#and then i have to do a paper on it... gross.... whatever... so is life... anyways bye everyone..

[xxplastic-cubexx]

ran into one of my fave profs after class today and he asked me if i had an interest in pursuing philosophy and prof i gotta keep it a buck with you i was just looking at old man yaoi and i intend to do that for the rest of the evening i dont got time for that i aint built for that

[venmondiese]

ONE MISSING POINT

-ˋˏ| summary: Failing the class just for one point, and you ask Michael Gavey his help to pass the exam. Tutoring isn't his strenght, neither is yours.

✧ | Pairing: Michael Gavey x reader

✧ | word count: 2.8k

✧ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, public masturbation (m receiving), humilliation, Michael is a virgin and he doesn't last long.

It was practically a tradition that Mr. Bynes posted the results of the class in the (most important) headboard in the whole university, and people practically crowded around the single paper sheet searching for their grades and to see if they were at risk of failing the course entirely. If so, they had to do the mandatory exam which was by no means friendly. 

He isn’t as worried as people around him, trying to make his way in the crowd to see the paper. He had to awkwardly pass through some people crying over it before he could see the paper. 

He approved it all. He expected it, of course, since he always participated and was one of the few who understood something the professor said. Sure, he didn’t have straight 100%, but nothing lower than 80%, which was really good upon seeing some people had more than one 0. 

It was a relief, but again, expected. He shrugs and goes on with his life as he walks away, thinking of going to his dorm and annotating his grades to later on calculate his final average score. 

“Michael! Michael Gavey” a voice calls him, as he sets his feet on the grass. He turns around, seeing you walking closer to him, as quickly as you could. 

“Ehm… yes” he says, awkwardly, looking at you. 

You shared calculus and some other classes, and you were good. Not bright, exceptional or anything, but good. And you were so much better at other things, more social and bold things he doesn’t dare to do. 

“Hi… how did you do?” You ask, slightly out of breath as you try to be polite. 

“Ehm… fine, I guess” he doesn’t get why you talk to him now.

“You passed?” You ask tentatively. “I… I saw your grades, and it was awesome, really impressive…” You hesitate before adding “I am sorry, I know… it’s weird, but… You were like one of the few people who actually passed.”

Michael shrugs. as he nods. “I guess so.”

“And you see…” You say taking his arm to interlock it with hers, as you and your friends did when walking together. It was so womanly, he felt weird. Or maybe everyone did it and he didn’t know…? “I had good grades, I did well in that essay that everyone hated… But I had one test in which I got 40%, because I transferred badly one of the gross numbers, and before you ask, I did calculate it… But since I transferred it wrong, the final value was wrong”

“Ah…” he says, not sure what to say “That sucks”

It didn’t suck. To him, it was like a stupid mistake easily avoidable. 

“Well, I was one point away from pass the course, and I explained this to the professor but… didn’t listen, you know him, he said that one point is missing, so I have to give the exam, and I need like 20%, but still..., and now I desperately come to you to beg you to please help me and tutor me” she says, as she turns to look at him. 

He blinks. He didn’t do tutorings on his free time. He did them for extra money, for credits or whatever reason. 

“Please Mikey!” You say, grabbing his hands. “Please please please, I only needed one more point to pass the class, I know about the subject, and it was a silly mistake. You don't even have to teach me from zero, only... go over the things we studied and that... please!”

He isn’t willing to do this. He doesn’t want to do this, yet he is weak. After all, he is a man. And he isn’t blind, you are pretty. Like out-of-his-league pretty. And you are prettier closer.

“Fine…”

You lean to kiss his cheek with a smile, and you nod. “It’s a date then. Tomorrow in the library? Could it be at four?”

He blinks a few times, trying to process the whole thing. He was supposed to finish the semester quickly, and… now he is caught up trying to teach you so you don’t fail a course, all because his mind betrays him. 

So, he tries to do the whole ordeal as smoothly and quickly as possible. He doesn’t want to do this but whatever. At least you are not dumb on the matter, you know something. He has heard some of the answers you give in the classes, and they weren’t as bad as one would hope. 

He’s sitting at one of the study desks, right beside a large shelf, and the library was with a few other students, concentrated in their own thing. He brought his notes with him, even if it was illegible. He tries not to be impatient, as he checks the clock on his wrist. 

“Sorry for being late, I– I got caught in something and…” You say, and you were breathing a bit heavily. 

“No big deal…” he stutters, as his gaze darts down to your blouse. Logically, since summer was getting closer and closer, you wouldn’t be wearing a sweater, but he didn’t expect… Well, he didn’t know what he expected. 

Why was he being so weak around you?

“Sit, I have my notes to show you…” He says, and so you take a seat by his side as you curiously lean to check his notes. Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, he was very neat in his handwriting, even if they looked like the handwriting of someone in the 1700s.

You are not such a bad learner, and he was rather enjoying teaching you after some time. You actually heard him, as he explained in depth how to have the correct answer for all, as he tries to address everything.  You asked good questions, and pointed at the mistakes he had given you, to see if you could identify them in an exercise. 

As close as you were, Michael could smell how your perfume was nice. It smelled sweet, but not so much that he would like to throw up. Besides, everytime you stared at him, he could feel a bit uneasy, since he got a bit nervous. Your gaze was deep, and he didn’t know what it meant. 

Clearing his throat, he writes a new problem for you to solve. He had done a lot when studying, so he copied one of his. He hopes that focusing on the study will help him to distract himself from the weird feelings around you. 

“Here, try this one” he says, handing the notebook to you. It is complex, but doable. 

He manages to explain really well, as he gets into the theme and all. You do the work, and slide it over for him to check it. 

“You have a girlfriend, Mikey?” You ask softly. 

He looks at you, before turning back to check the answer. “Eh… no” he mutters, trying not to be ashamed. 

You were actually great, you are very tidy when unfolding the exercise and actually took in his advice, he can see it. Yet, you make the same mistake, you took the gross value as the final one. 

He made a circle, and he was ready to explain. 

“He-Oh” he gasps, feeling your hand on his thigh. He was frozen. 

Maybe it fell onto it. Maybe it was by mistake, it was surely by mistake, there was no way it was intentional. And surely it was a mistake how you caressed his inner thigh so… slowly. 

“Oh, did I get it wrong?” You ask, looking at him as if you didn’t have your hand at his thigh.  

He felt his head doing a short circuit, as if trying to understand what this meant. Was he imagining things? He surely must be. 

“Y-Yes, here… here you took the gross value…” he mutters pathetically, he was confused, he didn’t know what was happening. He wasn’t complaining, at all, but what does that mean?

What did it mean that you had your hand on his thigh? Surely, it was something… reasonable. 

“I’ll re-do it” you say, taking the notebook. And you didn’t take your hand away. 

He was frozen. This can't be happening. He's supposed to be helping you with your studies, not... not whatever this is. And yet, his body is betraying him, his skin tingling under your touch, his pants beginning to feel uncomfortably tight. 

He grips on the edge of the table, looking at the ceiling of the library. Suddenly, he is very aware of his surroundings, looking around as if everyone knew that your hand was sliding up as you did the exercise. Women surely can multitask…

“Eh, well, now… we can use the formula… you-you know it” he says, his throat feeling dry as he tries not to whimper. 

“Yeah, yeah. Like the rosary.” You say with a confident nod.

“Yeah… so, what’s the next step?” He prompts you, as your hand is higher and higher, and he is starting to lose his mind. 

“Replace the values, a… with this, and b…” your hand brushes higher and he lets out a little whimper, thinking you were about to stroke his cock… yet it doesn’t happen. It’s a pathetic sound he emits, and he gets red after it. “With this…”

He sees you replace the values, rewriting the formula, ready to be used.

“Right?” You ask, with one of your sweet smiles as if you didn’t know what was happening. 

“Eh, yeah… yeah, that…” he says, trying not to sound that pleased, even if he starts to feel the arousal pool on his stomach.

He starts to feel himself straining against his pants. It was painfully arousing, and he tried to play it cool. He didn’t want for you to notice, as you caressed his inner thigh.

“I… I need a break” he says suddenly, looking at you. 

You look at him a bit pouty even, as he grips on the edge of the seat trying to breathe in and breathe out. “But I am learning” you say to him “I really am”

You were driving him insane. He didn’t even know if he should address the elephant in the room. Maybe he’ll say something about it, and you’ll stop, be disgusted and leave. 

But he tries to keep inside his whimpers, since the library was the worst place ever to do this. Everyone quiet and it’s open for anyone to see. 

“I think… I..” He hesitates, falling to being able to finish a sentence. He moans softly, feeling your hand brush against his notorious erection, and he can’t bear it anymore. “Ah, please…” 

Michael was blushing, embarrassed of it all as he tries not to move his hips to follow the touch of your hand, since it isn’t where he really needs. How could he be so weak? His cock wasn’t even being touched now, but he felt so dizzy already. Maybe it was because, okay, he had never been with anyone else, but it was… embarrassingly little time to be so… needy. 

When he feels your hand on the tent of his pants, he whimpers, the sound too loud and filthy that his left hand goes instantly to his mouth, covering it to mute himself before he does another embarrassing thing that gives them away. 

“Y-You.. You have to stop” Michael murmurs, the words muffled against his palm as he looks at you, glasses sliding through his nose slightly. He was so flustered, he looked cute. 

“Why?” You ask in a pout, not wanting to. 

“I can’t– I need…” He tries to say, to make a coherent thought as your hand moves to follow the shape of his erection. It sends shivers on his spine and he practically melts on the seat as his eyes are rolled back in pleasure. How could it feel so good? “I… I… We can’t…”

He seems so confused with his own thoughts. “We can…” You murmur, looking around as nobody was actually watching them. “If you really want me to stop… I’ll stop”

Michael doesn’t want you to stop. He really didn’t. But he didn’t want to get caught, it would be embarrassing. 

“We are in public” he says, his eyes searching yours. 

“Yes, I know” you say, not stopping the strokes on his cock above his clothes “But look at how much you like it” 

He’s already made a small, wet patch at the front of his pants. Oh, god, he thinks. He looked away, it felt embarrassing, his face feeling hotter as embarrassment creeped into his gut alongside pleasure. 

He liked it, but he was trembling with a mixture of emotions, and he didn’t know what to think. He was so close too…

“Please…” He begs senselessly, he doesn’t even know why he is begging. “I don’t wanna make a mess…”

Your hand touches him with the clothes in between, but the fabric of his light brown pants was thin, and it felt almost delicious. He would hump your hand if you two weren’t in a library. 

“You are making a mess…” You coax him softly, as he tenses his shoulder and falls slightly against yours, as his body was trembling with arousal. 

“I don’t wanna stain my pants” He murmurs embarrassed, in a little voice as he feels his balls tighten up as your hand insists on the head of his cock, stroking it through the fabric.

“It’s hot” you murmur back to him, and your hand is on the wet patch “And when you cum, I’ll feel it here”

He can’t form a proper sentence as he feels you hand caressing his dick, he felt the wetness on the tip of his cock, and even if it was so unlike him, he found himself so aroused. He is on the verge of cumming on his pants, just from the touch of a woman. Damn, you aren’t even touching his cock directly. 

He felt like a teen, needy and so hormonal. He wasn’t like this fromages ago, and he finds himself leaning on you, his forehead against your shoulder as he whimpers softly, his hips searching your touch as he is close. 

The thought of cumming in his pants, making a mess was both humiliating and arousing, as his body tense with each stroke. “I can't… i… I'm going to…” 

His hand goes to cover his own mouth as he reaches his peak, a strangled moan coming from his throat and his hand muffles the whimpers he lets out. He can feel his cock spurting cum into his underwear and trousers. He doesn’t want to call attention, but he cums so hard, his body basically slumps back in his seat as he feels his balls tighten with each rope of cum that his cock leaks. 

You are awfully quiet afterwards, moving your hand away as you clean it and he tries to gain his breath, feeling dizzy already and so pleased. He wants to hide his face in shame, and the other wants to beg you to do it again. 

“I’m sorry” he murmurs.

“Don’t be” you whisper back to him, looking at his wet spot on his crotch. “To me, it was amazing. You definitely made one of my fantasies come true”

He blushes, he feels very self conscious all of the sudden, and he makes sure no one in the library paid attention to them and what they were doing. He moves slightly as if trying to cover up the wet patch on his jeans. 

“You enjoyed it?” You ask him, not pushing him too hard.

“Yeah…” He admits, slightly embarrassed but also very much pleased. 

You look at the forgotten notebooks, and then to him, as he accommodates on the seat and moves his hair slightly as if that would make him go unnoticed by everyone else.

“If it is worth anything, your tutoring did help me tons” you say, taking your notebooks together to save them in your pack. 

He is glad that he could help. Maybe this was your way of repaying? He couldn’t know or decipher it. He takes his things and saves them up in his bag as well. He wanted to go to his dorm and take a shower, and put on pajamas and think about this. 

“I’m not great with words…” He starts, his tone hesitant but trying to overcome it. “But… Thank you. I really… Hm. It was cool”

You smirk, nodding slightly as you appreciate his words. 

“A bit riské” you tease him playfully.

“Yeah…” he chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck. “I am a mess”

As he adjust the glasses on his nose, you hum, “Well, nobody really cares but you and me”

“I can’t believe we did… that… in here…” He mumbles, dumb founded. “And I was… so… I completely lost it…”

“Do girls usually make you… lose it?” you ask in a whisper. “Or do you last longer, and I happen to have magical hands?”

He blushes to the blunt question, looking anywhere but to your face as he avoids answering. “Well, um…” he doesn’t want to admit his lack of any experiences with girls “Girls don’t…. touch me like that” he says in a whisper. “So I can’t say…”

You didn’t judge, looking at him, and you nodded.

“Well, next time we’ll see”

Next time. He looks at you with eyes slightly wide, as he tries not to stutter his words. “Next time?”

“Obviously” You say smiling to him. “If I pass the exam, we are doing it without the pants” You say smugly “And… more”

He was so lucky you missed one point to pass the course. 

[spitdrunken]

man. still have NOT managed to get my hands on the book of bill because it's sold out literally everywhere over here, but have any of you seen the new 'how not to draw' vid on the disney youtube channel that features bill? it really got me thinking.

notes: fourth wall breaking, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships, implied sexual content, implied mind control

it's heavily implied that the video takes place in a world where gravity falls is supposedly fictional, like our own. bill literally says he's going to break the fourth wall! because i'm a sucker for fourth wall breaks and characters being aware of their own fandom (to an extent), i simply just HAD to run with this scenario.

i just like the idea of 'you' being just a person, some totally, in the large scheme of things, insignificant human walking the earth. you have a tendency for escapism, perhaps. you have always been drawn to stories. you like gravity falls. maybe it was something you watched while you were younger and recently rewatched, or an interest that had never waned. regardless, bill cipher, charismatic and unapologetically evil villain that he is, is one of your favourites.

you doodle him on the edges of paper when you're supposed to be doing anything else. (regardless of anyone's artistic skills, it's not difficult to draw a triangle with a top hat and an eye, is it?) and in this world, you are hardly the only one who likes him, who, perhaps, ships himself with him, who thinks about him a lot. who makes drawings and writes or reads fic. you don't think it's all that unusual.

in a stroke of luck or, depending on how you look at it, the exact opposite, the universe's idea of a cosmic joke, you are the one to catch bill's eye. (it's, after all, much easier to infiltrate the dreams of someone who already has you on their mind. makes sense, doesn't it? a tentative, wavering link had been formed already.) there, in your dreams, he tells you what to say--triangulum, entangulum. meteforis dominus ventium. meteforis venetisarium--and the next morning, you remember it clear as a memory.

you do it. for funsies. why wouldn't you? you don't expect it to actually work. he's a fictional interdimensional demon. why would it work? but much to your surprise, and horror, because surely a screw must've gotten loose for this to be happening, one of your little doodles has life blown to it. as a response to your summon, a tiny little bill cipher darts across your paper, alive but still confined.

(you've given him an in. now, he only has to take the crack you've opened for him, dig his fingers in, and tear it open.)

oh, he'll be funny! he'll be exactly what you thought of him. perhaps he even voices a line of dialogue you swore you wrote down somewhere days prior. yes, he's read whatever you wrote or read, whatever you looked at. he's keeping it himself for now. it's not easy to inflate his ego further, but you might have succeeded. rather than a meatbag, bill first looks upon you with the eye of someone presented with a puppy. fundamentally lesser, but capable of being something with the right training.

he urges you to make a deal with him and the promise he'll act out whatever fantasy you've been cooking up in that brain of yours, even if it's gross and weird and physically impossible!

he'll warp your dimension to make all of it possible!!! it's great!!! don't worry about it!!!!!!

…you don't do it. you don't touch the paper. you've seen the show, and you aren't stupid. bill nearly balks. he'd expected you to be the easiest mark of all time, but he suppose he forgot that even puppies have teeth. that's fine. he can work with this. because even though you have not let him in yet, and you refuse to shake his hand through the paper, you don't seperate yourself from him just yet.

you could oh so easily take the piece of paper he's on and throw it in the nearest shredder. or set him on fire. in you, he recognises lingering curiosity, and the excitement at having stood out, at being chosen, in one way or another. it's not hopeless yet.

he can play a bit of a longer game, then. he's been at this for a long, long time. he'll tolerate the paper he's on being folded into a little square and tucked into your breast pocket, granting him a view of your life and the world you're living in. (all the time, his hunger grows.) your decision not to throw him away ends up being your downfall. spending so much time with bill, letting him joke around with you, complaining about your problems… it takes a while for you to realise that, for a while now, he has not been speaking out loud anymore, but instead through your mind.

a connection that cannot be cut has been formed in between two of you.

on bill's part, he had thorougly expected to be bored. but perhaps it's your genuine interest in him, not the things he's offering, which he does not often see. (he's been down this road before. won't end well. but...) the sheer mundanity of your life that makes him wish he could twist and turn it all around. or just a random alignment of the stars. the heart doesn't always follow logic. in this scenario, at some point, bill realises that he has become genuinely invested in you, too. and at that point, you'll never manage to slip away. he's already dug in his heels in your mind far enough. you had no adequate protection.

he still wants to take over your world. he still wants to escape the discomforting flatness of the paper you've summoned him in. but, perhaps, you two could share that meatsack of a body of yours, before things get that far.

[rueclfer]

crave to do it again // touya todoroki

when just for a second, it all felt so simple

a/n: geettt this shit out of my drafts!!! is this the fucking angst yall wanted!!!

@bbluefllame 😔

At 12:00AM, it was unusual for the city to go quiet. Aside from the buzzing lamp post, crickets chirping, and the occasional chatter from the nightcrawlers down the street, you wondered where everyone had gone. Maybe they knew what was to come.

The cool night breeze was circulating through your apartment along with soft ambient music emanating from your record player. You were fists deep in various articles of clothing, crumple up notes, loose photos, and more all haphazardly thrown in dingy cardboard boxes.

"Touya, look." You call his attention away from the wad of paper in his lap. "You have to wear this tomorrow." You held up the "If lost, return to Y/N" shirt you had gotten him as a gag gift for his birthday last year.

"Asshole." He chuckles. "If any part of that shirt survives, they'll come for your ass next."

"Heavy on the if." You mutter, sadly smiling to yourself, letting your hands fall back into your lap.

You tightly clutched the black fabric, looking closely at the worn cracked lettering before bringing it up to your nose, deeping breathing in his faint lingering scent of citrus and cedar mixed with laundry detergent.

You two were sat criss-crossed on your bed with a box sitting in between you two. You occasionally glanced up at him to see his furrowed brows focus on whatever item he had in his hands, silver hair damp from the shower, and him sporting an old band tee you two passed back and forth as a pajama shirt. You wished you could take a picture of this moment.

Everything almost seemed normal. Almost. You tried not to let the dread brewing in your stomach overwhelm you, but your hands had been clammy all day, you couldn't keep any food down, and you were sure you were less than 12 hours away from a breakdown.

"Gross. Don't know why I kept this." He flips a photograph over to you, revealing a creased family photo of the Todorokis burnt around the edges, but every single face still legible. "Throw it away for me, yeah?"

"Absolutely fucking not." You snatch the photo from his fingers, peering closer to see him in his childish glory- missing teeth, tousled hair, and a wide grin that had diminished with age.

It was rare for you to see a photo of Touya before he joined the league. You never told him, but the night he revealed his full name to you, you scoured the internet for any photos from his previous life, but only ever finding the haunting school photo from news articles announcing the death of pro-hero Endeavor's eldest child.

"I'm not throwing any of these things away." You held the photo close to your chest, tears suddenly welling up in your eyes the moment they met with his own.

His eyes widen for a split second, before faltering into a soft, regretful gaze.

"There it is." He sighs.

Touya shoved the box in between you two off of the bed, reaching over to take you in his arms.

"You know, I was waiting for the waterworks all fucking day, I was almost sure you were looking forward to me dying."

"Shut up, I'm fine." You say, tilting your head back, letting the tears settle back in your eyes.

"You don't have to be fine, sweetheart." He mutters, bringing your head into his chest, holding you tight. "We can talk about it, you know."

"It's just.." You begin, pulling back with tears streaming down your cheeks now "..look at how perfect this is, Touya." You plea. "Look at us." You gesture to the mess of your bedroom with his belongings and boxes scattered around.

In another timeline, it would have been an image of you two moving in together. It's your first night. You're figuring out how to split the closet with him. Maybe you can have breakfast for dinner for the fun of it. You'll try to sleep early, but you two are giggling to yourselves until early in the morning. You two would sleep in until mid-afternoon, and spend the rest of the day in bed. He'd stay.

"I know. I'm sorry." He whispers, reaching up and swiping away your tears with his thumbs.

You knew that despite the end coming near, it was all still perfect- meeting him, knowing him, falling in love, spending his last moments with him. Last moments. The dread was creeping up your throat. How can you make time stop?

Touya knew deep in his heart that if there was anything that could have saved him, it would have been you. If he had just been a bit less rotten, if he had been born in a different hour, in a different body, he would have married you, given you a quiet life, and anything else you wanted. He wouldn't have this festering darkness inside of him threatening to overcome with every passing second. He wouldn't have been born with a single purpose. His life could have been yours for the taking.

"Promise you don't hate me for this?" He hangs his head to rest on your shoulder.

"I could never hate you." You rake a hand through his hair, letting the other rest on the nape of his neck. "I'll think about you for the rest of my life. I'll celebrate your birthday every year. I'll talk to you every night before I go to sleep. I'll tell everyone about my partner and how big his heart was and how he made the stars shine for me. I'll love you forever."

"In another universe, I would have given you everything." He murmurs.

You two silently settled in bed, tightly wrapped in each other's arms as you laid your head on his chest, and taking in his heartbeat by memory, being sure to lock the gentle sound in your head.

"What do you think you'll do after?" He breaks the silence, hand running up and down your back.

"Maybe find God or something?" You sigh. "I dunno."

"Don't make me fucking laugh." He chuckles, almost making your eyes water again from hearing and feeling the deep vibrations through his chest. "God does not want to find you, that's for damn sure."

"Well ask him for me, when you see him, yeah?"

"So sorry to break this to you, babe, but I don't think I'll be meeting God tomorrow." You could hear a hint of sadness in his voice.

"I guess I'll see you in hell then." You look up at him, meeting his eyes in the moonlight leaking in from the open window. "Put in a good word for me."

"That's more like it." He presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

You two silently ask yourselves the same question. Will he be fine after tomorrow? Will you be fine after tomorrow? Will that little boy in the burnt photo be at peace? Will you be able to go on?

"Any last secrets?" You ask, half joking. "Or any burning piece of information you've been keeping from me? Now would be a great time to unpack."

He takes a moment to think.

"When you go through the rest of my clothes, in one of my pant pockets, I still have the wrapper of the condom we used from the first time we fucked."

You slap your palm down on his chest.

"Dumbass." You laugh. "Why the fuck would you still have that?"

"What can I say, I'm a sentimental guy. Put it in a scrapbook or some shit." He shrugs, smiling at the thought.

"Yeah. I will." You half laugh, half choke out, silent tears now staining his shirt. "I have a secret too."

"Go for it."

"What if I told you I already killed your dad so there's no need for you to go out tomorrow?"

He shifts his body to face you now, slinging an arm over your waist and pulling your body flush to him. The air was filled with you silently sobbing behind your hands. You told yourself you'd be brave for him, but the bitterness in your heart had been leaking. It was circulating in your blood, and you couldn't pretend like it wasn't killing you from the inside anymore.

"I'd say, cool." He presses his cheek against your forehead. "And then we'll stay like this all day. Or maybe we'll take the first plane ride out of Japan. Wherever you'd wanna go, I'll follow you."

"Yeah. I'd like that." You say in between sniffles. "I think it'd be nice to leave Japan. Just for a bit."

You wondered if this was acceptance or denial. You could laugh and cry about it now that you're in Touya's arms while you two were waiting for the sun to come up, but for a long time, you saw the headlights in the distance, and the humming slowly growing louder in anticipation as tomorrow crept closer and closer.

In this moment, you accepted that you would grieve for him much longer than you were able to love him. You denied that he would be leaving you in a few short hours. You accepted that this was a necessary evil that had to be taken care of. You denied that this was the only way.

In another universe, you won't have to miss him. In another universe, he doesn't have to die for this. In every single one, you love him for as long as you'll remember him. In every single one, he'll survive through you.

You eventually hear his breathing slow down into deep inhale and exhales through his mouth. This was your last act of love for each other while you two walked this Earth together- a quiet night in each other's arms.

You memorized the patterns of his scars, the way they brushed against your skin. The color of his eyes you would see in the ocean. His silver hair still clumped in your hairbrush sitting on your bathroom counter. His love dazed expression is captured on a photo strip hidden in your wallet. Maybe he'll live forever, after all.

He'll wonder how long it'll be under you check your glove department for his letter. Knowing you, it'll at least be a few weeks.

"Idiot." He thinks to himself.

Your laugh echos in his head right before he's engulfed in flames. He wonders if your homemade cream could heal these new burns. Can you see him now? Tell him you're proud. Death isn't so sweet as he imagined, he wants to tell you, but seeing your face dissolve with his vision as he burns up is as close to heaven as he'll get.

In the end, you were right. You always were. It is nice to leave Japan. Just for a bit.

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 10)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: Drinking

Word Count: 3517

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9)

Notes: Happy Valentine’s Day my loves 💙

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“Well…” Rhys trails off from over your shoulder. You don’t think your muscles could coil any tighter, didn’t think your cheeks could flare any hotter as you stared down at the returned quiz in your hands. Then Rhys appeared behind you after speaking with your professor. Not even the heat of his body nor the breath of his soft breathing can distract you from the paper. “It’s not an F.”

“It certainly isn’t an A,” you respond, glaring so hard at the red circle with the D+ scrawled in the middle. You’re focusing as much attention on making the paper burst into flames as you are trying to keep the prickling behind your eyes from turning into something more.

“I think aiming for an A was a bit ambitious to begin with,” Rhys says gently. It wouldn’t be hard for him to sense your utter disappointment, with your head hung low and the defeated slump to your shoulders. He has an urge to eat the space between you, wrap his arm around your shoulders and let you lean into him, to comfort you. He wants to see you smile, even glare at him, because anything is better than seeing you this downtrodden.

“Easy for you to say,” you mutter, shoving the paper into the fold of your binder before slamming it shut. The soft thud it makes does nothing to expel your annoyance, and you almost bare your teeth at the damn thing as you stuff it in your bag. “You’re like a dictionary for all things psychology.”

Rhys follows you from the hall. At least this was your last class before the weekend. You can shove any and all things psychology from your mind and focus on what’s much more important tonight, Gwyn’s birthday.

He holds the door to the lecture hall open and you dodge students entering for the class following yours. You catch the looks people shoot Rhys’ way. Apparently, he’s well-known. You see girls ogle him, guys nod in his direction as he passes like he’s some sort of celebrity or something. It’s almost laughable, how someone on a sports team could be so valued across a campus. And he’s not even on the football team, which you find even more impressive, since your school lives and breathes Bats football. Hockey is a close second, with women’s soccer a shocking close third for student events.

You suppose that any sporting event where people can get shit faced and scream nonsense in a large crowd would be appealing to most.

“Come on,” Rhys says. “You really didn’t do that bad.”

You shoot him a look.

“Rhys. Were we looking at the same quiz back there? Because all I saw was a big, fat D.”

He carefully folds his bottom lip between his teeth and amusement swimming to life in those heart-stopping violet eyes of his. He refrains from cracking a joke about how there could be another big, fat, D in your future, if you ask nicely. It takes superhuman effort to keep the comment to himself.

Still, you notice, and smack him playfully on the arm. “Gross.”

He holds up his hands in fake surrender. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t need to,” you reprimand. You turn your head away from him, acting like you’re searching for something across campus. If he catches the way your cheeks flush from whatever he may have been thinking, he politely refrains from pointing it out.

“I studied so hard, Rhys,” you complain, grasping the straps of your backpack tighter. “I’m actually doomed.”

“You’re not doomed,” Rhys refutes. His arm brushes against yours as you walk and every time you remind yourself that someone could see you, you shift an inch over. “We’re going to have to work harder, that’s all.” Rhys doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re trying to create space. It’s like there’s a magnetic field drawing him into you, and within a few feet, you’re walking on the edge of the sidewalk.

And the thing is, you are trying really hard. You don’t know how much more effort you have, and there’s only a month and a half until finals. By your calculations, you’ll have to get Bs on every assignment, quiz, and test until the end of the year if you want to pass.

That sounds impossible.

“How about Saturday night? You can come over to mine after the game and we can study together.”

You can’t, even though you kind of want to see what the hockey house is like when there aren’t a thousand people stuffed into the interior. You want to see what Rhys’ room looks like. If word makes its way back to Mor, you’ll be totally and completely fucked. She’s your best friend and you’d like to keep your relationship with her. You’d be a terrible friend if you didn’t.

At your apprehension, Rhys continues. “Mor won’t find out, and if she does, all you have to do is tell her the truth. That I’m your tutor.” Fake boyfriend goes unsaid, and that’s the part you’re worried about.

Worried about it because you think you’re starting to like being Rhys’ fake girlfriend. The soft touches when Amarantha around feel good, an arm around your shoulder, the warm looks he sends you from the ice, like he’s still thinking about you when he’s deep in a game. And that kiss…you’re starting to get why his reputation is the way it is. His lips are sinful.

“I’m hoping I’ll be curing a hangover with greasy pizza or a juicy burger.” It’s a poor excuse, an even worse attempt at deflection.

Rhys quirks a brow. “From your little wine night?”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest as you turn down the block to your dorm. It’s now you realize that Rhys is taking the time to walk you home. He mustn’t have much to do for the party tonight, despite the extravaganza being hosted at his house. It must be nice to have teammates pulling their weight.

Gwyn doesn’t get out of her last class until six thirty, which gives you and Mor almost two hours to pull out all of the decorations you’ve been stockpiling in the back of your closet, and pick up the cake from the local bakery. You don’t have to worry about getting the drinks for later, Gwyn was so excited to finally turn twenty-one and wanted to purchase the alcohol now that she’s officially legal. You and Mor pitched in, sending her off this morning with a pancake breakfast and cash for the alcohol. You can’t wait to pop open a bottle after the long day you’ve had.

“I’ll have you know that wine drunk is way better than vodka drunk,” you wrinkle your nose, “And it’s much better than getting drunk off of Cassian’s skunk punch. Seriously, what the hell is even in that?” You shudder at the memory. “Why is it even called skunk punch?”

Rhys grimaces, especially when he remembers that there will be no escaping Cassian’s concoction of basically every alcohol he can find and afford that night. It’s somehow even worse than a bar mat shot. As part of the tradition, everyone on the team must take at least one skunk punch shot, and he’s not looking forward to it.

“Trust me, it’s better not to know the answer to either of those questions.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you agree.

You and Rhys stop just outside your building. He stares at you like he doesn’t want this moment to end, and neither do you. There’s a betraying thought in your mind that says you should roll up onto the tips of your toes and press your mouth against his, that he wouldn’t push you away. That his hands would wind around you to pull you even closer, that his fingers would thread through your hair like they did that night and guide your head like they might have if no one interrupted your kiss—

“Well, this is me,” you say, and curse yourself for being so awkward. Truthfully, you have no idea what to say, how to act when your heart is pounding in your chest with the way he’s looking at you.

His eyes flit to the building and back. “Are you sure you can’t want to make an appearance at my party tonight?” Rhys asks. “Just in case she shows up, of course.”

Right. In case Amarantha shows face.

He wants you to come even if his ex doesn’t show up. Hell, he’s praying that she doesn’t show up. Rhys just isn’t ready to say goodbye yet. The short amount of time he’s seen you today—walking you from your class to your dorm—hasn’t been enough.

You shake your head and he tries his best to mask the deflation of his shoulders. It’s not just any wine night; it’s your roommate’s birthday. If it wasn’t such an important event, or Gwyn didn’t despise hockey so much, you’d consider trying to convince her into going. “I really can’t tonight. It’s Gwyn’s birthday, remember?”

“Of course,” Rhys offers you a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s polite. Awkward. “I’ll see you Saturday night at the game, right? And we’ll study after.”

“Sure you won’t have another party to attend after the big game, Mr. Hotshot?” you tease, and a true smile threatens to crack his face.

“There is one, but one of my other teammates is hosting,” he teases back. “We’ll have the place to ourselves.”

Your stomach flips at his words. All alone with Rhys? At his house?

To study, you reprimand yourself, though you can think of a million other things you’d like to be studying instead of psychology. Anatomy, for one.

“Yeah,” you swallow the butterflies trying to escape up your windpipe. You step away from him, needing the space before you do or say something you shouldn’t. You turn toward the door, continuing over your shoulder. “See you Saturday.”

“He even had a drawing!” Gwyn exclaims, and the three of you burst into another fit of the combination of the night: laughter and tears. Laughing so hard that you can’t help the droplets that squeeze from the corners of your eyes.

Her cheeks are almost as red as the wine in her glass. Or, was in her glass. How did she down her cup that fast? Your cup is still half-full. You glance at Mor, who’s in the middle of capturing a video of the drunk birthday girl who sloppily sticks her fork into the cake the three of you have been picking at all night. She ends up with frosting on her nose and the sight of your quietest roommate having the time of her life is so endearing that you’ve barely even thought about the party Rhys is at.

“No way,” Mor refutes, shutting her phone off and taking a big gulp of her wine. She’s in a maroon tank top and sleep shorts with her fuzzy platform slippers on her feet. They’re shaped like teddy bears, and one keeps staring at you where she taps her toes to the rhythm of the music pouring from the speaker on the kitchen counter.

Gwyn’s auburn hair pops against the white t-shirt she has on. There’s an emerald logo of the local bookstore on the front and a smear of blue icing beside it. A drop of wine down the center. It’s been a night for the birthday girl, and you’re having the time of your life.

“I swear! I know I’m a writer but I’m in no way that creative,” Gwyn insists, waving her fork around. A dot of icing goes flying toward the couch and lands on Mor’s cheek, causing another round of roaring laughter.

Gwyn had been telling a story about how someone in her creative writing class wrote the most ridiculous line she’s ever heard. Watery bowels. You can’t stop thinking about it, and every time you do, it causes another wave of cackles to sound.

Mor swipes the frosting from her face and licks it off her finger. You’re about to reach for your abandoned fork when your phone buzzes next to your socked foot.

You’re thankful for the alcohol warming your skin, because you’re full-on blushing and grinning so hard your cheeks hurt at the name that appears.

Rhys: Bored yet?

He’s been bothering you all night. This is the fourth time he’s asked you this. He wants you to try and convince your roommates to go over to their house and join in on the festivities, but you told him that you were having too much fun. He then tried to score an invite to your dorm, saying that it can’t be that much fun and to prove it if it was.

You replied with a video of you sending a picture of the mutilated cake, to which Rhys sent whining emojis in response.

You: Not quite.

Rhys: Is there still cake left? I’m famished.

You squint because the words are a little hazy with the amount of wine you’ve drank tonight. You almost jump out of your seat when the phone buzzes in your hand, lighting up with Rhys’ call.

You scramble to hide the screen, making sure that neither of your roommates saw. Thankfully, they’re both occupied with something on Mor’s phone, eyes wide as they try and comprehend what they’re looking at.

You want to answer, you do. You miss Rhys even though you’ve seen him a few hours ago. You wonder what he’s wearing, if those violet eyes are glossed with drink like yours are.

When you stand with the intention of slipping somewhere private to answer Rhys’ call, Mor takes notice.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom,” you answer almost too quickly, and stride for the door.

“Hello?” You answer, hitting the light switch with your elbow and flicking the lock shut behind you.

“Hi,” Rhys greets, and your smile breaks your face.

It’s loud at the house he’s at, but the background noise of partying students and loud music dims some as he finds somewhere quieter. Your heart flips in your chest at the thought of him abandoning a party to call you.

“What are you doing?” You whisper, leaning back against the door.

“Calling you,” he answers like an ass. Typical.

“Yeah, I got that. But why? You know Mor is in the room with me, right?”

“Is she in the room with you?” Rhys prompts.

You roll your eyes. “No.”

“Where are you hiding?”

“Bathroom,” you mumble, cheeks flaring. The ugly cream color matches the rest of the rooms in your on-campus apartment, the ceramic flooring perpetually cold beneath your socked feet. The only ounce of color is in the shower curtain you and your roommates picked out on sale when you moved in, a teal number with swirls of gold and mint. It’s the same pattern you swear was on your grandmother’s sofa when you were young. “You?”

“My room,” Rhys says, and you try not to think too much about that. “I’d say I have about ten minutes before Cassian finds me and forces me to do a skunk shot with him, so if you hear the sound of a bear mixed with a screaming eagle, that’s him.”

You snort a laugh. “That’s okay, I only have a few minutes, too.”

“Yeah, how’s that going? You three aren’t lonely yet?”

“No,” you roll your eyes even though he can’t see. “But clearly you are.”

Rhys hums noncommittally. “So what if I am?”

The fluorescent lights are burning your eyes and you blink blearily, wondering if you just heard what you think you did. You curse yourself for forgetting your glass in the spot you abandoned to eagerly answer his phone call, because your throat has suddenly dried up. You wonder how unladylike you’ll sound if you decided to stick your head under the faucet.

“I would tell you that there’s a million girls just downstairs to keep you company,” you say, but you don’t really mean it. In fact, the wine in your stomach sours when the words come up.

“Maybe,” Rhys says, and you can picture him shrugging those broad shoulders of his. The very ones you want to kick your legs over with his head between your thighs. Fuck, you can’t be thinking like this. “But none of them are my lucky charm.”

His lucky charm? You’re his lucky charm? You can’t say that you’re upset with the sentiment, even if it’s not true. He’s drinking, he’s just flirting, which is only going to make the hole you’re already slowly digging yourself even deeper, and you’re not all that sure you’d mind.

Mor’s laughter creeps under the door and you force yourself to change the subject. Focus.

“You know what? Maybe I need one of those good luck thingies,” you sit on the edge of the tub, reveling in the way the chilled porcelain cools your burning skin.

“Good luck thingies?” Rhys muses, and you wonder what he’s doing right now. Is he lying on his bed? Sitting at his desk? Pacing the room?

You startle back into yourself when Rhys calls your name. He sounds worried, and it’s flattering. You imagine the way he might be chewing his lip, that same hot, demanding mouth you want to feel on yours again.

The scalding heat in your cheeks reflects between your legs, your pussy pulsing with want. “You listening to me?”

“Huh?”

Beautiful laughter echoes through the line and steals your breath from your lungs.

“I asked ‘what good luck thingies?��”

Good luck thingies? You frown, racking your mind for the lost conversation. Oh! “You know, like…” you trail off, waving your hand flippantly as you grasp for answers. “Something that can help me ace the next test. Like how you claim I’m your good luck charm. I think James’ is listening to this one rap song from the nineties—”

Rhys grunts unhappily and you almost smile.

“Please don’t bring up Attor while we’re on the phone,” he all but groans. You stifle a giggle at his jealousy.

“Fine,” you roll your eyes. Outside the door, your roommates begin chanting your name from the couch, their voices muffled. They’re asking for the third bottle of wine you stashed in the fridge to cool. “What do you think my good luck thingie should be?”

Rhys hums thoughtfully and the sound rumbles to your core. You’re sure he doesn’t mean it to sound as arousing as it does. You clench your thighs together carefully.

“Don’t know,” he says. “Maybe you should come here and find out.”

Gods, does that sound perfect right now. You want to know exactly what he means by that, and when you open your mouth to respond, you’re cut off by a loud pounding on his side of the phone that makes you flinch. You wobble on your perch but manage to keep steady as you hear Cassian get into his room. Rhys curses about how he thought he locked the door.

“Bitch, why the fuck are you hiding?” Cassian bellows. “We need to take skunk shots, stat! The rest of the team is waiting!”

Rhys breathes your name over the line. “I have to go. Come over if you can, yeah?”

“I can’t promise anything,” you whisper back, and the line goes dead.

You take a second to compose yourself, and exit the bathroom. Your roommates cheer when you pull the wine from the fridge and wave it around like you just won gold at the wine-retrieving event. You make a fake speech as you pour, and slowly, the FOMO trickles away.

“Ugh,” Mor groans, locking her screen and tossing it to the foot of the couch. She takes a sip of her wine and sighs dramatically. “My cousin and Cassian will not stop texting me! They’re so annoying!”

“Texting you about what?” Gwyn asks, gulping down her wine. You think she might need to stop soon, but you don’t want to kill her birthday buzz.

“Their dumb party. They keep telling me we should come over. I already told them that we’re busy!”

You watch Gwyn hum. There’s an idea churning behind those bright eyes of hers, but you have no idea what. It’s no secret that she despises hockey and everything to do with it for some reason, but you don’t know the story. She doesn’t look like she’s ready to spill on that quite yet, but her eyes do light up with mischief.

“I hate hockey and I don’t want to go to their party, but wouldn’t it be fun to prank them?”

Prank them? Coming from the girl who would never break a rule, not even something as silly as jaywalking.

“Prank them how?” You ask, sharing a confused look with Mor, who sits up on the couch and leans closer to your roommate.

“I don’t know,” Gwyn hiccups, and she looks funny with the over-dramatic way she masks on her innocence. “What if we stole that trophy they love so much?”

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Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @judig92 @se7enteen--black-blog @thecraziestcrayon @cherry-cin @itsinherited @justafictionalnerd @bookishbroadwaybish @405rry @w0nderw0manly @bbykaixx @marina468 @taechvita @marigold-morelli @esahintzkanen @miakxn @ssmay123 @webvics

[morose-melodies]

lifeline | yandere! capitano x reader

summary: things have only gotten worse since the captain met you.

content warning: mentions of murder (dottore dies), angst (and comfort?), delusions, it's a bit gross and mentions of blood

things have gotten worse since the captain last saw you.

this decay was gradual, slow even - the captain understood his actions, and he understood soon why certain things must be done but would you?

initially, the captain didn't know you, not well anyway but he knew that you were not human, he knew that you were a creation of dottore and so, he assumed you had no reason to exist besides dottore's commands.

you were created for war and destruction.

but when faced with death and the aftermath of war - your knees buckled and your skin turned pale, the sight of death made you sick, it scared you; so, dottore wrote you off as a failure.

the captain had seen these events take place; he did not know you well, nor did he know you personally but the captain bore witness to your creation and now, he would bear witness to your impending doom.

it did not matter, though.

"captain, do you believe I'm a failure?" you approached him, without the assistance of dottore, and spoke to him; you went out of your way to find and speak to him.

though this stunned the captain, he eventually shook his head, "no. I'm sure at times, it may-"

"do you think I will die for what I've done?" without waiting for a genuine answer, you asked another one, looking earnestly into the captain's eyes and he saw desperation looking into his eyes.

"I would not know," the captain replied, "not that it matters what happens, though."

you could not feel emotions like humans, so, why did you look so worried? why did you seem so afraid to die?

that did not make sense but to the best of his ability, the captain rubbed it off and tried hard to forget about you as you would soon be dead.

...

things have gotten worse since the captain last saw you.

it couldn't be normal - the captain reasoned, the way you looked at him, the way you behaved that day was not normal.

you should not be afraid to die, you should not worry about death - despite everything, you were not a human, you should not feel.

but you did - you proved it time and time again without falter. as if you were a human, you behaved like one would -- you cared like one would.

"captain, are you not feeling well."

perhaps dottore had wired you to sniff out how people felt? again, extremely off-putting, "I'm well," the captain replied, "and, how are you feeling?" it was a stupid question, the captain felt stupid for indulging a conversation with a... whatever you were made of.

"i enjoy being alive. life is much to behold," and with that response, the captain wanted to turn and leave but he didn't. "I am afraid of ceasing to exist, though. i do not want to go."

"why hasn't dottore-"

"he said i would gradually degrade and during that, he would run experiments on me."

gradually decay... "i see." with a sharp nod, the captain turned and left, feeling for uneasy than before.

...

things have gotten worse since the captain last saw you.

the captain had been watching you.

well, recently, he had begun watching you. it wasn't stalking per se, he did not try to hide it, you just never noticed.

the captain had a 'why', he had reasons and they made sense to him, though, on paper he doubted they would.

he would watch you as you sit in the garden, motionless for hours at a time before standing and coming back inside.

he would you as you stood at the front gate, looking past it - and the captain assumed you wanted to experience whatever life was beyond the gate.

it's a sad thing, really.

you must feel like a bird trapped in a cage and you don't even know it. you don't understand how that felt because you are under the assumption that you are living life to the fullest.

in passing, the captain heard a conversation better dottore and you: "doctor, do you know exactly when I'll... um, die?"

"I'd rather you not use that word. it's not fitting."

"I know, sorry."

there was a drawn-out silence and then a sign, "i'd say you have months of life left in you-"

"what if you just... fixed the gradual decay and maybe i could liv-"

"no. it's a waste of resources and whatnot. be grateful for the life you have."

"bu- okay..."

"good. now, try to get some rest."

all the captain could do was sigh. it was a sad thing, your life, that was.

...

dottore's words had affected you - the captain could see that as he watched you sit at the dining table, nothing in front of you, just a blank look in your eyes as you stared forward.

the captain approached you, seating himself at your side, and asked, "how are you feeling?"

"I'm lacking something, captain. i wasn't dying until the doctor took it from me - i want it back."

the captain looked at you, watching as you reached forward and grabbed a fruit from the fruit bowl, "dottore told me i had months of life left in me... but, i don't believe him. I'll die soon," you bit into the apple, "I'm not sure if i was ever able to taste food but i can't anymore."

"what is it dottore took from you?"

"i don't know."

why was this so frustrating? seeing you go from enjoying your newfound life to... grieving your eminent death. the captain swallowed, glancing at your hands, more specifically for bruised fingers that scratched at the skin of the apple.

"you still seem well."

"i know I'm being ungrateful... I'm being selfish, I think, for wanting to live... but, I don't want to leave life until I can see everything."

you had aspirations, you had dreams and that would all be cut short-

things have gotten worse since the captain met you.

because, it was at that very moment that the captain aspired to take you away from here, away from dottore.

...

things have gotten...

you would have died, you would have die having seen the world, having known that someone cared whether you lived or died.

things have gotten way worse...

you couldn't stay at that manor, not with dottore, not when he refused to be of any assistance. you did not deserve that.

things have gotten way worse since the captain last saw you...

you deserved the captain and everything that came with him. you deserve to live life to the fullest-

so, with you in the captain's arms, he got onto his horse and left with you. it had gotten to a point where all he could think of was what he would do tomorrow to make you feel better.

soon enough, you would be home with the captain and you would understand why he did it and be grateful.

someone like you doesn't deserve to die so soon - not before you can achieve your dreams.

upon reaching his manor, the captain carried you inside, bloody footprints trailing behind him.

...

"doctor..."

"no, no. it is not the doctor, you're safe now, (y/n)," at no point had the doctor harmed you, he had never mistreated you - instead of killing you, he would have let you live for longer, so why was the captain telling you such things about the doctor, "you're safe with me. the doctor cannot harm you any longer."

but, you were always safe.

"he never-"

"shh, shh," the captain ran his thumb across your cheek, trying to soothe you, to ease your tears - clearly you were relieved that the captain had saved you from dottore, of course, you were crying, "i will never allow any harm to come to you, never again."

what was happening?

"but the doc-"

"(y/n), relax. when tomorrow morning comes," the captain gestured to a slowly beating heart on the coffee table behind him, "you'll eat this. it is what dottore took from you, after all."

it was your lifeline! the captain had it... how did he find it? had he taken it from dottore, had dottke given it to him? no, he wouldn't do such a thing... the captain took it -- the captain took it by force.

come to think of it, there was a red stain on the captain's finger and now on your cheek.

you now understand very well what the captain had done to get your 'lifeline'.

"th-thank you," you were terrified but the captain nodded, "of course. it was no skin off my back. I'd do just about anything to assure your comfort."

"thank you... captain."

...

things have gotten worse.

things have gotten so much worse but the captain only saw his actions as necessary - killing dottore was necessary, stealing years of his hard work was necessary, and taking you was necessary.

it was all necessary - for the captain loved you and wanted you to live.

the captain wasn't sure for the longest time why he cared whether you lived or if you died but, as he carried you into his manor the night after killing dottore, he had a moment of clarity.

or something of the sort, anyway - he would not do such things for anyone unless he cared for them deeply, to kill for someone, to steal for someone -- it all meant something and for the captain, it meant love.

the captain loved you - flaws and all, and refused to let you die.

he refused to let you die without living out your dreams and experiencing the world - he refused to let you die with this newfound love he had for you.

that was all the captain thought of as he lifted your 'lifeline' to your lips.

without it, without him, you would die as he could take it just as easily as he had given it to you.

but knowing you, knowing your will, that wouldn't happen, not anytime soon - not when you had the whole world to see.

you would live for as long as the captain lived; he would live, love, and die for you and you for him, right?

[banj0possum]

Alistair x (platonically) Teen Reader

In the fic he is like oh my god a bride, he walks in and instead of an adult..or a bride-

They find a teen, who literally threw a pebble at him, an angsty teen💀

I’m very happy to read ur fics and usually pair them with teen/child mc because I find it funny because they expect the love of their life

and teen mc standing there :🧍‍♂️

anyways sorry for the long request, luv ur writing, and ur art :D

Yandere! Evil King x Teen! GN! Reader

CW: platonic relationship, Alistair is a bit of a DILF so do with it as you will, Dads are hot you guys!! READER IS A MINOR.

👑 Who is this sassy lost child?

👑 His minions kidnapped you while you were on a carriage ride back to your kingdom.

👑 He was hoping for like a princess or something to marry and take over the kingdom with or whatever so like...what tf he gonna do with you???

👑 Clearly you were too young to be in a situation like this, but theres no way he's giving you back without a reward, so yes he still holds you for ransom.

👑 "Child, I am Alistair, King of-ACk!"

👑 Did...did you throw a pillow at him?!

👑 "How dare yo- AHK! Stop it!" another one..

👑 You refuse to listen to anything he says, you just wanted to go home

👑 You two had a bit of rivalry for a bit. He hated you and you hated him.

👑 He promised not to show any affection or care towards you since in his eyes, your actions didn't deserve it. How can someone be so rude to a king !?

👑 But he starts to notice you don't eat much. He never sees you in the dining hall and has only seen quick moments of you nibbling on some bread or pastries the servants gave you.

👑 He scoffed, so irresponsible! You must eat a proper meal right this second or you'll starve!

👑 You're surprised to see a meal prepared for you during your routine trip to get a snack from the pantry with a note on the plate.

👑 "Next time, ask for a proper meal. I don't want your parents to think I've been starving you. -Alistair P.S. go to bed early."

👑 Huh...

👑 Alistair smiled from the doorway of the dining hall, watching you eat up with a smile on your face. You might have been too scared of him to ask for food so you've been sneaking snacks while he wasn't looking.

👑 Of course he wasn't doing it because he cared about you, he just didn't want royalty like you to resort to such pathetic means to eat!

👑 Why are you still sad? Perhaps he should get you some things to keep your attention..

👑 He asks (threateningly may I add) about your hobbies or interests.

👑 The next morning your cell (which has been upgraded to a lovely room in the castle because he didn't want you to be filthy and gross in a dungeon) was filled with anything he could find that he thought you'd enjoy.

👑 Don't think he wants you to be happy! He's just tired of seeing you sulk everywhere!

👑 He denies everything, but you swear you could see a tiny smile on his face when you hugged him happily.

👑 You start being a little more open to him, showing him anything you've made or done with pride and he'd receive it gratefully, but he won't show it of course.

👑 "I made you this friendship bracelet!"

👑 "I've seen better jewelry."

👑 "Oh I'll take it back then I guess.."

👑 "No, it's mine now, back off."

👑 Drawings and the like that he said would be thrown out as soon as you left would be seen framed in his room

👑 It would be a..waste of good canvas..

👑 And of course he buys a few books of your choice for you to read, he'd be damned if your brain turns to mush.

👑 Bro bro he'd be the type to let you swing around while holding onto his bicep.

👑 If you ever have any problems, or come to him in a bad mood, he'd have no idea how to help other than to sit down and listen to your troubles.

👑 He's not the most physical when it comes to affection, but you bet your ass he's gonna do everything he can to cheer you up.

👑 At this point he's rewriting his demands for the ransom. Either your kingdom lets him sign some adoption papers or he's starting a war.

[xoxochb]

— psycho killer ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

warnings: chb setting, graphic violence, insane behavior, seduction-ish, two make outs pairing: ghostface! luke castellan x ghostface! daughter of aphrodite a/n: after ages I’ve finally finished this 😭🙏🏼

a ghost mask, a hunting knife, two beloved campers.

typically at camp when you heard anything about the hermes cabin counselor or the favorite daughter of aphrodite the mind would go to the perfect couple— and as this was indeed true, it wasn’t how they expected. one hundred percent not. It was almost obvious, the murders at camp. It wasn’t like you were trying to fully hide them, of course not. all the assholes you killed deserved to get their bodies shown on full display, to show off your handiwork. It was almost surprising how nobody knew the mastermind behind these perfect kills

the campers chosen for your bloodlust rage weren’t randomly selected this is why. each belonged to a certain point in your life, to a certain experience. such as an ares kid who threw you to the ground during a sparring session, or one of your siblings who made fun of your looks (in your defense an awful hair day, but who the fuck where they to be talking their outfit was three seasons out!), or a stupid athena kid thinking their the smartest in camp all “I know rocket science I’m better than everyone” bullshit. they might’ve got the worst of it. but there was more than just those three— you’d claimed the title ‘serial killer’ at this point. your killings didn’t go unnoticed though because luke castellan saw through your innocent act. how you’d be the first to every scene, how you’d dramatize every action trying to help mourn over the loss of many different campers who lost their lives to your hands. and he was surely not going to let you do this alone

tonight you had a conquered a perfect scheme with your partner in crime. thoroughly planned over the course of september, halloween night, campers busy with activities and your victim busy getting totally gutted!

“are you sure this plan is going to work?”

“are you serious?” you cross your arms and glare at your boyfriend “I’ve been working on this for a month and a half if this doesn’t work that’d be unlikely. and don’t you trust me?”

luke laughs softly and takes a step towards you, placing one hand around the small of your back, the other gloved hand cupping your jaw before you’re pulled in for a feverish kiss. and when he pulls away with a smirk against your lips he mumbles, “with my life”

you slip your knife from atop your bed into your hands. “then let’s do this”

⋆˚✿˖°

It was dark outside. a stygian hue filling the sky along with the small bright stars and the dull brightness illuminating from the moon above. not only was it dark it was fucking cold. though it was mid fall so you shouldn’t have expected anything less. In your lacy pink dress, you barely had anything on which wasn’t helping your cause either. with every step leaves crunch beneath you, left, right, left, right. until you at last reach your designated spot where your victim waits, paper in hand, twirling it around his fingers. you come up as quietly as possible behind him (or the tree behind him, whatever)

act i: currently in session

you put on your best I’m-so-happy-to-see you smile when you get close enough. “hey you”

the hepheastus boy turns himself with a seductive looking smirk. yeah you know exactly how this is going to go. you’d heard a rumor spreading through camp about this boy, apparently he’s a player, paying girls to have sex with him (which apparently isn’t a big deal but it might once stds start spreading, gross). regardless of this one reason you hated the boy anyways so it didn’t matter to you

his gods awful expression make you want to vomit on the spot, nonetheless you power through. “I was hoping it would be you. I always knew that stupid boyfriend of yours was a dud”

you roll your eyes and scoff. “ugh, I know right, he’s so pathetic”

you take the paper from his hands: a note written by your sister to meet her here. you throw it somewhere on the ground and fumble your fingers with the collar of the boys shirt, while his dirty hands wrap tightly around your hips

“are you gonna kiss me or what?” you mumble when your lips are close enough. but it’s almost as if the boy is aware there’s more to this meet up. doesn’t matter because once he hungrily connects your lips at last he won’t remember a thing

act ii: in the process

It was utterly disgusting— the way you let his hideous boy touch you, his hands gripping tightly over your dress in hopes it may disappear at any given moment. could this process take any longer? you began to wonder if your boyfriend had left you yo handle this on your own. yet at the same time you knew he wouldn’t let this idiot boy get away with putting his hands on you

you take matters into your own hands for the time being. while the hepheastus boy sucks along your neck you reach to your thigh where you had strapped your dagger. and almost as if on queue luke appears from within the bunches of trees. or so you hope— you don’t know for sure who it is until the ghost mask comes off. slowly but surely, through your sighs you manage to get the metal to the fabric of his shirt. luke gives you a nod indicating to make your move, quickly you shove the weapon into the boys abdomen, crimson liquid instantly pouring over your dress and the grass. the boy tightens one hand round your dress, the other touching the knife placed in his stomach. his head lifts from your shoulder to look up at you, the same blood pooling out from his mouth

and it’s heavenly, the sound he makes as he falls to the ground in agony, attempting to plea for you not to let him die, but of course you can’t hear over the liquid in his mouth all he can do is spit it out. you smirk and crouch down to his level admiring your recent work, then looking up to luke. “wanna do the honors?”

act ii: completed

he takes his mask off, shoving it into his robes pocket before taking your hidden ax from behind the tree. “what do we do once we’re done with him?”

“we burn him. once he’s all ash there’s no proof he was murdered”

you stand up from your spot on the ground, looking at the amount of blood that had fallen onto your dress. you frown but ultimately chose to ignore it, that was a problem for later. for now, the last task of the night was to properly dismember the body and take it back to hermes cabin for burning. you feel a sudden ecstasy as his limbs disconnect, one by one, legs, arms, torso, head, feet, hands, until he was nothing but bits and pieces. even better, it was none other than your lovely boyfriend that had completed this process, instantly making your knees weak— even better than this, however, was his blood adorned face, how badly you wanted to kiss all of it off slowly…

and you can. when he throws the ax on the ground and walks towards you, his hands resting against your hips as he pushes you back against the tree. you moan in utter delight when luke finally attaches his lips with yours (this elicits a laugh from him). your whole body practically curves into his, you throw your arms around his neck tightly to keep him as close as humanly possible. his hands find themselves trailing down to your thighs and back up underneath your dress. the heat of the moment is palpable (though this probably isn’t an exaggeration as his fingers twirl around your underwear, taking his time as he slide them off), in a needy manner you tug his hair gently, and if it weren’t for his hands on you, your knees surely would’ve gave out and you might’ve collapsed by now. his tongue traces over your bottom lip, you can taste the blood, and you need more of it, whether that was his touch or the taste of the crimson liquid you’ve grown to love

“you’re perfect” he rasps against your lips, before disconnecting them and trailing down your neck “gorgeous”

he reaches your pulse point and keeps his lips there longer, for sure making a mark for you to struggle to cover up later. he bites down carefully on your skin, making you moan in response, in addition to this he grinds his hips into yours, evoking more soft sounds from your mouth. you stop him for only a moment to murmur, “y’know, there’s nobody in my cabin…”

and that was enough confirmation for the both of you to discard of the dismembered body for someone to find the next morning, and to settle (or not so much) in cabin ten for the night

꣑ৎ if you enjoyed then reblogs would be greatly appreciated! my requests are currently: open if you have any <3

[trensu]

It's Will that gives him the idea.

"we don't really celebrate father's day anymore," he had said awkwardly, "but I can't hang out anyway."

"why not?" Dustin demanded. He was gonna end up bored and alone because he didn't celebrate the holiday and everyone else had plans. he had been counting on Will to keep him company.

"I'm gonna get Jonathan a new record and I want to listen to it with him," he said.

"can't he get his own records? C'mon, we could go to the arcade or something."

"no, Dustin," his tone took on a stubborn edge that made Dustin pause. "He's my brother and I love him, and he's the only guy besides Bob who's ever even tried to look out for me. So I'm sorry but I'm gonna be busy on Sunday."

Dustin didn't argue after that but it did get him thinking which is why on Sunday morning he biked all the way over to Loch Nora and started banging on Steve's door.

"what do you want, Henderson?" Steve sighed the most dramatic put upon sigh Dustin had ever heard.

"you're not my dad--"

"wow you really are genius!"

"shut up, shut up, listen to me!"

"okay, geez, I'm listening."

"you're not my dad and I don't want you to be my dad. I don't even really want a dad! Lots of dads aren't even that great and my mom already has the single parent thing down. But you taught me how to do my hair and how to talk to girls - even though that advice sucked, I didn't need it to get Suzie at all - and you're gonna teach me how to drive--"

"woah, hey, no I never said I'd do that, wh--"

"--and you've saved my life but I think we're even because I've saved your life too."

"Henderson don't you have anything better to do than harass me in my own home?" Steve said. he was using that exasperated tone he got when he knew he wasn't keeping up with what was going on but didn't want to admit it.

"actually no I don't but I'm here for a reason," he reached into his backpack and took out the gift he clumsily wrapped with scraps of brown paper bags. He shoved it into Steve's hands. "You're basically the only adult male figure in my life. And I appreciate you."

Steve squinted at the gift and then at Dustin and at the gift again before he said fussily "is this a prank? If something gross explodes from this, I swear to god, I'll--"

"Just open it, Steve!"

"Fine, fine, keep your shirt on," Steve said and tore off the paper. He blinked and in a softer tone said, "Oh."

"I don't know if you even like making models but I know you love cars and this kit looked just like yours, so yeah."

Steve stared at the kit some more. Dustin started to fidget. It was always better to be honest with your feelings but maybe this was too much for Steve. Maybe Steve didn't like him as much as Dustin did. Steve was not as enlightened about these things as Dustin.

"I've never made a model before."

Dustin hunched his shoulders and tried not to feel stupid or hurt. He should have expected this. They weren't even related. This was probably too weird. He reached out to take the gift back.

"it's fine, I can return it, whatever."

Steve raised the kit out of Dustin's reach.

"Hey, this is mine," he said.

"you don't even like it!"

"I never said that! I'm just gonna need a dweeby little nerd to help me build it. You know anybody like that?" Steve asked, batting his eyes innocently.

"you're such a dick," Dustin grumbled, fighting back a grin.

"watch your language!"

"shut up, you're not my dad."

Steve laughed as Dustin shoved his way into the house. Hours later, after much shouting and ribbing and one incident of spilled paint, a small model of the beemer was left to dry while Steve forced Dustin to watch the baseball game on TV with him. It wasn't the worst thing ever, and after Steve mentioned the statistics involved, it got way more interesting ("of course you'd like the math part, you weirdo" "you don't understand the stats do you" "shut up and watch the game, Henderson"). When the paint was dry, Dustin followed Steve upstairs and watched him carefully and deliberately place the model between a couple of sports trophies.

"yeah, I guess it looks pretty cool," Steve said with exaggerated nonchalance. "Now beat it, kid. your mom's gonna freak if you're not home when she gets back from work."

"can you give me a ride?"

"ugh, fine."

Dustin grinned. This had been, hands down, the best father's day ever. From the look on Steve's face when he placed the model, Dustin was pretty sure he agreed.

[dovesdreaming]

Just get together already

Summary: You try so hard to deny that you have feelings for Benny even when he’s telling you he’s hopelessly in love with you every chance he gets. Why can’t you see what everyone else sees? (Vampire!reader) (1.5k words)

Requested

Masterlist

"Hey, bloodsucker” You glanced up from your untouched tray to find Benny sliding into the seat beside you, his signature smirk firmly in place. Ethan followed, offering a more timid smile as he sat across from you.

"Hey, spell nerd” You shot back, nudging him with your shoulder. "Aren't you supposed to be getting your daily allowance of pizza grease and regret?"

"Already inhaled it” Benny grinned, wiggling his fingers. "Gotta keep these bad boys powered up for casting spells and charming ladies”.

You snorted. "Guess it's only working for the spells, then”.

Ethan sputtered a laugh while Benny clutched his chest dramatically. "Wounded! The love of my life, the immortal goddess of my dreams, disrespects me in front of my own best friend!"

"More like in front of your only friend” you corrected, stealing a fry off his tray.

Benny's grin widened. "Please, if I didn’t know any better, I'd think you like me”.

Your eyes rolled, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night”. From across the table, Ethan sighed and shot Sarah a pointed look when she walked up. She glanced between you and Benny and muttered, "Just get together already. We're all sick of this, literally I can feel my breakfast coming back up from the sight of you two”.

"Yeah, okay” Benny said easily, looping an arm around your shoulders and squeezing. "Right after she finally admits she's madly in love with me”.

Your laugh bubbled up, sharp and instinctive, and you swatted his hand away. "In your dreams, Weir”. But the way his arm had draped over your shoulders, warm and casual felt more natural than you’d like to admit.

After lunch classes continued and you managed to clear the thoughts of bennys teasing from your head instead focusing on whatever the teacher was droning on about. After another lot of homework was dumped on your work pile you knew it was gonna be another afternoon in the library with benny again. You didn’t know whether this made you feel excited or nervous.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Benny’s head snapped up from his phone, eyes wide. “Huh? Yeah, of course!”

You lifted an eyebrow, pointing to the notes sprawled across the table. "Oh, really? So what’s the answer to number four?”

He squinted at the paper. “Uh… B?”

“It’s a math question, Benny”.

He sighed, flopping back in his chair. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I just don’t get why we need algebra. Do you think I’ll be fighting vampires with the quadratic formula?”

“Well, no, but-“

“Exactly! I need to be studying important things, like defense spells, potion recipes… your favorite blood type” He grinned, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Gross” you snorted. “And I don’t have a favorite, you dork”.

“Come on” Benny leaned in, his face inches from yours. “Aren’t you a little curious? Like, what if your dream blood is out there? What if it’s mine?”

You laughed, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Benny, I already know your blood would taste like Mountain Dew and bad decisions”

“Ouch” He pressed a hand to his chest, but his smile never faltered. “Lucky for you, I think all your vampire stuff is hot anyway”.

Your stomach did a weird little flip, but you quickly shot him a smirk. “Don’t you have a spell or class to be failing?”

You tried to put your head back down to concentrate on your work, you really wanted this done so it was one less thing on your mind but you knew with Benny around it’d take an immense amount of willpower to resist his presence. Willpower you didn’t posses so you gave in. You’d just have to complete the homework tonight like usual, you don’t know why you kept inviting him to your study sessions.

What you didn’t anticipate was that later would never come for your homework. You had sat down at your desk to finally complete it when your stomach growled but not for food, curse being a vampire. An overwhelming need for blood took over, the sort of craving you haven’t had since you started giving up human blood.

It led to a near slip-up. You’d felt that ache, that hunger clawing at you, so close to the edge of losing control. You didn’t know who else to go to, who else could calm you down like he did.

Benny had found you sitting on the curb outside his house, face buried in your hands. When he sat beside you, you didn’t have the energy to pretend.

“I almost…” you whispered, voice thick. “I could’ve hurt someone”. He was quiet, the stillness stretching. When you dared to look at him, his gaze was steady. Warm.

“But you didn’t” he finally said. “And you won’t. You’re stronger than that”.

“What if I’m not?” you murmured.

“Then I’ll be right there. I’ll help you”.

It was so simple, so Benny, that your throat tightened. “Why are you always like this?”

He blinked, a lopsided smile breaking through. “Because I’m in love with you, obviously”.

“Benny-“

“I’m serious”.

You shook your head, but the weight of his sincerity settled heavily on your shoulders. This was Benny. Always flirty, always playing around. You heart couldn’t take another punch tonight so you just let his words roll off of you.

You were thankful when Friday night finally came. Finally able to rest and not worry about school and of course being able to hang out with your friends. Friday is movie night at Ethan’s place, and as usual, Benny sat sprawled across the couch, his head resting on your lap. You ran your fingers absentmindedly through his hair, your eyes half-watching the screen while Ethan and Sarah whispered snide remarks beside you.

“Are we watching the movie or the world’s slowest confession?” Sarah muttered, nudging Ethan.

Ethan snickered, and you shot them both a playful glare. "I heard that”.

"Good!" Sarah grinned. "Maybe you'll finally realize what literally everyone else has”.

Benny craned his neck up to face you, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, you mean how I'm desperately, hopelessly, and completely in love with her?"

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, Benny. Keep dreaming”.

Ethan and Sarah exchanged a knowing look, but you chose to ignore it. It was just Benny being Benny. Flirty, bold, and impossible to take seriously.

Later, when the others had finally retreated to their own homes, you and Benny found yourselves alone in his room. The hum of his computer filled the quiet, and you leaned back against the wall, watching as he messed with some spell book he had picked up from Grandma Weir's collection.

"You're lucky you don't have to deal with this magic stuff” Benny said, flipping a page. "All you gotta do is look hot and, you know, not eat anyone”.

You rolled your eyes, but a soft laugh escaped. "Yeah, because resisting bloodlust is just that easy”.

His gaze softened, the usual playfulness fading into something sincere. "Hey, I know it's not. And I know you’re always worried about... slipping up or whatever. But you’re not a monster, okay?" It wasn't the first time he'd said something like that, reassured you that your vampire side didn't make you any less... you. But it still felt different every time.

You tried to brush off the way your chest tightened. "Yeah, well, you’re just saying that because you think I’m 'hot and badass.'"

"And because I love you” he added smoothly, a grin flickering at his lips.

You laughed, the sound wavering just slightly. "Oh, please”.

He set the book down and turned to face you fully. His smile softened, his eyes searching yours. “I’m serious, you know. I love you. Not just in the ‘oh wow, she’s hot’ way. In the 'I think about you all the time and want to be around you forever' way”.

Your smile faltered, caught between disbelief and something that felt like hope. Something was different about the way he was saying those words now. “You- you can’t be serious”.

Benny’s eyes never wavered. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time”

Because you were a vampire. Because you had parts of you that craved blood and darkness, parts that scared you sometimes. Because Benny deserved someone easy and safe.

“Because I’m a vampire, Benny” It came out weaker than you intended.

He stepped closer, his hands reaching out to gently hold your arms. “I don’t care. I think all of that just makes you more... you. And I think you’re amazing”.

Your mind spun, every instinct telling you to laugh it off like always. But the sincerity in his eyes wouldn’t let you.

“Are you- like, actually serious?” you whispered.

“Completely”

His face was inches from yours, his eyes warm and unwavering. You took a breath, feeling every hesitation crumble under his gaze.

“I think... I think I love you, too” you admitted quietly.

A grin broke across his face bright, infectious, so completely Benny. “Yeah?”

You rolled your eyes, the familiar banter slipping back into place. “Yes, idiot”.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in and kissed him, his breath hitching just before his lips met yours. When you pulled back, his grin was still there, but softer, sweeter.

“Finally” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. And for once, you didn’t laugh it off.

[hungryistrying]

why'd you have to go and make me like you

summary:

Jinx just doesn't know how to behave normally around Ekko anymore; how to stop getting so irrationally angry every time someone else tries to vie for his attention; how to get this feeling out of her system. With a gasp, she shoots upright in her bed. Lightning strikes in the distance as, with sudden clarity, Jinx gets hit with an idea on how to fix this…Alright, so lightning didn't actually strike in the distance but Jinx has such a good idea it might as well have. A plan concocts itself in her brain. One that’s perhaps a little insane, but hey, aren’t her best ideas always?

Or: Jinx gets annoyed (not jealous) when girls try to hit on Ekko. Her solution? Fuck the feeling away.

rating: explicit

word count: 7131

status: ongoing

crossposted to ao3

chapter two

chapter one: denial is a river

Jinx is having a pretty terrible day. She has no classes on Friday, and so she should be enjoying this beautiful afternoon off (well, she has that one eight a.m. lecture on Fridays but who the fuck actually attends those) by lazing the day away in bed watching TikToks on her phone and playing Mario Kart.

Instead, she’s outside sitting in the fucking sun, (like, ew) fighting for her life because her paper’s due in twelve hours and she may or may not have forgotten about it until Vi innocently asked how far along she was last night, giving Jinx a rude awakening.

But really, all of this isn’t even the source of her irritation. No, the actual source of her irritation sits beside her, and helpfully comments, "You're never gonna finish that paper in time," before reaching for a handful of Skittles.

“Oh, shut up,” she snaps, pettily slapping the Skittles out of Ekko’s hand.

He just laughs–bright as the sun stinging in her eyes, with his too-white teeth and those dimples of his that piss her off too–and picks them back up, unfazed by her ire.

“I’m not gonna say I told you so but…” He pauses to chew on the candy. “Yeah, no, I’m saying it. I told you so.”

And sadly, maybe, possibly, just perhaps–he's right. But Jinx is on a high fueled solely by stress, sleep deprivation, caffeine, and adrenaline. And she'll ride it out for as long as she can, dammit.

Does she have any clue what the fuck she’s even writing at this point? No. Does she have enough time to actually read through any of the sources she’s citing in her term paper? Well…also no. But whatever! Beggars and choosers, and all that, right?

"I’m finishing this stupid paper if it’s the last thing I do," she insists, not tearing her eyes away from the screen.

"Alright, let’s bet," he replies, reaching for her drink on the table and dangling it in front of her. "If you don't make the deadline, you can't drink Mountain Dew for a whole month."

Jinx abruptly stops typing, snatching it from his hand so she can down the rest of the drink. She slams the empty can back onto the table with more force than necessary, before turning to him and responding, "One week."

He smirks at that. "So you know you won't make it?"

“I’ll make it, and when I do,” she pauses in consideration before turning her head to him with a grin, “you’ll buy me as much Mountain Dew as I want for a month.”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow, but his voice is amused when he answers, “So let me get this straight, you quit drinking that crap for one week or I have to buy it for you for a whole month?”

“Now you’re getting it, little man!”

“What I’m getting is that you’re a swindler.” He flicks her forehead and starts laughing when she scowls at him. “I’ll meet you halfway, though. If I win, you stop drinking it for two weeks and if you win, I’ll buy you as much gross shit as you want for two weeks.”

Jinx graciously smacks his arm in response. “It’s not gross, you’re just tasteless.” Then she lets out a petulant sigh, and concedes, “...But fine, consider it a deal.”

Ekko smiles at her, warm and sunny. That warmth spreads to her chest, leaving her feeling all weird and fuzzy. Damn it, she’s still supposed to be annoyed with him, but now she can’t stop the corners of her own mouth from rising.

“I can see you smiling, you know.” He pokes at her cheek for emphasis.

“Cut it out,” she grumbles, slapping his hand away, but there’s no real heat behind it and they both know it. “I’m trying to get actual work done here.”

“So let me help,” Ekko insists, scooting closer to her until their shoulders press together. They’re both wearing short sleeves, making his skin press directly against hers. His arm feels broad and solid against hers, warm too. 

The fuzzy feelings are getting worse.

“Oh yeah,” Jinx reaches for a handful of Skittles herself, hoping the burst of artificial sweetness is strong enough to steal her attention instead, “and how exactly are you gonna do that, buster?”

He laughs again. She can feel the vibrations of it traveling from his body through hers. Then he’s slinging his arm over her shoulder, pressing them even closer together, completely foiling Jinx’s attempt without even realizing it.

Honestly, she doesn’t even know what he’s foiling exactly. Because Ekko and her are always close, practically always touching too. Jinx just doesn’t know when it went from something as natural as breathing, to something she’s annoyingly aware of. 

“Well, for starters–”

“Ekko!”

Jinx’s mood plummets at the chipper, teeth-grindingly familiar voice that interrupts him mid-sentence.

Seraphine walks up to their table–looking as bright and sparkly as ever–and it takes everything in Jinx’s power not to chuck the empty Mountain Dew can at her.

“Oh, hey there Jinx!” Seraphine smiles, while Jinx does her very best to glower at her until she hopefully does a one-eighty and leaves. It’s not working but at least Seraphine’s smile becomes more strained, so that ought to count for something.

Jinx can feel the both of them expectantly staring at her, and she’s perfectly content to let them until eventually Ekko subtly shakes her and she begrudgingly spits out, “Hi.”

“What’s up, Sera?” he greets with a nod of his head. Jinx wants to gag at the nickname.

“Oh, I was just…” Seraphine’s eyes briefly flicker toward the arm Ekko still has slung over her shoulder, and Jinx is suddenly filled with the strangest urge to lean deeper into the touch. She pushes the feeling down instead. “Sorry. Am I interrupting something?”

“Nah, I was just–” he abruptly stops when Jinx suddenly pulls away from him, removing his arm from her shoulder. “I was, uh, helping Jinx with her term paper…Why?”

“Oh, it’s nothing!” Seraphine, either oblivious or indifferent to the tension between them, just flutters her eyelashes and smiles at him. "I just recorded some new songs and wanted to see what you think, but it’s no biggie if you don’t have time right now."

Ekko turns to Jinx as he answers, "Yeah, we’re a little busy here. Maybe later?"

Jinx is decidedly not looking at him–at either of them, for that matter. She’s busy focusing on her damn term paper, not on something as stupid as the way Ekko has his arms folded over the table now, showing off his biceps a little too well. 

Nope. She doesn’t even notice it. Instead, she completely ignores that she can still see him from the periphery of her vision, and continues to glare at her laptop screen.

And a treacherous voice in her mind whispers that he's blowing off Seraphine because he pities Jinx; because he feels some stupid sense of obligation to stick by her when she's struggling with something. Even when he’s clearly showing off his arms to Seraphine in some weird peacock-like mating ritual because he wants to date her. Seraphine must want to date him too, if her coy looks and saccharine smiles are anything to go off of.

…Yeah, she remembers why she was annoyed with him now.

Jinx can’t stand the sight of it–her own train of thought adding to her irritation–so she scoffs and turns back to him. “Not like you're much help, anyway. Last I checked, you don’t even think I’ll make the deadline."

"Hey, spite is a good motivator.” He shrugs, his demeanor much too easy-going when Jinx feels herself becoming more razor-edged by the second. “Maybe I’m just helping you out in my own way.”

“Why don’t you help me out some more by leaving so I can concentrate?” she snaps.

His brow twitches at her tone. “What’s with you all of a sudden?”

Jinx can see Seraphine’s eyes nervously darting between them. Ha, as if she wasn’t just looking at Ekko like some lovesick, moon-eyed village maiden. “Look, it’s really not a problem if–”

“It’s fine, just go!” she interrupts.

“Hey,” Ekko puts a hand on her arm and frowns when she pulls away from him, “seriously, what’s up?”

Her stomach twists uncomfortably at the look on his face–his expression troubled at her sudden outburst. Jinx forces herself to take a deep breath through her nose, trying to push down the festering bitterness that’s desperately clawing its way up her throat.

She has a habit of putting her foot in her mouth when she gets upset; a habit her therapist (weekly appointments at Vi’s insistence) has made her painfully and embarrassingly aware of. And she’s trying very hard not to say something that will most likely cause a fight. Because fighting with Ekko sucks, even if pissing him off is rather tempting at the moment.

“Nothing,” she says with more restraint than she feels. “This paper is just…stressing me out a lot. Go. Have fun with Seraphine and leave me alone.”

Jinx turns from him–from them both because she might actually bite someone’s head off if she has to look at their faces right now–frowning at her laptop with feigned concentration, despite her current inability to register any of the words on the page.

A beat of silence. 

“Do you really want me to leave?” he quietly asks.

“Yes.” She sighs, still not looking at him. “I just wanna focus, so go.”

For a moment he doesn’t say or do anything. Jinx is still adamantly staring at her laptop, and honestly, she deserves a fucking medal for not giving in to the urge to face him so she can snap at him and Seraphine.

“Alright,” he says after a while, gathering his things and getting up from their table. “Just hit me up when you wanna hang out again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she dismissively waves her hand at him, “I’ll be fine. Go have fun yapping about sheet music, you nerds.”

Ekko snorts but doesn’t say anything after that, she briefly feels his hand squeeze her shoulder–the touch warm and steady, just like him–before he asks Seraphine if she wants to go somewhere else.

Seraphine turns back to Jinx to say, “Bye Jinx, good luck on your term paper!” before walking off with Ekko.

Jinx glares daggers at their retreating backs, quickly whipping her head back to her laptop screen when she sees Ekko turn to look back at her. She groans in frustration. This is so damn annoying. Jinx hates acting like this, feels pathetic when she does, but the fact remains that Ekko is popular. Too popular.

And for some reason (that she’s boiled down to forces of the universe hating her guts) he’s always getting hit on when she’s in the vicinity. Ever since he decided to take an elective in musical theory his string of…admirers has grown. Seraphine is only the latest addition to that list. 

Aside from her, Ekko has been getting rather buddy-buddy with the TA too. Sona or something? She always finds an excuse to pull him aside to give him some extra advice because he's "so talented" and "such a promising artist". Whatever that actually means. Jinx is pretty sure that Sona-chick is at least five years older than them too. Ugh. What a cougar.

Then there's Taliyah, an exchange student from…a place Jinx can't be bothered to remember, she was too busy glaring at Ekko to listen to his explanation–

Anyways, Professor Heimerdinger–who must've been dying to give her another reason to hate him–pulled Ekko aside after his lecture and asked if he would be kind enough to show their new student around campus to help her adjust. 

Being the paragon of virtue that he apparently is, Ekko agreed, and so their plans to eat lunch together were canceled. Instead, Jinx ate alone (willingly, at least, Dustin tried to sit with her but he was obviously hungover and stunk of sex and liquor, so she told him to piss off) while watching a moon-eyed Taliyah trail after him. 

And sitting next to him in every class they shared. 

And shyly asking for his number. 

Jinx wasn't sure who she wanted to kill more, herself or Taliyah.

Lastly, the one and only time Jinx let Ekko convince her to go to the gym together, he got hit on rather boldly by some girl, Rell, who had no reservations about letting Ekko know how much she enjoyed the view of him doing pull-ups. Then again, Rell also proceeded to eye up Jinx and asked if she planned to come around more often, so maybe she was just like that with everyone.

The point is, whenever she's hanging out with Ekko someone will inevitably try to make a move on him. And he always just smiles and lets them.

It's disgusting, frankly speaking. 

Jinx doesn't want to witness any of it. She and Ekko are friends for crying out loud, the best of friends, even. Who he's bumping uglies with is none of her business, and she'd love to keep it that way if life would stop screwing with her already.

So the best and only thing she can think of doing is leaving and avoiding him whenever it happens. Because the only alternative is getting mad at him (which ends up happening anyway, so she probably just sucks at that ‘removing yourself from the situation’ thing, sorry doctor Medarda) and okay, maybe that's not fair or rational or whatever but if she's pissed, she's pissed, alright?

Jinx peeks up from her laptop. Once she’s certain they're both gone, she packs all her stuff and gets up and ready to leave.

Knowing Ekko, he'll just come back sooner rather than later, insisting on talking out whatever their problem is–even when Jinx insists there is no problem. God knows it wouldn't be the first time. She's boiled it down to that stupid savior complex of his. Not that he’ll hear of it, stubborn as he is.

When she looks down at the table, she realizes Ekko left behind his bag of Skittles. They're her favorite candy, but not even that can save her horrific mood right now. She glares daggers at the bag, a rather pathetic alternative to glaring at Ekko.

With a frustrated groan, she snatches the candy off the table and stuffs it in her bag too, before she escapes to the one place Ekko wouldn't think to look for her: Zeri's dorm room.

-

Jinx knocks on the door. From the other side, she hears rustling and frantic footsteps. She frowns and knocks again. What the hell is Zeri doing in there?

Calling Zeri and Jinx friends would be the overstatement of the century. It’s more a simple case of: they both grew up in the same neighborhood and have a bunch of mutual friends, so it’s impossible not to know each other. And Jinx occasionally takes advantage of this weird dynamic when she needs to avoid Ekko. Zeri, for all her bitching and moaning, never turns her away. Hey, Zaunites oughta stick together, right?

Time passes and still no one opens the door. The long wait is doing nothing for her already horrid mood. She impatiently bangs on the door again and complains, “Stop dicking around, Zeri, I can hear you!”

A beat of silence. Then the sound of footsteps again, followed by the turning of a lock. Turns out it wasn't Zeri, after all.

“Akali?” she questions, taking in the grumpy, disheveled appearance of Zeri's roommate from where she's peeked her head out the door.

“What the fuck, Jinx?” Akali groans, blocking the view of her room with her body. "Zeri’s not even here."

"Well, I told her I was coming and she said it was cool, so…" She shrugs. Akali doesn’t move. Jinx raises an inquisitive eyebrow and asks, “Are you gonna let me in or what?”

Akali sighs but swings the door open entirely and doesn’t bother waiting for Jinx to follow as she spins on her heel and walks further into the room.

Jinx closes the door behind her, noting the contrast between Zeri’s relatively neat side of the room, opposed to the mess on Akali’s side with a curious frown. It's not as if Jinx herself is the tidiest person in the world, but usually, when she comes here, both girls seem to keep their dorm relatively neat.

Currently, Akali's sheets are completely askew, her duvet half hanging off the bed and pillows littering the floor. A shirt and boots, much too large to be her own, look like they’ve been hastily kicked underneath the bed...Jinx has a feeling she knows why Akali needed so long to open the damn door.

“Were you fucking someone before I got here or something?” she only half-jokes, grabbing one of the bean bags and dragging it to the empty spot between Zeri’s bed and the doorway.

"Don't be ridiculous, you just woke me up,” Akali scoffs, standing in front of her mirror as she straightens out her mussed-up hair. “Why are you even here?”

Jinx rolls her eyes at Akali’s unsubtle attempt to change the topic, but answers nonetheless, "I gotta finish my paper and I got nowhere else to go."

Because Ekko might find Jinx if she goes to the library instead. That's none of Akali's business, though.

Akali hums at her answer. Seemingly satisfied with her hair–not that Jinx can see a difference–she sits down on her bed, tapping her fingers against the bed frame and staring Jinx down before she asks, “So…how long are you staying?”

Jinx suspiciously squints at her. Oh, she was definitely fucking someone before she got here. That or she’s hiding a body somewhere in here. Either way, this is set up to be prime entertainment for Jinx. “I hang out here all the time. What's your issue all of a sudden?"

"Nothing," Akali says, but her shifty gaze and the nervous taps of her foot on the hardwood floor say otherwise. "Just curious.”

A muffled bang startles them both, their heads whipping toward the source of the noise: Akali’s closet. 

Their eyes meet. Jinx gives her a knowing look while Akali buries her head in her hands and groans.

"Just curious, huh?" Jinx rushes to open the closet door before Akali can stop her.

The guy hiding inside startles, hastily pulling his pants up, before whipping his head in Jinx’s direction, staring at her like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Uh, hi–" he blurts, stumbling out of the closet, "I'm Kayn?"

Jinx raises an unimpressed eyebrow, eyeing the Kayn-fellow up and down from his long black hair to his very exposed and chiseled torso. 

She shrugs, and says to Akali, “Least he's hot.” 

Kayn opens his mouth to retort, but before he can, Akali cuts through, "Thanks, I know. Now you,” she reaches for the shirt and boots underneath her bed and tosses them to him, “can go.”

He barely catches both before Akali has the door open and is pushing him out. Before she can close it, Kayn turns to her with a hopeful gleam in his eyes and says, “I’ll call you.”

Akali huffs an amused breath, shaking her head. “Why don’t you put on a shirt first?”

He grins at her, the both of them seemingly forgetting about Jinx. “See you around, Akali.”

“Yeah. Bye, Kayn,” Akali replies, her voice softening to a tone entirely foreign to Jinx, before she closes the door and turns back to her.

Jinx raises an amused eyebrow at Akali, who just rolls her eyes and grumbles, "Save it," before flopping back down on her bed. “Damn cockblocker…”

"Cockblocker, huh? So you knew about the guy hiding in your closet while you were sleeping or…?" Jinx teases, because, come on, how can she not?

"Haha, yeah, fine. I wasn't asleep. Happy now?" Akali groans.

"Extremely," she confirms, sitting down and reaching for her laptop. "So, that your man?"

Akali scoffs. "Who? Kayn? Don't be ridiculous.”

Jinx raises a skeptical eyebrow at her response. After that little Romeo and Juliet show by the door? Yeah, she's not buying it. Then again, she couldn't care less either way, so with a shrug, she turns her laptop on. "Whatever you say, toots."

Akali rolls her eyes but doesn't deign to respond. She simply moves to lie on her stomach and takes her phone from the nightstand.

Silence falls over the room–only broken up by the occasional tapping of Jinx's keyboard–and neither Jinx nor Akali seems inclined to break it. It's not as if they have anything to talk about. Their acquaintance is limited to the fact that they both know Zeri.

…But goddammit, Jinx is curious and there's an elephant in the room begging to be addressed.

"Oh come on, there's no way that's not your boyfriend," she insists, snapping her laptop shut.

"And yet," Akali counters, not even looking away from her phone, "he isn't."

"Really now?" Jinx says. "You're unusually nice to someone who’s just a fuck-buddy."

"And you're unusually nosy," Akali snaps, finally turning her head to glare at her.

They say curiosity killed the cat, and there must be some truth behind that because Akali certainly looks ready to kill. Jinx just gives her a sunny smile and opens her laptop again.

She’s already made peace with the fact that she'll never know what's up with Akali and her….whatever he is. Then Akali suddenly clears her throat and says, “It wouldn't work out anyway.” A beat of silence. "But he is hot so I'm just…getting him out of my system, I guess."

“Oh,” Jinx eloquently responds. Look, she was just being a little shit, alright? She hadn't actually expected Akali to open up about the thing.

"Well, I told you mine so tell me yours," she continues. "What's going on with you and your boyfriend?"

Jinx blinks, puzzled. “My who?”

“Your boyfriend? Zeri's always bitching about you two.” Akali looks nonplussed, like Jinx is the crazy one here for not knowing about her nonexistent boyfriend. “What’s his name again? Something with an E, right?”

Jinx gapes. Wait, is…is she talking about Ekko? Before she can retort, however, the door slams open.

"Oh my god, Kali, why did you let me take an elective in statistics?" Zeri groans in lieu of a greeting, unceremoniously dropping her backpack by the entrance. She only seems to notice Jinx after shutting the door. With a frown, she asks, “Wait– Jinx? What did Ekko do now?”

“Nothing!” Jinx insists, perhaps a little too intently for it to sound casual, before pointing an accusatory finger at Akali. “Why does she think we’re dating?”

Zeri turns to Akali, offended. “You think I would date this lunatic?!”

“Not you, dumbass!” Jinx reaches up to grab one of the Poro plushies at the foot of Zeri’s bed–nearly dropping her laptop in the process–before tossing one at her head. “I mean Ekko and me!”

The plushie bounces off Zeri’s head, who just scowls and argues, “Then you should’ve worded it better!” She picks the plushie off the floor and hurls it back at Jinx, who takes it straight to the face with an indignant squawk. “And don’t throw shit at me!”

Still lounging on her bed, Akali raises a curious eyebrow. “Wait. So they’re not dating? Seriously?”

Zeri scoffs, kicking off her shoes before moving to sit down on her own bed, opposite Akali’s. “If only! Maybe they’d finally stop being so annoying if they were.”

Jinx flushes–whether of anger or embarrassment, she isn’t sure. “You assholes know I can hear you, right?”

“We know,” they respond in unison. Jinx hopes they both trip over a ledge and twist their ankle.

“Okay, so go ahead and explain why you’re here then,” Zeri challenges. “Definitely has nothing to do with you avoiding Ekko for the billionth time this month, right?”

“I’m not avoiding Ekko!” Jinx insists, pointing down at her laptop screen. “I’m trying to finish my term paper, actually.”

“And you have to do that in our room because…?” Zeri trails off, seemingly unbothered by Jinx's obvious irritation.

Well, Jinx isn't unbothered. In fact, she's extremely bothered. And she doesn't exactly get why she's bothered, which just bothers her more.

“Because–” She blanks. Fuck. Stupid Zeri with her stupid fucking questions. Then, with utmost seriousness, she continues, “Because this room has a great aura…for studying.”

They're not wrong when they say one look can speak a thousand words because the skeptical yet amused looks she gets from both Zeri and Akali are honestly worse than any rebuttal they could’ve come up with.

“Oh, fuck you guys.” Jinx turns to her laptop again, the screen having gone dark after she's neglected it for so long.

God, she really does need to work on that term paper or she's screwed. If Jinx misses this deadline she'll have to suffer through Heimerdinger's lectures for another semester. And even worse, Ekko would be right. Which is already bad enough in itself, but also means she can't drink Mountain Dew for two whole weeks.

Of course, she can’t even attempt to do that, because from the bed, Zeri frowns at her phone and says, “Yup, now Ekko's texting me if I know where Jinx is. Who would've thunk it, right?”

Panic grips her, and before she can think better of it, she blurts, “Don't tell him!” 

Zeri and Akali both turn to look at her incredulously. Oh fuck. 

Jinx shuts her laptop with a long-suffering sigh. “...Okay, fine, I'm avoiding Ekko. Big deal! You guys never need space from your friends or something?”

In a disgusting turn of events, it's Akali who responds, “Whatever you say, toots,” because she’s evil and Zeri is a snitch who Jinx never should’ve trusted with any sort of personal information. 

She should’ve just done the reasonable thing: steal Caitlyn’s credit card and stay at various cheap motels over the course of the school year until everyone hopefully forgets about her existence (or until Caitlyn blocks the credit card).

“Susmaryosep,” Zeri groans, climbing off the bed to stand in front of Jinx, “I swear it's always the same shit with you two…”

Jinx's brow twitches in irritation. She stuffs her laptop into her bag before rising to her feet, and arguing, “Well, why do you care?!”

“I don't!” Zeri rebukes, frustration twisting her expression. “You guys just keep making your problems my problem! I swear…I should just lock you two in a supply closet somewhere. Maybe you'd stop being so annoying if you just boned it out like normal people.”

Jinx is not entirely sure the sound that leaves her throat is human. “I– Wha–” She spins on her heel to face Akali, face hot with indignation. “Are you hearing this right now?!”

“I have no stakes in this,” Akali shrugs, “I'm just here for the free entertainment.”

“Oh come on.” Zeri puts her hand on Jinx’s shoulder–rolling her eyes when Jinx immediately slaps it away–and sighs. “Look. Jinx. Friend-but-not-really-friend. Whatever’s going on with you and Ekko, you gotta fix it–”

“There’s nothing to fix!”

“–I’m being serious here!” Zeri grabs her shoulders so tightly it startles Jinx into silence. “Ekko’s not gonna say anything because he’s just as stubborn as you, but something’s gotta give! You get upset and avoid him, and then he gets upset that you’re avoiding him, and then I’m the one who’s gotta deal with you both!”

Zeri stops to take a deep breath and gather herself, before she finishes, “Now go fix it yourselves or…or I won’t let you into my room anymore, kuha mo?”

Don’t put your foot in your mouth, she desperately thinks, digging her nails into her fist, hard enough to sting–a last-ditch effort to keep herself from snapping. But it’s not working. The irritation that’s been simmering in her chest, boils over into pure rage. Because, seriously, who the fuck does Zeri think she is?

Jinx can’t deal with this right now. Any of it. She can’t deal with Zeri’s tired interrogations; with both her and Akali’s eyes on her like pinpricks on her skin; with that stupid deadline looming over her head; with all these shiny-eyed, pretty girls drooling after Ekko.

“Let me make it easier for you then,” Jinx eventually grinds out, yanking herself free of Zeri’s grip and grabbing her bag before she storms out of the room.

“Seriously?!” she hears Zeri yell from the doorway. 

Without turning back around, Jinx flips her off and keeps walking.

-

So Jinx’s prospects of successfully finishing that term paper in time are looking pretty damn bleak. After Zeri pissed her off, she’d taken the bus home (putting her phone on silent because Zeri wouldn’t stop fucking calling) stomped straight into her bedroom, slammed the door shut, and tried to channel that anger into productivity somehow.

Sadly, Jinx’s strategy had been woefully ineffective because her temperamental mood just gave her brain fog instead. Which left her staring at the page rather unproductively for much longer than she’d like to admit.

In a stroke of genius and exhaustion, she decided to corrupt the file instead and send it as is. There, by the time the old coot realizes he can’t open the document, she’d have plenty of time to actually finish her paper (hopefully).

Her anger eventually begins to set like the late evening sun, leaving her staring at the ceiling–painted in hazy hues of reds and oranges from the light spilling in through the windows–while she contemplates everything Zeri had said to her.

Now that her anger has waned, Jinx can begrudgingly admit (at least in her head) that Zeri might be onto something…She’s still going to ignore her texts and calls, though. Because even if she has a point, she’s still a nosy traitor who had no reason to air out Jinx’s business like that.

Jinx buries her face in her hands, smothering a cry of frustration. Seriously, what the fuck is she even supposed to do about this situation? She’s ignored one too many of Ekko’s texts to pretend everything is still normal. Not to mention, not talking to him just plain sucks.

With a sigh, Jinx pats the side of her bed until she eventually grasps her phone, turning the sound back on, opening the messenger app to see what he has sent her (still dutifully ignoring Zeri's messages at the very top of her notifications).

SAVIOR BOY  Hey i came back after i was done helping Sera but u werent around? U in the library? Ok i dont see you in the library either… Are u busy? Hmu when u wanna hang

Guilt squeezes at her heart until it hurts, but unfortunately feeling bad hasn't done her any favors. Because she knows that whatever she's feeling isn't rational, knows that she's being unfair – but what is she supposed to do with knowing? It hasn't stopped her from feeling the way she does every time she's around Ekko. 

He's still her best friend, though, and...Jinx honestly wouldn't know what to do with herself if he ever stopped being her best friend. Maybe the way she’s acting will prove to be the final straw, that which finally makes him tire of and give up on her.

Jinx just doesn't know how to behave normally around him anymore; how to stop getting so irrationally angry every time someone else tries to vie for his attention; how to get this feeling out of her system.

With a gasp, she shoots upright in her bed. Lightning strikes in the distance as, with sudden clarity, Jinx gets hit with an idea on how to fix this…Alright, so lightning didn't actually strike in the distance but Jinx has such a good idea it might as well have.

A plan concocts itself in her brain. One that’s perhaps a little insane, but hey, aren’t her best ideas always? Jinx bites her lip and turns the idea over in her head. Zeri might be an idiot but…that stupid joke she made about “boning it out” hadn’t been too off-track.

Besides, isn’t Akali doing something similar? Something something about getting it– him (Kayle or whatever his name was, not important anyway) out of her system. 

Maybe that's what she needs. Maybe she should just take a page out of Akali's book and try…to get Ekko out of her system, so to speak, so she can start acting normal around him again instead of ruining their friendship.

….No. That's ridiculous. Sacrilegious even. Ekko's her friend, her best friend at that. They can't, they shouldn't–

Jinx collapses back on the bed, lifting up her pillow and smothering her face in it so she can scream into the void.

As if tuned into her misery, her phone vibrates beside her. Curiosity gets the better of her and Jinx decides to take a momentary pause from self-strangulation to check what it is. It better not be Zeri again.

SAVIOR BOY ? U know your read notifs are on right? Are you mad at me?

…Maybe it would've been better if it was Zeri. She locks her phone again and sighs in frustration.

Alright relax Jinx, what could one hook-up between friends really hurt? 

The thought makes her think back on her first hook-up, nose wrinkling at the memory. Born mostly out of curiosity–and a desperation to just lose her damn virginity already after high school graduation–Jinx thought it was awful. She washed her hands off the experience and concluded the whole sex and dating thing just wasn't for her, ‘cause she sure didn't get the hype behind it all.

…Okay, well, she reached that conclusion after trying a few more times, just in case. Her ideas just seem much better when she’s drunk, alright? And though the encounters weren’t as disastrous as her first time, she still didn’t get it.

But, hey, say she and Ekko hook up (which still feels blasphemous to even consider) and the sex is bad, wouldn't that be better? Surely a bad hook-up would get this weird and uncomfortable feeling out of her system, right? Somehow, that thought makes her feel vaguely disconcerted– 

But that’s not important right now, she's getting ahead of herself. Jinx can go back and forth on this all she wants, but unfortunately, it takes two to tango. So the most important step in getting Ekko to sleep with her is probably getting him to want to sleep with her. 

Then again, that couldn't be so hard, could it? He’s still just a man at the end of the day. Sure, she doesn't have a figure like Sona's, a face like Rell's, or Taliyah's height, for that matter. And she may have freckles and dark circles compared to Seraphine's clear, unblemished skin but–

Okay, that actually made her feel way worse but the point is, it can't be that hard to seduce a guy, right? Even if it's Ekko.

…Fuck it.

Frustrated, Jinx reaches for her phone and shoots Ekko rapid-fire replies before she can think better of it.

You ok 1 im NOT mad i was working on my paper dur 2 stop stalking my read notifs 🔫🔫 and 3 lets hang tmrw  afternoon @ my place wanna study chem together?

Alright, that’s one thing out of the way. She breathes a sigh of relief, a weight lifting off her shoulders, and tosses her phone back down beside her.

There’s no point in checking her texts again. She knows Ekko and knows there's no way he’ll decline her proposition. It's the other proposition she intends to give him on the day itself that has her worried.

Jinx rolls around to lie on her side, sighing as she hugs her pillow to her chest for a semblance of comfort that she’s too embarrassed to seek out from Vi or, god forbid, Caitlyn.

…Oh shit, she needs to get Vi and Caitlyn out of the house tomorrow.

-

"Sooo," Jinx starts as nonchalantly as she can, while heating hot chocolate in a pan, "finally Saturday, am I right? You lovebirds got any exciting plans for today?”

Vi frowns in consideration as she chews on her pancakes, not bothering to swallow the food down before she replies, "Not really, why?"

"Oh, no reason, really," Jinx says super casually. Just as she very casually pours the hot chocolate into two cups, one for her sister and the other for her dumb girlfriend. She’s even made sure not to put whipped cream on Caitlyn's drink because she doesn't like the taste.

When she sets them down on the counter, they both eye the cups incredulously. Caitlyn even sniffs the drink, as if–somewhere between the journey from the stove to the kitchen island–Jinx had somehow laced it with poison. 

She rolls her eyes at the dramatics. Okay, at some point she may have totally considered poisoning Caitlyn. But as it currently stands, if Jinx wanted the woman to drop dead, she wouldn't have moved in with her and Vi, for crying out loud.

Vi moves her suspicious gaze from the hot chocolate to Jinx. "What are you up to, Pow?"

"Nothing," Jinx innocently assures, avoiding eye contact as she plays with one of her braids, "it's just that I was gonna invite Ekko over for a study session, and I was worried it might be…distracting if you guys are around."

"Oh, okay.” Vi shrugs, going for another bite of her pancakes. 

Then her head whips back up to look at Jinx, so fast it’s a miracle it didn’t go flying off her neck. 

“Oh– Oh my god, Jinx," Jinx flinches as Vi's utensils hit the counter with a clang and squirms under her sister’s heavy, concerned gaze, "please tell me you have condoms."

"Ew, what the hell, Violet?!" Jinx flushes at her sister's assumption. Even if she has, embarrassingly enough, reached the right conclusion.

"Don’t ‘Violet’ me!” she argues, her hands flying as she talks, the way they always do when she gets upset. “This is important! If you’re old enough to have sex, you gotta be old enough to use a condom too because I am not about to become an aunt at the ripe age of twenty-four. Does Ekko–"

"Vi!" she interrupts, burying her head in her hands. God, this is so fucking mortifying. "We're just studying."

Vi gives her a pointed look that makes Jinx nervously bite down on her lower lip. Vi just insistently keeps staring her down, raising a single, disbelieving eyebrow. The silence feels heavy, and eventually, Jinx breaks under the pressure.

With a groan, she reluctantly supplies, "...Yes, I have condoms. And I’m on birth control! Which you know."

Vi sighs in relief, picking up her knife and fork again, and casually slicing into her pancakes as she says, "Good, we'll be out of your hair, then."

Seated beside her, Caitlyn simply groans as she sets down her now-empty cup of hot chocolate, and says, "I really did not want to witness this conversation first thing in the morning."

-

It’s already well past noon when Vi and Caitlyn finally make their way out of the house (with Vi making assured proclamations that they won’t return until very late, making Jinx want to scream). Once she recovers from the mortification of having an older sister who knows she’s about to (attempt to) have sex, Jinx rushes to her bedroom and considers what her next step should be. 

Because it occurred to her, perhaps belatedly, that she has no fucking clue how to actually seduce someone. In her defense, this isn’t something she actively has to worry about whenever she’s drunk. She considers, momentarily, whether or not a little liquid courage would do her any favors.

Then she remembers that just last week Ekko had found her shit-faced and passed out at some dingy frat party with her cheek glued to a toilet seat (which she knows happened because the fucker texted her a picture of it the next day when she refused to believe him) before he had to haul her ass home, and thinks better of it.

She decides to start simple by taking a shower, during which she spends an embarrassingly long time scrubbing her skin raw and shaves more thoroughly than she ever has in her entire life.

Once she’s out of the shower, insecurity creeps its way into her mind as she does her skincare routine. She doesn’t want to do it, but still can’t stop herself from critically assessing her body during the process. Something sinks in her chest when she finds it lacking.

Jinx knows she’s not a supermodel by any means. She’s short and skinny, with pallid skin littered with so many scars that they disrupt the ink of her tattoos–but she generally doesn’t give a shit about any of that. In fact, most days she thinks she’s pretty damn hot.

So why is it that now of all times her body is making her doubt her own attractiveness?

…Why is it now that she’s worried whether or not Ekko even finds her attractive?

Fuck, this is so annoying. Can’t her brain just work with her when she needs it to? Jinx futilely tries to push these feelings down, instead, she rakes both her closet and brain over what to wear.

Should she try to dress cute? What if she does and Ekko thinks she’s weird? But what if she’s dressed too casually and he won’t even consider sleeping with her? …Then again, has he ever considered it?

Okay, shit, she has to focus.

She closes her now nearly empty closet and turns back to her room with a frustrated sigh. Her bedroom looks like it survived an explosion, a wreckage of clothing everywhere, from her desk to her bed to…the bookshelf…somehow?

Jinx petulantly kicks at one of her jeans on the floor and redirects her efforts to drying her hair instead. God knows that’s already a chore and a half. She hasn’t cut her hair since middle school and it shows. The full length of it reaches her thighs and gets in the way of practically everything if she doesn’t dutifully braid it.

When it’s finally all dry, Jinx is in the midst of putting her hair in a simple, thick braid when her phone vibrates beside her. She taps the screen to read the message and nearly has a heart attack when she does.

SAVIOR BOY Hey  Be there in 30 min

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

(I feel kinda shy but I rllly need smt smutty jsjs)

Imagine the reader purposely buying some sort of pheromone perfume (ik they dont rlly work in real life but for the sake of the request they do🫡🔥) and cause matt has high senses he is quite turned on by that. She works at the law firm, and he tries to control himself, but after some weeks, he can not do that anymore. (The reader and Matt are already dating, and she does this as a way of teasing him).

UwU mercii

hii!! never be shy around here, ask for whatever it is you wanna read. also I feel kinda mean sorry in advance, this drabble is like im gonna edge you all (sorry if that’s gross to say😭😭) not necessarily smut per-say, just teasing and kinda suggestive. but I have wrote office smut if that’s more up your alley, I just don’t remember what it’s called😭 thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

…

(un)lucky number seven

matt murdock x fem!reader

word count: 601

warnings: suggestive and teasing

✧.┊ MASTERLIST

You love to tease Matt. It's simple, really. Nothing else to it. You loved to work him up and have him wrapped around your finger. 

So, two weeks ago, when you browsed the perfume department, you stumbled upon a selection of pheromones. You knew that they were often iffy, but with Matt's heightened senses, you were sure to get some kind of a reaction. You picked it up with a mischievous grin and went to the checkout to pay.

Since then, you've been wearing small amounts of the perfume when you were around Matt- which was almost all the time, considering you worked together too. You increased the spritzes every few days to see how much you could get away with before getting a reaction.

Today, you were wearing seven sprays of the alluring perfume and were hoping to get a response, something, anything. You wanted Matt to crack, so you pulled out the big guns.

Foggy and Karen were out collecting lunch, so it left you and Matt together at the office, left to your own devices.

You knock on the inside of Matt's door. "Where do you want these papers, boss," you tease, purposely wafting the papers against you as you walk into his office. "Finished them, just like you asked."

"Thanks," he nods, avoiding you and your games. "Put them with the others."

"I think we should have a break," you suggest, dragging a chair to sit in front of his desk. "You seem a little tense today."

"No, I'm fine," he brushes you off, ignoring your advances. He loosens his tie and then rolls his sleeves. "Just warm."

"Yeah, it is pretty hot today," you say, a slight breathy tone to your voice. "Meant to be like it for a few days." You tempt, ignoring his counter attempts of turning you on.

He stands, walking around his desk to sit at the edge facing you. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you say weakly, swallowing thickly when he pushes back his hair, subtly flexing his arms. "Supposed to be very hot," you say almost pathetically, steading your breathing.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" he grins, head cocking to the side in amusement. 

"Nothing, nothing," you reply, shaking your head as you gathered your things to leave. "I'll let you be."

"Stay," he whispers, halting your movements with an open palm. "You wanted a break, right?" he stands again and places his hands either side of your shoulders, gently pushing you back into your chair. "What's wrong? Don't like being on the receiving end?"

You slowly shake your head. Your breaths grow heavy and strained, looking up at Matt as he leans over you with his signature smile slapped on his face.

"Is that no?" he mocks, quietly speaking as he hovers against your lips. "Not so nice, now is it?"

"No," you admit, whispering.

He lingers to your lips, mimicking a light kiss as his hand faintly trails up your throat. "Exactly," he whispers back, grazing his spare hand over your thigh. "Better get back to work. They're back." Matt nods to the door, counting up on his fingers until the door swings open.

You mumble a curse under your breath and stand, collecting yourself and your papers. "So that's the part I need to correct?" you lie, speaking loud enough for Foggy and Karen to hear. 

"Yeah, change those parts, then it's perfect," Matt nods. "Mine. After work." He whispers to you, hiding his mouth behind his fist.

"You got it," you reply, your tone perky and upbeat as you leave his office. "Oh, hey, guys, I didn't see you there."

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

[morganski-19]

The One With the Stupid Frat Boy

(flashback to how Steve and Robin became friends)

Robin’s not exactly sure why she showed up to this party. Or how she ended up smack dab in the middle of make out city. A mission that started out trying to get something not disgusting in her cup turning into dodging couples left and right.

She should honestly just go home. Back to her dorm room after finding the roommate that dragged her here. Said she had to get a life and not just study every day. Robin didn’t come to college to fuck around. And so what, she likes to study. Learning a new language was fun for her, she could already speak four fluently, what’s one more.

“You look lost,” a random guy with blond hair says to her. A slur to his words. “If you need help finding somewhere quiet to sit in for a while, I could help you with that.”

Robin swallows the want to throw up. “I’d rather you show me the nearest dumpster than go anywhere alone with you.”

“Woah, freaky.” The guy clearly doesn’t get the hint. He gets so close that Robin can smell the alcohol on his breath. “That’s ok, I’m into freaky chicks.”

“Ew, gross,” Robin pushes him away. “If your brain worked for two seconds, you would clearly see that I’m not interested.”

Whatever type of face the guy was trying to make before turns sour. “You didn’t have to be so rude about it, jeez. I was just trying to be nice.”

“You can be nice without trying to get in my pants. Which I have already said I’m not interested in. You can go fuck off now.” She shoos him away with her free hand.

“Hey, listen here, bitch.”

A hand comes between Robin and the guy, pushing him away from her. Another guy stepping between them, shielding Robin from whatever insults where about to be thrown her way.

“Back off, Chad, she’s clearly not interested,” the new guy with what appears to be a few braincells says. He crosses his arms, making himself into a calm but large presence.

Chad starts to say something, but cuts himself off with an eyeroll. Finally walking away and leaving Robin alone.

The new guy scoffs, whispering, “Asshole.” He turns around to face Robin, face softening in a way that makes her feel safer than she has all night. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” she says more shaken than she would like to admit. “Just another asshole, right.”

“Right.” He holds out his hand in front of him. “I’m Steve.”

Robin shakes his hand with an intrigued expression. “Robin.”

A group of people walk behind her and, accidentally, someone bumps into her. Making her trip forward and spill what was left of her drink down her shirt.

“Fuck,” she says, fruitlessly wiping the stain with the back of her hand. “Tonight really is a load of shit.”

Steve very gently puts a hand on her upper back, leading her gently to an empty bathroom. “Don’t swear it all off yet. You never know, you could meet a really hot girl that could turn it all around.”

The bathroom door shuts behind him with a lock. Steve immediately crouches down to look around in the cabinet under the sink. Giving Robin some relief as the situation finally registers in her brain.

She was locked in a bathroom with some random guy she just met minutes ago. Realistically, she should be freaking out about this. But she’s not. Instead, she laughs when Steve makes a little victorious sound and emerges with an almost empty roll of paper towels and a stain eraser. Handing both of them to her and turning to sit on the toilet.

No pressure, no expectation. Just doing something kind for a stranger.

“Is that hope for finding a hot girl for me or for you,” Robin says. Wetting a paper towel, starting to dab at the stain on her shirt.

Steve snorts. “Mainly for you. I’m sort of seeing someone right now and I’m not a cheating asshole.”

“How’d you know I liked girls.”

“I recognized you from the LGBTQ+ student alliance club. I try to attend meetings when I can, but my practices get in the way for most of them.”

“I thought you looked familiar. That makes so much sense now. If you were straight, I probably would have punched you in the face right now.”

That makes Steve laugh. “I hope you’d give me a better treatment than most. Even when I thought I was straight, I still respected people’s sexualities.”

“Who are you seeing, another member of the club?”

“No, she doesn’t have the time. You might know her if you read the school paper, Nancy Wheeler. She’s too busy trying to whip that into shape along with the million other clubs she’s in to be an official member.”

“And she won’t care that you’re currently locked in a bathroom at a house party with a random girl?”

Steve laughs again, like he’s talking with an old friend. “Like I said, I’m not a cheating asshole and she knows that. And you’re a lesbian, so I’d be doing a terrible job if I was.”

Robin abandons trying to get the alcohol out of her shirt. She leans on the wall, sighing and letting her head hit it. “As nice as this conversation has been, I think I’m going to head home. Try and beat my roommate there so she can’t bring any guys back and kick me out. Even though she will still try.”

Steve makes the most judgmental face known to man. “One of those?”

Robin nods with a snort.

“Could be worse, she could do it even if you were in the room. Not fun, let me tell you.” He stands. “Come on, I’ll walk you home. Don’t need any more frat guys hitting on you.”

Robin follows Steve as he breaks a path through the crowd. Feeling the intense relief when the night air hits her. They walk beside each other to the freshman dorms.

“How did you know Chad anyway? You don’t seem like the guy to hang out with assholes.”

“You’d might be surprised to learn that I am a reformed asshole. Different than the one Chad is, but still an ass. You can thank Nancy for knocking me out of that. But me and him met last year when I was looking to join his frat. We actually hooked up at a party last semester.”

“No way,” she gapes.

Steve nods. “Yes way. Not good, let me tell you. Way too cocky and full of himself.”

“See, this is why I date women. We have a much better track record of reciprocating pleasure.”

“Not all of us are terrible, some of us know how to give a good time.”

Robin comes to a stop in front of the door to her building. “Well, this is it.”

“Here, give me your phone for a second.” Steve holds out his hand, where Robin places her phone. He finds her contacts app and types in his number. “Let me know when you get back into your dorm. I’ll come save you if your roommate brings anyone back.”

“Don’t need you saving me twice in one night, I can handle myself.”

“Oh, I’m sure of it.” He pauses. “But, if you ever wanted someone to talk to, it’s there. Not going to force you or anything, but I had a good time talking to you tonight. I think that we could be really good friends. If you gave me a chance.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “And texting some random guy I met at a party is such a great way to make friends?”

Steve holds up his hands in defense, walking away backwards. “You said it not me.”

He runs into a bush behind him, cursing and making Robin laugh. She waves goodbye and scans her ID to get into the door. Immediately pulling out her phone when she gets to her dorm to text Steve.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low,

@thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady,

@apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic,

@fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging,

@potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @gregre369

@my2amgaythoughts, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @emmabubbles, @eriquin, @grtwdsmwhr

@croatoan-like-its-hot

[aching-tummies]

Sick Belly

Still sick with something, but life goes on.

Had an important 7AM class today. I was running late, thanks to transit messing up along the line and robbing me of the 40 minute buffer-time I would have had to acquire and eat breakfast on-campus. As I was rushing through campus to make it to my classroom, my stomach was griping at me--hungry and pleading to be fed. No dice, tummy--we have a midterm exam starting right at 7AM and if our ass isn't in that seat in 9 minutes, we'll be marked absent and get an F on that test. There was just barely enough time to grab coffee though (coffee, not the fancy breakfast sandwiches that always take an extra 10 min to heat up). So I stopped for some of that. Latte, down the hatch as of 7AM.

I finish the midterm in record time so I end up wandering the halls after 40 minutes with 20 minutes to my next class. Unfortunately, none of the decent food places are open at that hour, so I didn't want to shell out $14 on mediocre food. I did walk by one of the other campus coffee shops and saw signage promoting a new drink--something with lots of caramel and cream. It looked good so I bought it on a whim to give it a try. Caramel-whuzza-ccino down the hatch before 8AM.

Classes went until around noon, at which point I finally found time to re-heat the spaghetti and ground meat leftovers I had packed for lunch--so…that went into my gut around the noon hour. Classes let out at 3PM and I was looking at a 2 hour commute back home (2 hours and bout 3 transfers to cross the city). My stomach would not stop gurgling for the entire two hours. wet, sickly, and just constantly gurgling away behind 3 coats and a too-heavy backpack laden with 3 textbooks, a laptop, and 2.5 textbooks worth of looseleaf paper + an empty lunch container.

I'm guessing that the sickness resulted in a lot of mucus and phlegm going down the hatch all night and for most of the day. The copious amounts of dairy and caffeine would have messed my guts up regardless, but I guess the muscus and whatever else mixed with all of that to give it more staying power in my guts rather than them irritating everything enough to void ASAP like it normally would. The leftovers were just along for the ride, giving the gurgles and churns some substance and making everything thicker and sicklier.

I made it home and my stomach is still being very noisy and very upset-sounding. Kind of wish more than anything that I could just throw up and be rid of the grossness, but the gurgles are kind of nice. It's distracting though. My stomach has been bouncing between feeling like it's stewing with molten magma or giving me a few of those pinching/twisting aches dairy loves to twist my intestines into. Here I sit, laying back against my chair-back and palming my tummy with both hands as it gurgles and whines.

What would you do if I came home and my sickly little tummy was just gurgling and churning away as I sat at my desk, trying to concentrate on a few homework assignments? Currently reclining as far as the stiff chair will let me, my tum on full display as I've popped open my jeans 'cuz the button and zipper was constricting my intestines and causing some really horrid cramps. The cramping has died down and now it just feels like a sack of sticky, sickly slop sitting heavy. It's everywhere, not even concentrated in one area. My left side, right around the ribs, all the way to the lower belly/pelvis area just feel like one giant mass of mashed up Jello sluggishly churning away.

[pippytmi]

leah x fatin from this prompt list: "it’s like 3AM and my roommate locked me out of the house and I forgot my keys and I’m really drunk pls take pity on me and let me crash at your place for the night o’ neighbor of mine AU"

_______________________________________

“Dorothy,” Fatin groans, thumping her head against the door for the millionth time. “Please, please, let me in. Are you mad at me? Is it because I called your boyfriend a grade-A hottie? I was just trying to be supportive, I don’t really find him that hot.” She pauses. “Or is it the laundry thing? I swear I’ll stop stealing your T-shirts and actually go to the laundromat more. I’ve never touched your lesbian cargo pants! Doesn't that count for anything? Dorothyyyy.”

Still nothing but continued silence. Fatin takes a sad gulp of her beatbox and debates crying. Maybe then Dot will open the door—she hates it when Fatin cries, calls it gross and ugly. At the very least, Dot won't subject the neighbors to it.

There’s a sudden cough, and Fatin sits up, prepared to fight for her life (or at least her drink), but there’s no danger in sight; it’s just Leah, the reclusive student who lives across the hall, who sometimes comes over when Dot needs help drinking the beer Fatin refuses to touch. “I think your roommate is out,” she tells Fatin slowly. “I saw her leave like three hours ago.”

“Well fuck me,” Fatin says, stunned. “I’ve been groveling to that bitch for like twenty minutes.”

Leah shifts from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable. “Yeah, I heard you,” she says. “It’s kind of distracting.”

“Distracting?” Fatin repeats, first out loud, and then several more times in her head, not sure what to make of it. Until understanding suddenly dawns, and she sits up with a renewed interest. “Holy shit, do you have company over? Are you getting some?”

“What? No!” Leah’s skin turns a bright shade of red. “I’m trying to write a paper.”

“Ugh, lame,” Fatin says, slumping right back against the floor. “Just when I thought you might be interesting.”

Leah blinks. “Okay, well,” she says after a beat. “I just wanted to let you know.” She cracks open her apartment door, lingering in the doorway only to ask, “Will you be…alright?”

“No, Leah, I will not,” Fatin scoffs. “I’m drunk as shit and I need to pee and Dot has obviously abandoned me when I need her the most. I'm probably going to die in this hallway.” She has to pause for a necessary shiver. “I think this might be the lowest I've ever been. Like, physically and emotionally.”

Two doors down, there is the distinct sound of a bang against the wall. “Shut the fuck up!”

“You shut up!” Fatin yells back at whoever it is. Toni, probably. What an asshole.

Leah doesn't move, still half-shielded by her own door, and she does not comment on Toni’s asshole-ness. “Did you try calling Dot’s phone?”

“Obviously,” Fatin says. “But now my phone’s dead, and Dot didn't answer any of my calls. I called her like fifty times, Leah. At least.”

Another bang. “It's three in the fucking morning!”

“Go to hell, Toni!”

Leah sighs. “I can try to call Dot,” she says, like this is all some big inconvenience to her, which is really very rude considering that Fatin and Dot are stellar neighbors. Plus Dot is almost Leah’s friend, so…Fatin is a friend by association. Or whatever. “Do you have anywhere you can stay in the meantime?”

“No, I live here now,” Fatin says sorrowfully, stretching out onto the horrifyingly sticky carpet floor. “Hey. Wait a second, I can just crash with you!”

“Uh,” Leah casts an uneasy glance over her shoulder. “My roommate is asleep, and the place isn't really fit for…company.”

“Are you really going to make me beg twice?” Fatin says. “Cause you know I can do it. I will cry on your doorstep. That is a threat and a promise.” She sits up, determined, as Leah continues to hesitate. “Come on! Take pity on a poor, drunk, damsel in distress. I have a stupid chem final tomorrow—are you really going to let me suffer out here all night?”

“I guess you can stay until Dot’s back,” Leah says, finally opening her door all the way. “But you have to be really quiet. Rachel will kill both of us if you wake her up.”

“Rachel loves me, don’t even worry,” Fatin says, downing the rest of her beatbox in one go. Or mostly, anyway, because some of it spills out of the corner of her mouth. Whatever, it’s not like the carpet hasn’t seen worse spills.

Leah doesn’t attempt to hide her wince. But she also does not take her invitation back, so Fatin counts it as a win.

“I’ll get you a phone charger,” Leah says. A beat. “And some water.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Fatin says, sinking onto the couch with a deep, satisfied exhale. “Any chance you have food? I would actually kill for something deep-fried.”

“We probably don’t have much, but you can look,” Leah’s voice fades out as she vanishes into the bedroom, and Fatin doesn’t need to be told twice.

Probably is too kind a word—there is absolutely nothing to eat at all, beside a stack of individual meals in tupperware that are aggressively labeled “Rachel.” Fatin abandons the fridge and rummages through the cupboards instead, finding her saving grace in the one constant of any college diet: instant ramen.

Before Fatin can even tear it open for an attempt at (drunk) cooking, Leah comes back, and she eyes Fatin up and down like she wants to say something but doesn't. Except: “I found a charger.”

Fatin hugs the ramen to her chest and can only stare. “That's not an iPhone charger,” she says. “Oh God, are you an Android girl?”

Leah frowns. “What’s wrong with having an Android?”

“I am so sorry you live in the dinosaur age,” Fatin says, crinkling her nose in disgust. “Forget it, I’ll have to borrow one from Rachel in the morning.”

“So now you’re staying the night?” Leah doesn’t even try to hide her unease at the idea.

Fatin huffs. “Oh relax, I’m not trying to sleep in your bed or anything,” she says. “Just let me crash on your couch, c’mon. Don't be a dick…please.”

“Fine, whatever,” Leah says, obviously affronted at the idea of being called a dick. “You’re not going to throw up, are you?”

“No, I will not throw up on your precious couch. Damn, you’re judgy.” Fatin goes right back to her unopened ramen in a futile attempt to open it with her nails (they’re a new set, and too expensive to break), before Leah finally sighs and takes pity on her.

“If I make you something to eat, will you be quiet?”

“Can you even cook?” Fatin snarks right back, but Leah plucks the bag from Fatin’s hands without taking the bait.

“Bathroom’s the first door down the hallway,” Leah says—an obvious dismissal—and Fatin would be offended if she didn't have to take a piss.

The bathroom mirror has seen better days, cracked right down the middle like something out of a horror movie. Fatin’s mascara-smeared face reflects back at her, and she halfheartedly scrubs at the marks until she looks more alive.

When she’s done, she re-enters the kitchen to find Leah poking the bubbling Ramen with a fork and inspiring zero confidence that this girl can even cook. The fact is only driven home when Leah asks,

“Do you want cheese?”

“Cheese?” Fatin repeats. “Am I a fucking mouse?”

Leah rolls her eyes. “On your noodles.” She waves a Kraft single between two fingers, and Fatin officially loses all respect for this girl.

“Ew, no way,” Fatin says. “That stuff's practically radioactive.”

“Then here.” Leah pours the soup into a bowl, immediately moves off to rinse out the pot and clean up the minimal mess from her efforts.

Suddenly, Fatin feels the tiniest bit guilty. Maybe she's not exactly the best house guest…or whatever. “Wait, don't you want some of this?”

Leah twists to look at Fatin, and she's noticeably perplexed at the offer. “It's three in the morning.”

“And?” Fatin waits for a better answer. Leah doesn't give one.

So that's how they end up splitting instant ramen noodles, Leah with (gross) cheese on hers and Fatin with a generous helping of Sriracha on her own. They put the TV on mute and read the subtitles for a horrible black-and-white movie on Netflix, and a thought suddenly occurs to Fatin.

“Hey, is this a date?”

Leah chokes. “What?”

“We’re having dinner and watching a movie,” Fatin says. “This is more wine and dine action than I’ve seen in years.”

“I’m just keeping you company until Dot comes home or you fall asleep,” Leah says. “God, you’re a lot more self-centered than Dot says.”

Fatin narrows her eyes. “She told you I was self-centered?”

“She said self-involved, actually.” Leah carefully drinks some soup from the rim of her bowl. “And you’re also drunk. I wouldn’t go on a date with a drunk person.”

“So you’re saying you would consider a date with me when I’m sober?” Fatin asks, and Leah turns a bright shade of red.

“No,” Leah says, and continues eating.

“That would be a lot more convincing if you didn’t keep staring at my tits,” Fatin says, unfazed as she waves her chopsticks in the air, and Leah chokes all over again.

(It’s certainly going to be something to revisit in the morning, in any case).

[magniloquent-raven]

Billy and El's relationship headcanons?

Yessss!! Always more than happy to talk about these two

I love El just kind of deciding that her and Billy are friends now. Billy gets no say in the matter.

She spends a lot of her time after Starcourt hanging out in his hospital room. Like, sitting in the corner quietly reading or practising her penmanship, anything that'll keep her occupied while Billy lays there and pretends to watch whatever's on TV. They don't really talk much. So Billy kind of figures Max put her up to this, keeping an eye on him. Or she's doing it out of some kind of obligation because he sort of saved her life.

The reality of it is that she doesn't feel quite at home living with the Byers yet, so she's finding any excuse to be elsewhere. And it just so happens that she wants to keep Billy company. It's a win-win.

When Billy gets out he figures he won't see her anymore. She's got her nerds to hang out with, she doesn't need to waste any more time on him now that everyone's pretty sure he's not gonna die.

Except the day after he moves into the tiny little apartment that some government stooge picked out for him, El shows up at his door with a gift bag in hand (Joyce introduced her to the concept of a housewarming present, and she was very excited about trying it out). It's already weird enough being on his own, trying to figure out how to live in his own space while he's relearning how to use his own body. He's navigating a lot of uncertainty, and then this kid comes along and he doesn't understand this either. It's a lot. He's going through a lot.

So he's a little too blunt when the first thing that comes out of his mouth is, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

She doesn't seem to notice the tone. Doesn't care that he's being rude. She just holds up the bag and smiles. "Making your house warm." She explains in careful, clipped sentences, that Joyce told her it's a thing friends do. That's the only part he really hears. Friends.

When he stepped between her and the Mind Flayer he didn't expect to get a friend out of it. He didn't expect anything but the pain that followed. The blood. The plan was to be a temporary shield for someone who deserved to live more than he did. He did his job. Max has never thanked him for it, why should anyone else.

He's not sure why her declaration makes his eyes well up. He doesn't really want to think about it that hard, if he's perfectly honest. It's awkward enough trying to blink away tears while some kid he barely knows intently watches him pull wads of tissue paper off a lumpy pile of...blanket? There's a fuzzy green throw blanket at the bottom of the bag, and he's not sure if that's going to make him laugh or cry some more.

By the time Mrs. Byers shows up that evening, he's feeling a little less emotionally unstable. A little. She spent the day helping him shelve all the books he never bothered unpacking after Neil moved them to Indiana. Every so often she'd ask what one was about, and always with refreshingly unbiased curiosity, never why do you have that or I wouldn't have expected you read something like this.

He knows a little about where she's from, memories the Mind Flayer left behind, impressions and echoes. He knows enough to understand why she is the way she is.

It occurs to him after she leaves that she knows just as much, if not more about him. The realization gives him vertigo, the bottom of his stomach dropping away. But despite that, he wonders if it's a good thing. They don't have to explain themselves to each other, they can just. Be friends. Might be nice.

bonus tidbits:

Billy lets El have a beer one time and she deeply regrets asking for one, because it's gross. She has to use his mouthwash twice and she's still making disgusted faces about it like an hour later

El's canon habit of dressing like people she spends a lot of time with. She hangs out with Billy for like two months and ends up getting a Joan Jett rocker shag. She steals a jean jacket from Jonathan. She likes his earring but when he tells her how ear piercing works she gets really upset because needles scare her. So he buys her some clip-ons

Max hates how much time they spend together, at first. She's jealous that they're so close. Both of them are people she's really wanted to like her but initially rejected her, and now they're just automatically each other's BFFs? How is that fair? But it's hard to stay angry when Billy seems so much happier nowadays, and she knows El has trouble making friends

It takes Billy a long time to get comfortable around Joyce. When she comes by to pick El up she's always so friendly and. Mom-like. One time she gave him a little pat on the shoulder and said she hopes he's doing okay all alone up here, before she left with El, and he spent the next ten minutes sitting on the floor in tears

Personally, I've always HCd El as a lesbian, I just think it would take her SO much to actually figure it out, because her relationship with Mike is kind of the first thing she latched onto after leaving the lab, so it would be hard to come to terms with what that attachment really is. But I like toying with the idea of her being introduced to the idea of what queerness even is via Billy's memories. She's scared to bring it up for a long time, it was something she only saw because he had so many memories of being made to feel bad about it, she doesn't quite understand all the shame and the anger, but it makes the idea of being gay scary. After she looked into Billy's memories she started to notice the things people say in real life, the attitudes they have, now that she's got context for what that kind of stuff means. And she doesn't know who to talk to about it other than Billy. Which would not go well at first, because it's Billy. But after they talk it out he'd be soooo much more protective of her, like. Insisting on driving her any time she wants to go somewhere, glowering at literally everybody who looks at her funny. Kinda hovering around waiting for there to be someone to beat the shit out of for her.

El being made aware of queerness being a thing might make her more likely to notice Will's gay too tbh, and then she'd be super protective of him. El ends up at Billy's place super agitated one day and ends up telling Billy the things she heard people saying about Will, and Billy's like, oh, well. I may have to run some kids over, okay.