I just texted you,” he said. “So now you have mine.”

“Okay,” I breathed.

Harry walked me to my car like always and waved goodbye as I drove off. When I got home and dropped my bag on the chair beside my bed, I quickly dug out my phone. I didn’t use it all that often; no one ever called me. It was more for emergencies. But there it was. A text.

Hey Miss Foodie. Good luck on the test tomorrow. And thanks for all your help.

Text me when you get home please.

I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling as big as I wanted. But it was no use. The smile won out. He’d said please for gosh sakes.

I’m home.

Hey, thanks for letting me know. Just wanted to make sure you got home safely.

Ok.

Goodnight Jessie. See you in the morning.

Goodnight Harry

I could tell my texts were short and bland, even for someone who doesn’t text much. But I didn’t know what else to say.

The test went smoothly, at least I thought. I finished mine a little early and turned it in to Professor Graham. When I reached the door, I looked back and saw Harry with his lopsided grin. I waved and he gave me a thumbs up.

That afternoon I heard my phone buzz which startled me since that didn’t happen often. Harry sent me a short text saying he thought he might’ve aced the test. I told him I wouldn’t doubt it.

Professor Graham said the scores would be posted that night online. Just after I checked mine, and gave myself a mental high five for the perfect score, my phone rang.

“Hello?” I answered.

“A ninety, Jessie! I got a ninety!”

“Harry, that’s great!” I cheered.

“Well, it’s not acing it, but close. Definitely the best score I’ve ever gotten on a science test.”

“I’m happy for you!”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Jessie!”

I smiled, though he couldn’t see me.

“I really appreciate all your help,” he continued. “Although we probably spent at least half of the study time talking about food.”

I chuckled. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I like talking to you.”

“I like talking to you, too,” I said before I could stop the words.

“Good. So let’s talk now,” I could practically hear the lopsided grin in his voice. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Just checked my score.”

“You aced it, didn’t you?”

I was silent.

“Of course you did,” he teased. “Smarty pants.”

“Well I was your tutor,” I quipped.

“Study partner,” he corrected.

I laughed louder.

“I like your laugh,” he said. “It’s cute.”

For the next hour, I was not myself. I was some other person, some other version of Jessica. I was Jessie, I supposed, Harry’s study partner. A girl with a cute laugh who got phone calls and texts from curly headed boys with lopsided grins. I didn’t recognize myself.

By the time I got off the phone, my face was flushed, and my smile seemed permanently glued to my face. Washing up before bed, I stared in the mirror, reminding myself who I really was.

Girls like me didn’t get phone calls and laugh for over an hour with boys like Harry. Most people didn’t notice me. Guys especially.

Wednesday morning when I walked into Bio, Harry was already there, which was a first. In fact, he was sitting in my seat, a white paper bag in front of him on the desk and a goofy grin on his face like he had a secret he was dying to tell.

“What are you doing?” I asked with a chuckle.

“Brought you something,” he replied, pointing to the bag. Then he slid into the empty seat next to mine that was usually occupied by Omar.

Taking my seat, I grabbed the bag and opened it, the sweet aroma hitting my nostrils immediately.

A jelly donut from Danny’s.

“What is this for?” I asked him incredulously.

“For helping me with the Bio test,” he said. Then a wide grin spread across his face as his cheeks blushed a rosy pink, much like mine had been doing since last Monday. “And maybe because I kinda like you.”

“What?” My eyes widened like saucers.

He looked down at the desk and back at me. “Alright. Truth? It’s not a maybe. And I don’t just kinda like you. I do like you. A lot, actually.”

“No you don’t,” I snapped before I even realized the words had left my lips. I regretted them instantly, especially after seeing the hurt look on Harry’s face.

“I don’t?”

“Well...I mean...you can’t.”

“Why can’t I?” He leaned closer to me. “Do you have a boyfriend?” he whispered. Then he seemed to consider something else. “Or a girlfriend?”

I shook my head. “No. I mean...guys like you don’t like girls like me.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, his expression looking like all the gears in his brain were turning around all of the words I’d said.

“What exactly are...guys like me...and girls like you? As far as I can tell, I’m a guy...no, not even that. I’m a person. And you’re a person. And I like you. What’s wrong with that?”

“Because it’s…” I stumbled. “I don’t know. You’re just...well you’re you.”

“I am me,” he agreed. “At least I hope I am.”

I tried not to laugh as I shook my head. “We’re different, Harry.”

“How so?” Harry crossed his arms over his chest. I glanced over towards the door and saw Michelle Young walk in. She was tall and pretty and when she walked into a room, people noticed.

“Have you looked at you?” I sighed.

Harry looked down at his lap and held out his arms, pretending to inspect himself. He was really making this hard for me.

“Her!” I gestured toward Michelle who was taking her seat. “That’s the kind of girl that gets attention. Guys like you go out with girls like her.”

Harry seemed to study Michelle longer than I would have liked, but when he turned back to me, he merely shrugged.

“She’s okay, I guess. But I haven’t gotten to know her and spend time with her. She may be a lovely person, or she may be a bore. I like you, Jessie.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Being around Harry definitely made me feel a certain way, but I didn’t think he would ever in my wildest dreams feel the same about me. I needed time to process it.

Professor Graham walked into the room then, and the class quieted. Omar shuffled in after the Professor so Harry walked around me to his seat behind me. For the next hour I was grateful he didn’t have to see my face. Because I had no idea what emotions they revealed.

When the lecture was over, Harry asked if we could talk. I told him I had to get to my next class, but he could text me later. And I told him thanks for the donut.

I didn’t get a text from Harry that afternoon, which was rather disappointing, but I tried not to dwell on it. I knew he was out of my league anyway and figured he finally decided for himself.

That night, however, after I ate dinner with my mom and did some homework, I realized I had a voicemail.

“Jessie…” he hesitated. “I’m not exactly sure what I did. But whatever it is, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you off, if I came on too strong. I just...I like you and um.... I don’t really understand this ‘girls like you’ thing you mentioned. But...I think you’re great. And I wish we could go out. But...if you don’t want to, it’s okay. Text me if you want...or call...or whatever. Bye.”

I sat on the edge of my bed with my phone in my hand for nearly twenty minutes. I was too chicken to call. I didn’t know what I would say. And apparently I didn’t know what to say in a text either because everything I’d type I’d just end up deleting before I could send it. Finally I just typed four words.

I like you too.

Harry didn’t reply to my text that night. Or at least not before I fell asleep. But I awoke to new messages Thursday morning.

Thank God!!!

When do you wanna go out??

Oh by the way, how was the donut?

I laughed as I got ready for school, sending him a quick reply that we could go out that weekend if he was available and that the jelly donut was the bomb.

I felt different all day. I seemed to have a hop in my step and a smile on my face at all times. For the first time in a long time, something - other than food - made me...happy.

But the hop and smile were short-lived. That night Harry called me and he sounded terrible.

“I think I’m getting a cold,” he moaned.

“Oh no.”

“I wanted to take you out tomorrow,” he added.

“It’s okay,” I assured him. “We can do it another time.”

“I’m sorry, Jessie.”

We talked for a little longer, but Harry’s coughing was getting worse so we said goodnight.

Harry didn’t make it to Biology the next morning either. I felt awful for him, but more than that, I missed him. Granted, he sat behind me, but just knowing his seat was empty made my heart ache.

After my next class, I had a plan. Taking a detour to 8th and Morton, I made a special purchase before heading to the dorms across from the Franklin Library. I didn’t know which one exactly was Harry’s, but as luck would have it, I saw Omar from Bio walking up to the building and I asked him.

His door was at the end of the hall. Taking a deep breath, I knocked three times. I heard some sort of sounds coming from inside before a latch was released and the door swung open.

“Jessie!” Harry exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

He sniffled, then brought a tissue to his mouth which he coughed into. He looked like Rudolph with his red nose. I had the sudden urge to kiss it, but instead I made myself speak.

“I came to check on you,” I admitted.

“Oh. That’s sweet of you. I’m sorry I’m…” he paused to cough again, “...sick.”

I frowned at his obvious look of disappointment as though he really was more upset that he was sick under the circumstances. I found it endearing.

“Harry, get back inside,” I said, pushing him into his room and shutting the door behind me.

“You brought me something?” he asked, eyeing the bag in my hand.

I smiled, holding it up. “Soup. Now sit.”

Mustering up a smile of his own, he followed my orders and sat at the desk behind him. I opened the bag and pulled out the large container of soup and a spoon.

“Eat up, buttercup,” I sang. Then I sat on the nearby bed as I watched Harry dig in. After the first spoonful, he made a sound and looked at me with wide eyes.

“‘s so good!”

“Told ya! It’s my favorite comfort food. You’ll probably be feeling better by tomorrow.”

“I thought the mac and cheese was your favorite comfort food.”

I rolled my eyes. Okay so he paid attention. “Fine, second favorite.”

Despite his illness, Harry smirked before focusing again on the soup. I smiled and started to lie back on the bed.

“Is this your bed?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Okay, good. Didn’t wanna lie on someone else’s,” I joked.

“But you might not wanna lie on mine since I’ve been sick.”

He had a point. I sighed. “I don’t care.”

Harry ate a little more than half the container before he had another coughing fit. He grabbed a nearby water bottle that he’d apparently been drinking from and guzzled it down.

“‘m Sorry, Jessie,” he whined. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Oh, of course,” I agreed, sitting up. I was about to stand when he stopped me.

“Lie with me,” he said. “Just for a little bit.”

I blinked before he practically pulled me down with him, not having the chance to argue. Harry wrapped his arms around me and I instantly felt warm. I laid my head on his chest and felt his breaths, a nice steady rhythm that soothed me.

“This is so nice,” he murmured. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

I hummed against his chest and he pulled me tighter.

“You know, the soup was great. But if I do end up better by tomorrow, I reckon it’ll be because of you.”

I lifted my head to look at his face. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were flushed, but more than anything I saw...something else. Sincerity.

“Me?” I whispered.

Harry pushed a strand of hair away from my cheek.

“I really like you, Jessie. I think you’re kind and thoughtful, smart and funny, cute and sweet.”

I smiled at him as he traced the back of his hand across my cheek.

“I think you might be my comfort food,” he grinned.

I couldn’t help but giggle at that.

“Smooth, Harry,” I poked.

“Hey, you liked it, admit it.”

It was cheesier than the mac and cheese I so loved. But it was also sweeter than a jelly donut. I could make my own silly analogies. But regardless, it was great to hear.

“I do admit it,” I nodded. “And I like you, too. A lot.”

Tilting his head, Harry leaned in, his lips grazing mine before taking my face in his hands and kissing me tenderly.

If you enjoyed, please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

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[thatdammchickennugget]

Here are some aesthetics and a super small sneak peak at the Mattheo Hunger Games AU I'm working on.

The snap of a twig coming from the other side of the river made you look up but you quickly relaxed, knowing exactly who was sneaking through the forest alongside you.

When Mattheo Riddle first started intruding on your hunting grounds you had been livid. His clumsiness and lack of caution had cost you more than just one fresh kill and you had not been excited about him discovering your favourite patch of strawberries and the abundance of blooming berry bushes.

The first time you had actually run into the tall boy with the intense brown eyes had ended in an exchange of empty threats and childish insults. You had been eleven at the time, him having been just one year older. Both the way his dark mop of hair still managed to tumble onto his forehead in almost perfect curls and the way the corner of his lips quirked into a smirk as he watched your tiny younger self hiss at him like a cornered cat infuriated you immensely.

You hated the way he had looked at you back then, like you did not pose any threat to him at all, even though you had been using all of your bravery to point your knife right at his chest, clutching it tightly in your trembling hands.

Recognition crossed your face when his wide eyes met yours. Lorenzo Berkshire, one of Mattheo’s friends. What was he doing here? In all the years you had been coming here, you had never seen another member of their little group around here, only being aware of them because you saw them at school, always huddled up together.

More than once, you had caught yourself being envious of their close-knit bond. Sure, you had your father and your brother, but outside of your family you were alone. There was no one around in school to have your back or keep you company. But you always told yourself that you did not need any of that.

Lorenzo let out another anguished howl and your body jumped back into action, throwing itself down next to him as your hand reached for the knife in your booth. When your fingers closed around the handle, you did not hesitate to drive it down through the thick snake skin.

Moments later, the animal’s body went slack and you untangled it’s length from around the boy’s leg with practiced hands. “Try to stay still,” you instructed him, your voice soft. You had first-hand experience with how much one of these snake bites could hurt and you knew that pulling the thing off your skin did not feel much better.

With gently hands, you pried the snake’s mouth open, slowly pulling out it’s teeth before throwing it to the side to inspect the wound. His skin was already taking on a bluish colour around the bite marks, meaning that the poison had entered his bloodstream by now.

“Shit,” you grumbled, making the boy look up at you with a horrified expression on his face.

“What? Is it bad?” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

“Don’t worry, I probably won’t have to amputate,” you tried to joke, willing your voice to sound calmer than you felt.

[runninriot]

inspired by the prompt Love is being able to say you’re sorry and mean it by @eyesofshinigami for @steddielovemonth day 23

sorry, not sorry

wc: 1688 | rated: t | tags: Robin Buckley is fed up with her idiot friends, Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are oblivious and they’re bad at feelings, Love Confessions, Idiots to Lovers

„Why should I say sorry when he is the one acting weird. I didn’t do anything! It’s not my fault he doesn’t like me.” Steve looks at her, lips forming a bitchy pout, acting annoyed at her for bringing it up – like he really believes his own words and Robin is the one who just doesn’t get it.

Robin rolls her eyes.

God, she wants to strangle him sometimes. And Eddie, too. They are both so stupid, acting like they don’t like each other when everyone and their mother can see the longing looks they throw at each other whenever they are in the same room.

It’s been driving her mad.

They’ve been dancing around each other for weeks now, putting up fronts, acting like they just barely tolerate each other’s presence. Like they are forced to get along because of their mutual friends.

It’s bullshit. Sure, these two would’ve never met if it wasn’t for the little shitheads they both took under their wings (or maybe Dustin and his friends are actually the ones that took Eddie and Steve under theirs because the teens are clearly a lot more mature than these two idiots) but now that their worlds have collided, it’s so obvious that there is a connection between them neither wants to admit to.

   “You could’ve at least asked him to come?”

   “Robs, he didn’t even look at me when he came in earlier. What makes you think he wants to come to my place when he made it clear that he hates everything about the idea of spending time there?”

Steve is having a party on Saturday, invited everyone over, except for Eddie. Not because he purposely meant to exclude him but because Eddie’s been teasing him about it all week. Whenever Steve mentioned his plans, Eddie made a silly comment about how lame it sounds. ‘Bet the music will be all pop and no taste.’ – ‘Just beer? Come on, Harrington, grow up.’ – ‘Oh, a sleepover? Great! Are we gonna do pillow fights and face masks and all that fancy shit, too?’

Yeah, maybe Steve has a point. Eddie really didn’t make it seem like he wanted to be part of it. And it’s not really Steve’s fault for not understanding that Eddie is doing that out of self-protecting reasons. That he’d rather pretend to hate the idea of spending the night at Steve’s than having to live with the rejection of Steve not wanting him there in the first place. Steve is oblivious.

And obviously, Eddie is too.

And okay, Steve hasn’t exactly been showing Eddie that he cares for him either. Always pretends to be annoyed at him. Always bitching about the stupidest and most inane things like – ‘Yeah how about you grow up Mr Dungeon Master?! Aren’t you a little too old to keep playing games with teens?’ – ‘Jesus, Eddie, you know there’s a thing called hair brush one can use to tame that frizzy mop on your head?’ – ‘No thank you, I don’t want to be driving around in your van. That thing looks like it’s gonna fall apart any second.’

They’re constantly bickering and bantering, always so quick to be at each other’s throats. That is, until they think that no one is looking.

Because Steve actually loves to listen to Eddie talk when he’s leading the teens through a campaign, uses all these various voices to interpret the different characters he created.

And Robin just knows Steve’s finger itch to take care of Eddie’s unruly curls himself but he would never offer, would never say it out loud.

Robin can see the way Eddie’s gaze follows Steve around Family Video when he’s talking to her while Steve is attending to another customer – a sickly sweet smile on his lips, with eyes that are basically heart-shaped.

The way he blushes whenever Steve walks around shirtless and in his stupid, tiny shorts (ugh, men), tries and fails so hard every time not to stare with his mouth hanging open.

It’s like they’re both so desperately trying to convince themselves that they hate each other, when all of their stolen glances and hidden smiles keep giving them away.

   “You know how stubborn he is. I am pretty sure he would’ve said yes. But you didn’t ask and maybe now he thinks you don’t want him there. Did you think about that?”

Steve worries his bottom lip, looks like he’s contemplating what to say.

   “He hates me,” is all he offers and the sadness in his eyes breaks Robin’s heart.

-

   “Talk to him, Eddie.”

   “Pff, why should I? I’m not that desperate to attend some stupid party. What do you want me to say to him? Hey, sorry for making fun of you, could I maybe still get a pity invite so I don’t have to spend my Saturday alone and miserable while you’re all having a fun time? Yeah, no. Thanks.”

She’s gonna lose it with these two at some point. Robin has been trying. Beating around the bush, talking about that stupid party like it is the real problem just because neither Steve nor Eddie are ready to admit what it is really about.

   “What if I want you there. You’re my friend and I want to spend time with you too.”

   “I appreciate it, Bucks. I really do. And I love to hang out with you any time. But this is Steve’s party and if he doesn’t want me there, I have to accept it.”

She wants to shake him. Yell at him to drop the act and be fucking for real, just once.

   “Edward Albert Munson.”

The use of his full name has the desired effect of getting his full attention, eyes blown wide and his expression a mix of appalled and impressed.

   “Can you, for the love of anything that’s holy, stop pretending to be so above everything and just tell him already?!”

She knows it’s a little unfair to put that burden on Eddie when she could’ve told Steve the same. But she knows that between the two, Eddie will be easier to convince.

   “What are you talking about?” Eddie tries, but the blush on his cheeks tells her he knows exactly what she means.

   “You know what I’m talking about. I’m sick and tired of watching you guys pining for each other when you could’ve been making out for weeks now if you would just fucking talk.”

   “What?!” This time, Eddie seems genuinely stunned.

   “You two are perfect for each other. You’re both incredibly stupid and so far up your own asses, that you don’t see what you’re missing out on.”

She crosses her arms before her chest, suppresses the urge to smile triumphantly when she sees Eddie crumble as the realisation hits.

-

Steve is in the kitchen, preparing some snacks and drinks, when the doorbell rings. Everyone is already there, they’re all in the living room having a great time, so Steve thinks it might just be their pizza delivery.

   “Robs, can you get that?”

There’s no answer. Either she doesn’t hear him over the music or, more likely, she ignores him. Steve huffs, drops the bag of chips on the counter and goes to open the door.

He’s fumbling with his wallet, not even looking at the person standing on the bottom of his front steps, when a familiar voice gets his attention.

   “Hey, Steve.”

   “Eddie? What are you-“

Steve’s heart suddenly picks up speed when his eyes drift to Eddie’s lips, a small, shy smile tugging at the corners.

   “I wanted to apologize. I’ve been-“

   “No problem, man! I gotta say sorry, too. I should’ve just invited you and stop making such a big deal out of it.”

   “Not about- okay, yeah that too but- I’m sorry for being a dick. I’m sorry for- for not being honest with you. And I get that this not the best timing but a little bird told me to man up and-“

Steve’s mind is racing. He doesn’t have a clue where Eddie is going with this. Or maybe he does but he doesn’t want to hold up his hopes because surely, Eddie isn’t going to say what he wants him to.

   “I’m not sorry for making you feel like I don’t like you because the truth is, I don’t.”

Steve looks down at his own feet, needs a moment to process, a moment to breathe.

    Huh?

  “It’s more like, I’m totally gone for you, Steve. I want you in ways that scare me. I’m sorry for making you think I’m not head over heels in love with you and your stupid perfect hair and your annoying kindness and just... everything about you that’s had me losing sleep for weeks now.”

  “Oh.”

   “I’m sorry, Eddie,” he says when he looks back up, tries not to sound too excited because he feel like he deserves just a little revenge for the way Eddie phrased his earth shattering confession and nearly gave Steve a heart attack with it.

But then Eddie’s eyes fill with tears and there’s defeat written on his face and-

 No, that’s not what Steve wants.

   “I’m sorry for not doing this sooner.”

He surges forward, nearly misses a step when he flings himself at Eddie, wraps his arms around the other man’s neck and draws him into a kiss.

The kiss is desperate, full of regret for depriving himself of the wonderful feeling of Eddie’s plush lips on his. Dripping with want, spilling all the words he didn’t say, words he wants Eddie to know, to feel in every part of his body.

    I’m sorry for not telling you that I love you.

They are too caught up in the moment; too busy making out to notice Robin standing in the doorway, who came looking for Steve. There’s a huge smile on her face and she knows she’ll regret it because they will be insufferable together. But right now, all she is sorry for is not stepping in sooner.

Because they might be idiots but they’re her idiots and they deserve to be in love.

[donutz]

KickinChicken x reader fluff alphabet[5/8]

—☆You are a smiling critter in this, if u want to know which one(but don't know what animal or insect to pick) you could start out as a sheep!

Affection(How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

— He's pretty affectionate, physically

— It's not like he craves it but he just does it naturally

— Like hugs, picking you up, taps on your shoulder, he shakes you randomly sometimes

— Especially when he wants your attention but you're not listening

— “Sleepy?”

— “...”

— “Sleepy!”

— “...”

— “SLEEPY SHEEP THE THIRD.” He says while shaking you

— “... Huh?”

Best friend(How would they be as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

— He'd be very outgoing and try to interact with you a lot

— Especially with sports

— I feel like he loves soccer

— Though he'd try to have you play almost every sport with him

— Like I said, he's a pretty interactive guy, best friends or not

— It would start with him trying to include you with sports activities, or just plain sports

— Like when he just wants to play them out of nowhere

Cuddles(Do they cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

— Yes, he cuddles, only when you two are alone

— Maybe if you're both watching something scary, yea sure you can cuddle up to him!

— But he ends up the one cuddling up to you

— He can NOT handle horror movies, but are very judgemental about them

— He will literally go on a rant about how bad a horror movie can be

— He doesn't really cuddle when sleeping, but he doesn't mind holding hands!

— But when you and him are sitting next to each other, he leans on you and holds your hand IF there's something covering it

— Unless y'all are alone then he doesn't care ╮( ˘_˘ )╭

Domestic(Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

— No, no settling down

— At ALL.

— He must be moving a leg or an arm, or his flap(?) I'm not sure if he even has fingers…

— HATES cooking

— Especially when he has to see the kids eat chicken.

— He cries every time and gets comforted by Hoppy

— Only likes cleaning when it comes to sports, unless it's a lot to clean then nevermind, but HATESSS having to mop and wipe down things

— Whenever someone tells him to he groans, but ends up doing it anyways

Ending(If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

— We’re not gonna talk about this one ^_^

Fiance(How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

— For the rest of the Smiling Critters, this section won’t ever be like an adult marriage, it will always be in the kiddy way

— Including this one

— He would be in a suit, while trying to seem confident but he’s actually really nervous

— “Wouldn’t mind at any time!” He says

Gentle(How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

— When it comes to hugs, he can be… A little rough

— He can pat you on the back pretty hard when he’s not thinking right

— He doesn’t mean it, he swears :(

— He just gets too excited, and when he expresses it physically… You might have to go through a stinging or bruising pain

— Emotionally, I mean he’ll listen, but don’t expect him to be good with words

— If you need a hug, that’s fine! But if you need comforting words, just realize that there will be some stutters between his words

— He’s not good at verbally comforting

Hugs(Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

— He likes hugs, but it depends on the person

— You and Hoppy? Yea! Anybody else he’s not too sure, it depends on his relationship with that person (or toy)

— He can hug you out of nowhere, then continue with his day

— He’ll hug you, then pick you up and spin you around, then walk away

— Does it often, because of that

— His hugs feel as if he just puts happiness into them

— Like not even just love

I love you(How fast do they say the L-word?)

— If he had to say it publicly, just give him like 5-10 minutes

— He’d try to hold it as long as he can, until the people(most likely toys) go away, then he’ll say it

— If you get a little sad and ask him if he loves you he’ll say—

— “What? Of course I love you!”

Jealousy(How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

— Doesn’t really get jealous, unless someone is purposefully taking your attention away from him

— He doesn’t get really jealous at the moment, but he’ll steal away from that person(less likely, toy)

Kisses(What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

—Hmm…

— Idk…

— He doesn’t really kiss

— His kisses are like… His beak.

— Because his beak is in the way

— Wouldn’t mind if you gave him a little smooch on the cheek

Little ones(How are they around children?)

— No. Having. Kids.

— But he really brings out the extrovertedness in them

— Some kids like him, some kids don't, it's based on their personality though

— Sometimes you can hear the older kids talk bad about how annoying he can be

— So you told Dogday and then he had to go over a lesson/activity  about respect plus kindness

Morning(How are mornings spent with them?)

— Morning person.

— If you're a person who wakes up late, then prepare for him to try dragging you out your bed

— Sometimes he wakes up too early

— He'll try to wake you up, just to ask you if you could cuddle so he can go back to sleep

— He struggles with going back to sleep if he wakes up really early

Night(How are nights spent with them?)

—  For most of the nights, he's too energetic to sleep immediately

— There will be times where he can sleep after 5 minutes

— It's very rare for him to sleep right away

— But when he's feeling energetic a few cuddles can calm him down, and then he'll sleep

Open(When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

— He can spill things out all at once, if he's not paying attention to what he's saying

— But he tries to avoid topics like that, at least negative ones

— I'm not sure what would be negative though💀

Patience(How easily angered are they?)

— Probably could get angry just from sports

— Never has gotten mad at you

Quizzes(How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

— Remembers everything, mainly because he's a chicken

— I feel that if he was any other animal then his memory would be bad

— Sometimes he impresses you by it

— “You remembered that?”

— “Yeah? My memory isn't THAT bad. Plus I'm a chicken!”

— “Chickens have good memories?”

— “... Yea.”

Remember(What is their favorite moment in the relationship?)

— When he wanted to go out first, you immediately pulled him back because Catnap nearly caught him

Security(How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

— He thinks he's the big man

— He's mainly being protective when it comes to arguments or physical thing(like fights)

— He always wants to go first in scary situations, just so you can be okay.

— Secretly wouldn't mind being protected, but tries to deny your help because he's worried about you

— It's his (small)ego talking, but he really is worried about you

Try(How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

— He thinks a lot about them, sometimes stressing when it isn't perfect

— When the ‘dates’ doesn't go how he wants them to you can visibly see him stress

— On the day is was both of your anniversaries, once he woke up he said

— “... It's our anniversary..!” While whispering at night

— “Kickin… It's 2 am. That's what the clock says anyways.”

— “I know but—!”

— You pulled him into a hug and laid him down, cuddling with him

— “We'll talk about this when we're supposed to wake up, okay?”

— “... Okay.”

— If everyday tasks are doing physical activities then he's down for it

— Cleaning, dealing with kids crying, yea not at all, least favorite thing

Ugly(What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

— It's your thought, but when he always wants to go first just in case

— Probably when he wakes up really early, then he can't go back to sleep unless he's cuddling with you

Vanity(How concerned are they with their looks?)

— Isn't

— He thinks he looks pretty rad

— He's right

Whole(Would they feel incomplete without you?)

— Yea :(

— Especially when doing activities, he'll remember you every time

Xtra(A random headcanon for them.)

— He and Hoppy has ADHD(even if this is about Kickin)

Yuck(What are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

— He wouldn’t mind if you didn’t like sports, but could you at least play one time with him?

— That’s all

Zzz(What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

— He tosses and turns

— Probably drools too

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Letters Part Three

John Mitchell x Reader

Words: 3196

Summary: Mitchell and the reader try to create some normalcy living in the same house for the first time in eighty years. 

Notes: I’m not going to lie, this series is also a place where I get to hate Lucy as much as I want because I despise that woman. 

Part One; Part Two

-

Y/N: Do you know where the towels are?

J.M.: Who is this?

Y/N: Right, sorry, it’s me.

Y./N: I mean it’s Y/N. Annie gave me your number.

J.M.: I didn’t give you my number? I thought I did.

Y/N: No, you must have forgotten before you left. 

J.M.: Right. Sorry. Good that you have it now. 

…

…

Y/N: So towels?

-

Mitchell shot you a text explaining that they were in the cupboard in the bathroom, though he didn’t know why Annie couldn’t have just told you that. He tucked his phone back in his pocket and returned to cleaning out his cleaning bucket, which always felt counterproductive to him, but whatever. 

He could still see you standing in that doorway, so different yet so much the same. Even speaking with that new doctor, Lucy, all he could think about was the fact that you were waiting at the house, worrying about Lizzy Kain and God knows what else and he was in the hospital mopping up shite. 

He still didn’t understand it all. Lizzy being a vengeful, psychotic bitch, he could understand. In his brief acquaintance with Herrick’s reluctant Irish aly, he recognized both her and her disgusting husband’s brutality, even for vampires. How you got mixed up with them…

Mitchell gritted his teeth. 

He knew how, of course. 

Because he let you get away. 

“Right, so George tells me we have a new house guest?” Nina appeared in front of him, hands on her hips, and eyes holding her usual contempt for him. “Were you planning on asking the rest of us?”

“Where did you even come from?” He peered over her shoulder at the long hallway. 

“Don’t avoid my question, Mitchell.”

“It wasn’t my idea, okay?” He snapped. Mitchell ran a hand down his face and sighed. “It was Annie’s.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Sometimes she forgets the complicated nature of having relationships when you’ve lived over a century.”

Nina leaned in and lowered her voice. “So it’s true then? She’s your… your wife?”

Mitchell turned away. 

“Wow,” she scoffed. She shook her head, surprise clear on her features. 

“What?” Mitchell was getting tired of this conversation. 

“Nothing,” Nina shrugged. “I just wouldn’t have thought you the type.”

“I did have a life, you know.” He crossed his arms. “A very long one, actually.”

“Right.” She exhaled deeply. “I forget that sometimes, I guess.” Her tone softened from interrogation to just regular curiosity. He couldn't tell which was more frustrating. “So are you two, still, you know, together?”

“If by that you mean are we still legally married?”

Nina nodded. 

Mitchell let the tension in his shoulders relax. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.” He noticed her lingering surprise and elaborated. “Things like divorce get a little trivial when you-”

“Live as long as you do, I get it.” Nina bit her lip, trying to decide whether or not to keep walking or say something else. She chose the latter. “Listen, I’m not trying to be that flatmate, I just…” She looked up at him without disdain. “After everything that happened, we have to be careful.” 

Mitchell gave her a small smile. “Thanks, Nina.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” She started to back away, raising a brow. “I can’t wait to hear all about you in your younger days from Mrs. Mitchell.” She held up crossed fingers. “I’m hoping for a photograph and a bad haircut.”

Mitchell rolled his eyes but laughed anyway. 

“I’ll see you later,” he said. 

She took a deep breath and pushed through a set of doors into a different hallway. 

After another hour, Mitchell finished work for the day, though a part of him wanted to stay there forever. The hospital was far from a palace, but there he could be something else. He could be invisible. 

You could see him. Better than anyone else, you could see him. 

He walked slower than usual down to his locker. 

“Mitchell!” A woman called after him. Lucy hurried towards him. “Sorry, I know you’re about to head off, but could you do me a favor?” 

He stopped walking and waited, but she just kinda… looked at him. 

“What is it?” He asked, a little more impatient than he intended. 

“Right, sorry.” That look in her eye didn’t go away but he couldn't quite tell what it was. “Could you show me where room 303 is? You would expect it to be next to 302, but no, finding anywhere in this bloody place is impossible.” 

His confusion must have shown on his face because she continued. 

“I just figured they make you clean up all round, so…”

“Um, sure,” he said. “It’s up this way.” 

He couldn't help but feel her watching him as they walked. She looked away every time he glanced at her, but he could still sense her eyes every time he turned his head back. 

“Alright, what?” He said. “Have I got something on my face? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Lucy sighed. “It’s nothing, I just-” She shook her head. “God this is stupid. I just feel awful about how I was earlier and I wanted to say sorry.”

Mitchell shrugged. “It’s okay. Really.”

“This transfer hasn’t exactly been what I expected and I took it out on the first bloke I saw.” She fixed a loose strand of hair. “So, yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Really, Lucy, it’s fine. I’ve dealt with worse from some of the white coats around here.”

“Can I make it up to you?” She blurted. She cleared her throat. “Buy you a drink or something?”

“Oh, I…” Mitchell grimaced. “You know, I just had a lot come up in my life and-”

“Okay,” she cut him off. “Forget I said anything.”

She walked away before he could say anything else. 

Mitchell stood in the middle of the hall, looking utterly flabbergasted. “Well, that was weird.” He ran his fingers through his hair and headed back toward the locker room. Shift change had already happened, so the place was empty. One of the lights was out, flickering overhead. It set him on edge. He opened his locker. 

And a rose fell out. 

-

You didn’t know how long you’d stood with the fridge door open, staring at the light while the cold air seeped out around you. 

“You…okay?”

The sudden voice made you jump, slamming the fridge door shut. 

Mitchell stood in the doorway to the kitchen. He held out his hands. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Christ, well you did,” you exclaimed. “If I could, I’d have a heart attack.” 

He snickered. “I said I was sorry.”

You turned to him, trying to look angry, but you just couldn’t. Not when he was smiling at you like that. Even with everything that had happened that day, you couldn’t keep yourself from laughing with him.

“Hand me a beer?” He asked. 

You opened the fridge again and grabbed two, popping the top off of your own. You took a long, slow drink. 

Mitchell took a long, slow drink. 

Then the two of you exchanged a long, slow look. 

It was enough to drive both of you mad. 

“How was your day?” Mitchell wondered, unable to keep the awkwardness from his voice. 

“It was fine,” you said tightly. You could still feel the heat of Daisy’s stare and the chill of Ivan’s indifference. “You?”

Mitchell thought of the rose he’d thrown away on the way here. He thought of the only person who would have sent it. 

He shrugged. “Fine.” 

“Great.” You took another drink. 

So did he. “Great.” 

“I found the towels,” you said. 

“That’s good.” The image of you in the shower popped into your head and just made him all the more awkward. “Does Annie’s room suit you okay?”

“Oh yeah, it’ll be fine while I’m here.” You leaned against the counter. “I really appreciate her letting me stay there.”

“She doesn’t really sleep, so,” he shrugged. 

“Still,” you said, “it’s nice of her.”

“Yeah.”

You both finished your beers. 

Was this how it was going to be? Sitting in silence, walking on eggshells, never knowing what to say? It used to be so natural. You could tell him anything and he you. He was your best friend. Now, were you anything more than strangers?

You finally both spoke, words overlapping each other.

“I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner.”

“Do you want another drink?” 

You blinked, processing his question after yours. 

Mitchell looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just, I don’t cook much and Nina and George are working tonight, so I thought…” He stood, picking up the empty bottles and tossing them. “Never mind, it was a stupid idea.”

“No,” you said, following him. “I think that sounds kinda nice.” 

After the day you had with Mr. and Mrs. Crazy, you wouldn’t mind a nice meal. And eighty years left a lot of catching up to do. 

“Really?” Mitchell asked, brows raised in surprise. 

You nodded. “Maybe you can show me around Bristol. I haven’t been in ages.” 

He smiled and your knees felt weak.

“Great.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m just going to take a shower and then we can go?”

“Alright,” you said, turning away to keep from melting entirely. 

So that answered that then. Even after all this time, you could never be strangers. Not really.

-

It was a quiet night. The pub had few other patrons, which let you and Mitchell eat in peace. Though, without the bustle, it left room for the awkward silence that plagued the two of you still. 

“Good chips,” you noted. 

He shrugged. “It isn’t the nicest place, but it’s George and I’s favorite.”

“It reminds me of the place my father used to take me to,” you said. “Do you remember?”

“How could I forget? I’d see you in there when you were just a girl, waiting to help walk him home.” He shook his head. “Drunk prick.” 

It wasn’t a pleasant memory, but for some reason, the frustration in his tone comforted you. 

He still cared. 

“Not all of my nights at that pub were bad,” you said softly, looking at him over the top of your beer. “We first danced there.”

Mitchell chuckled. “Dancing is a generous word for you stomping all over my feet.”

“Maybe I was just giving you a reason to give me more lessons.” You smirked back. 

You looked at each other for a long while, his soft hazel eyes staring into yours and making time stop. For that moment, it felt like you were back in that pub and he was asking you to dance. 

Mitchell looked away first and cleared his throat. “So how long were you with the Kains?” 

You set your stein aside. “I met Lizzy around the turn of the century and she took a liking to me. When she asked me to stay with them, well-” You took a deep breath. “She isn’t exactly the type you say no to.” 

“I remember her being,” he tried to think of the right word, “intense.” 

You snorted, bitterness lacing your tone. “She’s a right crazy bitch.” Taking a long swig of your beer, you shrugged. “But having her for a friend for the better part of ten years had its perked. I mean, no one messed with us. It was like we were untouchable.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

Another uncomfortable tension filled the air. 

Mitchell couldn’t help the frustration burning in his chest. All those years ago, you left him behind. You left him with the power you both feared more than any other. And you left only to stumble into another situation that was just the same. 

You felt his demeanor change and anger bubbled up your throat. 

He had the audacity to judge? After everything he’d abandoned you to be a part of? After everything he’d let Herrick get away with?

You shook your head. 

In his defense, he didn’t know everything.

“Maybe we should be getting back,” you said, keeping your eyes trained at the table. 

Mitchell leaned back in the booth. “I’ll get the check when she gets back.”

“You don’t have to-”

“It’s not a problem.”

Christ, it was worse than a bad first date. 

Daisy’s mocking words from earlier rang through your head. 

“You’ve been apart longer than you’ve been together.” Her blue eyes sparkled wickedly at you. “I’m surprised he even remembers you.”

Was it possible? Had he blocked out your past together while you’d spent every day for nearly a century thinking of his smile? 

“Oh, um-” Mitchell scratched the back of his neck, his awkwardness turning less irritated. “There’s a sweets place on the way back. They’ve got those old-style chocolates you like if you want to stop by.”

“Are you buying those too?” 

A small smile returned to his lips. “I’m a hospital porter, Y/N, and I don’t mop up money.”

“We could always swipe it like we did that bottle from McQuinn’s place,” you snickered. 

“He almost shot us.”

You waved your hand. “He was half blind. The man couldn’t hit the side of a barn.” 

Mitchell stood and held out his arm. “Let’s just go, alright?” 

“Alright, John.” You took his arm and let him lead you out. 

Things may have changed, but he hadn’t forgotten. 

-

Y/N

I would like to see you again. I know it might be complicated because of your father. We can meet by the river at the spot where you hid the whiskey. Meet me there tomorrow night when your family falls asleep. If you don’t want to, I won’t bother you anymore. But I’d really like to hear more about your story. 

Yours,

John

-

Back at the house, Annie greeted you with a cup of tea and a big question.

“Were you two on a date?” 

You nearly choked on the tea. “What? No!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mitchell sputtered. “We went out to the pub, that’s all.”

Annie simply raised a brow and took your hand, leading you into the living room. “Well, I think he has hogged you long enough.” 

Mitchell scoffed arms out at his sides. “We were gone for two hours.” 

“But Y/N was gone all day,” Annie said, confused.

Mitchell turned to you with brows furrowed. 

“Annie, why don’t you show me some of your favorite channels?” You hurriedly picked up the remote and let the sound of the TV take over the growing tension. 

Mitchell narrowed his eyes, but decided not to push it, heading upstairs to take a shower and wash the memories out of his head. Being sentimental now wouldn’t help anyone. Even if your laugh reminded him so much of how it felt to be young. To be human. 

“So.” Annie’s curious, bright eyes found yours. “Where’d you disappear this afternoon if it wasn’t with your husband?” 

Daisy’s piercing eyes and Ivan’s smirk popped into your head.

“I just wandered around,” you shrugged. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Bristol. A lot has changed.” 

“I know!” She exclaimed. “Just last week they finished building this awful shopping mall and I don’t think I’ve ever seen an uglier building.”

You laughed, reminding yourself that even though the two of you weren’t exactly amongst the living, she was still so new.

“Sounds awful,” you agreed, though not without a teasing tone.

Annie nudged you with her shoulder. “Just wait til you see it.” Her mouth fell open and her face lit up. “Oh my god, we should have a girls' trip and get you some new clothes!” She clapped her hands excitedly. “It’ll be so fun. And you didn’t come here with much in the way of outfits.”

“What’s wrong with this one?” You looked down at your ratty jeans and jumper. 

“It’s… fine,” she said. “A little too ‘on the run from my crazy vampire coven’ don’t you think?” 

You gasped in mock offense.

“This is my favorite shirt.”

“Maybe we can get you a new one?” She snickered.

“You’re terrible,” you exclaimed, letting the laughter take over. 

She was right, of course.

It was a fucking hideous jumper.

-

Summer 1909 

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

He threw the bottle.

You raised an arm to keep the glass from hitting your face as it shattered against the wall. You ran.

“Get back here ya ungrateful-”

The slamming door cut off your father’s shouts. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

Thunder rumbled over your head but you didn’t care. The sound cleared away the stinging words in your mind, washing everything away like the rain that was sure to follow. You hoped it was a tempest. You hoped lightning struck that house and burned everything to the ground. You hoped it took you up in the wind and carried you far from here. 

You don’t know where you’re going by the time you get there, finding yourself at a crossroads down the lane from your cottage. A wheel with a broken wheel sat abandoned on the side of the road, providing a good specimen to focus your unfiltered anger on. 

Wood splintered and metal creaked with every kick you landed against the vehicle. Screams of frustration mixed with the sound of the destruction. You tore off pieces of the seat with your hands and threw them into the field. 

You attacked the object until you were out of breath and sweat stuck your hair to the back of your neck. 

“That’s an interesting tactic to fix a wheel.” A voice said behind you, making you jump. A boy your age stood with his hands in his pockets, watching you with an amused smirk. “I could help you if you like.”

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” you snapped, tucking your shaking hands under your arms. 

“Is that why you’re attacking a poor, defenseless wagon?” He stepped towards you. “Because I think there might be an underlying issue here.”

“I know you.” You glared. “You’re that Mitchell boy who used to chase me around with frogs. John.”

He laughed. “In my defense, we were six.”

“I hold grudges.”

“Is that what happened with the wagon?” 

You let out a growling yell and threw another piece of broken wood at him, which he aptly dodged. 

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” John held up his hands in surrender. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He raised a brow, ready to make another comment about the splinters you’d kicked in. 

You looked away. 

John took another step towards you, his tone sweet and gentle “Can I walk you home?”

“No,” you answered a little too quickly. You cleared your throat and shook your head. “I don’t want to go home.” 

“Can I walk you somewhere else then?” He smiled. 

You scoffed. “If my father saw you alone with me, he’d shoot you.”

John glanced around, holding out his arms. He shrugged. “I don’t see him anywhere.” He held out his arm. “McQuinn’s’ll serve us so long as we don’t tell him how old we are.”

You smiled, feeling a small weight lift off your shoulders. 

He was rather cute, you supposed. 

“Okay, John.”

[unohanadaydreams]

Remember that poll I made? Here is whatever the fuck this is that I wrote in honor of the results.

Features: Reader is a gender neutral fairy and they are not immune to the residents of Urahara Shoten.

Kisuke Urahara x Fairy!Reader

Dense cherry air clung to your clothes, skin, and wings making you feel like a sticky wad of hot glue. You’d given up on movement entirely.

“Poor thing’s all tuckered out,” The blonde mop said, eyes glittering through the bar of shadow his hat sat on.

Two teens jostled until their eyes were horrible distortions above you. Their constant vying for the best view and the muggy artificial air beat against your forehead in a climbing migraine.

“We should dry it off—“ a swirl of flesh and flame red tapped the glass, “Remember the one who said that is me, Jinta, when you get out.”

Big, sad eyes bobbed larger, smaller, larger, smaller next to him, “I feel bad. I don’t think it would actually go for our eyes, Urahara.”

“Of cooourse not,” Urahara sang. “I was just being cautious.”

You absolutely would of. If Ururu, the horrible girl with the water gun and amazing aim ever let her guard down, you would burrow through her cornea using your teeth alone.

“Stop bragging,” Jinta said. “It was a lucky shot.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You’re still being smug.”

“I’m not.”

Actually, they were both losing an eye. The consistent thumping stab was migrating from your forehead to behind your eyelids and still, they continued bickering.

“Enough, you two,” the cat said. It pawed your jar, shifting you toward the edge of the table. After Ururu had shot you down, stinking teeth and a rough tongue had caged you as everyone scrambled for a jar. If you were given the chance to dole punishment, this beast would suffer most.

The cat flicked an ear, inching you closer toward the floor. You did nothing, pasted to perspiring glass, hoping for an impossible reaction of flight out the still open window if the cat did indeed smash your jar against the hardwood.

“Get to the training ground before I change my mind and eat the little monster.”

The cat herded them away but they argued still, growing quiet only once they were farther away. You had always hated cats. They had pawed at you since birth, the insatiable beasts. Adding sentience was a waking nightmare. And what if its thumbs were opposable? Truly wretched possibilities.

“This air is disgusting,” you said in a rasp, almost sad you hadn’t been spilled to the floor.

“Don’t worry,” Urahara said. “Next will come the lychee; much lighter in composition but still yummy. Don’t cute little fairies love sweet smells?”

You lied and said, “Fuck no.” Juicy, ripe fruit was your favorite. But this was being forced down your nostrils so you hated it.

Sweet candy smells landed you in this sweltering prison. The lush cherry air compelled your lungs to inhale fully, body confused and convinced the fruit lay close to your lips. Panting, mouth ajar, spit trailing your chin, you let the wash of verbal nonsense fade along with your consciousness.

@

You moved from a jar, to a proper glass cage, then to an expansive enclosure tailored to your tastes. How they knew your tastes was a questions you didn’t want answered. The Urahara man was as disturbing as he was compelling.  How did he know your tastes.

“Now, now,” he’d said taking you from proper cage to expansive enclosure. “Needless violence will get you grounded.”

The cat was suddenly there. “You’ve never grounded anyone.”

Tessai, the only one who would keep his eyes once you escaped, took you from Urahara gently, coaxing your needle teeth free from Urahara’s intersection of flesh between pointer finger and thumb before lifting you away.

You almost said thank you. He was the only one that minded your wings. Urahara was the worst, always rubbing them with obscene strokes. And the teens did so too, at least innocently.

Actually, you would thank him.

“Than—“ He misted you. Twice. With water. Like a snake.

Your wings were too wet to stay swift. Their dehumanizing version of clipping you like a bird.

Tessai’s fingers were already out of reach, beyond your teeth, smartly transporting you in a jar when you reached for him.

“I hate every one of you.” Your fists knocked against the lid, gums and teeth sliding uselessly against metal.

“Just let me eat them already,” the cat yawned.

Tessai screwed the lid with a firm twist, “Don’t indulge in their tantrum, Yoruichi.”

“Fuck you,” you said, flopping to the bottom.

“Hmm, that does sound interesting to work out the logistics of,” Urahara said. “But we hardly know each other.”

You screamed and thrashed wildly.

“Both of you are children,” Tessai said, shaking your jar lightly, “you too. Stop hurting yourself.”

“Yes, Jinta and Ururu are already so fond of you,” Urahara said.

The hallway they were carrying you through was dimly lit. And longer than you thought possible, when you’d cased the outside of the building before absolutely bungling the theft.

“Who cares?”

“I do!” Urahara tapped the lid, the metal popping in rapid succession, and you clapped your ears, the next words muffled, “So you’ll have to bear it. My original plan was to keep you out here. In a fun little enclosed for the costumers—like a sea monkey!”

Your teeth latched into Urahara’s skin the moment the world stopped moving and he opened the lid. He didn’t flinch.

Instead, he rubbed one of your wings with relish between his finger, until you curled into yourself in shaky defeat.

“But we clearly can’t trust you around our precious customers, can we?”

You bit him again, vibrating with each fondling touch passed over your wings.

“So what,” you said around his flesh. “Gonna kill me?”

“No,” Tessai said at the same time the cat said, “Yes.”

“That would yield valuable data, but Tessai’s right,” Urahara said too close to your face. “I like you better alive.”

His hold was careful but firm as he lowered you into a large terrarium, mimicking a small, rustic fairy town. The wooden buildings squatted on loamy moss. An oval of pond was the focal point, directly in the middle. Everything fanned from it, like fingers from a palm. You used the sweet water to swish away the taste of Urahara’s blood after he pinched your wings enough to work your jaw open in reflex.

A prick of pain between your shoulder blades sprung while you hunched over water and you felt a weight resting under your skin there. You flexed your back uselessly, the implantation snug beneath your skin.

Your wings were too damp to spring up and retaliate fast enough. Instead, you spluttered on the springy moss until you could breathe again.

“I’m going to kill you,” you said.

Urahara tapped the glass. “Many people have tried.”

For once, you believed him.

@

The enclosure was surrounded by a maze of mess that rose and fell in mysterious order. Both Urahara’s room and personal workspace, he navigated the jumble of belongings with ease. He was graceful when he forgot about playing to your audience of one, too absorbed in expansive, flickering screens and piles of manila folders, many stained and some literally moldering.

He spoke at—not with—you often.

When he forgot you, when he existed beyond any reach but the data he toiled hours analyzing, you felt lonely. It was a defeat to admit that. But after months of living an oddly cushy life, surrounded by people who seemed to want you happy, you’d become shamefully complacent.

Biting was a chore. And thoroughly unpleasant since Urahara started flavoring the flesh and blood of his gigai. Your escape attempts had grown pathetic. The last had ended with choosing to flap back to Urahara’s room over battling one moment longer with Yoruichi’s claws and teeth and fucking taunting. She did have opposable thumbs and no matter the pitch of voice or shape of body, she was always smug.

You turned away from the enclosure you’d not been forced in for weeks. The lid was ever open. You were beholden with choice. Doors were left ajar. Windows  were never shut now that Summer called. Tessai had whiddled little cutlery and cups for you. Jinta & Ururu were fiercely vying for your ownership of a shiny, new—human scale—gigai. Urahara was too accommodating when you deigned to sit on his silly hat or his sturdy shoulder. And Yoruichi had mostly laid the game of cat and winged-mouse to rest.

Urahara  swept his hat off to scratch his scalp, not mindful that you sat on top of the striped bucket. You clung to any fabric you could hold after being flung, landing somewhere along his back. Fluttering up  his shoulder, you pinched his neck and settled there instead.

“You did that on purpose.”

His laughter fell to sheepish denial, “Not at all.” Urahara placed you next to his keyboard, lifted his arms high, and almost toppled backwards as the stretch stole his balance on the wheeled chair he loved.

“I still don’t get what all this is for,” you said, swiveling away from the subject before he could suggest you wear a bell again. You stepped over a couple keys on tip-toes, enjoying the ‘click’ sound when they sunk under your weight. “What’s the point?”

“I owe a favor,” Urahara shrugged.

“You actually repay those?” You danced over the keys, grinning when he reached for the backspace symbol.

“Well, this is an exceptional favor,” he said, undoing your gleeful work. “Kurosaki is a good kid.”

You could agree with that, at least. He and a gaggle of his friends would come at times, only a little surprised when they first saw you, like they bumped into fairies all the time.

The only one you couldn’t say was a ‘good kid’ was his girlfriend. She was beautiful and acted perfectly kind.

But when she’d first seen you, she had asked Urahara, “Oh! Is she like mine?”

“Entirely different outside of being just as tiny and cute, Inoue,” he’d said in answer. You’d slapped away his pinching near your cheek.

“There are other fairies around?” You hadn’t seen a single one in years.

Orihime held you carefully and her smile sparkled. “Not anymore. I guess I grew out of them.”

“Where’d they go?”

She gestured to the flowery blue hair clips framing her face.

“Ahaha, well…..no where? They just don’t exist anymore. Unless they work with poke-ball logic! If so, they’re probably very cozy. Unless it was up to me to imagine their home which—oh, I’ll have to do that tonight. I’ll imagine the best house! I hope they haven’t been squished all because of me!”

The girl had followed up by saying ‘Ayame, I choose you!’ and despairing a bit when the phrase did nothing but make the Kurosaki boy snort.

You had grown suspicious when Urahara could not clarify what the fuck that meant or where the fairies had gone. The image of Orihime smiling kindly as she did to you and striking down a handful of fairies stuck firm in your mind. You were wary of her label as ‘a good kid’.  

But Kurosaki could keep his title, because he was obvious in his annoyance toward Urahara and Yoruichi. And anyone who did that was some kind of good.

You dropped from your tip-toes, smashing four keys all at once. “Yeah, but didn’t you say this thing may not exist?”

Urahara lifted you back to his shoulder. And you let him. Your stomach squirmed when you lost your opportunity to put up a fight and instead sat, placid.

“It does exist,” he said. “Just not today. Maybe not for years. College is statistically a stressful time.”

“This makes no sense and Tessai is right. You need an actual hobby.”

Urahara retrieved his fan and a gust almost topped you. “Are you going to teach me to paint?”

“I’d rather die,” you said, twining your fists into his robe. Woe to whoever had taught Urahara anything, ever. “And stop that!”

He tapped your head after folding the fan and said, “I don’t think you mean that anymore.”

“I really, really do,” you said, climbing up his head, back to the hat, twisting your hands and digging your feet into his hair and ear instead of flying. “You make a joke out of everything.”

“If you change your mind, you’ll be the first to see the gigai I’ve been working on.”

He waited until you were settled to place his hat to the level of his eyes, carefully and in consideration of you this time.

“I don’t want a human body,” you said with bite.

Urahara tittered, “Oh my, I wouldn’t dream of it. It’s not for you, anyhow.”

“What does that mean?”

Urahara plopped you back on his head with his hat and went back to typing.

“Teach me to paint and you’ll find out, remember?”

He was baiting you. Plain. But effective. His words were like the smell of sweet candy through an open window and the lure of a comfy life surrounded by strangers who grew to people you knew and cared for and stayed for. Even if they were annoying. And pushy. And still batted you around like fucking yarn.

Even then.

You were going to grab for it eventually.

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Secret Relationship - SAI!Josh x Fem!Joseph!Reader

Pairing: Josh Dun x Fem!Joseph!Reader - Tyler's younger sister

Warnings: Some swearing, Tyler threatening Josh

Word Count: 1445

Summary: Josh and Y/N have been hiding their relationship from Tyler for a year but when they go on tour everything goes wrong.

The Takeover Tour. My brother Tyler had invited me to go on tour with him and Josh this cycle. It was the final year of my studies and I’d arranged to finish my work online while on tour, lucky me. Scaled and Icy was my favorite of all Twenty One Pilots’ albums to date, the bright colors and propaganda concept had made a nice change in their discography. The boys were soundchecking and I’d decided to sit in on it, listening to their music while working on my laptop. Josh was sitting on his drum throne scrolling on his phone and waiting for Tyler to talk to one of the sound guys. A notification popped up on my computer. 

Josh: Hi

I looked up and flashed him a smile. 

Y/N: Hi :)

Josh and I had been secretly dating for the last year, and Tyler had no idea, which meant we had to hide it while we were on tour. It was easy for us to sneak around back home because Tyler wasn’t always around but here on tour, it was almost impossible. 

Josh: What’cha working on?

Y/N: An essay about the French revolution. What’s up?

Josh: Oui Oui

Josh: Um, I was wondering if you wanted to go hang out in the tour bus after soundcheck. Have some alone time before the show.

Y/N: You know I’d jump at the opportunity for alone time with you J 

I smiled up at Josh to see him wink at me. 

Y/N: Don’t let Tyler catch you looking at me like that Mr Dun

Josh: Even if he did catch me Miss Joseph, he’d never assume that we’re together. 

The boys worked till about 4:30, Tyler went back to his dressing room and Josh ran out to the bus. I made sure to wait a few minutes before running out after him. The bunks Josh and I were staying in were right next to each other, both on the top at the back of the bus, meaning that if we were about to get caught, we’d know. It had been a while since we’d actually touched one another and it had practically been torture. Josh was wearing a black t-shirt that perfectly showed off the beaded necklace I’d gotten him when the album came out, a necklace that Tyler had no idea I’d gifted Josh. 

“Come here,” Josh held out his arms and I walked slowly into them. I breathed in his scent, a warm vanilla smell that reminded me of a candle I used to burn in my room. Josh had been growing out his hair for a while, meaning that all the color he’d dyed into it had been cut off and replaced by a curly brown mop I’d loved more than anything else he’d even done with it. 

“How much longer do we have to keep this up Josh? I hate lying to people about us, especially to Tyler,” I laid my head against his chest and he wrapped his arms around me. 

“Just a few more weeks. I swear, we’ll tell him once tour is over,” he sighed. We walked into the back lounge and closed the doors, cuddling under a blanket. I wanted to tell Tyler more than anything but I knew he’d kill us. Knowing his little sister and best friend had been together behind his back for a year would hurt him more than anything else could. I moved so that I was laying on Josh’s chest, eyes closed from the long day of work. 

“I’m so tired,” I yawned. 

“Then go to sleep babe, I’ll wake you up when I have to go get ready for the show,” I nodded, finally accepting that I deserved some much needed rest. Josh placed a kiss on my head, his arms cradling me in a perfect position. “I’ve got you.”

An hour later

My eyes were slow to open, but as I heard the sliding door move I sat up faster than Josh could say ‘I love you’. 

“Josh! Josh!” I frantically shake him awake. 

“What fuck are you two doing?” A voice. Tyler’s voice. Tyler never swore, which meant this was bad, really bad. 

“Oh man,” Josh ran a hand through his curls. We were in big trouble. Tyler looked shell shocked, his entire body stiff with anger. “Tyler I swear it isn’t what it looks like.”

“Really? Because what it looks like is my best friend and little sister are–” he paused, an expression of nausea crossed his face “it looks like you’re a lot more comfortable with each other than I thought you were, which means you’ve been hiding something from me.” It was exactly what it looked like. I stood up, feeling tears build up in my eyes. I reached a hand out for Tyler but he jerked back. “Don’t touch me Y/N.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do Tyler, I didn’t know how to tell you,” I muttered. 

“Oh so you thought you’d lie to me. How long has this been going on?” He looked desperate to know everything. 

“A year,” Josh sighed. 

“A year?! Y/N don’t you see he’s clearly trying to take advantage of you?” Tyler brought his hands up to cover his face. “I can’t believe you’d do this to her man.” He was blaming Josh. I couldn’t let that happen. The two most important people in my life were not going to fight because I decided to date my brother’s best friend. Josh looked destroyed inside. He was speechless. 

“He’s not doing anything, okay? I’m happy with him. He’s been the most supportive person I’ve ever been with,” I laid a hand on Tyler’s shoulder, this time he didn’t move away. 

“You ever hurt her and I’ll kill you Josh,” Tyler seethed, Josh’s head hung low. “But if you’re happy Y/N then I trust you. You’ve never shown me that I shouldn’t trust you.” He was letting us stay together? Tyler? My brother who never let me date anyone ever was letting me stay with Josh. I pulled him in tightly for a hug. 

“I love you Ty.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Josh you need to get ready for the set, we’re on in 30,” he looked over me to Josh. 

“I’m so sorry man, I should’ve told you sooner,” his voice was breaking.

“Don’t apologize. You care about her, you should’ve told me sooner, but I know now and that’s all that matters. Now, we’ve got a show to put on. I’ll see you out there,” he smiled, before leaving the bus. Finally Josh and I were alone again. 

“Are you okay?” I asked, cupping his face. 

“Not really. I feel like crap. I royally messed up and now I have to go play a show in front of thousands of fans when all I want to do is crawl up into a ball and cry,” he shook his head in an attempt to wave off the tears. I pressed a kiss to his lips which he lazily returned. 

“You still love me right? This hasn’t messed anything up?” I searched his eyes looking for an answer. 

“I still love you Y/N, I’m just gonna have to figure out how to protect you from the world now. People are going to know about us now and I don’t want you to get hurt. Not to mention that Tyler and I’s dynamic is probably going to change now”

“You’re forgetting my brother is the frontman of this band Josh. I’ve had to deal with the fame stuff since I was 17. And Tyler doesn’t hate you, he’s just going to have to get used to us,” I smiled, dropping my hands from his face. 

“I guess you’re right,” he nodded, leaning forward to kiss me. I gripped the back of his neck and pulled him in closer, deepening the kiss. He was perfect in every way and finally he was able to be mine. “I love you,” he sighed into a soft smile. 

“JOSH! I swear, I have no idea what you’re doing in there but if you don’t get out here and on that damn stage I will tell Tyler what you two have been doing for the last year!” A voice that could only be Mark’s shouted from outside the bus. Josh got up quickly and ran in the direction of the stage as I followed slowly behind him. 

“I’m not even going to ask how you know we’re together but FYI Mark, Tyler walked in on us half an hour ago, so you’re a little bit behind with the blackmail.”

//

Please submit any requests y'all have! I love to write so let me know if you've got any!

[mmmmmmmmmmmmsoup]

The cleaner

part 1

(This is my first short story, so please be kind, but I would also love some feedback)

Some background information: You are a dropout from the military, you were looking for a much needed job. Somehow, you landed a gig cleaning. Now you are a cleaner who picks up after a bunch of smelly dudes. But it’s not all bad, you get paid fairly well and the company(?) that you work for has given you rent free accommodations. These are your adventures!

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! You wake up panicked, sitting up immediately only to find the source of the noise, your alarm clock. “Ugh”, you push the button to silence the alarm, while rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

6:30AM was the time, it gave you enough time to get dressed, brush your teeth, eat, and anything else you needed to do before your shift started. As you looked in the mirror, putting your hair in a pony tail(or just pinning it up, if your hair is too short), you sighed “another day”. With one last look in the mirror, you headed out the door.

Getting to where you needed to work was no trouble, you literally had to walk across the gravel driveway and you were there. The company that hired you, gave you a little shack to stay in while your here. Not the nicest shack you’ve ever seen, but it had a bathroom, room for a bed, and a mini fridge. Which is more then most shacks have.

You’ve been working here for almost 2 weeks now, your still getting adjusted to the job, while the men that your cleaning up after, are getting adjusted with your presence. You haven’t talked to them a bunch, but you know they are an odd group, to say the least. there are 9 of them, some are fairly clean and even give you a hand with work, while others… less so.

As you make it inside the building, you look down at your check list that you carry around. “Let’s see here…garage has been done, all of the lower floor has been done, mmm. I guess all there is to do is clean the kitchen, sweep, mop the floors, and vacuum any rugs. Ok seems pretty low key for a Thursday, sweet!” You click your pen and get started with your day.

Threw out the day you have managed to clean the mess that was the kitchen, sweep and mop most of the rooms, with only a few more to go, and it isn’t even 1pm yet. You were on a role!

Currently you were vacuuming a rug that was located in what you would call, the living room. Mindlessly vacuuming, zoning out thinking about who knows what, when suddenly the vacuum stops. “Uh?” You try turning the vacuum off and on, nothing happens. “Please don’t tell me this thing just died on me!” Your eyes follow the wire of the vacuum to where you plugged it in, only to find a VERY large man standing there, with the end of the cord in his hand. ‘Holy fuck!’

The man was tall, like fucking ridiculous tall. He was more on the bigger side for body types, but you could tell it wasn’t just water weight, this man could knock the shit out of you if he wanted.

You started to sweat slightly “…can I help you?”. This guy did not look friendly, he wore a scowl on his face and is looking down at you as if you have done something wrong.

“You go on break now.”

Baffled, unsure you heard him correctly, “pardon?”

“You go on break now.” He says once more, with a thick Russian accent.

“Oh…OH! No, I’m ok, I’m just gonna finish up, then I’ll be done for the day.”

“No, you take break.” He insists, well not really insists more demands it, but yeah.

“No really, I’m almost done, won’t take anytime at all!”, you try to say without coming off as rude. ‘Let me do my job big scary man, and then you won’t have to see me for the rest of the day!!!’

“I make sandwiches.”, He blurts out.

….

“What?”

“I make sandwiches, you take break and eat.”

‘…well that was unexpected. I thought this guy just hated my guts, but he actually might be nice?’

“Oh….ok, I guess I can take a quick break, couldn’t hurt.” You say as you place the vacuum to the side.

“Good.” The giant starts to turn around and walk towards to kitchen/dining area, you follow.

as your walking, your trying to remember the name of this giant. When you first started working here, you had gotten a small introduction to the 9 men, but it was short, and names were never your thing. ‘What was it again? Henry? No that isn’t it… hoovey? Heavy? Heavy!’ As you both make it to the kitchen, there’s a table in the corner with a plate stacked with sandwiches, like atleast 25. A crazy amount of sandwiches, but maybe he made some for everybody? ‘Aw, that’s kinda sweet.’

As you sit down, heavy grabs you a plate and napkin. He doesn’t sit, “I go get everybody else.”

“Oh, ok”, as heavy walks away you grab a sandwich and place it on your place. ‘Should I wait for everyone else to get here? Heavy didn’t say anything about not eating right away.’ As your staring at the sandwich, you realize your gonna be in a room full of guys you don’t really know that well. Your anxiety is starting to set in, you’ve never been great at socializing, you start to tear at your napkin to try and sooth your social anxiety.

Suddenly out no where a bunch of guys basically run in to the kitchen, some grab a plate and sit down, while others grab one or two sandwiches and leave immediately, assuming to return to whatever they were doing before heavy told them about food.

“So your the newbie, eh?”, You look up to who spoke, it was a guy with a hard hat on and some goggles. He wore overalls that were stained with oil.

"er, yup. Well kinda, I’m just a cleaner.”, You shrug, as you reach for your sandwich.

“Well I’m engineer or engie, for short, just incase you forgot. Thanks for all the work you’ve done so far.” Engineer says with a smile, ‘what’s with all the weirdly specific names?’.

“Ja! I don’t think this place has looked better!” You turn to the man with the German accent. He has black hair, round glasses, and is wearing a doctor uniform. ‘I know his name starts with a M, so his name isn’t doctor….um mmm me- medic!’

“Well thank you, I try!” You say bashfully.

“Well I’m heading back to work, got this new blueprint I’ve been planning” engineer says, as he grabs a sandwich on his way out.

Now that engineer has left the room, there’s only 4 people in the room, including yourself.

Medic, was sitting across from you, while heavy was sitting beside him. Then there was a guy in a suit wearing a ski mask sitting to the right of you. ‘I have no fucking clue what his name could be. I wouldn’t even be able to guess, theif? Sketchy jewelry salesman?’

You start eating your sandwich, trying to avoid eye contact ‘this sandwich is actually pretty good!’

“So Y/N,” you hear medic say, you freeze and look up at him from across the table.

“How are handling your living arrangements? If you need anything fixed in that old shack of yours engineer can fix it for you!”

You swallow your bite of food “oh! It’s ok, I don’t need anything fixed. It’s got everything that I need, can’t complain.”

“I’m surprised you were ok living in a shack in the first place.” You hear a French voice to your right. It’s the guy that looks like a sketchy jewellery salesman.

“If I was you, I would have asked to be placed within the building itself, it’s not like we don’t have room” he continues. 

“Aw well, i’m sure your company just wanted to make sure it was kept professional is all.” You say nervously.

“I suppose…” He replies, grabbing a cigarette from his pocket.

‘I gotta get out of here!’

Before anyone else can put a another word in, or have to wait another minute in awkward silence, you take one last bite of your sandwich and stand up. “Well, I better be getting back to work! Thank you for the food heavy.”

Heavy nods and sort of grumbles in a thank you tone, as he scarfs down his 4th sandwich.

You put your plate in the sink, feeling a little guilty cause you just cleaned the kitchen, and now you might have to do it once more today.

“Don’t worry about the kitchen, we’ll clean up when we’re done!” Medic says from across the room. ‘He must have seen my conflicted face.’

“Oh, are you sure? it is my job to clean” you stress.

“Ja, I know you already cleaned to kitchen, the least we could do he deal with our own dishes.”

“Ok well, if your sure.”

You walk out of the kitchen to continue the list of chores you must do.

For the rest of the day, it doesn’t take you long to finish up. You put away all the cleaning supplies, and head outside to your shack.

On your free time you doodle in your sketch book, write down the names of your acquaintances, so hopefully you will remember next time and just chill.

You go to bed early so you can wake up early tomorrow to clean some more.



Ok! That’s part 1! How did I do??

I have no idea where I am going with this story, I just know I’ve been itching to write this. So if anyone has any ideas, I’d love to hear them

[lostinwalmartmymomleftme]

ANY CREEPYPASTA SQUAD HC??!?!?

I left them out of my first head cannons post and hope someone would ask me this:

Randy

He has incredibly poor vision, but obviously does not have the access to an optometrist that one would need if they have bad vision

Now I’m not saying he’s a horrible cook, but I’m not saying he’s a good cook either- He does cook like a middle-age Dad who just got divorced and his ex-wife did all of the cooking. But he is trying, I’ll give him that.

Honestly, I don’t think he has enough emotional awareness to recognize when he’s being flirted with (not that I think that anyone would, I just think that’s an interesting thing to think about)

I’m thinking ethnically, Randy is American (Most likely British Roots, BUT LIKE THIS MAN IS AMERICAN)

You cannot sit there and tell me this man does not get up at the ass crack of dawn. This man wakes up before the sun and he doesn’t happily, maybe even willingly.

Bobby

He has stabbed Hacker, and would do it again.

Randy has given the other two chores, Bobby’s least favorite is sweeping and mopping the floors. He HATES it.

In online games, he instigates. If there is a fight, he’s probably the one who started it, but he’s not a part of it.

I’m not gonna lie to you he probably sleeps in the fetal position

He is American-German/Japanese ethnically

Hacker

As for hackers ethnicity, I’m not entirely certain, I would almost say American-Korean/Russian

This man was a college student who hacked someone, you can’t tell me he doesn’t walk everywhere. He prefers not to drive actually-although out of the creepypasta squad, for certain reasons he is the best driver.

He seems like the type of guy to own several pairs of crocs.

His middle name is James. (Theodore James Bradford)

He has a shellfish allergy

Bonus: Finch

When he gets up in the morning, without fail, he gets tangled in the blankets and falls off the bed.

His favorite drink is hot chocolate, he doesn’t really care for coffee, though he will drink it

In his spare time he writes, primarily history books and they are published but he writes them under a pseudonym

He is allergic to cats, not like deathly allergic, but like severe swelling yk?

Now Finch, honestly, is the character I’m most nervous about forming a head canon for his ethnicity for but here I go:

Most likely an indigenous culture, perhaps Navajo?

Venezuelan

German

Cuban

Creole