#but high school??? I’d go back if I could haha

[rosicheeks]

raspberry lavender sky sapphire rainbow rose burgundy? 💖💖💖

-🌸

[waitimcomingtoo]

Just to Learn That You Never Cared

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Synopsis: always leaving class together to go fight crime leads people to think you’re dating when in reality you’re barely even friends. That is, until you agree to fake a relationship to keep your secret life a secret

requested/idea by @usoppsstar

Masterlist

“Oh, hey. Your girlfriend left this in class.” One of Peter’s classmates said as he tossed Peter a hoodie.

“Oh. Thanks.” Peter said before realizing what the person had said. He turned the hoodie over in his hands and recognized it as yours. His face warmed up in a blush when he realized you had just been mistaken for his girlfriend. He shoved the hoodie into his bag and wondered if he should tell you or not.

Peter saw you later that night on a rooftop you frequented often. You were in your suit, as was he, but had your mask sitting beside you. You were munching on a bag of chips and wordlessly extended them to him when he landed on the rooftop beside you. He smiled graciously and took a few before sitting down next to you. Your knees were touching but neither of you moved away.

“You left this in physics, dingus.” Peter said and handed you your hoodie.

“Oh, thanks. We had to run out of there so fast to save that lady. I must’ve left it behind.” You smiled gratefully and pulled it over your head. Peter felt bad that his high tech suit had built in heaters and your homemade suit was probably leaving you freezing every night. He wanted to suggest sharing his warmth, but he didn’t want to overstep.

“I know. Thank God she called the police on those kids for selling lemonade without a permit. I’m really glad we left a test to go witness that heinous crime.”

“It’s not all bad. We did get to see the cops arrest her for wasting their time by making a fake police report, which is always satisfying. And the kids gave us free lemonade. But I think calling it “homemade” was bullshit. I know Minute Maid when I taste it.” You replied, making Peter chuckle.

“You’re right. Both those things were enjoyable.” Peter agreed. “But I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I feel like we have to leave class every other day.”

“I know. Why did we have to pick a college in such a Karen ridden neighborhood?” You sighed.

“Because we wanted to go to the good school with the good science program. We should’ve known the neighborhood would be full of bored housewives who call the police whenever they have a minor complaint. It was our own hubris.”

“It was.” You chuckled and said looked over at him. You exchanged soft smiles before you looked over at the city horizon. Peters eyes never left you and he cleared his throat to get your attention.

“So, uh, my aunt and I were gonna get Chinese food later. At the place that got shut down for being a front for money laundering but that was really just a front for a second Chinese food chain.”

“Oh, I love that place.”

“Yeah. It’s great.” He nodded. “Anyways, you should totally come-“

Peter was cut off by the police radio he wired to his phone going off. He rolled his eyes and checked what the alert was.

“Damn it. Robbery at the bakery on 9th.” He told you.

“Lowkey, I’d do the same. Their cream puffs made me cream.” You said as you put your mask back on.

“Haha, yeah.” Peter chuckled. “Wait, what?”

“You should get some sleep. I’ll handle the robbery. But I’ll catch you tomorrow, Parker. Get home safe.” You saluted him before falling backwards off the building.

“I love you too.” Peter sighed.

“Did you say something?” You asked and popped back up.

“No.” Peter quickly lied.

“Okay. Well, see you tomorrow.” You waved to him and disappeared again. Peter let out another sigh before swinging home.

The next day, you ran after one of your classmates once class was let out.

“Hey, Carly. I emailed you my notes from the class you missed.” You told her.

“Thank you so much. You’re a life saver.” She replied. “Oh, and could you tell your boyfriend that band practice is in the gym today?”

“Yeah, sure. No problem.” You agreed. She was about to walk away when you realized what she had said.

“Wait, what am I saying?” You wondered. “Who’s my boyfriend?”

“You know. That guy with the prescription shoes.” Carly answered. You tilted your head in confusion until you realized you knew exactly who she was talking about.

“Wait, Peter?” You laughed in surprise. You expected her to laugh too and reveal she was just kidding but she looked completely serious.

“Oh, right. Peter. Why do I always think his name is Timmy?” Carly wondered.

“Because he looks like a Timmy. He gets it all the time.” You waved your hand. “And his shoes are not prescription. He just bought women’s platform shoes because he wanted to be taller and didn’t think anyone could tell.”

“We can.” Carly mumbled.

“I know.” You agreed. “But, I’m getting off topic. Timmy is not my boyfriend. I mean, Peter is not my boyfriend.”

“Whatever label you guys use, can you tell him that wind ensemble is meeting in the gym instead of the choir room? The sopranos kicked us out again to practice or do drugs or something.” Carly explained. You furrowed your eyebrows at her and tried to figure out if she was joking or not.

“The label? I’m so lost. Who told you that Peter’s my boyfriend?”

“Nobody told me.” She shrugged. “Everyone just knows that you guys are a couple.”

“Well how would they know something that isn’t true?” You asked and folded your arms.

“I mean, it’s not like you guys try to keep it a secret. Between all the whispering and staying close by each other. Plus you’re always sneaking out of class together or showing up late. And if one of you is absent, the other always is too. It’s been like that since high school. People just put two and two together I guess. Why, did you want to to be secret?”

“I didn’t want it to be anything. We’re not even dating.” You insisted and felt like you were going crazy.

“You don’t have to deny it.” Carly laughed. “I know feelings are weird and gross and stuff and you’ve never been the relationship type, but I think this guy is good for you. He brings something out in you. I don’t know. But you guys are cute. I love seeing the nice loser and assertive pretty girl troupe in real life.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.” You calmed down momentarily and smiled a little. Carly walked away and your smile quickly faded when you remembered what she had said. You looked around the hallway and saw another student holding an instrument.

“Hey. Band nerd.” You called out to him.

“Me?” He asked and pointed to himself.

“Yes, you. You had to let go of your saxophone case to point to yourself. Have you seen my boyfriend today?” You asked him.

“Peter? I haven’t seen him since yesterday in-“

“That sentence better not end with “wind ensemble” or I’m gonna lose it.”

“It was wind ensemble.” He said quickly.

“I’m leaving.” You shook your head and walked away from him. You pulled out your phone and went straight to your schools “campus sweethearts” page on instagram. Sure enough, there was a picture of you and Peter sitting next to each other right at the top of the page. You had your head thrown back laughing at something he was saying and he was looking at you fondly. You let out a shocked gasp and before walking out into the courtyard to look for Peter. You spotted him on a bench and smiled.

“Yes. Thank you, small campus”. You pumped your fist and went to sit next to him.

“Oh, hi. I was just thinking about you-“

“Someone is spreading a horrible rumor about you.” You cut him off.

“Oh no.” Peter frowned. “What is it? Is it bad?”

“Horrible.” You shook your head. “Peter, they’re saying you’re in wind ensemble.”

“Oh, I am.” Peter shrugged.

“Huh?”

“I play the clarinet . See. Clarinet.” Peter said and lifted up his little black clarinet case.

“Huh?” You said louder.

“I used to play in high school, pre-bite but post 9/11. I saw a flyer for orchestra on campus so I joined.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” You practically shouted. Peter knew you weren’t happy but felt strangely honored that you were so upset over him not telling you something about her personal life.

“Because I know how you feel about band nerds.” He replied. “And you and I don’t really talk about non-work related things. I didn’t think you’d care.”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I care.” You insisted. “My rumored boyfriend has been in wind ensemble this whole time and I didn’t even know?”

“Wait, rumored boyfriend? Who, me?” Peter asked in surprised.

“So you didn’t know about this either?”

“No. I mean, someone did refer to you as my girlfriend the other day but I thought it was just an accident. People think you and me are dating?” Peter asked and tried not to look as pleased as he felt.

“Apparently. I’ve had multiple people refer to you as my boyfriend today. And look. We’re on the campus couples Instagram page.” You said and held up your phone.

“Ew. We have one of those?” Peter grimaced and took your phone to see the picture better.

“Yeah. I honestly think the principle runs it.” You replied. Peter was quiet as he stared at the picture for a while.

“What?” You wondered.

“Nothing. This just a cute picture of us. And I think the only picture of us.” He said with a shy smile. You frowned and looked at the picture again before realizing he was right.

“Carly said people think we’re dating since we’re always sneaking off together.” You told him. Peter thought out this for a minute and then made another connection.

“Ohhhh.” He said and nodded his head.

“What?”

“This explains why the boys congratulated me on the bus back to New York after the Washington monument trip for losing my virginity at a historic landmark.”

“You lost your virginity on that trip? To who?” You whispered harshly and felt jealousy burning through your veins.

“You, apparently.” He laughed. “You and I disappeared to get the glowy alien egg bomb thing back and I guess everyone assumed we were off desecrating a national monument.”

“Oh my God. That was like 3 years ago.” You realized. “People have thought we were dating this whole time? We need to put a stop to this.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Or…” Peter trailed off and gave you a look.

“Or?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Or, we lean into it.” He suggested. “We let people think it. We encourage it, even.”

“Why would we do that?”

“People have been suspicious about where we go and what we’re doing since high school. We can only fake so many illnesses and I ran out of grandparents to lie about the death of by junior year. So if people already made up a reason, maybe we should let them think that. We don’t have to go out of our way to confirm it but we can keep the assumption going to keep them from finding out what we’re really doing.”

“So you think we should let people think we’re dating so they stop wondering about what we’re always off doing?”

“That’s exactly what I just said, yes.” Peter nodded.

“Hey. Be nicer to your fake girlfriend.” You said and smacked his arm.

“I’m sorry. I will.” Peter blushed and rubbed his arm. You felt bad for hitting him and wrapped both arms around him to rub them up and down. He smiled softly at you and you sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

“You play the clarinet?” You asked after a minute.

“Squidward made it look so cool.” Peter shrugged.

“Did he?” You asked, making Peter laugh.

“No.” He admitted.

The next day, you and Peter walked to school together with the understanding that from then on out, you were going to play the part of a happy couple. You weren’t going to go around announcing it to everyone or anything. You just needed to convince the few that didn’t already believe the rumor and confirm things for the ones who did believe it.

“You ready for this?” You asked Peter as you stepped into campus.

“I think so. Maybe we should hold hands or something. You know, since people think we’re dating.” Peter suggested and tried to make it sound like it didn’t matter to him.

“I guess so.” You shrugged and held out your hand. Peter eagerly took your hand and took note of the way it fit in his like it was made for him.

“This is weird.” You whispered to him, popping his bubble.

“Why? Are my hands sweaty?” He panicked.

“No. Just really, really hot.” You told him. “It’s just weird that nobody seems to care that we’re holding hands right now.”

“I mean, we are just two random people with almost no social presence.”

“That’s true. I guess I just thought people would care more.” You admitted as you looked around the campus. No one was phased by you and Peter, but he was too busy enjoying the moment to realize it.

“Are you disappointed?” He asked you.

“Yeah. I wore my best bra because I thought I’d be getting more attention today.” You frowned and adjusted the strap of your bra.

“It’s okay. I’ll take one for the team and stare at your boobs.” Peter assured you.

“Aw. Thank you.” You gushed and gave his hand a squeeze.

You got to your physics class and sat together at your usual lab table. Peter looked around the classroom while you carried on as usual.

“Maybe I should put my arm around you. You know, to really convince people.” Peter suggested with a shy blush on his face.

“Is that really something people do?” You genuinely wondered. “I feel like I never see couples with their arms around each other.”

“Actually, I don’t think I have either. But let’s try it anyway.” He said and wrapped an arm around you. You scooted closer to him so that you could comfortably lean into him. You quickly realized you didn’t hate it and let out a content sigh.

“Hm.” Peter made a little noise at the back of his throat.

“What?” You asked him.

“Our height difference makes this hurt my shoulder.” He leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“Then move your arm.” You whispered back.

“I can’t. I just wrapped it around you. It’ll look weird if I immediately take it off.” Peter said as he covered behind him to see who was looking.

“Or, consider this. Nobody in this entire city, and dare I say world, cares where your arm is right now.” You whispered harshly.

“Fine. I’ll remove it. But I have to give a reason.” He told you before loudly clearing his throat.

“Ah. Sorry, babe. I can’t cuddle you right now. My arm is sore from band practice.” Peter said loud enough for everyone in the classroom to hear him. You hung your head in shame and heard people murmuring about his strange comment.

“Oh God.” Peter gulped. “People are looking. They’re gonna know something is up. I have to put it back.”

He went to put his arm back around you but you stopped him before he could draw any more attention to the two of you.

“Just do this.” You whispered to him and pulled his stool closer to you and turned towards him a little. Your knees and were touching and you were now facing each other.

“That’s it? No one can even see this.” Peter said in disappointment. He thought being your fake boyfriend would bring you guys closer but you were sitting the way you always sat in class.

“It’s not about what people can see. It’s about proximity.” You explained. “We’re sitting closer together than anyone else is without being egregious about it. It’s a simple touch. If we’ve been together as long as people think we have, we don’t need to be wrapped around each other all the time. A simple touch to let the other know we’re there is all we need.”

Peter was silent as he stared at you following your explanation. He stared for so long that you felt yourself blush under the eye contact.

“What?” You asked him.

“I like the way you explain things.” Peter said simply. You quickly looked down so he wouldn’t see the effect that comment had on you and took a moment to collect yourself.

“It’s just something I thought of.” You shrugged.

“I know. But I never would have thought of that. Especially not as naturally as it did for you. You’re so quick.”

“Thank you.” You laughed shyly and found yourself unable to look away from him. Peter opened his mouth to say something to keep the momentum rolling but his phone interrupted him.

“Shoot. Sus-tivity on the b bridge.” He whispered.

“What the hell does that mean?” You asked at full volume.

“It means there’s suspicious activity on the Brooklyn bridge.” He rolled his eyes. “We have to act fast so I didn’t have time to say the whole thing.”

“But you just said the whole thing. And the abridged version. So it took twice as long.”

“Shh.” He waved his hand. “We gotta go.”

You reluctantly collected your things and took Peter’s hand to pull him out of his seat. Peter followed you out the classroom but the teacher cleared her throat when you walked by.

“And where are you two going?” She asked. You and Peter exchanged looks as the class snickered and murmured their theories about what exactly you were heading off to do.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Pepper. My girlfriend and I have to leave class unexpectedly. Please excuse us. It’s urgent.” Peter’s said politely.

“I bet it’s urgent, Parker.” A boy snickered, making serval classmates laugh.

“Gross.” You wrinkled your noses and looked at the boys in disdain.

“Fine.” The teacher sighed. “The only reason I don’t write you two up for skipping so often is because you somehow have the best grades in the class. Go on. Just get the homework done.”

“We will.” You assured her before leaving the room with Peter. Peter noticed that you didn’t drop his hand even when you were alone in the hallway.

“Hey, you know that teachers name is Dr. Zhang and not Dr. Pepper, right?” You asked him.

“Oh my God.” Peter gasped. “Is it really? I’ve emailed her so many times and said “Dear Dr. Pepper”. We have to drop out.”

You laughed and held his hand the rest of the way out of the building.

That night, Peter laid in his bed with his phone held close to his face. He had been trying to figure out what to text you to let you know he had been thinking of you.

“I had fun fighting crime with you today” He wrote out. He read it over before scrunching his nose.

“No. Too cringe. She is not gonna fall in love with someone that says “fighting crime”. I’m not Paw Patrol.” He said like it was obvious. He deleted his text and thought of another one.

“I had a good time today, we make a good team” He wrote out instead. He read it a few times until he found issue with it.

“Oh, you had a good time stopping those break dancers that were obstructing that Sbarro? That’ll catch her attention.” Peter said sarcastically and deleted the text.

“have a goodnight :)” He typed out and then shook his head.

“No. Wayyyy too horny.” He sighed and deleted it again.

“night” He wrote out and read it a few times.

“This is good. I can work with this.” He nodded. He was about to workshop it when a text from you popped up.

“pick a color” It said. Peters heart skipped a beat at the vague message and replied with the first color that popped into his head.

“blue”

“thank u” You wrote back within seconds. Peters heart stopped pounded and the disappointment that the conversation was over settled in. After all these years of fighting crime together, you two never really managed to make it past the coworkers stage. He was desperate for more but never knew how to get there.

“no homo but I had fun fighting crime with you today” You suddenly texted again. A smile tugged at Peter’s lips and he touched his as if it were your face.

“ok paw patrol” He wrote back. Back in your room, you were laughing at his text and trying to think of a witty reply.

“ur mad bc you know I’m the chase 🐶” You texted him.

“if ur the Chase then who am I?”

“plssss ur such a marshall” You wrote back.

“but that’s the third most important dog :(“ Peter replied.

“well yes but he’s cute and wears red so the little paw patrol shoe fits” You answered. A blush painted Peters cheeks over you calling him cute but he didn’t want to read too much into it.

“Im wearing red right now😳” He texted back.

“oh I bet you are” You answered, making him laugh. He kept the conversation going for about an hour before duty called once again. Peter groaned and put his suit on before swinging to the scene of the crime. He met you there and stopped the crime before stopping on a nearby rooftop to rest.

“These burglars aren’t very considerate of our sleep schedules. Who robs a Jersey Mikes after midnight? Or, like, ever?” Peter huffed as he tugged his mask off.

“I know. They’re always at inconvenient times. I was in the middle of painting my nails.”

“Can I see?” He asked in a soft voice. You pulled your gloves off and held out your hand for him to see.

“Look. Blue. But I only got half way through before Mike’s was targeted.”

“It’s okay. They still look pretty.” Peter complimented you with a soft smile.

“Thanks. You picked a good color.” You replied.

“What do you mean?” He frowned.

“I told you to pick a color. This is why.” You explained and held out your hand again. His eyes lit up at this new information and he took your hand to see your nails closer.

“You let me chose your nail color?” He smiled fondly.

“Well I didn’t know what to chose so I thought I’d ask the audience.” You shrugged and felt shy all of the sudden.

“Oh. And I’m the target audience, huh?” Peter smirked and turned towards you.

“I never said target.” You teased him and shoved him shoulder.

“I must be hearing things, then.” He shrugged as you both smiled.

“Yeah. Must be.” You said in a soft voice as you stared into his eyes. Peter gulped before making a bold move and taking your hand again under the guise of looking at your nails.

“Look at you. You even got my favorite shade.” He noted.

“You like “Eating For Blue”?” You pretended to gasp.

“Is that really the name of the color?” He laughed.

“Uh huh. It was apart of Essie’s baby fever collection. I almost chose “All In Blue Time” but that’s one tends to get little air bubbles and they give me agida. And I used to have “A Dream Come Blue” but it rolled under the sink so it belongs to the dust bunnies now.” You shrugged as you checked out your nails.

“Wow. This is all new information to me. So, are all nail polish colors named after puns and wordplay?” He asked as he stared into your eyes. He didn’t really care, but he was finally getting somewhere with you and didn’t want it to end.

“In my experience, yes. Not always color related wordplay but always something that makes you go yeah, I guess this shade of beige is what the word “ladylike” would be as a color.”

“This is blowing my mind right now.” Peter chuckled.

“You mean blue-ing your mind.” You corrected and tapped the side of your head.

“I think you inhaled too many of those fumes. Because that was not funny.” Peter said through a laugh.

“What?” You pretended to be offended. “You’re literally laughing right now. I’m so funny.”

“You are.” Peter admitted when his laughter died down. You stared into eyes for a minute before smiling.

“Is that what you rumored saw in me?” You asked him.

“Probably.” He chuckled. “I also heard a rumor that I think you’re really pretty. Like, the prettiest girl I was ever rumored to have allegedly seen.”

“Now you’re the one who’s looney from the fumes because that’s a straight up lie. I know you’ve seen prettier girls because I was standing right next to you when Anne Hathaway left that diner.” You said without making eye contact with him. Things were moving a little too fast and you needed it hit the brakes for a second.

“Oh, yeah. You’re right.” Peter forced a laugh and awkwardly looked over at the cityscape when he realized you were politely telling him to pull back.

“But I appreciate it.” You said after a beat of silence.

“Of course. Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking saying that.” He laughed nervously. “I was just getting caught up in the fake dating. We’ve been doing it for so long that it felt real.”

“We only started this morning.” You reminded him.

“Right. Well, it’s late. I’m gonna go home.” He said quickly and stood up. He had just blown that and needed to leave as quickly as possible.

“Okay. Goodnight. See you at school.” You called after him. Peter swung home with tears in his eyes and went straight to bed, missing your text about having fun fighting another crime.

The next day at school, Peter decided to start over and push last night from his mind. He played the part of your boyfriend to the best of his abilities and opened every door, pulled out every seat, and carried ever book for you all day long. Then he did it the next day, and the day after that. He kept his mouth shut about his feelings day in and day out no matter how painful it was getting. You and Peter had finally moved past the coworker stage and become real friends so he didn’t want to sabotage it all by telling you that he spent his days wishing for more.

“What are your plans tonight?” You asked him one day as you walked out of class together.

“My aunt is going out with her friends so I was probably gonna watch a movie on my couch. But on my laptop with my earbuds in. Likely in my boxers. Likely with an entire package of Twizzlers. Why?”

“Well I was gonna suggest that we hang out but you sound booked.”

“Really? You want to hang out?” Peter asked with much more enthusiasm than he intended.

“If you want. I’m not doing anything as exciting as boxers and Twizzlers.”

“I would love to. I’ll put on pants for you. I promise.”

“Sounds good.” You laughed. “Text me your address, okay?”

“Sure. Or you could walk with me now. Unless you’re tired of me and need a break before we hang out.” Peter suggested as you left campus together.

“It’s funny you say that. I was just telling my mom the other day that I never get tired of you.” You said casually.

“You..you don’t?” Peter’s face heated up as he followed you down the sidewalk.

“I don’t. I usually need a break from other people if we’ve been together awhile but it’s different with you. It doesn’t feel like I’m using my social battery if that makes sense.“

“It makes sense.” He smiled shyly as your hands bumped against each others. He was about to make a bold move and take your hand despite no one being around but you suddenly moved it to hit the crosswalk button.

Back at Peter’s apartment, he awkwardly gave you a tour and wished he had picked up his clothes before leaving the house that morning. You didn’t seem to mind the socks and boxers strewn across his room because you were too focused on all the little things he kept on his shelves. You picked up a picture frame of your freshman year high school class that had you and Peter seated right next to each other. Your friendship had only just begun so you often forgot how long you knew him for.

“So this is your room.” You smiled and put the picture back.

“Yup. This is where the magic happens.” Peter said and immediately cringed at himself.

“Oh really?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. This is where I practice magic. Wanna see?” He asked and picked up a deck of cards. You laughed and went over to take one.

“Is your card the ace of spades?” He asked.

“Queen of hearts.” You snorted and turned the card around.

“You’re the queen of my heart.” He whispered.

“Did you say something?” You asked as you looked at all his Legos.

“I asked what you wanted to do tonight.” He lied.

“I don’t know. We have the place to ourselves. We could do something rated R.” You said with a coy smile.

“Like what?” Peter gulped.

“Watch an R rated movie, you perv. Your aunt isn’t here to stop you.”

“You remember me telling you that I’m not allowed to watch R rated movies in the living room anymore?” Peter blushed at you remembering something he had randomly told you long ago.

“Are you referring to the time you watched Tusk at full volume while she had her friends from work over for the first time? How could I forget?”

“In my defense, I didn’t know what the movie was about. And I didn’t think her friends were gonna come into the living room and see that guy getting turned into a walrus.”

“Yeah, the title and cover art gave no indication that the movie would end that way. But that’s not a bad idea actually. Let’s watch something scary.”

“Okay.” Peter agreed and followed you out into the living room. He turned off the lights and got some snacks while you picked a movie. He hated scary movies but he was not about to tell you that. Instead, he sat on the couch beside you as a respectful distance and handed you a bag of chips. As the movie went on, you got closer and closer to each other. Peter had never really seen you scared before but you were practically in his lap just 40 minutes into the movie. You reached into the bag of chips at the same time as Peter and your fingers touched. You both froze and looked at each other as your faces heated up.

“Shit. I’m not wearing a condom.” Peter sighed, making you yank your hand out and laugh.

“You’re stupid.” You laughed and turned back to the movie just as a jump-scare happened. You screamed and jumped closer to Peter.

“This is so scary. Why did I pick this movie?” You asked as you drew your knees up and leaned into his side.

“Yeah, same.” He replied, not even listening. He couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. You were cuddled into his side with your head on his shoulder and knees in his lap with a blanket drawn up to your nose. He knew you were only cuddling him because you were scared but it didn’t even matter at that point. The movie went quiet for a minute and then made a loud sound, sending you to burry your face into Peter’s neck.

“Tell me when it’s safe to come out.” You whispered into his ear. Peter gulped and wrapped an arm around you to fully protect you from the movie.

“I will.” He said in a soft voice. You peaked your head out a few minutes later but stayed nestled into Peter’s side. You realized his arm was around you and smiled a little.

“Oh, this isn’t so bad.” You shrugged as the main character got eaten alive.

“I don’t understand you.” Peter chuckled and looked down at you. You laughed as well as you looked into his eyes. He was about to say something when another sharp sound from the movie caused you to jump.

“Hold my hand.” You blurted and grabbed his hand. Peter happily accepted and clasped your hand before holding it under his chin. You stayed in that position for a long time and watched the movie. You were both so focused on the screen that you didn’t hear May opening the front door and coming in.

“Hey. I’m home.” She said, making you both scream.

“Oh, hi May.” Peter greeted while he realized it was just her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker. I’m-“

“I know.” She smirked. “I’ll just be in my room. But, Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“No going in your room with the door closed, okay? I’m home. And we have thin walls. Just keep that in mind.” She said, making Peter turn bright red.

“Got it, May.” He mumbled. She winked at you and disappeared into her bedroom.

“You told your aunt we were dating?” You whispered to Peter in confusion.

“No.” Peter answered honestly. “I guess she just assumed we were.”

“Wow. She’s just like the kids at school.” You shook your head. “I don’t get it. Why does everyone think we’re dating?”

“I mean…” Peter trailed off and looked down at your clasped hands. You hadn’t realized you were still cuddling and quickly jumped off of him. Peters heart sank and the longer he sat in the absence of your body heat, the more upset he felt.

“You just jumped off of me like I was sharp.” He said without looking at you.

“I didn’t want your aunt to see us cuddling and think-“

“And think what?” He snapped, cutting you off. You gutted your head back in surprise and let out a nervous laugh.

“Woah. What’s going on with you? She already knows about your secret life. We don’t have any reason to pretend we’re dating in front of her.”

Peter stared at you for a long time as the word “pretend” cut into him like a knife. Every time he thought you were going somewhere, he was reminded that it didn’t actually mean anything to you.

“Yeah. You’re right.” He mumbled and looked at the movie again. You kept your eyes on him and felt guilty. You had so much to say to him but you felt unable to speak.

“Peter-“

“I don’t think we should pretend to date anymore.” He blurted, cutting you off once again. Your eyebrows went up in surprise and you got a sick feeling in your tummy that you had just ruined something really important.

“What? Why not?”

“It’s stupid. No one even cares anymore.” He shrugged. “We don’t have to fake a breakup or anything but I don’t want to hold hands or play along anymore. I’m done.”

“What changed?” You asked in a soft voice. He was still looking at the movie while you were fully turned to face him.

“Nothing changed. That’s the problem.” He said and angrily got off the couch. You quickly caught his hand and he stopped. He looked down at the ground and let out a sigh. He knew it wasn’t fair to be mad at you if he hadn’t told you what was wrong. He slowly turned around and looked at you.

“Five years ago, you showed up to the same robbery at an all night CVS that I was at and I realized we knew each other from AP Spanish class because I had asked you earlier that day how to conjugate “poner” and you said “pusiste” and I laughed because I thought you were joking but you weren’t and then that night you heard me tell the burglar that he better“pusiste” the money back into the register.“ Peter began.

“Okay. Wow. That was a really long sentence.” You laughed softly. “But I remember that. I laughed and told you that you better remember that for the test.”

“You did. That’s how I knew it was you.” He smiled at the memory. “I failed that test, by the way. I still can’t conjugate “poner.” And I still think it means “boner” even though I know it’s a verb. But anyway, that night, I couldn’t sleep because I was so excited to have met you. Even though we technically already knew each other, that night put us in each others radars. I could not believe that I had met my match. You’re into science like me and sarcastic like me and you understand this side of my life because you have the same side. But despite running into each other on patrol almost nightly and seeing each other around school, I barely got you to notice me. I don’t think you even knew my name until we ended up going the same college. You called me “Timmy” all throughout high school.”

“You seriously look like one. It’s uncanny. I don’t know what it is.”

“I thought things would change when I found out we were going to the same college. The campus is so small I figured there’s no way we wouldn’t become friends. But even then, we hardly ever talked and when we did it was always about work. I didn’t even know where you lived until last semester.”

“I remember that too. The first night we really bonded was when you fell off that roof because you were trying to show me how to do a backflip.”

“Yeah, I’ve never been able to do a backflip.” He admitted. “I only said I could because you said you always wanted to learn how to do one and I assumed given my abilities I’d be able to do one if I just followed my body. But I busted my ass and you were kind enough to sneak me through your window and patch me up with some Scooby Doo bandaids.”

“It was all I had.” You shrugged.

“And you gave it to me anyway. Because you’re kind and compassionate and I’m just…I’m crazy about you.” Peter finally admitted. “I was so excited when we started hanging out more this semester but it always ended up crushing me when I remembered that we just doing it to keep people from finding out the truth. I really, really love our friendship and if I’m ruining it all by saying all this then at least I can die with it off my chest.”

“Wait, now I’m confused. Are you dying?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “It feels like I am every time you and I start to get close and then I remember this is all pretend for you.”

“So it’s not pretend for you?” You asked quietly. Peter stared into your heads for a minute and then shook his head.

“No. I was never pretending. I like you.” He told you. Your facial expression didn’t change as you stared back at him. Peter was really starting to panic until a smile tugged at your lips.

“Sit back down.” You told him.

“I’m sat.” He said and rushed it sit down. You nestled back into his side and laid your head down on his shoulder. Peter smiled and rested his head on top of yours, finally pleased with the way a conversation with you went. You both turned your attention back to the movie just in time for it to end.

“Hm.” You huffed. “That was supposed to be us symbolically finishing the movie as a real couple but it appears we’ve already arrived at the credits. Now what?”

“We could watch Tusk.” Peter suggested at the same time you said “We could make out.”

“I never actually saw Tusk but I always wanted to.” You gasped and hit his arm with excitement.

“Or we could do your thing.” Peter forced a laugh and tried not to sound as desperate as he felt.

“Let me see if I can find it.” You said as you scrolled through the streaming services on his TV.

“Or we could do your thing.”

Tag List 🏷️

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[dwaekkicidal]

The Party

˚ʚPerv!Emo!Han Jisung x Cutesy!Fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Fourth part of 'The Incidents' Series; based off of this ask.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: told from his pov, jisung is a huge perv/creep, alcohol consumption (reader gets "drunk" and ji had a few sips), dubcon/noncon, exhibitionism, mean-ish jisung, degradation, name calling (use of whore and ji calls reader a stupid cry baby once lol), nipple play (f), grinding, cumming in underwear (both), Jisung carries reader on his back at the end

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: Italics are Han's thoughts! also the picture is just a reference for the outfit i had in mind :)

The Incidents Masterlist

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Han stares up in awe at the giant house before him. It’s in a rich neighborhood not far out of town and he easily recognizes the expensive and shiny cars as belonging to some of the well-off kids. They flaunt them everywhere so it’s hard not to recognize them.

He glances down at his text messages, rereading the instructions you sent while nervously fiddling with the collar of his leather jacket. She said just to let myself in… He slowly walks up the walkway of the house, laughing to himself in disbelief at how loud the music is being played. He could hear it loud and clear from inside the damn taxi.

When he finally gets to the porch he sends you a text and opens the door hesitantly, only opening it a few inches to squeeze in without bringing too much attention to him. Once he closes the door and turns, his jaw drops. The inside is huge and has at least 50 people in the living room alone, let alone to giant crowd he can see in the kitchen and hallways. A familiar head pokes out of the kitchen and rushes towards him, a big smile on his face.

Han recognizes the boy as Yeonjun, a tall guy who he used to have dance class with in high school, and who shares a few mutual friends. He smiles back, waving shyly as the boy takes long strides up to him. “Yo!! Han! Nice to see you, man. Y/N told me you were coming but I didn’t think I’d see it haha.” Han chuckles and nods, “I didn’t think I was gonna come either, but she asked so...”

Yeonjun wraps an arm around his neck and leads him around the house, giving him a small tour as they seek out the girl in question together. The taller boy stops occasionally at little tables with snacks and drinks, making sure Han is taken care of before marching onwards in search of those bouncy pigtails. The kindness is more than welcome but Jisung is far from his comfort zone and can't help but chat timidly. He was going to give up and attempt to call her, but suddenly he heard a squeal from his left.

He turns in time to see Y/N running up to him, dressed up in all white and somehow showing more skin than usual. Her shirt parts in multiple places, showing off her cleavage and some side boob as well as her tummy. And no bra..? Is she nuts? His eyes flicker to the thin string that holds the top together and he can feel his eye twitch.

A hand on his shoulder cuts him out of his trance, almost making him fall from the sudden weight. Yeonjun leans in and chuckles, lowly whispering to Han as if anybody could hear them over the music. “She already had a few cups so good luck. If you thought she was touchy before, you can’t imagine how she gets when she drinks.” Han’s eyes widen at the warning, but before he has time to ask what he meant Yeonjun is already gone. The feeling of a body clutching onto his arm has him turning back the opposite way, taking in the rest of her features as she mumbles words at him.

“My goshh~ I didn’t think you’d actually come, Sungie... ‘Missed you soooo much. hehe...” He chuckles and cringes, not sure how to respond. However, he’s not even given a chance to because she starts dragging him down the hallway to the game room where some of her friends are grouped.

About 3 hours pass before Jisung finally settles in, still very uncomfortable but slowly opening up to some of the people there. Y/N had a cup and a half more before everybody began sneaking her water meanwhile Jisung was still on his first cup, only having taken a few sips. He’s too busy zoned out and staring at the floor to realize that they’re almost alone, his mind too busy over the white lace garter that decorates the thigh of his love interest. He’s leaning back on one of the leather couches in the game room, and aside from the few random people who are spread around busy playing their games, or sucking each other's faces, it’s fairly vacant.

Then the song blasting throughout the house suddenly changes to a new one. A slow sensual one that, if he wasn’t so preoccupied, would’ve made him uncomfortable from the sheer seductiveness of it. But this poor little emo boy only realizes once it’s too late: once two hands covered by those familiar white arm warmers rest on his lower tummy. He tenses up and his face darts up to stare at the girl, almost offendedly. Even from this distance, he can smell the sugary sweet sangria on her breath and, for once in his life, the idea of her touching him makes him uneasy.

Y/N smiles, bites her lip, and crawls on top of him, planting a knee on either side of his hips. She leans in until their noses almost touch and Han has half the mind to back away as much as possible. But she only pushes further until she's almost completely pressed up against him. Her hips press down and she looks up at him from under her eyelashes.

His hard-on is resting perfectly against her mound. There’s no way she doesn’t feel that. His brain fries and he stutters out her name in confusion, putting his hands on either side of her shoulders to hold her back. She ignores him completely in favor of slowly running her hands up his stomach and to his chest, pulling the chain around his neck so that he leans into her.

She giggles at his reaction and lowers her hands onto his, pushing them back and lower to rest on her ass, where she then leaves them and wraps her hands around his neck. Those glossy lips of hers are caught between her teeth as she leans into him, her voice low and seductive. “Sungie~” He doesn’t try to move his hands, why would he? He’s enjoying himself. But he does slightly freak out at the thought of people walking in and seeing a freak like him groping the hottest girl on the planet. “What are you doing?!” He looks around the room to make sure there are no prying eyes but her smooth voice drags his attention back to her.

“C’mon~~ Don’t you think I'm pretty?” Her flushed cheeks are almost unnoticeable in the dim lighting but boy does he see it. Their lips ghost and he feels his dick twitch in his jeans when he feels some of her lip gloss get transferred to him. Fuck. I was doing so well today too… “Don’t you want me?” Her voice lowers with each word until she’s whispering against his lips, finally pushing her own against his. His heart beats out of his chest but he lets his eyes close and his hands move up to her waist as he reciprocates the kiss. Her tongue pokes out in an attempt to deepen the kiss and he reluctantly lets it happen. His head spins when their tongues clash and he finds himself losing control when her lip gloss smudges all over their chins. Holy shit... She tastes like strawberries... 

Eventually, they pull away to breathe but she wastes no time and dips down to his neck, leaving sloppy kisses along his Adam's Apple as she mumbles incoherent sentences against it. If the slurring of her words wasn’t enough to discourage him, the recalling of his earlier conversation was. The uneasy feeling from earlier is quickly forgotten when Yeonjun’s voice replays in his head. His hand roughly digs into her hair and pulls her away so that she’s sitting up straight. The moan it pulls from her only makes him harder.

“You know… Yeonjun warned me about how touchy you are when you drink. You do this with every man you get your little hands on?” He whispers against her ear. “N-No only for you, Sungie. I promise~” She pouts and he narrows his eyes at her, not believing it for even a second. “Yeah? Then why does he seem so familiar with how you’re acting right now? You probably whore out every time they have one of these parties. Am I supposed to be your next victim?” Hell. I don’t think I’d even mind being a victim to her.

She whimpers and frowns, shaking her head rapidly and unintentionally rubbing herself harder against his hard-on. He closes his eyes to focus on breathing; while this newfound confidence is nice, he doesn’t think it’s enough to push any further than this, so he just doesn’t respond. Instead choosing to stay quiet and let his other hand squeeze the fat of her thighs, engraving the feeling in his mind. Who knows when I’ll get another chance like this? Might as well take advantage of it too... He knows he shouldn’t. She’s drunk for fucks sake! But GOD does she look so good like this... On my lap, all desperate for me.

The hold on her hair is loosened as he lets his hands roam all over her body. They start at her thighs: running his fingers over the flesh there softly before flattening his palms against her ass and squeezing them, spreading them apart in the process. He glances up at her shutting eyes and nodding head, thinking to himself for a second as he mindlessly fondles her ass. He wonders just how far he can get before she sobers up. She’s gonna fucking hate me... But also, she looks so drunk that she might not even notice. OR remember for that matter.

With every passing second he feels his morals fading away until he eventually decides that today is the day he gives no fucks. Let her find out. Fuck it. His hands move up to her hips again and pull her down, dragging her clothed pussy over his bulge like she was doing earlier. She sighs and closes her eyes all the way, spreading her knees to allow him to pull her farther down. He bites his lip and looks around, staring intensely at the last 2 people in the room who were too busy sucking each other’s faces off to notice his actions. A whimper of his name pulls his attention back to the girl above him. His hooded eyes meet hers as she stares down at him, the neediness painfully obvious. He smirks and tilts his head, playing dumb as she starts to move her hips on her own again.

“Hmm? What’s wrong Y/N?” His hands trail down her thighs and he licks his lips as he stares down at them. His pointer finger and thumb rub the fabric of her lace garter as he waits patiently for her to respond. When she doesn’t he pulls the elastic back, letting it snap against her soft skin there. It pulls a delayed squeak from her and he continues to smirk cockily. The hand moves back up and plays with the hem of her skirt. He can faintly see the dark colored panties she has on and he’s itching to see it. He glances up to see her eyes fluttering open and closed again. She won’t notice...

Then he grabs the fabric and pushes it up against her tummy. He holds it there as he peeks between her legs, watching her pretty panties soak more and more as she pushes down more against him. Her pretty, red panties. You fucking whore.. The hand resting on her ass rises and comes down, slapping the bare flesh there meanly and pulling a shriek from her. “You planned this shit, didn’t you? Asked me for my favorite color just to wear some slutty panties to entice me?” And they’re fucking sheer again. She looks down at him with watery eyes and whines, placing her hand on his shoulder as her hips continue to move. The silence that follows is all the answer he needs. 

He snakes his right hand up her body, stopping at her chest and pinching her nipples through the thin fabric. “Stupid little crybaby... Slutting yourself out for anybody who will give you the time of day.” The hand comes down on her ass again and her hips falter. “Did I say you could stop?” Her head rolls and she continues instantly; he can feel her obedience awakening something new in him.

His right hand slides through the top hole of her shirt to grab a handful of her boob, squeezing it as he leans in. He licked her other nipple through the fabric, sucking and nibbling it as her hips continued to rut against him. Eventually, though, the fabric was preventing him from feeling her up properly and it irritated him to no end. The alcohol in his system tells him to rip it open, but the sober side of him shuts the idea down instantly, so he grabs the top string of her shirt, pulling it roughly and freeing her chest to the cold air in the game room. She gasps and tries to cover herself with her arms but he grabs both of her wrists before she can. “Don’t even think about it. You wanted to act like a whore so I'm treating you like one.” He pushed her arms out of the way and grabbed handfuls of her chest with both hands, aggressively massaging the mounds of fat as if proving his point.

He leans back in, releasing the death-grip on one of her boobs and wrapping those pretty pink lips around her bare nipple. His now free hand moves to her ass, slapping the skin before grabbing her hip and grinding her harder against him. Her hands trail into his hair, grabbing handfuls and tugging it as she moans loudly. “S-Sungie! Ahh~” Her sweet voice crying out his name was the last thing he needed to send him over the edge, and the hands in his hair gripped tighter as she came with him, both of their faces scrunching up in pleasure as he continued to move her hips against him and lick her nipple.

Eventually, they both finish riding out their highs and she sleepily wraps her arms around his neck and hides her face in the crook of his neck. He let her stay there as he caught his breath, hands rubbing up and down her back soothingly. He very quickly hears soft snores coming from her and gets up, laying her softly on the couch as he does so. Standing in the same place she was just 10 minutes ago gives him the perfect view to stare down at her, mind boggled at the way she still looks so hot despite being completely ruined.

Her lip gloss was smeared all over the lower part of her face and her lips themselves were swollen and red. Her shirt was still spread wide open, letting anybody who walked in see her pretty tits. His eyes traced the red marks he left against the pudgy skin there as her chest rose and fell with her breaths. Her one nipple had a pretty red tint on it from his insistent suckling. Her skirt hung loosely around her waist, rising with each breath and giving him the perfect view of her panties that were now darkened from her cum. Now I get to see it in real-time.. haha…

Pride filled his chest as the realization hit that he did this. Not Yeonjun. Not Juwon. Not one of those stupid ass frat boys. Me. The post-nut clarity and sudden soberness were almost enough to send him spiraling as another realization filled his head. The realization of what these emotions meant. Feeling jealousy at the thought of other guys touching her and happiness at the feeling of being the one to make her cum in her little red panties. Before he could dwindle further, the girl whined from her spot on the couch before yawning loudly and stretching. Then her sleepy voice filled his ears, “‘Wanna go home Sungie..”

By the time he fixes her outfit, she's fast asleep. Jisung puts her on his back and piggybacks her through the hallways and down the stairs. As the sole of his boots landed on the expensive tile, he quickly realized that nobody was around. The previously packed living room and kitchen were now left in a giant mess and it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. He had so many questions but opted to ignore them for now and adjusted the girl on his back, inching her farther up so that he didn’t drop her.

As he stepped onto the front porch, he was met with a familiar face. Yeonjun cackled out loud at the sight of them, startling the boy and almost waking the sleeping beauty on his back. “You guys are still here? I thought you took her home ages ago??” Yeonjun smiled at him, watching Han breathe deeply to calm the heart attack that he almost had. “Just take her to your house, man. None of her roommates are going home tonight so she’ll be locked out if you go to her place.”

Jisung furrowed his eyebrows at the taller boy, “Are... Are you sure?”

“Yeah, she trusts you. And would you rather her sleep in your bed or her apartment hallway where anybody could take advantage of her?” Jisung visibly gulps and nods silently, pushing past the taller boy to meet the taxi that slowly pulled up behind him. He settles her in carefully, almost lovingly, and walks to the opposite side to join her in the back seat. He waved awkwardly at Yeonjun, who watched them and waved with a menacing smile on his face. 

As Yeonjun waved them away he smirked to himself. “That little minx... She’s got him wrapped around her finger haha.”

Taglist: (purple=can't be tagged)

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina @rylea08

@grandma143 @caught-in-the-afterglow @yaorzu-blog @jabmastersupriseee

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@zerefdragn33l @sailor--sun

[theminecraftbee]

Joel sits awkwardly at a family dinner table that isn’t for him.

It’s nice and all, he reckons, for Impulse’s family to invite him over after he leaves the hospital. Even before—everything—Joel’s family hadn’t really been the “big meal around a big table” type, so he’s getting some new experiences here too. And it’s nice and all, that they want to thank him for his role in finding Skizz.

But like. It’s not like he or Impulse or Skizz could explain how it happened, when asked. “Magic brain ghosts” and “evil butterflies” and “Joel still isn’t certain all of that was real and is trying to pretend it wasn’t” puts a damper on that. Also, adults are kind of shit at talking around the fact Joel’s whole family is dead, so he gets the sense he’s sort of harshing the vibes, you know?

Still. It’s a nice gesture. He guesses. It’s free food at least, which is decent, and as close as Impulse and Skizz are, every time one of Impulse’s family says something stupid, Skizz taps Joel’s leg with his foot or steals a roll or something, and it makes Joel feel…

He’d have been sad if Skizz had died, probably. Like, he wouldn’t know. He didn’t come here to make friends, he came here to get a degree and get out. Also, that’s stupid, because it’s not like Joel would have known he was missing a really awkward congratulatory family dinner in which Skizz kept on trying to sneakily steal beans. Probably would have just moved right on. He’s not… friendly.

But.

They stand outside afterwards, waving by to Impulse, promising to walk together so that neither of them Vanish. They’re quiet.

“Thanks, man. That meant a lot to them,” Skizz says.

“Yeah, well, I can do stupid things for free food,” Joel says.

Skizz laughs. “It was nice having you there, too. Man, they’re even worse with you! It’s like not knowing you means they’re even more awkward about family tragedy.”

“Trust me, most adults are way worse. You should see my social worker,” Joel says.

“Didn’t he ditch you, dude?”

“Haha, yeah, he did,” Joel says.

They stare up at the streetlamps together.

“I was really ready to go for a bit there,” Skizz says. Joel’s hackles raise. Oh no. Emotions. Bad. Go away. “It was like—man, it felt like the whole world was empty. But when you showed up, it’s like I remembered… I’d miss dinners, dude.”

“I have no idea why, that kinda sucked,” Joel says, baffled and sarcastic, because he’s a moron who can’t handle emotional conversations, this is why everyone avoided him at the funeral, stupid.

Skizz breaks out laughing.

“You’re great, man! I’m glad we met. Uh, my place is only a block away, and I won’t go following any stupid butterflies. See you at school?”

“Yeah man. See you,” Joel says—

I am thou.

Thou art I.

Thou hath formed a new bond.

With the power of the Chariot Arcana, you shall build the chains with which to hold on to reality.

RANK 1!

“What the hell?” Joel says, tripping over his feet. “What? What? Where did—what the fuck that wasn’t Pygmalion oh god do I have more than one voice in my head—”

“Dude, are you okay?”

Skizz’s almost frustratingly strong and comforting arms grab Joel.

“Tell me you heard that,” Joel says desperately.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about. I could take you back to the hospital—no?”

“I am either crazy or am going to end up in a government lab?” Joel says, voice getting high and squeaky.

“We can ask Mr. Hills about it? He came to talk to me after I woke up in the hospital, apparently he like, knows stuff,” Skizz says.

“I don’t wanna,” Joel says.

“Tough luck, buddy, you just almost fell over and cracked your head open!”

Suddenly, Joel remembers a long-nosed man and a blonde in a very blue boat. He remembers a cryptic conversation about bonds and power and their importance. He takes a deep breath. “Can you cover your ears for a moment?” he says.

“Yeah, sure thing, why—”

Joel, as loudly as he can, screams. He hears several birds fly away. He pants.

“…Joel,” Skizz says.

“Yeah thanks man don’t worry about it let’s never speak of this again I’m sure it’s nothing. I definitely didn’t have a weird dream about this and should go to bed.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say,” Skizz says cheerfully before laughing, which Joel continues grumbling about all the way back to his apartment.

[lipglossanon]

Magic Man

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

boyfriend’s dad!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (one shot)

ao3 request from do; I hope you like it! And thank you for your patience! 😭 💜

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, cheating, dirty talk, grinding, kissing, slight noncon (but reader’s into it, just pretending to be reluctant), nipple teasing, unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread ✌️

title from Magic Man by Heart (seemed fitting haha)

PSA: I definitely don’t condone cheating; find it vile to be quite frank. In this case reader is breaking up with the guy just hasn’t talked to him yet when stuff happens (not saying it’s right but she’s not going to stay in the relationship at the least)

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Since an extended holiday weekend’s on the way, your boyfriend invited you to stay with him at his dad’s place. 

“He’s been bugging me to visit for ages and I thought it’d be fun for you to meet him,” he tells you over the phone. 

Frowning at your history book, you tap your pen against it, “You sure this isn’t too fast? Or weird? I mean we’ve only been dating for a month.”

He laughs flippantly, making you frown harder even though he can’t see it. 

“It’ll be fine,” you hear a muffled voice from his end, “Jeremy’s here with pizza, gotta go. We’ll talk more later!”

The line beeps letting you know he hung up before you could even say goodbye. Opening up your calendar app, you mark off this weekend. At the very least, it would be nice to leave campus for a bit. Although you have a good feeling this’ll probably be the last time you’ll spend any quality time with Keith. 

He’s a nice enough guy, but still acts really immature and you’re not really interested in that especially when you’re only dating casually. 

The weekend rushes up on you and before you can say bon voyage, Keith picks you up and drives you the couple of hours upstate to his dad’s house. It’s a nice neighborhood and his dad has a lovely home. 

You know it’s lovely since Keith basically ditched you here to go hang out with some old high school buddies for the evening. 

“Promise I’ll be home tomorrow and I’ll show ya around!” he kisses your cheek as he heads out the door, “my dad will be home shortly so you can get to know each other.”

You give him a tight smile as he shuts the door, muffled laughter and talking dissipating as he gets into his friend’s car. 

You flop down on the couch and scroll through your phone, certain now that you’re dumping Keith as soon as you guys get back to campus. 

Later, the doorknob jiggles and you raise up to look over the couch into the entryway. All of the spit in your mouth dries up when you actually see Keith’s dad for the first time. He’s built, big biceps and thick forearms, not to mention his chest and shoulders and thighs and—

You pull yourself away from ogling your boyfriend’s dad, even if said boyfriend’s a complete ass. 

“Hi, you must be the infamous girlfriend I’ve heard so much about,” he walks further into the house after kicking off his shoes, “the name’s Leon.”

“Hi,” you clear your dry throat, “yep, that’d be me.” 

You give him an awkward little wave as his gaze roves around the living room before settling on you, a more serious look on his handsome face. 

“Where’s Keith?”

“Ah,” you give him a bashful grin, “he wanted to hang out with some buddies so he—“

“Ditched you?” His blue eyes narrow as he drums his fingers against his leg, “just a second, sweetheart.”

He steps back outside and you feel your heartbeat amp up from the nickname. Straining your ears, you can sort of hear Leon’s low voice but not what’s actually being said. After a few minutes, he comes back inside looking irritated. 

He walks over to the couch and rubs the back of his neck, “I’d like to apologize for my son’s shitty behavior. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to convince him to come back and actually spend time with the pretty girl he decided to bring home.”

Your fingers tingle as shyness steals over your demeanor, “Not your fault. Thanks though, I appreciate it.” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose letting you steal this moment to take in his chiseled jaw and spot a few freckles on his neck that you’d love to kiss.  

“Well, I can order takeout and we can watch something,” he offers with a half smile, “not the company you probably planned for.”

You smile at him, “That sounds really nice, Mr. Kennedy.”

“Oh uh,” a small pink blush fans put across his cheeks, “please just call me Leon.” 

The afternoon passes pretty lazily between Chinese takeout and some cheesy action movies. Leon’s a lot of fun; way more interesting than Keith, but you try not to dwell on the fact you’re starting to crush on his dad. 

Leon eventually offers you something a little stronger to drink which you gladly take him up on the offer. He must carry some high shelf liquor cause you feel the effects pretty quickly with a nice little buzz. At least, it’s the excuse you give when you slide into Leon’s lap and grind your wet cunt against his thigh as you kiss his neck. 

“Baby, what about Keith?” 

He doesn’t move you away but holds your hips still on top of him. 

“Gonna break up with him,” you murmur, “he’s a shitty boyfriend. No offense.”

“None taken,” he laughs, kissing you softly, letting you lick into his mouth. 

From there it’s a sloppy makeout session on his couch as you dry hump his thigh. He picks you up to let you straddle his chubbed cock, rocking your hips back and forth until you find the rhythm he likes. 

His phone rings and although he ignores it at first, with the constant noise he pulls away to check the caller ID. 

“It’s—I’ve gotta take this, honey,” he pats your hip and helps you move off of him. 

Embarrassment floods your body as you see how wet his pants are from your dirty grinding. 

“I’m so sorry,” you shakily stand up, “I’ll—it won’t happen again.”

“Wha—“

“I’m going to get out of your hair,” you give him a wobbly smile, “it’s slutty of me to not at least breakup with Keith first. It’s pretty fucked up actually.”

Reality’s a cold shower wiping out your arousal in a flash. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Kennedy.”

You disappear up the stairs toward the guest bedroom Keith pointed out earlier; you definitely weren’t going to share his room with him now since you practically fucked his dad on the couch. Grabbing your luggage from Keith’s room, you beeline it for the guest room. 

You change out of your clothes feeling horny and gross. As much as you don’t like Keith, you feel a little bad to just do something so scandalous. 

You hear two pairs of footsteps out in the hall making you pause as you shut the light off. 

“Fuck off, dad, what does it matter if I got a little drunk,” Keith slurs, “I wasn’t driving!”

“You’re irresponsible is what,” Leon’s deep tone makes your thighs press together, “you even left your girlfriend here alone for god’s sake!”

“She’s fine,” he scoffs, making you roll your eyes, “‘sides where is she?”

“In the guest room,” Leon states bluntly, “I heard her go in there a little bit ago.”

You hold your breath as you hear Keith stumble closer to your door. 

“Go to your room,” Leon’s sharp tone stalls Keith’s footsteps and you listen as he stumbles back over to his room. 

“You’re a fucking buzzkill, y’know that?” Keith mutters as he shuts his door hard. 

“What a fucking brat,” you hear Leon mumble to himself. 

Your heartbeat picks up when he pauses outside your door but then smooths out as he walks off down the hallway. 

“Wow,” you whisper to yourself, turning off the light and climbing into bed. 

 You toss and turn for what seems forever until you settle on your side. Cunt still thrumming with arousal, you slowly slide your hand into your panties, teasing your fingers across your swollen clit. 

Losing yourself to the sweet pleasure drifting through your body, you miss the door opening until a warm, bulky body slides in behind you. 

“Want some help?”

Before you answer, a hand slips down your body to cover the one you have in your panties.

“Gotta keep quiet.”

You press your lips together tightly as Leon spoons you from behind.  He puts his hands inside your panties to push yours away and slowly touches your clit. You’re laying on one arm so with the one he shoved away you try to grab his wrist to stop him but he pinches your clit roughly. 

“So wet,” he whispers hotly in your ear. “What were you thinking about, huh?”

“Nothing,” you whisper back, “now s-stop and get out please.” 

“Nah you like it too much,” he gloats letting his fingers circle your wet clit over and over.

You can’t really argue with him as you find yourself pressing your hips into his hand. Your hand is still gripping his wrist only now it’s to hold his arm while his fingers tease across your cunt. You honestly don’t mind picking up where you left off, even though it feels dirty. 

“Mmm so fucking sexy, y’like your own boyfriend’s dad playing with your pussy, huh,” he mocks.

“N-no s’wrong, L-Leon,” you hiss, eyes clenching shut as he pinches your clit again. 

“Didn’t seem to think so earlier when you were grinding that wet pussy on me.”

Slick gushes from your cunt, feeling hot embarrassment and arousal from the truth of his words. You feel his dick press against your ass as he rolls his hips to grind against you. 

Leon groans into your neck, hot breath fanning across your skin causing goosebumps. 

“Roll over and show me your tits you little tease,” he rasps in your ear. 

You ignore him and try to shove his arm away, but he grabs your hip and forces you to your back. He slides an arm underneath you then throws a leg over your hips to keep you from moving or pushing him away. His hand goes back down and dips underneath your panties to play with your clit. 

“C’mon, sweetheart, show me your tits already.” 

As much as you try to fight it, arousal is flooding your body. And it’s not like you aren’t interested in him. You feel more slick leak into your panties to coat Leon’s fingers. 

Your arms and legs are limited in their movement, but you’re able to do as he says. Feeling hot, you pull up your top to expose your breasts and hard nipples to his dark gaze. 

“There we go,” he groans, “look at those sweet fucking nipples.”

He grinds his dick into your thigh as his fingers rub across your swollen clit. 

“Really wanna taste’em,” he murmurs in your ear, “just suck on those pretty nipples til you’re creaming my fingers.”

You moan and arch your back, pressing your heels down into the bed. 

“C’mon, I’ll treat you right if you just let me,” he stops teasing your cunt and drags wet fingers up to flick your hard nipples. 

You’re panting now, hips writhing from the stimulation. 

“Let me suck’em baby.”

You bite your lip, brows furrowed with worry. 

“If you keep me waiting, I’m not gonna be nice,” he bites at your shoulder, blunt teeth scraping your skin. 

“O-okay,” you agree, feeling a sick thrill at the low groan Leon lets out. 

He moves his leg and helps twist your body towards him so you’re facing each other. Ducking his head, he drags his mouth across the swell of your breasts. 

“Hang on a sec,” he mutters into your chest. 

Leon’s hand moves to his boxers and pushes the band down until his cock’s free. He grabs your panties and pulls them down until he can slip his dick inside. You gasp at the feel of his hot cock rubbing all along your pussy, slipping in between your wet folds to drag against your clit and leaky hole.  

“There we go,” he grins at you, “try not to let me slip inside that wet little cunt. We wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

Wide eyed, you shake your head no even if the thought of your boyfriend’s dad plowing you in this bed is driving you a little crazy. His eyes never leave yours when his mouth dips down to suck on your sensitive nipples. As you feel the hot wet suction, your eyes slip close with a whine. 

You grind yourself down on Leon’s cock, dripping slick all over him. You feel him moan into your breasts as he slowly drags his dick back and forth inside your panties. The head of his dick leaks precum making your panties even stickier. 

Your hands drag through Leon’s soft hair, nails scratching at his scalp, as you sigh and mewl from his mouth suckling at your sensitive buds. 

“G-good, so good,” you arch your back, pressing more of your breasts into his face. 

The next time he catches your gaze you can see his pupils swallowing the blue of his eyes and a pink blush spread across the bridge of his nose. Leon bites and sucks a hickie under the curve of your breast, teeth digging into the soft skin. 

You gasp at the dull ache, hands tightening in his hair to pull him away.

“Don’t be like that,” his voice is low and raspy, tongue lapping at the bruise he left, “you were just gonna leave me with blue balls earlier, weren’t you honey? So mean to tease me with that wet drippy cunt.”

You whine and arch up into him more, “We really shouldn’t do this.”

“Why?” his grin is wicked as he kisses across your breasts, “don’t want my son knowing your little pussy’s aching for my cock?”

You gasp sharply as he roughly sucks on your nipples, swapping back and forth until they’re puffy and sore. As he works his teeth and tongue on your hard buds, he slips your panties off leaving your lower half completely naked. 

He grinds his cock up against your slick hole making you part your legs further. 

“Want it, sweetheart?” he moves up to whisper in your ear as he rubs the tip of his dick against your clit, “want my fat cock splitting you open? Show you how a real man fucks a gorgeous girl like you.”

His words make your brain feel like mush, nodding up at him before you can think twice. 

“Please, Mr. Kennedy, want you to fuck me,” you whimper, nails digging into his shirt. 

He groans and eases the head into your slick cunt, “Just call me Leon, baby. Y’r gonna make me cum too soon calling me mister.” 

Your body goes hot all over as he rocks his hips against yours, fucking himself deeper into your clenching heat. 

Wanting to tease, you pout up at him, “Sorry Mr. Kennedy— I mean Leon.”

Growling, he thrusts hard and buries himself balls deep inside your pussy, making you squeal. 

His palm covers your mouth, “Wanna get us caught? Want him walking in to see his dad fucking his girlfriend’s tight little cunt?”

You clamp down on his dick hard and he clicks his tongue. 

“What a slut,” he murmurs, making you buck your hips up. 

He keeps your mouth covered as he slowly fucks your cunt, really drawing your attention to how split open your pussy feels. You constantly whine and moan as his dick bullies into your fluttering walls again and again. 

“You’re so fucking tight, honey,” he grunts, “never had a cock this big stuffing this slutty pussy?”   

You shake your head no as best you can and he chuckles. 

“S’okay, you got one now.”

He moves his hand away to drop his mouth down onto yours. Trading sloppy, wet kisses between your moans, his fat dick ruts into your squelching pussy, dragging all along the spongy spot of your cunt that makes you clench down on him. 

Your mind goes fuzzy, completely oblivious to everything but the orgasm slowly coiling in your belly. 

“Cockdrunk already?” He laughs, “nothing but a sweet little hole to dump my load into, right pretty girl?”

You shiver and cling harder to him, “Yes, please, want you t’cum in me.”

“Mmm don’t worry, your hot little cunt’s getting creamed,” he kisses you messily, hips snapping harder against you. 

Leon fucks you quick and deep now, plunging his cock into your sopping wet hole making him have to cover your mouth again for being too loud. His other hand moves between your bodies to flick and rub your sensitive clit. Your head thrashes back and forth, tears running down your temples as he drives you closer and closer to climaxing. 

“That’s it, sweet girl, let that little pussy squeeze down on me, bet it feels so good,” he goads you, fingers rubbing over your pudgy clit until your back bows off the bed. 

You cry out behind his sweaty palm, eyes fluttering shut as the coil in your belly snaps, orgasm hitting you. Legs clamping around his waist, your cunt clenches down on his cock like a vice, milking him as slick gushes around his throbbing length. 

“Oh so good, such a good girl for me,” he pants, hands grabbing your thighs to press you open more, “gonna fucking cum in you baby, watch it spill out of your tight hole.”

You whine pitifully as he rails his dick into your sensitive pussy until, with a low groan, he thrusts deeply and spills, hot and sticky, all in your pulsing walls. He sighs as he rocks against you, stuffing your cunt with jizz until it leaks out around his cock. 

Pulling out with another sigh, he looks down at you with a sly grin. 

“Nice that we’ll be spending the weekend together, huh sweetheart.”

[scoops-aboy86]

See You Everywhere (Secret Admirer pt 3)

Steddie Week 2024, July 3: Long / mutual pining / Holding Me by Warlock

It's still July 3 in my time zone, haha I made it! *lame fist pump*

wc: 3293 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

Darling Steve,

You amaze me on so many counts, not least by thinking I would stop writing to you after that, holy shit, not stupid at all. I see the vision, baby, and I think it’s precious that you’d rather picture me in disguise than imagine me wrong. But, sweetheart, you have to know that there are no wrong answers in these letters. This is much more firmly within my comfort zone than yours, I know, so I will never judge you for anything you write to me. 

(Although I am honor-bound to gently, lovingly point out that it’s Bilbo, not Bibo. And I hope your band of gremlins does not end up guiding you to lead a life of crime. Trust me, it’s not as glamorous as it might seem without the swords and the magic and the fantastic creatures.)

But I digress. I would happily slink into your bedroom at night, dressed all in black. (I wear a lot of dark colors anyway, so it’s not that much of a stretch.) I’d scale the outside wall up to your bedroom window and silently slip inside. Step softly so as not to disturb you as I approach the bed, where you slumber peacefully in… I want to say, with hope in my heart, nothing but those Hawkins High gym shorts? Nights have been hot lately, that and leaving the window open should help you keep cool. My own costume would be a little warm in this weather but it is, if I am to preserve my secret identity, a necessary sacrifice; one I would willingly make for the privilege of touching you. 

Do me a favor, sweetheart, and touch yourself while you read this. Through fabric, if you want to make it authentic, if you imagine me wearing gloves. (So smart for that, baby, because honestly you’d figure out a lot about me just from seeing my hands.) Lay back like a good boy, Steve, and let me make you feel good and pull those shorts down. It’s dark, I could pull up my mask a little bit to use my mouth. Suck you until you’re hard, use my hand for whatever I can’t fit in my mouth because I can tell you’re very gifted in that area. It’s a shame I’d have my hair covered because I like having it pulled, but I could still moan around you while thinking about it.

And baby? I’d swallow.

I’ll leave it there because… to be perfectly honest, I got a little distracted and made a mess of myself. You have no idea what you do to me, Steve, I feel like I’m on top of the world and all I’ve done is take the fantasy you provided and run with it. 

Which is embarrassing, because I started writing these letters because I wanted to give you something. You’ve seemed so melancholy ever since last fall and I wanted to let you know that someone sees you and cares. And here I am, selfishly imagining you when I can’t let you do the same, because if you knew who I am I don’t think you’d want me. I’m pretty far outside of your type, judging by anyone I’ve ever seen you with or noticed you show interest in. I listen to music you would probably hate. I don’t like sports, be it playing or spectating. Our high school experiences are on such opposite ends of the spectrum that we practically went to different schools. Your house is a castle and mine a hovel. We have nothing in common but I am filled to bursting with devotion to you that I can’t even. 

Do you really want me to continue writing, Steve? I know you’ve asked me to be before, but we’re in new territory here. I know I started it, but I really do feel like it was maybe uncool of me and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. 

I’ll follow your example and end on a different note. How is it going with your coworker? I don’t have a steady nine to five myself—or the part time version, I guess—but I imagine working with someone who likes to butt heads with you is pretty grating. If it’s an issue, I hope it resolves soon. Wishing you as little stress in your life as possible, I remain, as always—

Your Secret Admirer

P.S. Before you ask, I do recall saying in my last letter that I don’t mind weird. To clarify: I will accept just about any weirdness from you, sweetheart, but it’s different when I do it. Forgive me my dramatics, but at the end of the day, everyone is their own harshest critic. 

~

Eddie is suffering. He’s haunted, too distracted to plan his next campaign or practice guitar—which, incidentally, are the things that usually distract him too much from things like school work or finding a respectable job. All he can think about is Steve, and by inevitable extension Steve’s ninja scenario.  

He’d laughed at first, okay? (Before, you know. Getting really, really into it.) Not in a derogatory way, but because it was actually a creative solution to something that a lot of dudes might not even consider a problem. 

Since I don’t know what you look like and it’d be weird to try and picture you anyway, and then what if I’m not even close and that makes it seem like I don’t like you for who you are?

Because, just, Jesus H. Christ. Eddie has fooled around with guys in places out in Indy, and being liked for who he is doesn’t really factor in. So this is… new. He feels almost seen, something that should be impossible while he’s still shrouded in anonymity, and yet Steve seems to be holding space for that veil to be lifted someday.

‘Someday’ suggests a mutual future of some sort, which is sparking a dangerous ember of hope in Eddie’s foolish heart. And in the meantime there’s always the mental image of getting to secretly blow the prettiest boy in Hawkins—

Fuck, he needs to get out of this tin oven of a trailer. He’d put his latest letter in the mail two days ago, then come straight home to jerk off some more and smoke his way into absolute paranoia that this time he’d really blown it. Gone full throttle on that fantasy, then told Steve not to want him, then said something dumb about that girl he works with, and then still mailed it?! 

He needs fresh air. 

(He goes and checks his PO box.)

Any air. 

(No reply yet, but the Hawkins Post Office isn’t known for its speed or efficiency.)

Air conditioning. 

It doesn’t surprise him, really, when he ends up pulling his van into the parking lot surrounding Starcourt Mall. Because Steve Harrington is haunting him and will keep doing so matter where he goes, so why not here? Eddie doesn’t even bother to fight the way his feet carry him towards Scoops. Wouldn’t be the first time, after all—Steve’s ass looks great in both green and blue—but he tries not to do it too often. 

All he wants is a crumb, a tiny direct interaction with the guy, even if Steve continues to remain none the wiser. 

~

Steve is suffering. Which really grates, because he woke up in a great mood! He’s already working on a reply to the latest letter—once again all stocked up on paper, so he can rewrite it nicer if he makes a mess of it this time. Every time he thinks about it his chest (and, okay, sometimes his dick too, he’s still a teenaged boy) fills up with giddy warmth knowing that his Secret Admirer liked his dumb ninja idea. Specifically said it wasn’t stupid and that they had to stop writing to masturbate about it. 

(Girls do that, right? Maybe not as often as dudes, but he really has had phone sex with enough of them to know they’re not necessarily opposed. That wasn’t a clue, Secret Admirer still could be either.)

So today should be going great, but instead he’s felt a headache coming ever since he hopped in his car to drive to work. Too late to take anything for it, though Advil or Tylenol sometimes barely dent in these things. He puts his sunglasses on for the drive and into the mall in the hope that will buy him some time before the worst of it hits. 

If only he could stay home, laying in his room as dark as he can make it with a cold washcloth over his eyes and a can of Coke with a crazy straw at the ready. Even better if he could somehow just call and get Secret Admirer to come over to keep him silent company, refreshing the washcloth for him when it gets warm…

“Shades aren’t part of the uniform, cool guy,” Robin says flatly when he walks into Scoops through the back. “I don’t care how hungover you are, company rules.”

“I’m not hungover on a damn Tuesday,” he grumbles back. But maybe it’ll be okay. Maybe the headache will hold off at least until his break, then if he clocks out early at least he still got half a shift’s pay. Maybe if it holds off a little longer after that he’ll be able to get all the way home without being a danger behind the wheel. 

He leaves the sunglasses folded on the break room table and starts helping her haul fresh tubs of ice cream from the walk-in to the display case out front. 

It’s going to be a long shift. 

~

By the time Eddie gets to Scoops, there’s a line so long it’s practically out the door. Frowning, he checks his watch for the time, something he hadn’t bothered to do in the van, and realizes it’s probably the tail end of the lunch rush. Super. 

Steve and the girl he works with are both behind the counter, taking turns scooping and ringing up each individual customer or group and then cycling back around to help the next in line. As he waits, Eddie watches from behind the cover of his long hair and realizes that Steve seems off today. He keeps squinting under the fluorescent lights, distracted, sometimes asking people to repeat themselves to both their and his coworker’s obvious annoyance. But it’s not until some kid shrieks that she asked for double fudge chunk and he’s scooping regular chocolate that Steve winces and brings his shoulders up like he’s trying to cover his ears, and oh. Oh, Eddie thinks he knows what this is. 

Sometimes I get these headaches that really mess me up. It doesn’t just hurt, it’s like all the lights get way too bright and sometimes my eyes go blurry for a while. Great parting gift from the concussion. Ice cream helps sometimes though, which is convenient if I’m at work. 

The tiniest amount of research at the library (or, in fact, two afternoons in a row) had told Eddie that this could be anything from migraines to a brain tumor, but given the concussion the former is more likely. If Steve is having one of those, this is probably the worst place for him to be: loud, bright, and enough people crowded into the ice cream parlor that even with mall air conditioning it feels lukewarm in here, when what he needs is quiet, dark, and a cold compress. And this is not the kind of place where he can just throw up and take a nap—not without the risk of getting in trouble, maybe fired.

Eddie knows that Steve is going to keep trying to power through it, because he knows all about how the guy is saving up to move out of his parents’ house. (Castle… Oh god, he’d called it a castle in his last letter, why had he done that? He knows that Steve wants out of there, wants somewhere cozy and lived-in as opposed to his mother’s taste in cool and impersonal decor.)

There’s nothing he can do but wait as the line inches forward. As a slight tremor starts to show in Steve’s hands, which Eddie is watching like a hawk. By the time Eddie, still last in line, is within touching distance of the display case it’s a full on shake, and Steve fumbles his ice cream scoop trying to spin it into the side loop on his apron. 

The clatter is loud against the background elevator music version of a The Beach Boys song. Steve’s coworker—Robin, according to her name tag—looks up sharply at the sound, but an uncertain kind of concern seeps into her frown when she gets a good look at him. “Steve? You alive over there?”

Steve, who has gone very pale, gives a slight shake of his head that seems to make his whole body sway. “Need a clean scoop. I’ll just… run to the back,” he manages, then stumbles towards the swinging doors marked Employees Only. There’s a choked noise as soon as he’s out of sight, and Robin seems to come to the same conclusion as Eddie: he won’t be back for a while. 

To her credit, she puts on a passably bright fake smile at the lady Steve had been helping, taking her mostly finished cup from the counter where Steve had left it and adding the requested chocolate syrup on top. 

Finally, it’s Eddie’s turn. But now he’s the one who’s distracted, trying to squint through the frosted glass of the window to the back room for any sign of Steve moving around. 

“What can I get you, Munson?” Robin asks loudly, a little annoyed as though it’s not the first time she’s asked. Oops. 

He also feels a little bad that he didn’t recognize her when she obviously knows him, likely from his lunchtime cafeteria soapbox spectacles, but ever since the first time he’d failed senior year he’d tuned out on all the rising underclassmen besides Steve pretty hard.

Eddie orders while glancing towards the window again and fiddling with the chain attached to his belt loop. “Actually, make that two cones. One for me and one to cheer up your fellow at sea.”

Robin wrinkles her nose. “You, Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, want to buy Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington an ice cream cone?”

He shrugs, something inside him shriveling because, yeah, that would seem weird from an outsider’s perspective, the way he usually rails against the jocks. Maybe he’s a little bit of a hypocrite in his affections, but whatever Steve was in high school he’s actually a massive sweetheart now. “Yeah, well. You know Hargrove gave him a concussion last year? King Steve may have been a douchebag to us commoners, but at least he’s not as bad as that piece of shit.”

“Okay,” she says slowly, but finishes scooping into the first cone and reaches for a second. “Are you sure there wasn’t some house party he was at last night? Everyone knows he got that title from being Keg King.”

It feels stupid to go to high school parties when I’m not in high school anymore. They’re too loud and just a couple of beers hit me like a brick because of my stupid messed up head. Partying used to be a good outlet but I can’t do it anymore. 

“Nah,” Eddie dismisses immediately, mind scrambling for a reason he can give for being so certain. “Nothing last night, or I would’ve been there. You know, for business purposes.” He leans forward conspiratorially. “By the way, if you ever need a little relief from the grind of dealing with shitty customers…”

It feels sleezy, and isn’t something he usually does, but it helps sell it. 

“Yeah, no, I’m good,” Robin says quickly, and moves to the register. “That’s three dollars and fifty cents.”

“Don’t forget the sprinkles,” he reminds her while digging the money out of his pocket. With that handed over and sprinkles dumped on, he takes his one cone and gestures grandly to the other. “And maybe don’t mention to his Highness that that was from me. It’d be a shame if he had the same reaction as you and simply tossed away good ice cream.”

That would crush him, actually. So even though he wants so, so badly to stay, he forces himself to leave before he tries to eavesdrop, just to be safe. 

~

“Steve?”

Startled, Steve jolts upright from where he’d been slumped in one of the break room chairs, wet paper towel sliding off his face and landing in his lap. The motion makes his head throb harder, and it’s all he can do to swallow down a groan. “Huh?” he grunts, eyes only open enough to make out Robin’s general shape. 

“Why’d you turn the lights off back here?” she asks, quieter this time. He can’t make out her tone at all through the sharp pain threatening to burst out of his skull, but he’s grateful for the lower volume. And that she doesn’t turn the lights back on. 

“‘S not a hangover,” he mumbles. Which, maybe he missed a step in that explanation. It was there in his head somewhere, surely she’ll make the connection? Or maybe just think he’s got some sort of stomach flu, since he totally threw up in the break room trash can. Hopefully in it. He’s… pretty sure he didn’t miss. 

“I’m getting that.” Very gently, Robin takes his hand and wraps it around an ice cream cone. “Here. Generous donation from a concerned citizen who shall remain nameless.”

Steve blinks down at the strawberry ice cream in a cone with rainbow sprinkles. 

Either this is the biggest coincidence in the world, or Secret Admirer was here. 

Suddenly his eyes are silently streaming, because he could use that comforting presence right about now. It shines through on every page—this overwhelming care that he’s never felt from anyone else, not even Nancy. Whoever it is must have remembered the one time he’d mentioned in one of his reply letters that ice cream helps his headaches sometimes. 

Steve cries because he wishes they would’ve just brought it themselves and done away with the mystery because he so, so longs to feel like someone’s in his corner now. Someone to give him a hug and rub just above his temples, which sometimes helps too. He takes a lick of the ice cream and chews on sprinkles and the tears come a little faster because he wants. 

“Oh shit,” Robin whispers, dropping into the seat across from him. “Are you crying? Steve—Steve, it’s okay, if you’re not feeling up to it I’m not gonna make you go back out there again. Especially not if you’re likely to ralph on the customers but, like, mostly because I’d feel like an asshole. I mean, I heard the rumors about you getting a concussion and that’s why you quit the basketball team and swim teams, but…” She hesitates, holding her hands up like he’s a bomb that she’s worried might explode in her face. “Just, it’s okay. You stay back here and I’ll finish the rest of the shift, you don’t even have to clock out. I’ll handle it.” 

For a moment, with hurt in his head and an ache in his heart and strawberry flavor on his tongue, Steve thinks it could be her. Maybe Robin is his Secret Admirer and it was her own idea to scoop this cone for him. But then she leaves, and that doesn’t feel right either. 

Steve is haunted by a faceless, nameless person that he’s probably crossed paths with without knowing god knows how many times. Or rather, by their absence.

Tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever

[piratefishmama]

Fake it till you Make it | Part 20

So now, he was sat in a car, with a rich older man.

To some little queer boys, this would be a dream come true, especially since the older man wasn’t half bad in terms of looks, that all American square jaw, strong nose, the works. Plus… rich.

But this wasn’t a rich older man whisking him away, no, this was Steve Harrington’s regularly absent father taking him grocery shopping.

It’d been a wild day.

“So…” Eddie didn’t do well with silence. Silence never sat right with him. Had to fill it somehow, be it with silly noises, random singing, or conversation with any person in his vicinity. “They uhm, they do that often?”

“It’s a family thing, I think we’re all as bad as each other.” At least he was self-aware, the eldest Harrington still watching the road as they drove through the small town, he knew where he was going though, each turn done as if he’d driven the route enough to do it blindfolded. “Lynda’s a lawyer so, that should explain that” loved being right, it was her job to be right, even if she was actually wrong, she had to make out like she was right and she did it well. “I’m a middle child” explained both everything and nothing at all, “and Steven… I think he got a little bit of both of us. I’d have thought you’d be used to that though, since you’re dating him.”

“Ah-haha, I mean… don’t get me wrong, I’ve always known about Steve’s uhm… how to phrase this… mean girl streak?” John snorted a little laugh, emboldened, Eddie continued, “he’s like everyone’s disappointed mother, always with the little—” Eddie shifted in his seat, just about managing to put his hands on his hips and cock them weirdly in place “pose that he does when he’s oh so very disappointed in you. I used to thrive on it back in high school, whenever he’d catch Tommy H or the other basketball goons bullying the kids, he’d just stand there like he’d caught his kids with their hands in the cookie jar, an they’d actually just… cower, like he could actually do anything to them. It was the funniest shit I’d ever seen.”

It'd actually been quite the surprise when that’d happened the first time, it didn’t happen often, Steve had been a douchebag, not the ‘shove your head in a toilet’ kind of douchebag, or the ‘shove Gareth in a locker’ kind of douchebag.

No, he was the mega bitch douchebag who could flash a smile and drop every set of panties in his immediate vicinity, he was the douchebag who KNEW he could do that. Who carried himself high with the knowledge, lording it over everyone without… ever actually lording it, it was a presence kind of thing. An attitude.

And maybe, occasionally, he’d have been the douchebag who didn’t really see anyone unless he wanted to see them, didnt really pay any attention to those not on his radar, those not in his friend group, which led to many an accidental shoulder check, which had in turn led to Eddie’s own personal little vendetta because he’d lost one of his prized mini figs to the underside of the Hawkins High trophy case when Steve had walked by a little too close and shoved him just hard enough to send Eddie’s shit flying.

Had just kept walking as if he hadn’t even seen him. Asshole.

It was only when he’d first been seen hanging around Wheeler that his personality had shifted toward something reasonably human. Thanks Wheeler, the sacrifice of your time and patience hath created a god among men.

“So he was never… bad then?”

“Nah” no sense bad mouthing the boyfriend, that wouldn’t get him anywhere. “Real Prince Charming in a perfectly pressed polo shirt. He’s amazing, sir… you have nothing to worry about with Steve, he’s… one in a million.” Now anyway.

“Good. Good.” And then he fell silent, the quiet stretch lasting nearly five minutes with only the faint music playing on low volume from the radio to fill that silence, until the eldest Harrington pulled the car into a quiet carpark, and parked. “Here we are!” Oh thank Christ.

“We can't keep doing this.” Steve was the first one to speak up during their mutual living room silent treatment, finally looking at this mother after nearly an hour of watching a gentle snowfall that’d started outside. He hoped it wouldn't get heavier before Eddie got back.

“I have no idea what you—”

“Mom.” Steve cut her off, his eyes sharp and tone firm. “We can’t keep doing this. This bickering, this who’s right who’s wrong shit, we’ve gotta stop, at least here.” If not for their own sanity, but for the image he was giving Eddie of his family life.

Of what he might possibly maybe be getting himself into if Steve could actually swing a real relationship by the end of the week. The chances of him saying yes were already pretty farfetched, but if Steve’s parents were their worst selves…

Why would Eddie want to subject himself to that long term?

She paused, expression unreadable, something she’d mastered years ago for the court room, then she sighed. “I know, Steven.” She sighed heavily “Sometimes I forget that you’re a grown up now, that you can argue right back and actually stand your ground.” It only felt like yesterday when he was tugging uncomfortably at the little bowtie they used to make him wear for special occasions, all dressed up looking up at them with those big hazel eyes of his. His childhood only felt like yesterday. “I miss when you were cute and just did as you were told” she sniffled. Back when his parents had been there regularly before their duties had pulled them away. Before distance had strained them and they missed everything. Steve rolled his eyes but said nothing as his mother continued “Anyway, i agree. I think I’d prefer it if Eddie didn’t go away from this trip thinking John to be the most mature of us.”

“God, could you imagine?” Steve shook his head to free himself of the truly harrowing thought, allowing the subject to change. “I really like him, Mom... I didn’t expect to at first, not enough to want something long term with him anyway...” He’d thought it’d be easy to just pretend with him at first, but Eddie just had this... thing about him, Steve didn’t really know how to explain it, he just felt like home. Maybe it should have been alarming as to how fast that’d happened but... Steve had always rushed into things, funnily enough he didn’t think Eddie minded. “So I’d really like it if he liked all of us by the end of this, an if he only likes Dad cause of our bullshit, I think I might just disown the both of you.” The last part said in jest but... god he’d never let it go.

He’d lockjaw it until the end of time, would take it out on special occasions and shake it in their faces like look what you did. Look at what you cost me.

“Honestly, sweetheart I think I’d disown myself.” Lynda laughed, the air finally lightening up a little between them. “Here, how about we go see if the maintenance men pilfered the wine cellar? I’m positive Mags was hiding a damn good red down there among the cabernet that I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t want to go to waste...”

“Well... we probably should check it... just in case, y’know? For security reasons.” Not that he actually doubted the integrity of the maintenance crew, they’d been employees for years, they’d known his grandparents, had worked for them in their later years when time had started to catch up to them, and a steady gig passing through generations wasn’t something to scoff at.

“Security, absolutely.” But then, the contents of the wine cellar alone was probably worth more than the actual house, so… better double check.

For security reasons.

Part 22

[merrycrisis-if]

So I just want to say that I'm definitely not a suspicious person sending you a suspicious link - suspicious people wouldn't say that outright, right? I just tried to send an ask, hit the character limit, then tried to send a message, and uh, hit the character limit again. Haha. Anyway, here's what Qiu has done to me: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1hcQ_-WQ635cSrgWtEWX1gz7Xv9GbzopT_A5MpvRZA64/edit?usp=sharing

THIS MESSAGE IS THE BOMB!!! I love that you created a google doc just to gush about / psychoanalyse Qiu because of Tumblr asks's character limit, that's so hilarious and amazing!!

OK, now to reply to the message :D

[Re: Qiu] ...They're NOT EVEN AN ADULT YET. It's easy to say "just give up on the only structure you've known all your life because it's toxic" but reality is not always kind; even ignoring any kind of emotional support (which we unfortunately don't really get to see one way or another. Maybe Qiu would have been better off just running off and taking a leap of faith and relying on MC but it's not wrong to feel that the unknown is far more terrifying than the known and there was no way for them to know that choosing MC would have been better. The love of her parents - in whatever form, whether or not it's actually love, is what Qiu has known for most of their life - is a constant as long as they meet expectations.

Exactly, this!! Like, we first meet Qiu when they're still very much finding themselves / figuring out what they want in life. It's definitely a 'coming-of-age' story for them — as much as it is for MC. So their relationship with MC takes place at a point where, like you mentioned, they are still a teen(!) and their parents' expectations and (conditional) love is all that they know. It's never easy to distinguish between what one's own desires, dreams etc. are, and what's simply fed to us by society, by the people we trust/care about (in Qiu's case, it's their parents).

So I think one of the greatest joys of writing Qiu (and their relationship with MC) is acknowledging the imperfection, the growth, and their initial failure to 'do right' by each other back in high school (and the potential to re-visit that and make different choices the second time around).

There are probably bits of “it would be entirely way too selfish of me to ask MC to give up on their opportunity and stay”, among other things, but I’d like to think that feelings of “I don’t deserve to ask this of MC” are also there... Asking or hoping for Qiu to ask them to stay - I get it, I really do, but there’s also a part of me that feels like god DAMN if that isn’t fair, putting the choice on Qiu... Just as Qiu could have stood up for MC, could have shouted their love for MC from the rooftops, could have asked MC to stay; MC could have CHOSEN to stay, could have CHOSEN to prioritize their relationship with Qiu. Could have written emails, snail mail, video calls, flew back for visits, could have given long distance a shot. Maybe it was just the wrong time, wrong place. Maybe back then, neither of them could have made those choices, said those things.

And you bring this up beautifully here, where I think I was really interested in portraying MC's hurt (from MC's perspective) regarding the way Qiu never fought for them, even when they were so ready to throw it all away for Qiu — but then also slowly unpeel the layers of Qiu's perspective as well, i.e. that MC expected grand gestures from Qiu, but truth is, reality was tugging them in opposite directions, and perhaps Qiu did fail to jump off a cliff the way MC wanted them to, but they both failed to try to figure out a more mundane, less grandiose way of keeping in touch, staying in each other's lives etc.

MC back then had been seeing things in a very 'black and white', 'you do or you die' kind of way (as most 'first love' stories go), but I think now that they've had years to mature / grow, there's space for both MC and Qiu to appreciate the nuances of what had happened between them, how things fell apart etc. and acknowledge that in some ways, they were each incapable of doing the things they needed from each other, but nobody was truly at fault.

Again, thanks for the lovely message <3

[cordeliasdarling]

Birthday (Larissa Weems x Reader)

Notes: This is a random piece about Larissa and reader both being students at nevermore. Reader is popular, Larissa not so. (I know I’m so sorry it’s a bit sad.) I saw a prompt ages ago that inspired this so creds to them idk who.

Let me know if you want a part two! And pls don’t let this flop haha :0

****

To say I was popular.. well yes, you'd be right. I'd worked hard for it, looking perfect, getting high grades. Of course my natural personality was a winner amongst my peers at Nevermore academy. It made me feel good, more than just for my ego. I liked to know that people liked me for me. I wasn't fake, I said things as they were, and luckily it wasn't rejected.

"Hello, earth to (Y/N)!" I jolted out of my personal monologue by my best friend, Cleo. When we'd met for the first time, we clicked instantly. She knew me better than anyone else, and I loved it. And I knew her the same way.

"Sorry, just daydreaming." I chuckled quietly and glanced around at the surroundings. We were sat on the freshly cut green grass in the courtyard. It was a warm day with a refreshing breeze. Perfect for lounging around. Just beyond me and Cleo were the rest of my friend group, who were all talking, laughing. I enjoyed the company.

Then something caught my eye, actually someone.

She had silvery blonde hair, and was much taller than any girl in the school, and not just because we were the oldest in the school (we were all in our last year). The school uniform brought out her deep crystal eyes, in a way that made me smile automatically. Larissa Weems was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. Cleo nudged me, a grin on her face.

"I don't know why you don't just ask her out. What's the worst that can happen?"

I rolled my eyes, a sigh escaping my lips. My eyes were still on Larissa, watching as she walked along the open corridor on the side of the grass. Her eyes were on the ground, probably watching where she was going because due to her height, she often bumped into the shorter students, forgetting her stride was bigger than others.

"She most likely will be straight. Then turn me down, laugh in my face, and leave me all alone forever." Groaning, I leaned back, laying down properly on the grass.

"You should invite her to your birthday party." Cleo suggested, taking a sip of her water bottle, which she'd slid in a few ice cubes to keep her cool in the summer heat.

"She doesn't go to parties." Well, that's just what I'd gathered from all the parties I'd been to, she'd never been there, much to my disappointment. Having drinks in our systems may have given me more courage to talk to her.

Before Cleo could reply, one of my friends approached us, causing my eyes to leave Larissa just as she disappeared through a door.

"Hi, Mary." A welcoming smile on my face, as usual. She smiled back, sitting closer, in front of Cleo.

"I was wondering if you could help me with the Math homework? It's totally okay if not." People often asked me for such favours, as it was no secret that I got top grades, and I was always happy to help.

"Yes, of course!"

**

"Alright everyone, today we're moving to the greenhouse for the lesson." Mrs Faye called out to everyone before they could sit down. A faint groan was heard, because we all knew how hot it would be in there. But we didn't protest, mainly because we all loved Mrs Faye, and she always made our lessons fun.

There were desks already set up in front of tables with a plant pot on all of them. All of the students grouped together in twos, though I hung back, deciding which table I would go to with Cleo. But she nudged me, secretly gesturing to Larissa who hadn't partnered up yet. My eyes widened, knowing what she was suggesting.

"No!" I whispered, but Cleo had walked off with someone else, sending a wink my way. Internally I groaned, knowing I'd have to woman-up. So I approached Larissa, a faint smile on my lips, almost grinning as her eyes met with mine. I was lost for a moment, looking up at the girl I had the biggest crush on. And she had no idea, because I was secretly an awkward lesbian.

"Hey, wanna partner up?" I asked, cursing to myself because my tone didn't sound confident enough. She nodded, her expression softening. I felt a pang of sadness for her, because she was always the last one to be picked. It shouldn't be that way.

We walked to the last available bench and sat down, facing the front.

Mrs Faye talked us through the project, and soon we were left to our own devices, having to dissect a flower to see the roots and whatnot.  At the same time, we grabbed the scalpel to start. A blush appeared on my cheeks, whereas Larissa just smiled that beautiful smile.

"Sorry." Mumbling, letting her take it and begin the work. My eyes watched her movements, wondering what her larger hands would feel like linked with mine. I was short, well not short in the grand scheme of things, but just smaller than the average nineteen year old. Did that make me and Larissa Weems less compatible? I hoped not.

The lesson went by in a blur, mostly me letting Larissa do all the work, something that was unlike me, but I was just very busy. By busy, I meant building up the courage to ask Larissa to my birthday party. It couldn't be that hard, just a few simple words. But the feeling of rejection was something I never wanted to feel. I'd always had an easy time when it came to dating. All boys though, much to my distaste, but that was the consequence of not coming out.

"Larissa?" My tone was even, not holding confidence or nervousness. She tilted her head to the side, making eye contact with me. I nearly ran out of oxygen, looking into those deep ocean blue eyes.

"Yes?" Her voice was smooth, velvety even.

"Would you.. would you like to come to my birthday party tomorrow?" Urgh, I hated the way my pathetic voice sounded so hopeful. I hoped she didn't detect it.

She didn't say anything for a full minute, seemingly lost in thought. Eventually she shook her head slowly. "Sorry, I'm busy tomorrow."

My heart sunk, hanging my head in despair. So this is what rejection felt like, a crushing feeling in my gut.

"Oh, that's totally okay." I forced a smile, staring at the now dissected plant as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Damn this. Of course the prettiest girl in school wouldn't want to come to my party. Literally almost everyone in my year would be there, except for her.

Mrs Faye then called out to the class, dismissing us all as the hour was up. Time flew fast, it seemed.

Larissa left the class before me, grabbing her bag and exiting quickly. I tried not to stare, but I didn't really relax until she'd gone completely. Not in a negative way, but because I was so awkward and down.

"So how did it go?" Cleo grinned, her arm slung around my shoulders as we left the greenhouse. I didn't reply, just groaning in a way that I hoped verbalised the rejected feeling.

"Ah. Playing hard to get. Well, there are plenty more fish in the sea." She slapped my back in what seemed to be a comforting way, but it just added to the pain. Yes, I know I was just a nineteen year old student with a silly little crush, but Larissa seemed like so much more.

As we walked along the corridor, I spotted the very girl I was mooning over, talking to a small group of people. They all seemed to shake their head in response to something she said. Larissa seemed to smile, though it looked superficial, like something had upset her but she was trying to cover it up. They all dispersed, leaving me in a state of curiousness. I was tempted to go over to the people who were naturally my friends, to ask what that was all about, but we needed to get to our lesson.

And by the end of the day, it had slipped my mind.

**

The next day rolled around, and I was walking out of the changing rooms, having just had track. I was alone, which was unusual, because I had decided to do a couple more laps, insisting my friends should go. They all wanted to get ready for my party anyway.

I slipped on my uniform, not bothering to tuck my shirt into my skirt. Bag on my shoulder, I moved towards the door, but I stopped in my tracks when I heard a muffled sound coming from the toilets. Frowning, I inspected further, walking into joining restroom. The sound happened again, and this time I figured out it was stifled crying. The sound tugged on my heartstrings, because the pain was clear in the tone.

"Hello?" I knocked on the cubicle door softly, and the crying abruptly stopped. The was a long silence before the door opened slowly. It revealed none other than Larissa Weems. My heart sunk further, who hurt my precious girl?

"Oh.. it's you." She mumbled, walking to the tissue dispenser, grabbing a few sheets to dab at her smudged mascara. "I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine." I followed her, about to place a hand on her arm, but stopped myself, in case she didn't like physical contact. She stared into the mirror, at herself, until her gaze shifted to my reflection.

"Don't you have friends to run off with?" She muttered, eyes now lowering to look at her hands.

"They're not important right now. Can you tell me what's wrong?" I tried my best to make my words as gentle as possible, and it seemed to work because fresh tears filled her eyes as she turned around to face me.

"We have the same birthday but everyone goes to your party, not mine." Her voice cracked, looking away in some type of shame.

It all clicked, the reason why she was 'busy', the reason those people were shaking their heads, as they weren't going to her celebration, they were going to mine. I didn't even know her birthday was on the same day as mine.

"Oh, Larissa.." I whispered, my arms opening to embrace her. She didn't move away, instead stiffening up. "I'm sorry." Though those two words didn't do much comfort.

"It's fine." She sounded cold, and suddenly pushed me away gently. Tears were in my eyes now, just like hers, except she had fiercely wiped them away.

"Have fun." She then left, her footsteps quick against the lino flooring, leaving me speechless. I wiped away one tear. I had caused her pain, and that I would never forgive myself for.

I had to make this right, I had to make her feel better, in whatever way possible.

So I furrowed my eyebrows to come up with some sort of plan.

****

[katz-rambles]

hi!! could you write a gn reader with rain? I’d like something fluffy, maybe the reader is stressed about something and they cuddle with rain during a thunderstorm?

Yess of course! Rains my favorite ghoul, so I squealed when I saw this. Sorry it's a bit short, I'm not the best at writing full fics 😅.

(Gn!reader, comfort, fluff, readers stressed (but aren't we all haha.), readers boss is a dick, cuddles, readers a sibling of sin.)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

'Do this' and 'do that.' You get that work is necessary, but sometimes it just piles up too high. It's almost like someone's trying to kill you with paperwork. The pile on your desk doesn't seem to be getting any shorter, even though you've been at it for hours.

Your boss has been on you about this. You haven't been able to catch a break lately. You're afraid you'll snap his neck next time your boss asks you for something. He's been piling paperwork on top of paperwork for so long now. You think you're going to have gone insane when you're finished.

The peaceful serenity of your room is suddenly interrupted by a loud clap of thunder followed by a blinding light of lightning. Normally, you love storms, but today, it just seems to make everything worse.

Deciding its time for a break and a walk to stretch your legs, more so because you feel like if you stay in that room any longer, you'll implode. You head down to your favorite ghouls room. It feels like, just by being out of your room, a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. The only noise right now is the rain hitting the stained windows and your own footsteps.

The thoughts of how much work you have to do is enough to have you feeling the start of a headache. The halls get darker as you get closer to the Ghouls den, now only illuminated by torches on the side of the walls. The people here are suckers for the older look of interiors. The orange hue of the flames helps to put your mind at rest until you've reached the door to the den.

It opens with a creak, reminding you to ask Copia about oiling the hinges or just changing them all together. The den is empty, but you can hear the Ghouls in their own rooms. A calm evening for them, it seems.

"Ah, hey, sweets." Cirrius smiles at you from the old couch in the middle of the den. As if she's read your mind, she points over to Rains' room. "Rains in his room, just go in. I'm sure he'll be happy to see you." You can hear her laugh quietly when you eagerly nod and go over to his door. This time, the door opens smoothly and quietly.

"What are you still doing up?" Rain cocks his head to the side, one of the little things that makes him so adorable. His masks off along with his glamor, allowing you to see the real him.

"I.. I don't know, I guess I wanted to come and see you." You suddenly find yourself feeling like a flustered school kid, not knowing what to say or how to act. But he just smiles and pats the spot on the bed beside him.

"What's wrong?" He hums when you fit beside him, his arms wrapped around you, and he pulls you close to him. And just like that, it feels like floodgates have been opened, and you feel hot tears prick your eyes.

Telling him everything, the paperwork, the stress. Saying it outloud makes you feel silly, but he doesn't feel that way. For a few beats after you've finished talking, he stays silent. The only sound is the rain on the windows of his room. Without saying anything, he pulls you closer, again, and rests his chin on your head. His palm rubs your back, and soon he's drawing little patterns on your back.

"Don't worry about it, I can help you with that. Just stay with me for the night?" He asks, and you agree. You get the feeling he's a bit stressed as well, but you don't want to pry. This is enough for both of you. He lays down and lets you rest your head on his chest. From this position, you can hear him purring. The vibrations against your head are oddly comforting, and you can feel your stress melting away in his hold. It's safe to say that it was one of the best sleeps you've had in a while.

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

colt seavers x reader fic please!!

something fluffy, him being jealous, pining, being flirty.. thanks!!

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, Anon!! Hope you like this!! I’ve really missed writing for Colt! Sorry for how long this took- my writing process is either very slow or very fast, no happy medium haha. Now, I really hope you like this interpretation- if not, feel free to send another ask!<3

Also, I ended up writing Jody out, it just made a little more sense in this story.

Other than that, still searching for a beta reader! DM if interested!!

Content Warnings: None aside from a little cursing! This is as Anon asked, very fluffy! :)

Also, this switches between the reader & Colt’s standpoint!

Enjoy! Xx

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••i

Reader’s POV

I’ve been working on my movie, ‘Dreams of Maybe,’ for about a year now. It’s to be my directorial debut, and because of that the pressure has been on. Debuts are a bit of a superstitious event for new directors: they either make or break your career, even if it’s only the getgo. Sure, some can get back on their feet if they get a second chance, and others end up making a name for themselves for solely directing god-awful movies, but I don’t have time for that. For a second chance, for none of it. This movie is a culmination of everything I’ve worked for during film school and even before, and nothing is going to deter me.

Now, despite its name, “Dreams of Maybe” is an action movie. Throughout the movie, the main character, a woman called Hyleia, wrestles with the turmoil of fighting the war her home planet, Kalythea, is engaged in. As per the title, she dreams of the “maybes” that could happen after the war-maybe settling down with the love of her life, N’era; maybe finally getting a Orundaw (this world’s version of a dog); etc. But, as a warrior, Hyleia knows that those maybes could also be poverty; her world falling back into fascism as it had been when she was young; etc.

Jenny Sikes, the writer and genius behind all of this, was still developing the ending, but I have extremely high hopes. And thus far everything’s been running smoothly. I had gone into this thinking I would have to have a stick up my ass and be “tough,” but thankfully that hadn’t had to happened.

If anything, I’m really enjoying the process. To the point that even if somehow this incredible film- sure, I’m biased, but it actually is that good- flops, the friends I’ve made and experiences I’ve had would almost make up for it. Almost because, you know, I’d be out of job. Details, details.

Aside from Jenny, who is probably my closest friend on set, I’ve also bonded with Kelly Newman and Kora Kline, the women playing Hyleia and N’era respectively; as well as man who was playing the leader of the fleet warring against Kalythea, a warmonger called Jöl. The actor’s name is Reed Smith, and contrary to his character he is one of the sweetest men I’ve ever met. And very handsome, at that- refined good looks with messily bleached hair that went with his character. He’s a proper Mr. Hollywood, minus the controversy and overall bitchiness.

My producer had also managed to get Fall Guy Stunts to sign on to the movie, which was phenomenal. Well, the producer just closed the deal. It was really our stunt coordinator, a man named Dan, who recommended the company as he’d worked with a man called Colt Seavers before, and claimed he was the best in business.

I didn’t end up meeting him until it was time for the indoor explosion. The scene itself is a red herring, a false sense of victory. Hyleia thinks she’s blown up Jöl inside of the negotiations building. Their leader was supposed to be the one to fire the bomb, but unexpectedly got shot down out of the sky and in a fit of adrenaline Hyleia detonated it from the ground, barely surviving. However, because of that she ended up having a target placed on her back by Jöl. It’s a whole thing.

Anyway, Dan and I wanted to go big on at least one stunt, and the producer suggested we do an indoor explosion- sort of a bigger, crazier one than the one in The Fifth Element.

I was a little skeptical, as indoor explosions are extremely dangerous and 100% real. Hence Colt Seavers being hired. “Best in the business,” or so says his reputation. The stunt was early in in the production and a last minute decision. At the time we didn’t think we were going to exceed what Reed could handle as far as stunts go, but we were wrong. Thankfully Colt owed Dan a favor- something about a Stallone autograph gone wrong- and the former was willing to step in as Reed’s stunt double with a 25% discount.

As it turns out, I had no reason to stress. Colt Seavers really is the best in the business, the statement was in no way hyperbolic. He literally got into the Guinness Book of World Records for it the stunt, which subsequently put our movie on the map. This was an enormous deal- the film had went from “just another sci-fi fantasy action drama” to “already on the map” within days, at least in movie buff circles.

He had managed the indoor explosion with ease, due to his own expertise and due to impeccable form. He looks like a walking action hero, and the sight alone is enough to take anyone’s breath away upon meeting him.

And if the sight’s good, the personality? He’s the sweetest, most easy-going, flirtiest man I’ve ever met with a self-deprecating sense of humor and a coffee addiction to boot. He likes plants and animals, musicals and Audrey Hepburn movies. He looks like the epitome of the action genre, and yet is actually a sweet man who is in touch with his feelings and interests. Extremely endearing if you ask me.

And sure, I might have a small crush on him. But I don’t think anything would come of it- we’ve made friends and that seems to be that.

But sometimes I do think about how nice it would be to sit at a coffee table doing puzzles with him, kissing his pink lips over the table as we go along.

But again, the magic “friends” word.

Reed thinks something will come of it, as Colt and I do spend a decent amount of time together, but honestly, I don’t know if I believe him.

Anyways, I’m currently outside of my trailer, sitting at a picnic table, in dire need of fresh air and a spark of creativity. Being outdoors has always helped me get the ideas flowing; maybe it’s the crickets and the birds. Maybe I subconsciously recognize what they’re saying and turn it into my own words. Or maybe I’m fucking freezing, because it’s the middle of winter in Canada and I’m inappropriately dressed. Who’s to say.

Although really, I should probably get my parka… the soft snow is beautiful, glimmering under the sun, but my sweater and leggings aren’t exactly cutting it.

The thing is, though all credit as far as screenplay goes to Jenny Sikes, I’ve actually been very involved in creating the story. Which means I’m also involved in helping find this elusive ending.

This stupid, needs-to-be-perfect, impossible, unattainable ending.

We’ve been spitballing ideas for the past few days now, but none of them feel right.

There’s the unexpected ending: Kalythea ends up getting destroyed by Jöl’s fleet alongside Hyleia and her lover. Sure, it would be depressing, but it’s certainly plausible given the pretext of the “negative maybes.”

Or maybe we use the too-good-to-be-true ending: Hyleia wins, gets the girl; Kalythea rebuilds itself for the better this time, doesn’t fall back into its well established patterns of fascism. That’s the most popular ending in the writers room as of now, but Jenny and I are still holding out for something better.

We owe the film something perfect. Something right. Something fitting.

We’re just running out of time to find it.

And I might be running out of time to live with how inhospitable it is out here. (Let it be known that I don’t much care for being cold.)

Just as I begin to recognize how cold I am, a comfortingly familiar voice breaks the silence. It’s low and soft, with a slight rasp to it that makes you hang on every word. And I love it.

“Y/n L/n, as I live and breathe,” Colt Seavers says by way of greeting, handing me a coffee. It’s in a (y/f/c) mug, which is honestly very endearing of him. I take it graciously in both hands, the warmth of the steam much appreciated.

“Colt Seavers, as I choke and die of hypothermia,” I say from behind the coffee, my teeth chattering.

“Aw, don’t do that,” he chuckles, his baby-blue eyes sparkling like the snow around us. He sits next to me, and I immediately feel warmer, his presence alone making me feel better.

“Why not?” I ask, turning to look at him, our legs touching.

“Cause then who would I have to talk to?”

“I dunno, Dan?” I suggest.

“Meh,” he shrugs, downing half of his own coffee. This man is an addict.

“You don’t mean that,” I gasp sarcastically.

“You’re right, I don’t,” he concedes. “Please don’t tell him,” he asks, dramatics in his voice.

“For now,” I wink, and we both share a soft laugh.

“You’re shivering- do you want my jacket?” he asks considerately, already pulling his puffy yellow jacket.

“Oh, that’s okay-,” I protest, not wanting to deprive him of warmth, but he cuts me off.

“Here, I knew you’d say that,” he smiles, handing it to me. I have to smile back at that, shaking my head at how well he knows me.

“Thanks,” I say, putting it on. It’s super warm, and it smells like him. I like it. I rest my head against his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to be cold?”

“Nah, it’s one of my stunt-guy superpowers,” he puts his arm around me, hand grazing up and down my arm to keep me warm. I gaze up at him, mesmerized by his eyes before realizing...

“Your lips are already blue,” I observe aloud.

“It’s my lip gloss,” he jokes through chattering teeth.

“Uh huh,” I agree with skepticism.

“H-how do you still manage to look g-g-gorgeous e-even while you’re drowning in my j-jacket,” he attempts to flirt, his clattering teeth most definitely ruining the effect he was going for. And yet still he makes the butterflies in my stomach come alive, just like he always does. I like when he flirts with me, I really do. But I also think that’s just how he talks with people, y’know?

But maybe…

Colt’s POV

I am so, so glad that Dan called in that favor all those months ago.

Look, having your own stunt production is great. Fantastic, even. You get to pick your own hours, do your own jobs, etc.

But being the owner means that you just sit around for the most part, assigning your crew to the good stuff while you just wait for the next call. And honestly, it’s so, so boring.

For a normal person, that might be the dream. Finally getting to relax. But my career has been anything but normal, especially after the whole Tom Ryder incident a few years ago. The dipshit was going to frame me for murder with the help of a producer I was once close to. As far as I know they’re both going to be behind bars for a while, but I had worked for and with them for about fifteen years. Finding out that they were such bad people made those years seem worthless, as if they weren’t real.

So, before Dan called me to work on ‘Dreams of Maybe,’ I was bored. Bored and itching for the next thing. I had fallen back into my habit of picking up as many random hobbies as possible- at the time I think I was most fixated on crocheting, especially those little stuffed animals. But, being ADHD means that I can’t stick with one thing for too long- it’s why my place back home is littered with fishbowls and puzzles, paint-by-numbers and table top sports among other things. And when Dan called, I was maybe days away from finding the next thing.

At the great thanks of my house he called, and for the first time I was back in the game. He had told me that I’d be doing stunts for Reed Smith, an up and coming a-lister who’s been in a lot of action movies as of late. I really liked him in “House of Ruins,” but the stunts were a little dull for my taste. But hey, that’s what I’m here for. For some inane reason I missed getting set on fire and thrown at walls.

The indoor explosion scene ended up turning out absolutely fantastically, and because of how good it was I decided to stick around, help the film get more prestige in the action-stunt world.

Not to mention that the literal world record wasn’t too shabby in of itself.

But it’s not even just the stunts.

I’m back in the saddle, but not only am I back in it but I’m back in it with my best friend Dan. I’ve missed hanging out with him, and how much I can trust him as coordinator.

Also, y/n. She’s the director of the movie, and wow. You know in the movies, when the guy sees the girl and his entire perspective changes? That’s how I feel about y/n. She’s incredible, she’s witty, and you know what? It’s cheesy, but she’s better than the movies could ever hope to be.

We’d hit it off after the indoor explosion, and it was like we’d known each other forever. We had a habit of going to the beach (back when it was warm) or getting coffee off set pretty much everyday, and it’s been pretty awesome.

I like to bother her, because it’s hilariously adorable when she gets flustered. It’s stupid stuff- I drive a little too recklessly sometimes (like stunt driving. I wouldn’t actually put her in danger) or I’ll sneak up on her and get a little jump out of her. Sue me, it’s fun.

Not to mention the tiny detail that I am irrevocably in love with her. I don’t really know when it happened- maybe it was from day one- but she just makes me feel so alive. I’ve been trying to get the balls to tell her, but as of now I’ve come to the conclusion that I won’t say anything if she does.

I think there’s a chance she could be into me, but honestly, I don’t know. If she is, it would be fantastic. If she’s not, that’s okay too, she’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had. (Don’t tell Dan)

It’s just one of those things. We just… we have these moments, where it seems like maybe we’re a little more than friends.

You know, those long looks that dip their pinky toes into longing, laughing at jokes that aren’t even funny…

Or even just the way she lays her head on my chest, like today. She’s so comfortable there, my jacket far too big on her as she looks up at me with those gorgeous (y/e/c) eyes. She’s adorable, and I’m just fine with dying of hypothermia if it means I get to look at her as I go.

Okay, I’m not going to die.

I think.

You get the point.

“You know, you’re a lot smoother when you’re not freezing to death,” she tells me. There’s a slight note of concern behind the sarcasm, something you’d only be able to catch if you’ve hung out with her long enough.

“Wh-who n-needs to be sm-smooth when th-they’re t-telling th-the truth?” I ask, the cold stopping me from getting any word longer than one syllable out properly. Real attractive, Seavers.

Hypothermic climate aside, this is how a lot of our time together is spent. Drinking coffee in random places, me trying to flirt and her retorting with her endless supply of sarcasm. I wouldn’t trade anything for it.

“Mhm, let’s get you inside, champ,” she says, standing up. Already I miss the warmth of her resting against my chest, the closeness.

Good grief, dipshit. Get it together.

But once she extends a hand for me to take I’m back in cloud-nine, happy to be touching her.

See what I mean? I think I’m losing it. Or I’m just whipped like Dan says.

She leads me back to her trailer, barely ten feet from where we had been sitting. I can’t help but sigh of relief at feeling the warm air in the trailer. She laughs and gestures for me to sit on the little forest green sofa. I comply, setting my drink on the coffee table in front of the couch. She disappear into a little nook of the place before re-emerging with a big fluffy grey blanket that she must’ve pulled from her bed.

“Here,” she tosses the fluff over me, making my heart leap. I can’t help it, it’s just the y/n-effect.

“Thanks,” I say, shivering.

She walks over to her small kitchen space, and a few minutes later comes back with two mugs. She hands me one, then sits by me. Well more like on me, because there’s a whole sofa and her were touching everywhere. She’s adorable. And I love seeing her in my jacket… man, I’m going to have to tell her at some point.

I must’ve instinctively put my arm around her shoulders, because she hums contentedly and looks up at me. “Y’wanna watch The Fifth Element? I need something to get me in an ideas mood.”

Ohh, she must’ve been out there trying to figure out the ending. That’s what she does: she thinks outdoors. She finds it easier to think.

Of course, I’ll gladly watch The Fifth Element with her. Just as I’ve gladly watched it with her 7 other times.

“Of course,” I tell her, surprised that she can’t feel the way my heart is beating out of my chest from the smile she gives me. I genuinely get a little sad when she gets up to get the remote, but when she lays back against me any trace of negativity immediately dissipates. She’s got me wrapped around her fingers.

We watch a good chunk of the movie in comfortable silence, sipping our cocoa and staying under the blankets. She never takes off my jacket, and frankly I hope she keeps it; it looks better on her anyway.

“Wait, shit, what time is it?” she asks, suddenly sitting up and almost conking my chi with the back of her head.

“Uhh,” I check my watch. “Seven, why?”

“Damnit, I was supposed to meet the crew at the bar… half an hour ago.”

“Shit, I completely forgot about that.” Dan had invited me, it was supposed to be a hangout for the main actors and the rest of the “inner circle”- ie yours truly, Dan, y/n, etc. “We can take my truck?” I offer.

“But I’m so warm?” She protests, even though she’s the one that remembered we needed to go, which again, is adorable. Just like everything about her. Just like the way she’s wrapping herself tighter in my jacket which is at least three sizes too big on her.

“Keep the jacket, and maybe we can come back here?” I suggest, attempting to entice her.

She pretends to mull it over for a second, her hand tapping on her chin. “Can we finish the movie later?”

“Yeah,” I grin.

“Okay,” she mirrors the expression, and once again I’m feeling those damned school girl butterflies. When she takes my hand in hers to help me up it’s all I can do not to pull her back and kiss her senseless. But now isn’t the time.

Come to think of it…

When is?

Reader’s POV

We’re in Colt’s truck, as usual sitting unnecessarily close to one another under the guise of how cold it is.

I love wearing his jacket, being surrounded by his comforting coffee scent and his residual warmth in the fuzz. And he’s let me keep it- even if he only meant for tonight he’s not getting it back.

I love him. So much. And I want to tell him, but I also don’t want to put my foot in my mouth, y’know. And I can’t risk our friendship, it’s just too comfortable. Too comfortable to lose.

We get to the bar, and just like always he hops out of the car and quickly runs to the passenger side to open the door for me, extending a hand to help me down. I love his insistence on being chivalrous, yet another one of his endearing qualities.

We walk into Johnny’s, the bar that the crew regularly meets at, in comfortable silence. And again, we’re standing just a little too close, and again, I don’t mind- the proximity just keeps those butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.

Reed waves at me from a booth in the back corner, sitting at the end of a bench capping Dan, Kora, and Kelly who are sitting in that order.

“Glad you made it!” Reed stands to greet us, giving me a hug. Dan also stands to let Kora and Kelly out, the both of which are presumably heading home. They both say bye to me before heading out arm and arm- the press doesn’t know it yet but they, just like their fictional counterparts, are very much in love. We get seated, and somehow Colt and I are separated- he’s sitting on the inside by Dan while I’m directly across from him sitting next to Reed. The latter gets a round of shots going for the table, and before we know it we’re all laughing about practically nothing, damn near shitfaced. Except, even in my buzzed stupor I notice that Colt’s gone uncharacteristically stony… weird.

I leen into Reed’s side, laughing about a story he’s telling about how he got stuck in the harness on one of the few stunts he did. Almost ripped his underwear off too.

Now before you get any ideas, I’m don’t sit super close with just anyone. With Colt it’s because I like him, like, like him; with Reed it’s because we’re just close. Not because we’re dating or have something weird going on, it’s because we’re friends. Also, he doesn’t swing my way to begin with. Another nugget the press has yet to pick up on, for better or worse. Except this little nugget is something that hardly anyone knows- I’m probably one of five-ish.

But I don’t like how sad Colt looks right now… did I do something? I really hope not. But he’s smiling again at something Dan interjects with, so maybe I just imagined it. I don’t know. I throw back another shot, hoping the additional buzz destroys whatever downer-mood is trying to creep in right now.

But the thing is, as the night goes on he still looks sad. He only gives me one word answers and hardly acknowledges me otherwise, and it hurts a little. So I just keep throwing them back until I’m a train wreck- and not just any train wreck, an upset train wreck. I really hope I didn’t manage to fuck something up here. I’d say he thinks there’s something between me and Reed, but why would he even care if there was? I don’t think he likes me like that. I wish he did, but I just don’t know.

I think I’m ready to go home.

Colt’s POV

I wasn’t expecting her to be into Reed, but so be it, I guess… it still hurts though. I’m already planning on buying some new puzzles to cope. I’m trying not to feel hurt, but I can’t help it. Jealousy is douchey but it’s still there… ugh.

But she’s just asked me to take her home, so of course I will. She’s drunk off her ass, and I’ve never seen her like this.

I can’t help but wish it was me when I watch her peck Reed on the cheek as goodbye. I need to get it together right now. She deserves someone good for her, and I need to be happy for her. Like a good friend.

And yet, my heart still hurts.

“Colt?” she snaps me out of reality. “I don’t feel so good,” her hand is on her stomach. Shit, she’s going to throw up.

“Alright, come on,” I place my hand on the small of her back, guiding her throw the mass of people and saying goodbyes for her, thankfully getting her outside just before she throws up.

“This is like 10 things I hate about you,” she comments wistfully after she’s gotten it out of her system.

“At least you don’t have a concussion,” I quip, reminiscing the movie. That one’s one of my favorites, I can quote the entire thing by heart.

“Yeah,” she looks up at me, holding my hands. I can’t help but notice that she never took off my jacket and how cute she still looks in it, even if she’s just retched up her stomach. Our gazes lock for just a moment too long, and I cough to break the silence.

“Let’s get you home,” I nod my head in the general direction of where my truck is parked.

“Okay,” she agrees, only letting go of one of my hands. I can’t help but smile at that- I didn’t take her for a clingy drunk.

We cross the moon lit parking lot over to my truck, and I all but toss her in- gently, of course- before hopping in myself and starting the engine.

“Thanks, Colt,” she whispers before I put the truck in reverse.

“Yeah, of course, y/n,” I reply, driving off.

Twenty minutes later we’re back in the trailer, and I’ve helped her onto her bed. It took her about ten minutes to get some pajamas on, but finally she’s under that grey comforter.

“Alright, I should probably go,” I say awkwardly, feeling a little shifty.

“Wait,” she says, waiting for me to turn around. “Are you mad at me?” Her voice is tinny and sad, and it about cracks my heart into a million pieces.

“No, y/n, I could never be mad at you,” I tell her honestly, walking back over towards her and kneeling at the side of the bed so my head is level with hers.

“But you looked sad at the bar,” she mumbles.

Dipshit. My face must’ve given me away- I can’t help that it comes with subtitles.

“I wasn’t sad,” I gaslight her. I was just… happy for you and Reed.”

At that she starts laughing, a sound so infectious that I can’t help but smile. “What?” I ask.

“Me and Reed?!” she slurs. “He doesn’t even swing my way… shit I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

Wait. You’re telling me that Reed’s gay? How stupid am I??

“Wait…”

“Colt, I like you,” she says, her voice the los tour together it’s been in a few hours. “Like, like you.”

Wait.

She…

She likes…

She likes me?!

It’s all I can do right now not to pump my fist and and loudly say ‘yes!’ as if I’ve won a sports championship. Any trace of sadness is completely dissipated, because y/n l/n likes-like likes- me.

“Colt?”

Oh, right, I haven’t said anything.

“Look, y/n, we can talk about this more tomorrow,” because I’m not going to influence her while she’s still drunk, “but I need you to know this: I really, really like you. And I have for a long time,” I confess, and if the smile she gave me was my last sight I’d die a beyond happy man.

“Okay,” she whispers, looking me in the eyes.

“Okay,” I tell her. “I’m going to let you get some rest, but we’re going to talk about this more tomorrow, okay?” It’s not that I want to go, but I know it’s better to given her state of mind right now. Plus, the sooner I pass out the sooner I wake up and the sooner we can talk about this.

“Okay,” she agrees.

“Goodnight, y/n,” I stand up, but before I can walk away she grabs my hand. I turn to look at her, a little confused.

“Colt?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you maybe stay with me?” and again, her voice is too sweet to say no to. Like, I would do the indoor-explosion for free if she asked me like this.

I mull it over. I’m not a douche, I wouldn’t do anything while she’s drunk. Maybe I could just sleep on the couch?

“I can go sleep on the couch?” I suggest, parroting my thoughts.

“Noo, here, please,” she pats the bed beside her.

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea right now, y/n.”

“Please?” she asks me, giving me puppy dog eyes.

“Fine, fine,” I grumble, as if displeased with the notion of being able to lay next to the love of my life. But she doesn’t even seem to notice my tone as she turn around to face me laying on the bed.

“I like you,” she whispers, before promptly passing out.

I shake my head amusedly. “I like you.”

So, so much.

Reader’s POV

I wake up, expecting to have the gnarliest hangover of all time. Except, by some miracle, all that’s there is a slight headache. Thank everything.

I’m a little groggy at first, but I register a weight draped over my side. Huh?

But then I open my eyes and see Colt, with his messy hair and his peaceful face, sleeping. He’s holding me close, as if I’m some sort of teddy bear. And that’s when I remember our conversation: I told him, and he likes me back!

I smile to myself.

“Hey there, smiley,” his voice comes out groggy, heavily taunted with sleep. I love the way it sounds.

“Hey yourself,” I say, still grinning.

“What are you so happy about?” he teases.

“You. And I’d kiss you right now but I think I have bad morning breath.”

“Well,” he mumbles, getting close. “Morning breath be damned, I want to kiss you too.”

“Well, in the case…” I lean in and press a soft peck to his lips. And it’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. And now I know it for sure: I’m in love.

Wait.

Love.

The movie.

“The ending!” I shout, reaching over to my phone to text Jenny.

“Wha-,” he asks, obviously confused.

“The ending of the movie. They kiss before the planet blows up.”

“Wait… the planet’s not going to blow up because we just kissed… right?” he jokes.

“I dunno,” I shrug, sending the text and throwing my phone on the chair. “Sorry. I was thinking about the planet blowing up when I thought you were upset with me yesterday, and then this-,” I kiss him again, and he smiles. “Finished the thought train.”

“Huh,” he says, pulling me close. “I like you, so much,” he says, his voice sweet.

“I like you too, so much,” I agree, kissing him again. And one things for sure: I will never get tired of kissing Colt Seavers.

I can’t wait to be able to do everything we’ve always done, just as a couple. Puzzles and paint by numbers where we kiss each other over the coffee table. Maybe he steals one of my books and tries to recreate the scenes. Maybe he kisses me after doing donuts in the truck.

But no matter what maybes come true, the thing to remember is that love is the best part of it.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s the line that flashes at the end of the movie, post credits.

Who knows?

All I know is that I love Colt Seavers. And he loves me.

The End <3

[immeasurablesaladagere]

salad ur so awesome can i pls request a little!chase fic with cg!wilson and cg!house? thank u 🙏 appreciate u

I had a lot of fun with this one! Sorry it took so long haha, I have like 8 fic requests pending 0-0

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Word Count: 2517

Summery: Chase is having a regressed sleepover at House and Wilson's apartment! There's just one problem, he's having a hard time regressing at all.

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After graduating high school, Chase had expected his sleepover days to be over. But now there he stood, outside of his boss’s apartment of all places with a duffle bag of colourful pyjamas, a variety of clothes, his favourite blanket, and his stuffed puppy, Bosco; afraid to knock in case this had really been an elaborate joke at his expense all along.

The offer felt more out of the blue than it probably was. House and Wilson had looked after him multiple times while he was regressed, both at their apartment and, rather embarrassingly, at work, but this felt different. More intrusive, like he was forcing them to take care of him even though it was Wilson who invited him in the first place. The plan was pretty straightforward; Chase would regress and spend the night at their place, doing child things like watching movies and playing with toys and having pancakes for breakfast or something while House and Wilson watched him, and then he’d go home the next day when he was big. If he even stayed regressed that long.

But of course, to do all that he actually had to buck up and knock. He took a deep breath and politely tapped on the door. No one answered at first, and for a second he was worried that he’d misheard the time they’d told him somehow and they were out, but after a few seconds there were footsteps on the other side and the door opened.

“Chase! Right on time, come on in.” Wilson greeted, motioning for him to enter. “You can put your jacket on the hook there.” He did, then toed off his shoes and tucked them neatly by the rack.

“Oh come on, where’s your cute little kangaroo shirt?” House called from the couch.

He glanced down at his plain white T-shirt. He’d considered wearing his little clothes before he left, but decided not to because what if they thought that was weird? He didn’t want to rush it, but maybe that was the wrong choice? “Um… It’s in my bag, I just thought I’d wear my normal stuff for now.”

“Did you not want to get started right away?” Wilson asked, “That’s okay, we can—“

“No, no, it’s fine!” He assured quickly, “I-I just meant for the drive here, I can change if you want.”

They both gave him a considering look that made his cheeks burn. God, could this be more awkward? Wilson nodded. “Yeah, go ahead. You remember where the—?”

“Down the hall, first door. I’ll be right back.” He said quickly, and made his escape to the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and let out a breath. Just relax, mate! They invited you here, it’s fine. It’ll be fine. He changed into the kangaroo shirt and a pair of cargo shorts, and stared at himself in the mirror. House had gifted him the shirt awhile ago; it was white with a red collar and sleeves, and had a big picture of a boxing cartoon kangaroo on the front. Apparently he had ordered it off some website, and it showed; it was hideous, but somehow it was still the shirt he wore most often when he was small. But he wasn’t small yet, and he felt a bit silly standing there.

He crammed his old clothes back into the bag and left the bathroom, only to be met with the dramatic cooing of House.

“Aww, there he is! Don’t you just wanna pinch his cheeks, Wilson?”

Chase rolled his eyes, but smirked. “Where should I put my bag?”

Wilson motioned vaguely at the floor. “Anywhere is fine. We’ll get out the pull-out couch when it’s time for bed tonight.”

“Sure.” He dropped his bag out of the way next to the couch, and then… stood there. Now what? “So…” He started, “How’s this gonna work?”

“We’ve got the box of toys out if you want, we can put on a movie, anything you need to help you regress, and then we’ll look after you from there. We were thinking of ordering a pizza for dinner. Is that okay?” Wilson pointed out the “little box” in the corner, filled with an ever-growing supply of toys, stuffies, books, and art supplies.

“Yeah, that sounds great, um…” There was still one worry that had been nagging at him ever since he’d gotten the invitation. “What if I… can’t regress?”

There was always a chance that even with all of the toys and coddling words in the world, he just wouldn’t be able to be little or stay little. It was a fickle thing. If his regression was triggered then he could never seem to pull himself out it, but when it was his choice he usually couldn’t manage to stay small for more than a few hours without help. And if he couldn’t regress, then what was the point of being there in the first place?

Wilson considered it. “Well, if it comes down to that then you can still stay over if you want. We can just put on the game and have a drink. Whatever happens is okay either way.”

“No, we were going to exile you from the apartment if your brain didn’t decide to play ball,” House snarked. “Wilson’s right, Robbie. Now you can stop standing there like we’re going to jump you and go play. I promise, I won’t bite.”

Robbie. The nervousness soothed a bit, enough for him to walk over to the bin and start sifting through it for something to do. He landed on a farm animal colouring book and a ziplock bag of markers, something easy. A few of the pages had already been filled in, some by him, one by Foreman and a couple by Cameron, each with a distinct “style”. He chuckled to himself. Even Foreman’s colouring pages were stuffy and professional. He flipped to a blank page of a field of cows and started to colour.

He worked at the page for awhile, hoping that eventually the fuzzy feeling would creep in and the his colouring would start drifting outside the lines, but after nearly thirty minutes of colouring, he still wasn’t getting anywhere. Thankfully, House and Wilson didn’t seem fussed either way about what he was doing; Wilson was milling around in the kitchen and House was distracted by his Gameboy, but the silent expectation that he was supposed to be small right now hovered uncomfortably over his head.

He sat up and tossed down the marker he was holding. This should be easier.

House glanced up at him. “Age check?”

“Still twenty-eight.” He grumbled. “This isn’t working.”

“Would it help if I… played with you? Wilson tells me I do a great stuffed-bear voice.”

He still wasn’t used to House trying to be genuinely helpful. “Um… No, I don’t think I could do it, it’s too weird unless I’m small, y’know? But uh, thanks.” Though, the idea of House doing a squeaky pretend-voice was funny to think about. Maybe he’d get to see it later.

House shrugged. “Well, I tried. Wilson!” He called, and Wilson appeared from the kitchen, drying his hands with a towel.

“Having trouble regressing?” He asked, “I’ve been listening.”

Chase rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah I dunno, it’s hard to just do it on command. I’m barely even fuzzy.”

“Would you like me to help you?”

“I guess so. I haven’t got any ideas, help away.” He wasn’t exactly sure what Wilson could do that a box of everything I kid could want couldn’t, but anything was worth a try.

Wilson smiled. “And how do we ask?” He prompted gently, and instantly Chase’s face burned. Right to it then.

“Can you help, please?” The smallest hint of fuzz prodded at the edges of his brain.

“Of course. Come on,” He motioned for him to come to the kitchen and after a nod from House, he got up and followed. Wilson bent down to one of the cabinets and began pushing around a bunch of coil-bound books and loose papers. Eventually he found what he was looking for and held up a battered piece of paper victoriously.

“I was thinking we could bake some cookies for after dinner tonight. Do you want to help?”

“Sure. What kind are they?” He asked, rocking onto his toes to get a better look at the recipe.

“Chocolate chip. It’s my grandmother’s recipe, House and I have them all the time.” Wilson put the recipe on the counter and pointed to each ingredient, reading them out. “Could you get me the flour, the sugar, and the baking soda for me? They’re in that cupboard over there, and I’ll get the rest.”

“Yep.” He went on his mission for dry ingredients, scouring the disorganized pantry.

“Remember to use both hands on the flour and sugar, buddy. They’re heavy!” Wilson reminded, and the fuzziness flared again. He knew that.

“Mhm.”

Once they had gathered all of the ingredients, he stood patiently for his next task as Wilson pulled out bowls and measuring tools. House shuffled in and sat down at the dining table.

“Are you gonna help, House?” He asked.

Wilson snorted. “House is a terrible helper, we’re not letting him help.” 

-

“Here, you can do the vanilla.” 

Chase took the bottle Wilson handed to him and carefully poured it into the little measuring spoon, then poured it in.

“Good job buddy, that’s great.” Wilson praised, and he couldn’t help the bashful grin that crept onto his face. He was definietly fuzzy now; not small all the way, but close. Wilson hand-holding him through the steps and giving him small praises for mixing and measuring ingredients made him feel just like a little kid learning to bake for the first time. He supposed he kind of was. He hadn’t baked with either of his parents as an actual kid, and rarely bothered to as an adult, so it was nice to know he was doing a good job and being helpful.

Wilson handed him the spatula. “And now we stir.”

He stirred the batter until the stripes of vanilla disappeared, Wilson added the chocolate chips, and he stirred again. Once the chocolate chips were properly distributed, he presented the bowl to Wilson. “Look good?”

Wilson nodded in approval. “Perfect. Now we use spoons to put the batter on a baking sheet, and we bake them for 12 minutes.” He said, grabbing two spoons to demonstrate.

Chase took over, trying to make the scoops as perfect as possible, and then Wilson put them in the oven because it wasn’t safe for a kid to do it by themselves.

“Okay, now while we wait let’s clean up. Can you put away the ingredients, Robbie? I’ll get started on the dishes.” Wilson began filling the sink with soapy water and dropping in measuring spoons. 

House stopped him before he could submerge the mixing bowl. “Hey, hey! Save me the spatula, it’s got perfectly good cookie dough on it!” 

Wilson looked right at him as he dropped the spatula into the water, and Chase chuckled. “Cookie dough is for helpers.”

Chase held out the box of baking soda for House to take. “You can help clean up! There’s some cookie dough in the bowl still.” He offered, but House didn’t seem too interested in his proposal.

“I don’t want it that bad. Besides, you two are doing such a good job, I wouldn’t want to get in the way.” He held up his hands.

Chase shrugged and put the baking soda back by himself, and grabbed the carton of milk to put back in the fridge. “Okay. More cookie dough for me then—“ 

His grip on the milk faltered. He gasped as it fell from his hand and splashed to the ground, spilling all over the floor. He heard Wilson curse behind him and start rushing around for something to mop it up, but Chase stood frozen and watched the growing puddle soak into his socks. He was just trying to help and now Wilson and House were gonna be so mad at him. 

House clicked his tongue. “Maybe next time, we use both hands to carry things.”

That was the last push he needed for his headspace to come crashing down all at once. Suddenly he was five years old, tears were welling up in his eyes, and he was panicking. He was in so much trouble. It was an accident, he really didn’t mean to drop it, but now he’d made a mess and ruined everything! 

“Robbie.”

Were they still gonna want to watch him? Would he have to go home? 

“Robbie, come here, let Wilson mop it up.” House gently grabbed his wrist and pulled him away from the pool of milk. His socks squelched beneath his feet, cold and wet, and he let out a little sob.

“M’sorry, I-I didn’t mean to I—“

“Relax, we know. It’s fine.” House said. He sounded like he meant it, but Chase knew he was still angry because that’s how it always worked with adults. They said they weren’t mad when they really were, and then they yelled at you later. 

“I didn’t m-mean to drop it, m’really sorry!” He cried, “I was ju-just trying to he-elp…”

House let out a long breath, then to his surprise, pulled him into a hug and started awkwardly patting his back. “Okay, okay… You’re fine.”

Chase gripped onto House’s shirt, trying to take a deep breath. He shouldn’t be crying, he should be helping Wilson clean up his mess. 

“Well, he’s little now.”

“House.” Wilson chided.

House tried to pull away from him, and he clung tighter. He didn’t wanna be in trouble.

“Forget wombat, I think koala might’ve been a better nickname for you. Is this an Australian thing, or just you?” 

Hey! He was not a koala. Chase pouted as House gently peeled him off, and he clumsily wiped the tears off his face and glued his eyes to the floor. His stomach felt swirly with guilt.

Wilson bent down in front of him, expression soft and calm. “Robbie, look,” He pointed to where the puddle of milk used to be. The floor was clean, like nothing ever happened. “No more spill, see? All fixed.”

He sniffled. “But… the milk?”

“It was almost expired anyway, we can always get more.”

Maybe it wasn't so bad then. “…Okay. Can I… have a hug, please?” He hesitantly held out his arms.

“Sure, buddy.” Wilson wrapped him in his arms and squeezed tightly. Wilson gave good hugs. If there was a worlds-best-hugger competition, Wilson would win, he thought. “Are we ready to order pizza now?”

Pizza sounded good. The smell of the cookies in the oven were already making him hungry. “Yeah! Can we get cheese?”

“Just cheese? You don’t want anything else?” Wilson asked.

“Nope!” 

“I agree with the kid, cheese is objectively superior.” House agreed, setting a hand on his shoulder. “The council demands plain cheese pizza.”

Wilson sighed, exasperated, and pulled out his phone. “I can’t believe there’s two of you now…”

[idlerin]

nonsense — bonus: you said you liked the way i spoke

note: this is set before they confessed and everything :> jus a short lil drabble

“and you know what he said?” oikawa grasps your shoulders, eyes wide and serious as if he was about to tell you the juiciest tea to ever exist in the whole wide world.

you had just finished tutoring takeru when oikawa stopped you on your way out the door and trapped you to sit with him on the couch.

“no i don’t, oikawa-san," you say monotonously.

“he had the audacity to tell the teacher it’s unfair that i get high grades even though i’m excused a lot because of my shoots and volleyball," oikawa lets go of your shoulders to dramatically lean back on the couch.

“don’t you get almost perfect test scores?” you raise your brows, remembering that oikawa was a top student at your previous school, you could only assume that he's still the same in high school.

“exactly!” he says exasperatedly.

“that’s annoying," you agree.

“i know.”

“well, you know you’re better than that guy, so it’s alright," you shrug.

“you think i’m great?” oikawa smirks.

“that’s not what i said," you fiddle with your fingers, starting to get nervous. you do not still have a crush on him.

“it’s what you’re practically saying," oikawa’s annoying smirk is still in place

“don’t twist my words!" you whine.

“haha you really are adorable [name]-chan~” he raises an arm and ruffles your head.

“get away from me!” you push his hand away.

“you know you enjoy my attention~” oikawa teases more, to show your extra annoyance, you pinch his hand.

you narrow your eyes at him before standing up, “don’t talk to me.”

“oh come on don’t be like that [name]-chan, you know you secretly like that we have these conversations," oikawa tales a hold of your wrist to pull you back down.

you scowl down at him while he keeps on his stupid smile, “i do not!”

“so you won’t listen the next time i rant to you?” oikawa makes a pretend frown on his face, he pairs it with puppy dog eyes that honestly disgusts you with how you find it cute on him.

“i.. i uhm," you stutter at the sight of him, you really were weak to his charms, "of course i’d listen,” you mumble, turning away, “you have a nice voice, so it’s tolerable,” you pull on your hand that was still in his and cross your arms.

oikawa grins wide, biting his lower lip, ears a little red, “i knew you really liked me!”

“that’s not what i’m saying!—”

series masterlist | chapter one

nonsense ! an oikawa tooru social media au

synopsis. you were oikawa tooru’s #1 fan, until you became his #1 hater. you hated him so much you went viral on twitter (accidentally) and literally became known as “the oikawa tooru hater”, doesn’t help that he keeps fueling the fire by subtweeting you. everyone is all in for this new drama. what isn’t known to the public, is that this particular drama’s been on hold for three years (him being your ex and all).

a/n — play i wish you would by ts~~ like seriously the song is stuck in my head cuz it reminded me of nonsense like “you’re thinking that i hate you now” “i wish you would come back” “i wish you were right here right now” "wish i never hung up the phone like i did" i wanna kms anw ch29 is on its way its just long and has writing and u guys know im a slow writer!!

[youmarin]

Now Recruiting! ft. Inarizaki VB Boys - Part 10: Fall Festivities

Summary: Miss Manager shows up for a friend. Then it's time for the school festival! Of course there's more volleyball, and more encounters!

Word count: +9.4K [including extras 14 - 17]

A/N: This baby is long af. You're in for a ride I'm sorry lol. See more notes at the end of the post.

prev. / series masterlist / next

PART I

Ding! 

It’s around 9:00p.m. You’re in your room. Checking your phone, you see it’s a message from none other than Tendou Satori, who you’d met last summer during training camp and with whom since then you’d kept in touch now and then. He’d done most of it, him being the extrovert and pulling your attention. 

[9:05 p.m.] T: Spring High Qualifier Finals tomorrow! 

You smiled at the screen, typing a reply, 

[9:05 p.m.] Congratulations!

[9:06p.m.] T: Thanks! :D

Typing bubble. Nothing. Typing bubble. 

[9:08p.m.] T: Wouldn’t you like to come see us?

You stare at the message, a little taken aback. 

[9:10p.m] I’d love to. But you know, it’s quite far.

It’s far as hell. How would you even make it in such short notice? 

[9:12p.m.] T: I found cheap train tickets.

You raised a brow. He’d already been thinking about it. 

[9:13p.m.] T: I’ll get them for you and you can come! 

[9:13p.m.] I won’t let you buy me a train ticket to Sendai, Tendou. 

[9:14p.m.] T: Oh. If it is about the money, don’t worry about it! The boys lost a bet to me so it’s not all mine HAHA!

Speechless, it took you a moment to think of a proper reply. 

He beat you to it. 

[9:17p.m.] T: C’mon! Think about it as a present from the team. 

[9:17p.m.] Why would you guys do that?

[9:18p.m.] T: Because you’re a friend, duh! And trust me, they’d rather I spend it on something like this. 

[9:18p.m.] I can’t bail club.

It was a Saturday and the boys had morning practice. 

[9:19p.m.] T: One morning practice without you won’t kill them, would it? 

You weren’t too sure about that. 

[9:20p.m.] T: It’s like a manager thing. 

True, you could get intel on the next possible rival and visit a friend at the same time. 

[9:22p.m.] I’ll ask Kita-senpai. If he says it’s okay then I’ll go.

[9:22p.m.] T: Yay!

You leave Tendou’s chat and open Kita’s. The text is sent and a couple of minutes pass before he reads it. 

Kita calls. 

*

The tickets were cheap, alright. The first train, early as fuck in the morning, with like three stopovers. So there you sit with your bag in tow, getting ready for a trip of more than four hours. Thinking about having to do the same to return makes you wanna cry, so you take a deep breath and empty your head. You should catch some sleep during the ride anyway. 

*

You’re on time when you finally arrive in Sendai City. Opening your messages app - speaking of, your phone hasn’t stopped vibrating in your pocket with incoming messages since around time to get ready for practice back home. Most of them from Atsumu. -, you let Tendou know you’re there and he cheerfully sends you the location of the gymnasium. It wasn’t far from the station. Still, you got lost, having missed the first minutes of the game when you jogged up the steps to the stands, probably looking terrible by having run all the way there and lack of sleep.  

What’s worse, there’s a very good looking guy sitting in the top row. He notices you coming and for a moment seems to try and hide his face. You think he’s either shy, or wants to save you from embarrassment. You take a seat leaving one row between you. 

Shiratorizawa gets another point, they have the lead, and you cheer. You hear someone click their tongue behind you, then start to grumble under their breath. When the other team, Karasuno, gets a point, it’s the same thing. 

Is he rooting for any of the teams? 

“Nice serve, Goshiki!” You shout when Shiratorizawa’s first year heads to the end line and starts his serve ritual. 

The boy behind you scoffs. 

Okay, seriously,

What is wrong with him? 

You whoop, “Go, Tendou!” after he spikes and earns a point. Somehow amongst all the noise, he hears you and turns to where your voice came from. You wave your arms wildly and he spots you, waving animatedly at you. 

She seems to know the guys from Shiratorizawa well, but she’s not from their school, is she? 

“Do you support your own team like that?” 

You turn around slowly, doubting for just a second that he’s talking to you but honestly there aren’t too many other options. This section is not crowded and you’re the one sitting the closest to him. 

When you see the smile he’s sending you, his words get a different meaning: 

Does your own team suck? 

You fight the frown that wants to take over your face, smiling instead and brushing off what he really means.

“Yes, a whole lot more.”, 

then can’t help to ask, “Which school are you from?” 

“Aoba Johsai High.” He answered proudly. 

“Never heard of them.” 

“What about you?”

“Inarizaki High.” you answer very much as proud as him. You too have your attitude. And he’s right, you’re not from around here. 

Arms crossed, he brings his index and thumb to his chin, pretending to think, “Hmm, never heard of them either.” 

“Has your team never been to Nationals?”  You asked because you really didn’t know, clueless of how you’d just stricken a nerve. 

Just what did he do to deserve this? He’d purposely chosen an empty section of the stands to not be bothered - or spotted - while watching his biggest rivals on the court -where he should be- , then in comes Shiratorizawa’s number one supporter and starts attacking him? 

You stare at him for a little longer but given his silence, you turn back to the game. 

You see that Karasuno is a formidable team. However, their tall middle blocker is still adjusting the timing of his jumps to block, and their libero can barely pick up Ushijima’s spikes. Yet he’s persistent, and he might. Youn lean over your seat when Ushijima receives Karasuno’s number 10’s attack -seriously, that orange head boy can jump-, then goes for a spike and ends the first set. You shout encouragements to the purple team. 

Tendou starts the second set on fire with his creepy guess blocking. You’re as impressed as always but it’s also a little irritating how good he is, and think how you might have to deal with it depending on today’s results. Then in a flash, Karasuno’s number ten spikes the ball right over Tendou’s head. The next rally, he’s fooled by him being a decoy at first but as they return the ball to their court, he runs trying to keep up with him. He recovers, making it as if he’s about to follow #10 and switching to go after #5. 

Later on, Karasuno’s number eleven surprises everyone by stuffing Tendou’s spike. You can see the tension sparks from where you’re sitting.  Rintaro would enjoy watching the redhead getting pissed off. Their coach loses it when Goshiki and Yamagata both hesitate to dig a spike resulting in the ball slamming onto the floor right between them. You grimace, knowing that Goshiki’s getting the end of it. Another surprise: Karasuno’s number eleven is switched out for their number two and when it comes their turn to attack, the starting setter switches spots with him and the rest do their starting runs for a spike, leaving no one to cover for a follow up. It’s a risky trick yet it earns them the point. 

Shiratorizawa reaches twenty first, “Way to go, Goshiki!” 

If they win this one, it’s going to be way more difficult for Karasuno to pick themselves up. 

Karasuno subs in a pinch server. He goes for a jump floater, but his momentum is shut down at once when their blockers fail to stop Ushijima’s powerful spike and he’s back out. Both teams keep catching up to each other and can’t get a break. Then it happens: they corner Ushijima with a wide three man block, obliging him to do a straight shot directly to their libero and the ball goes up. Being a critical moment of the game, Tendou seems to guess they’re going to set it to their ace but number nine chooses the middle. 

Karasuno gets a service ace, but just when they might get ahead, Tendou smacks the ball down on their court when it crosses the net after one pass. Shirabu does a setter dump, taking the opponents by surprise. Their tall middle blocker manages to react and touch it, but they can’t follow up. It’s match point. Then it’s deuce. Karasuno’ s setter gets back at Shirabu also going for a setter dump and it’s a stare down. None of them manage to end the set. 

Karasuno reaches thirty points. 

Finally, they claim the set when Shirabu sets to Ushijima and their number eleven shuts him down. The crowd bursts in an uproar around you. They’re unbelievable. Both of them. 

Could Karasuno do the unexpected and steal the win from the prefecture’s favorites? 

Shiratorizawa doesn’t seem to delve into the question as they get back taking the third set. The silent reprimand of their coach seemed scarier than yelling and Shirabu goes back into the court as sharp as ever. 

Goshiki was maybe a little too fired up, starting the fourth set with a serve that went out of bounds.

“Yes, Kawanishi!” The second year was able to read through Karasuno’s synchronized attack and stopped their ace. 

Karasuno kept working around a way to deal with Ushijima’s attacks. The blockers narrowed the path, while the players on the back row stepped back, expecting the spike to land close to the end line given its sheer power. Their strategy proved effective, nonetheless, when their number five went for the spike Tendou was there to block him. Your redhead friend relished the cheers. You chuckled, cheering yourself. 

The next plays were a flurry of the orange head jumping around. Since he’s short, he goes for blocks as if he was doing a starting run for a spike.You think that might take a toll on his stamina, but it’s the fourth set. They have to win it if they want to keep playing. 

A voice behind you, a deeper one, gets your attention. 

“Oh. You’re here too.” From the corner of your eye, you spy as its owner jumps over the back of the seats to take a place next to the brunette with the glasses. “You said you weren’t going to come because it’ll piss you off no matter who won.” 

That explains a lot.  

“No matter who wins, I’m gonna be able to see the other team’s faces when they lose.” 

Your face scrunches up. If you have to admit it to yourself though, it was kind of funny.

“You really are a piece of crap.” 

So you laugh, then catch yourself a little too late and slap a hand against your mouth. 

Your face burns, feeling the gaze of both boys on you. Yet a curious look takes on the boy’s features. He seems amused, even, one corner of his lips twitching up almost imperceptible but there. It’s not often a girl makes fun of his best friend. 

“Right, meet Shiratorizawa’s cheerleader.”  The first boy says and Iwaizumi’s face falls. Not everything’s perfect. 

You turn towards both of them. Getting a good look at his friend stops you from snapping back (why are you falling for this and picking a fight with a stranger in the first place?). He’s handsome, and seems more serious.

Wait. you realize much too late with dread, Is he a third year? Are both of them third years? 

You only grow more embarrassed.

Oh well. You’re in too deep now. And you probably won’t see them again when you cross the doors out of this gymnasium. 

“You’re friends with Shiratorizawa?” The other asks. 

You nod, unsure, “I’m more like acquaintances with the team. Satori is my friend.” 

“Number five?” 

“A weird friend you have.” 

“Hey!” you frown, “Like it’s so normal to come to a match to hate on both sides.” 

The spiky haired boy snorts. 

“What are you laughing about? You’re here too!” 

“Unlike you, Shittykawa, I didn’t come here with any foul motives!” 

Your laughter and their arguing is cut short with the jitters of the crowd. Ushijima notices the holes in the opponent's defense and takes advantage of it. His hits had been reaching the back, so they placed the defense there. Now, he aims at the open space they left. Karasuno’s setter starts showing his exhaustion. It affects his form and as a result he’s not as precise, giving way for a couple mistakes. But he refuses to back down. For a moment, you thought that Shiratorizawa would get the win right then, but Karasuno takes it by a hair’s breadth.

“If you play a disappointing match, you’re going to be running back to school from here!” 

Tendou flinches. 

You feel a chill down your spine and turn sharply to find with your eyes your redhead friend on the side of the court. 

The fifth and final set begins. Goshiki does a great serve but Karasuno cuts him off from the start. It’s only a fifteen point set, so it seems to go by in a flash. Ushijima surges with new determination. The crows number eleven’s blocks have improved throughout the game, getting a lot of one touches to help the defense. After touching one of Ushijima’s spikes, they stop everything for a moment. He’s injured. Getting him out this far sure will hurt his team. That, and that their number nine is currently out. 

They seem to push on through alright, keeping the point gap narrow. Tendou gets chewed out when he fails to react for a block, too caught up in his train of thought when trying to guess. The bell signalling a player switch goes off and number nine is back. And he seems glad to be back. He goes straight to serving and sends a strong one. Yamagata receives it but it’s long and heads back to Karasuno’s side of the court after his pass.  Then their setter takes the first touch and number ten slams it down. Shiratorizawa gets back with strong serves of their own, Semi getting a service ace. Just two more points. Both cheering squads get louder. 

They catch up and turn it around. Shiratorizawa gets two points in a row and it’s match point. A deuce. Ushijima scores. Is that Karasuno’s eleven coming back? 

The score is way past fifteen points now. Karasuno’s number ten seems to be reaching his limit and isn’t able to jump for a block, leaving an opening for Goshiki who earns the point for his team. But there’s no time to beat himself over it, as pretty boy behind you remarks. 

Will it all really end now? It looks like it when Shirabu’s serve touches the net and it’s as if the ball falls in slow motion. Karasuno’s libero does an amazing safe but it’s long. Goshiki jumps and smashes it down. Directly to the libero’s arms again and the ball goes up! 

“Either one is going to piss me off, they should lose.” 

“You really are a crappy guy.” 

“Could you stop calling me a “crappy guy”?” 

“Pick between that or a “shitty guy”.”  

“Well, then I guess I choose “crappy”.” 

How is one better than the other? 

You shake your head at their nonsense.

*

After a very long rally in which each team gave everything they had, Karasuno stunned everyone by winning the Spring High Qualifiers and now are headed for Nationals in January. 

Apparently, coach Washijou had threatened the boys with making them run their way back to school earlier before the last set started. Pleased with their performance, they’d avoided that fate - something you were grateful for. You didn’t want to run your way back with them and were thankful for the bus ride. It wasn’t enough to save them from hitting a hundred serves as soon as they got back to the Academy.-. 

Now, you've stopped at a restaurant. The coaches were treating the team for lunch. You’d hesitated to join, not wanting to meddle, but Tendou refused to let you go so soon and wanted to at least spend some time together. There was still plenty of time before you had to go back home. With all the excitement from the match (and you weren’t the one playing), you hadn’t noticed how hungry you were until the smell of food filled the air. You didn’t have time to eat a proper breakfast.

You were sitting beside their manager, who looked for words to cheer up Goshiki. She kept her composure, and you suspected she was doing everything she could to not break down in front of them. The other boys, you knew, were also feeling down even though it had been a great match. They didn’t think they would lose, not when it was supposed to be the start of things. It was the last match for the third years. The whole ordeal was very emotional.

Tendou was sitting across from you, Ushijima by his side. 

“Y/n- chan.”  

You hummed, having your mouth full. 

“You should say something to Tsutomu too.” 

“Me?” 

“Sure!” he grinned, “I’m sure that’ll really cheer him up.” 

You looked at the boy. Goshiki was pretty hung up at every word their manager was saying. He seemed much better. 

Before you knew what he was up to, Tendou was opening his mouth again, “Right, Tsutomu!” 

“Tendou-san?” his kouhai looked at him to pay attention to what he had to say. Oh Goshiki, always so willing. 

“Y/n was telling me how cool you looked today on the court!” 

“Re-Really?” 

You side eyed Tendou, then sheepishly gave your response, “Yes! Your straight shots were super sharp!” 

Your words hit the target, striking him. He turned so red you worried if he was even breathing. 

Out of all the restaurants they had to come to this one,

Oikawa thinks as he stands with Iwaizumi at the entrance. He’s about to turn and leave but the owner spots them and welcomes them with a smile. 

“Welcome!” 

Iwaizumi yanks him by his collar before he can still think about it, “We’re already here. And I’m hungry.” 

The place isn’t so big, so it’s not long before they're spotted at a nearby table. Oikawa wants the earth beneath him to open up and swallow him. 

“Oh! It’s Aoba Johsai’s Oiwaka and their ace!” 

You turn at Tendou’s outburst and follow his line of vision. 

It’s the two guys from earlier in the gymnasium. 

So much for not seeing them again. 

“Hello, Oikawa.” Ushijima greets him cordially. “Would you like to join us?” 

“We’d rather die.”  you choke on your drink. Tendou holds in his laughter but still helps you, patting your back comfortingly and asking if you’re okay. 

“So rude.”  Semi mutters.  

“So, how do you feel after your defeat?” He was pissed earlier seeing that Ushijima didn’t look as upset as he would like. If he had to go through this he’d at least try to get a reaction. 

“I don’t know, you probably know better than us.” Tendou bites back. You’re not sure you’re going to survive past this meal but you can’t tear your attention from what’s happening.

“We’re very disappointed.” Ushijima answers truthfully yet his face gives nothing.That seems to get more on their nerves than what Tendou said. You think a vein from their temples might pop. 

Damn you, Ushiwaka. 

“Why does he hate you?” you whisper the question to your friend. 

“He’s bitter he never beat us.” 

“Is he good?” 

“Oikawa is a great setter.” Wakatoshi answers for Tendou, having heard your conversation, “He should’ve come to Shiratorizawa.” 

“There he goes again.” The brunette rolls his eyes, “Stop saying that!” 

Lunch goes well despite the momentaneous clash. You thank the staff and the owner for the food and gather your things to head outside. The boys still have to head back to the Academy and go through serve torture, as Tendou calls it. 

“Hey, you two!” Tendou calls from behind you to Oikawa and his spiky haired friend as they make their way out shortly after you. “I know you heard me!” 

Oikawa takes a deep breath.

 Iwaizumi answers before he can. “What do you want?” 

“We still have to go back to school. You can walk Y/n to the station.” 

“Tendou!” You hiss. 

“Ah. Sure.” Iwaizumi answers a bit awkwardly. 

“You don’t have to. I can get th-” you try to turn them down politely.

“Of course they have to! We have to make sure you get there safely!” He shakes your shoulder a little too brusquely, then wraps one of his arms around them and gestures with his other hand, “You are the princess, and they’’re the two knights that will make sure the princess takes her carriage back home!” 

Right. 

You look at Iwaizumi. The role sort of fits him. Then you look at Oikawa, his arms crossed and chin turned up. 

He seems more kingly to you. 

You shake your head to stop Tendou’s scenarios from getting to you. 

“Thank you for your support!” 

“Come see us again!” 

*

“It was nice meeting you both.” you say to the two boys once you’re at the station and it’s time to go.

“You too.” Iwaizumi answers shyly, rubbing the back of his neck.  

“You aren’t so bad.” Oikawa admits, “Just need better taste.” 

You roll your eyes but can’t fight a smile. 

“You’re going to keep playing volleyball?” 

“That I will.” 

“Maybe one day I can watch you play.” 

“Oh you better be ready. I’ll be better than Ushiwaka and the boys from your school.” 

You wave goodbye. 

See you again next time.

PART II

High school life was as busy as always. Since  the beginning of the month, students had been getting ready for the school festival. First, second and third years all had something to do. Nervousness, perhaps a little anxiety over it lingered in the air, but also eagerness and excitement. 

Amongst the second years, you’d heard that the twins and Gin’s group would put up a cafe. Suna’s classroom apparently would have a photo booth, with different props according to several themes. They had also this raffle going around that you had been basically forced to get a ticket from a bunch of girls as they giggled away. You tried not to think much about it. You made a mental note to ask Suna about it later.

The leader of the twin’s group event project had thought about it with her minions. They had Atsumu and Osamu Miya. Safe to say they were amongst the most  popular of the grade and probably the entire school. And loved by a bunch of the girls. So them being just girls too, their minds had run a little wild creating the perfect scenario. Atsumu Miya, the host of the cafe, would be dressed up nicely with a suit, and receive the patrons with a dashing smile. And Osamu, one of the waiters, making sure everyone was comfortable and pleased. The girls were swooning just imagining it. 

But she was abruptly brought back from her daydream when Atsumu turned the offer down, “Can’t do. Ya know, volleyball club.”  He also had the perfect excuse.Clubs had their own activities, so they weren’t obligated to participate in their class event. 

“I can try to make a little time to help.” That was Osamu’s response. Ginjima had agreed with Osamu to look to participate.

“Sure ya can.” His twin said. Osamu knew what he meant by his tone alone. Some crap about him being indispensable and it not being the same in his case. 

Later, during the evening after practice ended and they gathered in the club room, the volleyball team discussed what they could do to get the rest of the student body’s, visitors and possible new students’ attention. Apart from helping with whatever you guys settled with, you also thought about the future and how the club would need a new manager when you were gone. There was still time for that, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared. It was all for the benefit of the team. 

Usually, they would split the team and have a friendly match. It was enough for the people to get to know the team members and their performance on the court. To interact with the public, they could take some time to talk about the fundamentals of the sport, maybe get practical and give a short lesson. Last but not least important, let them know they welcomed new team members. 

“So, what’s your class doing?” Suna asked after the small meeting was called out before you all went home.

“They wanna do a play.” 

“Are you participating, Y/n-san?” Kita asked, seemingly interested. 

“I would like to. We still haven’t picked which yet though. And there’s the club too.”

“Don’t worry about us if you wanna do it. We’ll be fine.” Aran told you. 

“And we could go see ya. Even if you end up playing rock #3.” Atsumu said jokingly. 

“If I remember well, which in this case I do, you said you were busy with club so you couldn’t help our class, and you have time to go see Y/n?” 

“She’s our dear manager! Of course we can make a little time, right?” 

“Sure.” To everyone’s surprise, the captain agreed with Atsumu. “We should show our support to Y/n if we can.” then he added, which you found a little funny, “And rock #3 is just as important as the lead, Atsumu.” 

“Yes, Kita-senpai.”

Then came the day when they put the title of the play to vote. 

And the winner:

 “Beauty and the Beast”.

First, the characters were laid down for volunteers to pick. You were looking for a minor role so you could leave most of your focus for club. Maybe you could just help prepare the stage. 

Atsumu was striding down the hallway coming back from one of the vending machines near the stairway, a lollipop in his mouth and two bags of chips in his hand. There he saw the director of the play having a breakdown. Against his better judgement, he stopped and stared, debating if he should help or keep walking.

“Uh, you doing okay?”  In fact, nothing was. None of the boys settled to be the male lead, throwing names around only to be rejected and passed on to the next. And it wasn’t fair to change the title after the votation. 

She froze, mortified, then hurried to fix her hair and wipe her eyes. She put her glasses back on. Oh it was worse than she’d thought. It was the setter of the volleyball team. 

Wait.

“Atsumu- kun!” Suddenly, every trace of despair was gone from her face, replaced by such brightness he swore he saw stars dancing around her. “Would you like to be part of our play?” 

Ah, that again. Festival’s driving everyone crazy, he thought. He opened his mouth to reject once again, then stopped. The play. Your class was the one doing it. 

Without thinking it through, Atsumu  gave his response. He clearly didn’t take it that serious either, as he said, condescendingly, “Sure. But if it ain’t the lead I ain’t taking it.” Then, a little too late, it seemed to register, “By the w-“  

He went from amusing himself to almost choke on the candy in his mouth, as the overexcited girl dragged him the rest of the way to your classroom. When they crossed the threshold, he saw you standing on the front. Your conflicted look morphed into confusion as you saw the setter barge in with the director. 

“Everyone! Atsumu-kun accepted to be our lead!” There was a mix of surprise, cheers and whines of regret -you thought you heard someone start to cry-. 

“What?” your eyes widened in surprise, turning to look at him again.

“Oh! We just got Y/n to agree for the Belle role!” 

Your silence as you mentally debated what task to take on played against you, getting the attention from the group and resulting in them picking you as the female lead. You tried to turn them down but it was settled. 

Atsumu looked at you, then read the big writing on the center of the board, finally learning the title. 

Him and his big mouth. 

—

The members of the volleyball club had to take a moment as they laughed their asses off picturing Atsumu as a prince/Beast, especially the other second years. 

“Serves ya right.” Osamu told him, wiping the tears from his eyelashes. Suna’s face was flushed with how much he’d laughed. You couldn’t help but laugh a little yourself, looking at the three boys and the pout on Atsumu’s face. 

Since both the leads were part of the club, it was a given that the whole team would try to attend. 

Then it was time for rehearsals. 

“I gotta go see that.” Rintaro sneaked out of his classroom while they did their own preparations and headed to the school auditorium. 

They had been at it for half an hour already when Rintaro walked in. He took a seat on the front row and held up his phone, capturing Atsumu’s bad delivery while you stood there trying not to laugh. This frustrates him and consequently, the rest of the cast and crew while the boy starts whining about it to you, who finally stops holding it back and laughs.  As you compose yourself feeling sorry for the rest of your class and a little embarrassed for behaving that way, the scriptwriter spots the middle blocker and an idea pops in his head. It’s not like he wasn’t sticking out like a sore thumb anyway. 

“Suna Rintaro!” He lowers his phone but not before he saves the video. Everyone turns to look at him.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Atsumu mutters and before he gets off the stage to throw himself at Suna, you grab hold onto his arm. Suna snickers and you glare at him when you make eye contact for purposely pissing Atsumu off. 

He’s preparing himself to be chewed out for sneaking in during a private rehearsal, but when the scriptwriter opens his mouth again ignoring Atsumu, it’s not something he was expecting. “Since you seem to have free time, take Atsumu’s place.” 

“Wait, what? Me?”  

And just like that, Atsumu was fired.

Think again.

“No way. Why are ya replacing me with him? He’s no better!” 

Oh yeah? Let’s see about that. 

“Just,” the boy breathes, “Just take a moment to rest. Maybe you’ll come back better after watching someone else.” 

Suna walks onto the stage a little awkwardly but set on making Atsumu bite his words back. Someone else hands him a script and lets him skim through it for a few minutes before starting again. 

“Time’s almost up for today. Let’s move forward to the ballroom scene.” 

You take a deep breath, “Here we go.” you say a little nervous. You step closer to each other. then, “Rintaro.” 

“What?” 

“Stand up straight.” 

“He probably be better at playing Quasimodo with that posture.” Atsumu cackled, disrupting Suna’s focus for a second. 

“Shut up.” 

He grabs one of your hands in his and carefully places the other on your waist. 

“I’m not a very good dancer.” He says, and you notice by his voice that he’s also nervous. 

You smile at him tenderly. “Don’t worry, I’m not very good either.” 

You dance, and luckily don’t step on each other's feet. Then comes the scene when the Beast tells Belle she’s free to go. 

“What scene comes next?” There’s a pause so Rintaro can check again. 

“The confession scene.” 

Oh. 

Right. Now you had to tell Rintaro- the Beast, that you loved him. That story was a little weird. 

He was supposed to be at the brink of taking his last breath. You do your best to remain in character as you stare at him lying there on the floor and hurry to crouch down beside him. 

“Wait-Please, don’t leave me.” There were tears in your eyes as the words left your mouth almost desperately. “I love you.” 

Damn, you were good. He almost bought it. Maybe you should audition for drama club. For someone who was about to die there was a lot of color on his face, matching your own blush as you internally freaked out a little. 

At last, the spell was broken, the Beast turned into a handsome prince and there was just one last scene: the kiss. 

You and Rintaro stared nervously at each other, then started getting closer. And closer. The girl directing glanced at the scriptwriter boy. 

Are they kissing for real? 

Everyone was just staring at you two. The other actors, the ones in charge of the scenography. Atsumu’s jaw dropped. 

You could feel Rintaro’s breath tickling your face, your eyes shutting tight. His own eyelids were closing, your lips almost brushing.

The bell rang, signalling the end of rehearsals for today. You took a couple of steps back putting some space between each other. Suna stared at you a little longer,  at your lips, before he cleared his throat and his gaze darted across the room avoiding yours.

“Okay, everyone, let’s continue tomorrow. Atsumu-kun, you better be ready.” 

—

You stared at the poster for the play. It was the first day of the Inarizaki High School Festival. Which in turn meant the big day had arrived. You really hoped everything went alright. Honestly, Atsumu hadn’t gotten much better during rehearsals, always using the wrong tone, stumbling over his words or entirely forgetting his lines. But you didn’t have to worry about that until the evening. Right, they had pushed the play until evening so the different activities’ time didn’t overlap and everyone could go watch. Which meant more people might go. Just great. 

On the bright side, you could carry on with the club’s activity without rush and stop by the different stands and classrooms afterwards. 

Before opening the gym doors, you’d made sure everything was neat and all you might need was at hand. Students from the school, their families, alumni, students from other high schools, junior high students, and people from the community showed up to meet the volleyball team. Kita received everyone with a warm welcome, and you watched as he taught a couple of kids how to place their arms out correctly for a bump before Aran softly threw them the ball for them to make a pass. The little ones adored them, cheering when they got to make the pass back directly to the ace. 

The experience hadn't been the same with a certain boy. When Atsumu tried to speak with the kids, they scurried away, intimidated. You felt bad for him while he tried to figure out what had he done wrong. But there was a little someone who wasn’t afraid of approaching him. As soon as your little brother arrived with your mom and spotted his target - they’d come directly from his school after he finished his own presentation-, he’d been following the setter around everywhere. 

After the match, the boys thanked everyone, bid their goodbyes and split up to get ready to help their class or walk around campus to enjoy the rest of the festival. When you finished cleaning up and putting everything away, you did the same and went with your family. First, you stopped by a food stand to eat something while you still had an appetite - you weren’t sure if you'd feel like eating anything later as the minutes ticked by and show time got closer-. 

You went ahead alone after a while, curious to see how the boys were doing. 

“Y/n! You’re here!” Gin cried out when you reached the home econ. classroom they’d turned into a cafe. 

“Is something wrong?” You looked him over, worried. “Is everyone alright? Where’s Osamu?” 

The boy in the kitchen had accidentally burned himself and was taken to the infirmary. Osamu went from tending to the tables to taking over his place, and they were short handed in staff. 

Ginjima apologized a hundred times while you assured him it was okay as one of the girls working as a waitress pulled you away after you asked how you could help. In a moment you were dressed up and got to work. With the new skills you’d acquired being the manager of the team, you’d noticed how to be more time efficient and the orders were taken out and delivered in no time. People left happily and more came to visit, attracted by one of the Miya’s being in the kitchen and surprising everyone as being a good cook, and by a certain maid’s unexpected arrival. 

—-

The next stop after your impromptu shift was Rintaro’ s classroom. Obviously you weren’t going in to get your picture taken. You just hoped his class had been doing better than Gin’s and the twins. In the back of your mind you were also wondering where Atsumu had gone to. 

When you walked in, you saw none other than Suna himself taking the pictures. You thought the task couldn’t suit him more. 

“Hey.” He greeted you once he stopped to take a break and a girl took over. “Wanna get a picture? I could take it for you.”  He was about ready to tell the girl to move over if you said so. 

“No, but thank you.” You smiled at him. “I just came to take a look around.” 

Everything seemed to be going alright. 

Suddenly, you remembered you never asked him about the mysterious ticket. 

“Ah, Rintaro, what’s this ticket for?” 

“You got one of those too?”  whatever those girls were plotting had Suna surprised at you being tangled up in it. 

“You don’t have one?” You frowned, inspecting the piece of paper. 

“No.” One of his classmates had asked to exchange it and then he just decided to throw it away, not interested in participating. 

“What’s it for?” 

“Um,” He began, uncomfortably, “a kissing booth.” 

It was then that you noticed the other booth at the opposite side. 

The closing of the event would be said kissing booth. It wasn’t a raffle. They had given away tickets with a number on it. The couple that had the same number should go into the booth and kiss. 

Did none of the teachers learn of this?

Suna saw you begin to panic when the time came and they started calling numbers. 

“Now, it’s the turn of couple number 6!” 

A girl stepped forward, and looked around expectantly. Then her eyes landed on Rintaro. The boy whom he’d swapped numbers with looked over at him too, then said. “I thought Suna had that number.” 

He squinted his eyes at the boy, then looked over at the girl.

Oh he was not falling for that.

“Nah, that one ain’t mine really.” 

“What do you mean, “really”?”

“Exchanging numbers is cheating, right?” 

“Yes.” 

“He swapped his with mine.” He jabbed a finger towards the boy. “You have 11, right?”  The boy jolted in place at his bold accusation. A gasp escaped you, looking down at your own number to double check. 

“Y/n?” Suna turned to you, “what is it?” And he finally paid attention to your own ticket, the number 11 glaring back at the two of you. You looked up at him, face burning, and saw his own stunned face.

“But!”  the girl spoke up, getting their attention, “Since you’d already done it, why not just go on with it?” 

The rest of the students glanced between Suna and the other two, while Suna glanced at you, the ticket in your hands and the boy that was holding his.

Then, the girl organizer spoke up, “Where’s the ticket with number 6?” seeing as Suna didn’t have it in his hands. “If you give it back you can get your original number. If not,” she turned to the girl, “You two are out.” 

Suna walked to the back of the classroom, towards a desk near the window. He grabbed his bookbag, recalling the last time he’d seen the damn piece of paper was when he carelessly tossed it in. He still didn’t want to participate at all. It was just that you were there, and there was a boy who thought that he could kiss you for fun. You probably didn’t even know his name!

He rustled the contents of the bag and in the end held it upside down, tossling everything into the desk and clattering to the floor. 

It wasn’t there. 

So that left Suna and the girl out. The girl scowled as she sat back down on a desk and things moved on. 

Then, they called for couple number eleven. 

“You don’t have to do it, you know.” Suna told you earnestly, his firm hold on your upper arm stopping you and making you look up at him again. 

“C’mon, Suna, don’t be a drag.” 

“It’s just a kiss.” 

That’s all they want, right? 

The words were out right as they flashed through his thoughts. 

“Kiss me.” 

“W-What?” 

Was this, what? The second time in less than a month that this happened? 

“It’s just a kiss, right?” He smiled at you bashfully. 

Shyly, you nodded. He brought a hand up to gently cup your face and you closed your eyes. 

It was just for an instant, you felt his lips touch yours. 

Then it was gone. 

“What is going on here?!” 

Hastily, you all turn to find their teacher standing there, eyes wide with disbelief and wrath. 

The kissing booth officially shut down. 

—

It’s all dark and everyone murmurs in anticipation. The Inarizaki Volleyball Club -minus the stars of the night- secured the front row, saving a spot for your mother, your brother, mother Miya and their relatives that had shown up. Rintaro holds a video camera, while Osamu holds a bag of popcorn he’d already eaten halfway through and the show hadn’t even started yet.

Then it’s curtains up, light floods the stage. The scene shows a castle, and there stands Atsumu in his prince costume. There’s a collective delightful sigh from the girls present, though the prince glowers with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Suna doesn’t miss the tint to his cheeks as he zooms the frame and both him and his brother guffaw. Atsumu hears them, his eyes roaming the audience until he spots them and his frown deepens. His eyes caught movement from somewhere else, and he sees you peeking out from backstage, encouraging him and sending him a thumbs up. 

“Go, baby!”  That. That was his mom. His face burns in embarrassment and his teammates just about die stifling their laughs. 

“Once upon a time,” the narrator* starts, “a handsome young prince lived in a beautiful castle.” 

*“Although he had everything his heart desired, he was selfish and unkind.” 

Enter the beggar woman. 

“Please accept this rose in return for shelter this night as it is cold outside.” 

“Take your rose and get movin’!” Atsumu sneered. 

Everyone stared, stricken. 

He was a natural! 

“You should not be deceived by appearances.”

“Yeah right.” 

“You are really up to turn me away?” 

“Darn right. Ya heard me.” 

*“After being dismissed for the second time, the old woman revealed herself to be truly a beautiful enchantress.” 

The girl took off the cape she was wearing. She looked pretty indeed, her hair styled up nicely paired with her makeup and dress. 

“I ain’t apologizing to anyone.” 

“Very well then, you spoiled brat,” For a moment, his counterpart ran out of patience and also went out of script, “I’ll cast this spell over you and your castle to teach you a lesson, until you learn to love and earn another’s love in return.”

The lights went out for a moment, and when they turned back on, the two were back. Atsumu had been transformed as the Beast: there was a wig with a pair of horns and some dog-like ears attached to his head, a beard on his face to match, a pair of pointy fangs protruding from his mouth and his shoes are gone, now having claws for hands and feet. He didn’t look scary at all, looking more like he was a wolf than a beast. The public laughed. 

“This rose will bloom until your twenty-first year. If by then you haven’t found love, the spell will remain and you’ll be cursed to stay a Beast for all time.” 

It was time for your appearance. You show up, wearing a simple blue day dress topped with an apron. And you surprise everyone by singing a little, getting applause from the audience.

The story moves on, and now Belle has taken her father’s place as the Beast’s prisoner. 

“I’ll show ya to your room.” 

“My room? But I though-” 

“If ya wanna stay here, fine by me!” Atsumu says harshly, then looks at your tear stained face. He knows you’re just playing your part, but he actually feels bad about having yelled at you. “I me-” 

*“The Beast leads Belle to her room,”  Atsumu deflates as he gets interrupted by the narrator. 

He’s relieved when not long after, there comes the ballroom scene, which means the whole thing is almost over. 

The audience gasps as the spotlight falls on you dressed in a ball gown at the top of a set of stairs to the left side of the stage, while you’re too busy carefully descending the steps. You’re afraid you might trip on your heels. Or get your feet tangled in your skirts and roll down instead. When you reach the center of the room, it’s Atsumu’s turn to make his way down from the other set of stairs on the right. 

He’s right in front of you and now that the light shines upon you both, he can fully take in the image of you. 

The song begins to play and you dance. There’s no dialogue, but he still speaks.

“You look pretty.” He smiles sheepishly. 

 Staring at the cute ears on his head, you let out a small laugh, looking radiant, “Thank you.” 

Belle returns after being set free with a new revelation, and Atsumu is your next victim when the confession scene rolls in. The audience is moved to tears by your delivery and stare expectantly when the lights go out, meaning the spell was broken and the return of the prince. 

Atsumu hurries backstage for the outfit change, gladly to finally get rid of the ridiculous costume. He takes off the itchy claws, his shirt, the fake hair around his face that tickles, the fake fangs that hurt his lip earlier, and off goes the wig all with horns and ears. 

You start to worry when Atsumu doesn’t come out and you’re there standing in the dark for more than you should. The audience starts to murmur, also wondering what’s taking so long for the play to continue.  In the shadows, the team sees you as you pick up the skirt of your dress and run following the same direction he went. 

“What happened?” You ask as soon as you get backstage. 

Everyone turns to you. Atsumu stands in the middle, sitting on a chair, shirtless, almost all parts of his costume gone except his pants, and well, the wig. One of the girls from the costume department stands close, trying one more time to yank it off. 

“Ouch!” He yelps, swatting the hands away. “I told ya to stop that!” Then his eyes meet yours through the mirror in front of him. 

He blushes in embarrassment but turns to you, “The stupid wig doesn’t come off!” 

Why was this happening to him? After he accepted his fate and went through being part of the stupid play now there’s a stupid wig that won’t come out of his head. Did they put glue on it? He didn’t want to be the bald twin. 

“What do we do now?” 

You stare at Atsumu and see his frustration.

“Don’t worry, we’ll fix this. It’ll be fine.” you encourage him, holding one of his hands with yours.

“Y/n? Atsumu?” 

“Kita-senpai!” 

“Is something wrong? Oh, we brought this. For you.” 

It’s then you notice the flower bouquet he’s holding. He hands them to you. 

“Thank you.” You say as your heart melts a little. He was so sweet. 

You move on to tell him what’s wrong and see his genuine concern but everyone’s worries vanish with two words. 

“He’s perfect!” 

—

The lights come back on, you’re back on stage with

Kita?!

The girls grip their chest as if they’re hearts have been stricken and it’s too much to take. What they’re witnessing is utter perfection. A third year - and it’s not any third year-, Kita Shinsuke, stands there as the Prince who seems to shine without the need of the limelight. As if fallen from heaven itself. It brings some of them to tears as hearts seem to float around them. 

It’s the final scene, the kiss. You stare up at your upperclassman, flustered, then he leans in and kisses you. On the cheek, close to your lips. Because you didn’t need to kiss for real. 

When he pulls back, he dedicates you a soft smile which you return. 

The audience erupts in applause and you hear your friends whoop and holler.

The curtain closes.

–

Last night, you were exhausted and surrendered to sleep without problem. Today, you were back up again for day two. But this time around, you were going exclusively to enjoy the last of it as a visitor along with the rest of the volleyball team. 

You ate, took group photos, saw the different projects and exhibitions, and participated in different games and contests. 

Now for the big closing, there will be fireworks. 

“Where’s Y/n? She’s going to miss it!” 

“I think she went back inside.” 

“I’ll go look for her.” 

Atsumu headed back inside the school after you. The hallways were dark, soft moonlight seeping in from the windows. There was yellow light coming from one of the classrooms, escaping from the panel on the door and from under it. 

“Y/n? What are you doing here? We found a good spot.” 

“Ah, Atsumu. I just- It’s a little windy outside and I forgot to bring a jacket.” You admit. He nods in understanding. The nights were beginning to get a little chilly. Atsumu wasn’t a fan of the cold. At that moment it’s impossible for him to ignore that he’s not wearing one either, and so he can’t lend it to you. 

“We can ask one of the others to lend you one.” 

Absolutely not, “It’s alright, really. But you can go back with the others.” 

“I’ll stay here with you.”  He moves to sit next to you near a window. 

As you begin to complain back and forth -you telling him it’s alright and that he can go while he argues that he doesn’t mind and won’t leave you alone-, you had tuned out everything else and for a moment you had forgotten what was about to happen. You jump in place and nearly fall from your seat when the first bang is set and then follows an explosion of colors in the sky. 

Atsumu moves and catches you, but it’s so sudden you both end up falling on your asses. You managed to miss him, landing between his spread out legs instead, and you laugh, turning your head slightly to look back at him. “You alright?” 

“Yeah.” He holds back a grimace and smiles back at you. You both don’t make a move to stand up. Instead you turn to look out the window excitedly, the sparkles filling your vision, mouth open in awe as you take in the scene. Atsumu stares at you at first, then leans back on his arms contentedly while he stays there watching the fireworks with you. 

As long as you’re with your friends, any spot could become a good spot. 

Extra 14: Chef Miya Osamu and Miss Maid Manager: The Miracle Duo! [223]

You’re sitting nearby Osamu in the makeshift kitchen after the rush has died down. There’s this mouth watering smell in the air from whatever the boy is making. You’d seen hearts floating around the cafe all the while you’d tended to the tables. 

Osamu steals a few glances at you. Seeing you dressed in a maid outfit was not on his bingo card for today. He’s sure there’d be chaos if the others were here. Especially his twin who had a thing for dramatics - so dramatic but for what he’s heard apparently he sucks on stage. He laughs inwardly to himself but can’t help to pity you a little for what you’re in for later-. He noticed though, while you’re sitting there resting you’d quite spaced out, a content look on your face. 

A plate is placed in front of you, and you return to planet Earth, still in work mode. 

Osamu stops you, “It’s for you.”, and chuckles a little at your surprise.

“Oh. Thank you. But you didn’t have to.” 

He scoffs, “Please. I think I’ve heard your stomach grumble at least twice.” 

Your face reddens in embarrassment. 

When you try it, Osamu stares expectantly, awaiting your reaction. 

There are more hearts floating around the kitchen, this time coming from you as you hum in delight. Osamu smiles with pride, satisfied.

Extra 15: Sorry for the blur, my camera doesn’t focus on the fake [201]

A few days pass, and Rintarō’s class starts to get complaints after they've delivered the pictures to everyone that went to their class for the photo booth.

The pair of photographers are sitting in front of their class organizer. She’s ninety nine percent sure of who’s responsible, but to make it fair and not jump to accusations, she drops the question. 

“Which of you is responsible for the blurry pictures?” 

The girl side eyes Suna, positive she wasn’t. 

“What?” Then, he grabs one of the pictures. A blurred faced girl. He turns to his partner, “That girl was awful. She was mean to you while asking only for me to take the photo. And this guy,” He turned to the organizer, “skipped the line.” 

“What about this one?” She holds up a group photo. Among them is the boy who’d swapped his ticket with his, face blurred. Being petty, he’d ruined it after the kissing booth deception attempt. 

He shrugged, answering simply and sincerely, “I just don’t like him.” 

*

He takes out his notebook for class, and doesn’t notice a crumpled paper slip peeking at the bottom and about to fall from between the sheets.

When it did, there was a ticket with number 6, never to be seen. 

Extra 16: The Villain of the Story  [140]

“Okay, girls, I heard there’s a kiss scene in class A’s play. We have to stop Atsumu from kissing the volleyball manager.” 

“Are they kissing for real for the play?”

“Of course they are! And if we didn’t know, would you wanna risk it?”

“No…” 

“Okay, then. What should we do?” 

“Why don’t we drop a barrel of paint on them?” 

“We don’t want to ruin his hair!” 

“Drop the curtains?” 

“Nah, they might fix it up too soon. And it’s too risky to get up there and down without getting busted.” 

“And we could hurt someone down on stage.” 

“That too.” 

“I got it! One of you is going backstage to mess up his last costume change. With the flurry of people going to and fro, they won’t notice if someone that isn’t part of the team sneaks in!” 

Extra 17: And He Huffed and He Puffed

“If only you were triplets, you would've been perfect for “Three Little Pigs.””

“Ha,ha. Very funny.” 

They’d come to almost do it in junior high ( someone had slipped that into the suggestion box) but nobody else needed to know that. 

“You could still do it for Halloween.” 

“No way.” 

You snorted, imagining Atsumu dressed in costume. 

“What if y/n was the third one?”  

“What? Why are you involving me?” 

They ignored you, “Would you do it then?” 

Guess he would. And you all did, grudgingly.

“Just so you know. I own the brick house.” 

(Rintarō was the big bad wolf).

A/N: We've reached part 10! I can't believe it. Just reaching part 6 was a stretch (does any of y'all remember my struggles back then? XD). Thank you so much for reading this story and showing it love. Means a lot.

The name of this chapter is word play. “Fall” as in the season, “Fall” as in, did I get you to fall for something that didn’t happen (probably once or twice XD)?, and “Fall” literally. There was a lot of falling here heheh. I wrote the first part second. I never imagined I'll write this much for Shiratorizawa and here I go narrating most of their match. I just love Tendou sm. And Oikawa!! Still not sure if I write him good enough but I was dying to find a way to introduce him here.

So much to say about this and that but don't want to make a long ass note like I tend to do.

Anyways, hope you love this one. I went insane and wrote for days beginning right after posting the previous part.

Until next time! - Youmarin

(don't be surprised if I disappear for a while again. I might've fried my brain working on this one).

P.S.: Atsumu ran into your mom and your brother after you split up in festival day 1.

[seniaasaysstuff]

𝐌𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥🥀 || 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

a/n- This is a grumpy! sukuna x !sunshine reincarnated reader ficlet. The reader was kind of lovers with sukuna before he became a curse. Idk haha read to find out! Hope you enjoy it. Let me know if you want to read more of it. The lovers meet at last.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩

Previous chapter || Next chapter

You were at the hospital looking after Yuji’s grandfather while Yuji was at school.

His grandfather was a grumpy old man. He was such a tsundere. He loved Yuji, he had raised him but he just didn’t really like showing affection.

You were chatting with Grandpa Saitou

“Nee-san!” Yuji cheered as he walked inside the hospital room. You got up from where you were sitting and hugged him.

“Yuji you remind me so much of Ryo today.” You wiped a tear.

“Stop crying nee-san we’ll find Ryo-nii one day I promise.” He assured you.

“Yuji you’re a strong kid, take care of others especially her. She’s been through a lot. Both of you protect each other no matter what.” Grandpa saitou spoke and turned over.

“Grandpa? Grandpa?” Yuji called out.

That was when you both knew that he was dead.

“It’s okay sweetheart.” You rubbed his back as he cried holding onto you. You slowly led him outside the room and sat him down.

You were approached by an emo-looking boy with spiky hair.

"Yuji Itadori, correct?" The person asked. You frowned. Couldn’t the dude see that he was grieving?

"I’m from Jujutsu high school. Sorry, but there's no time." He said.

You perked up at that. He was a sorcerer? He could help you find Ryo.

"The cursed object you have is extremely dangerous. Hand it over right away." The spiky-haired boy stated.

"Cursed object?" Itadori asked, confused.

The three of us moved to a more secluded area.

"This, you have it right?" He asked as he pulled out his phone with a picture of the cursed object. "hm?" Itadori looked closer.

"Oh yeah! I found it. I don't really mind giving it back, but my fellow club members have taken a liking to it." He spoke.

"I’d at least like an explanation."

"The majority are the result of negative energy that flows out of people..." Megumi started.

~I’m not going to write the entire process of Yuji eating the finger so timeskip~

"I just need some cursed energy, right?" He rustled through his pocket and pulled out the finger and ate it.

"You Dumbass!" You exclaimed.

What if he dies? You wouldn’t be able to recover from it.

Itadori started to laugh like crazy.

"Ah! I knew it!" His laughter ceased.

"Light is best appreciated in the flesh!" The person spoke. He sounded like Ryo but you weren’t sure.

“Yuji? Kiddo?” You yelled. The person inhabiting Yuji’s body turned to look at you.

You gasped.

The markings on the face looked exactly like the ones that Ryo had.

“R-yo?” You stuttered. He dropped down to his knees.

“You’re alive. Oh my sweetheart you’re alive.” He mumbled.

You swore you saw him tear up.

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 4 (Mastermind)—MOTA Fic

A/N: i don't particularly want to post on mother's day, so I'm updating a day early so I can get this out here to you all. Go check out my poll please :) I'm about to write some Abe content and I'm SO excited to get him in the story haha! As always, let me know what you all think and enjoy!

Early June 1943

Ruth glanced between the sweating private, the ticked major, and the way that Colonel Huglin shifted in his seat uncomfortably.  The court martial had continued on through the morning with both the private and the major pleading their cases and defending their decisions.  Currently though, it seemed both she and Huglin were suffering from headaches at the way that the major wanted Private Weston to be punished. 

It was unreasonable punishment to dock a month’s pay in addition to cleaning in the kitchens and assisting the ground crew with some repairs.  It was a gross exaggeration to the crime that had been committed—though Ruth was starting to understand why Weston had first punched Major Monson in the first place.  

Never one to condone violence lightly, as far as Ruth could tell, Monson had been the aggressor in the situation and Weston had responded in kind.  God, these military types were all the same with their egos and the way that they were just asking to get punched in the face . 

There was only one time where Ruth had punched a man, and it had been in her freshman year of law school at Brooklyn Law.  She was one of three girls in her class and upon entry into the class shared with Robby Rosenthal, one of the other students began to make some demeaning comments about the way that the girls should have been at home and trying to take care of the kids and the families or something. 

Rosenthal—being the bleeding heart that he was—had verbally defended the girls.  But Ruth didn’t need him defending her and she certainly didn’t want or appreciate his help.  Women had always stood on their own and the best way to get back at jackasses like this guy was to simply prove him wrong. 

Her moral high ground had gone out the door the minute that he had mentioned how he wanted to sink himself in her breasts.  That had been when Ruth had punched him square in the nose and broken it .  And considering it was all before the professor had entered the classroom and her warning him that no one would ever believe him, Ruth had spent the rest of the year in quiet infamy for her deed.  

Rising to her feet and contemplating further punching Monson, Ruth knew that an act like that would only end in disaster.  And her nails were perfectly painted in Victory Red at the moment, so chipping them over someone like him wasn’t really worth her time. 

“Weston will take kitchen duty and assist the ground crews for a month.  But docking a man a month’s pay when he’s got a wife back home seems especially cruel for something that didn’t end in any permanent damage,” Ruth said coolly.  “A more serious infraction such as destruction of United States Military property might warrant such an act, but I don’t believe this does.  Colonel?” 

Colonel Huglin seemed pleased with the way she had weaved her words, leaving Monson stuttering and jaw nearly dropped.  “I agree.  Case dismissed.” 

Ruth gave a cold smirk in Monson’s direction.  “And I’d be a bit more careful about your alcohol intake, Major.  All sorts of mistakes and infractions can happen when one is inebriated.” With that, she gave a salute and waited for Huglin’s dismissal of the other men. 

Once Monson and a grateful Weston were gone, Huglin just leaned back in his chair, giving a deep sigh.  “I wish all of our cases were as quick as that.” 

“Oh give it a week, sir,” Ruth insisted.  “Once they’re more familiar with my breed of court martialing, I doubt they’ll want to spend long with me.” 

A dry smile quirked at Huglin’s lips.  “I’m sure.  I heard you already made an impression at the pubs concerning the fraternization rule?” 

“I’m working on it, sir,” Ruth assured him.  “Things like that tend to be a little more under the rug than other infractions.” 

“I’m assuming you have experience?” 

“Too much, given my time in Aldbourne, sir.” From her bag, Ruth withdrew a packet and handed it over to him.  “And these are my disciplinary recommendations for the other men who are undergoing court martials.” 

“All of them?” 

“There were only seven cases and I’m a quick reader.” 

Huglin stared at her for a moment, taking in the efficiency and zeal with which she exacted justice.  Lieutenant Sharpe was nothing if not a credit to her profession and clearly someone who he could use to whip this base into the best shape it could be.  He had half a mind to have her infiltrate the ranks of those instigators and those who faithfully kept on gaining infractions.  

If only to see their faces when they realized that she was catching them in the act of infractions and had the authority to order them to court martials herself. 

“I’m sure we’ll find more for you to do once the new recruits arrive,” Huglin finally stated. “You’re dismissed.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“And Sharpe?” 

“Yes?” 

“Good work today.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Ruth made her way into the mess hall for a late breakfast, she found that there were a scattering of people around the room, only a few of which she knew the names of.  Ruth hadn’t gotten very far with her tray of toast and oatmeal—finding her way to an empty table, she was quiet as she sat down, hoping for some peace and quiet after her eventful court case this morning. 

Before she could so much as pray over her food, Bucky Egan had slid up onto the bench across from her.  “You’re up late,” he remarked pointedly. 

Ruth just placed her napkin in her lap and gave him a stare of annoyance.  “I’ve been up since everyone else has.  Huglin and I had a case.” 

“Wow, you’re really great at making friends,” Bucky said dryly.  

“I’m not here to make friends, Egan,” Ruth retorted, stabbing her spoon into the oatmeal.  “If I wanted to make friends, I would have stayed back in New York and joined a sewing circle.  Is there a reason why you’re here to bother me?” 

“Actually yes,” Bucky said, tearing off a piece of her toast before she could swat his hand away.  He grinned triumphantly at her, an almost smug expression on his face.  “I’m here because my boys are flying in this morning and I’m hoping you’ll cut them some slack on their first day.” 

“And you thought that stealing my toast was a good winning point?” Ruth raised a brow. 

He abruptly dropped the piece he had been in the process of stealing, a slight show of guilt crossing his features.  “I hadn’t considered that portion, no.” 

“Well unfortunately for you, Egan,” Ruth said pointedly.  “It’s not up to me.  But I will give you a slight warning.  Huglin wants to do surprise inspections upon their arrival so I hope that your boys are as up to shape as you think that they are.” 

“They will be,” Bucky replied evenly.  “They’re the best of the best and that’s just a fact.” 

“Is it?” 

“It is,” Bucky said proudly, leaning back in his chair.  “They’re the best damn pilots and men that I’ve ever known. You’ll see.” 

She nearly rolled her eyes.  “If only every leader had that kind of faith in their men, maybe this war would actually be over.” 

“Was that a compliment?” 

“No.  Your faith is accompanied by ego and it’s off-putting.” 

“You’re a cold woman, Sharpe.” 

“That’s Lieutenant to you,” Ruth retorted.  “Good day, Air Executive Egan.” With that, Ruth rose from her spot and made a beeline towards the garbage cans.   

“I’m gonna wear you down!” Bucky called in an insistent tone.  “We’ll be friends in no time!” 

Ruth just shook her head as she walked away.  She’d sooner be framed for murder than spend time actually making unnecessary friends. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unwilling to part with his drink of the morning and trying to put on a good impression, Bucky exited his chair, pushing it back in lazily and whistling Blue Skies under his breath. He lazily made his way out of the office and to the jeep, that seemed like it was just waiting for him anyway.

He was still burping up some of the alcohol from the night before— it was too early for shit like writing letters to families anyway. He could push that off on the other Air Execs, seeing as how he didn’t intend to be an Air Exec for long anyhow.  

Giving a wave to the men that had given him the bikes, Bucky grinned as his eyes landed on his boys in the skies above. All in a nice and neat line, tucking in from a long day of flying from Greenland. Everyone had gathered for the occasion and he passed dozens of children as he drove on the runway.

Pulling to a stop, Bucky’s eyes landed on Buck’s plane—where DeMarco was depositing a dog. A dog was certainly against regulation—but he couldn’t see even Sharpe being able to say no to a dog like this.  He couldn’t help the grin on his face as he climbed out of the car. “DeMarco!” He called, an energetic pep filling his tone.

“Hey, Major!” DeMarco grinned, dog-leash in hand.

“Where’d you get that dog, Benny?”

“I won him in a game of Craps!” DeMarco explained.

Bucky had always wanted a dog growing up. Somethin’ about it being man’s best friend or whatever had always struck him as endearing. His ma had always told him no, he was the family dog. So at the sight of the dog, he leaned down and gave him a good pat behind the ears. 

“You took this baby above 10000 feet?” Bucky questioned.

“He’s got a mask!” DeMarco promised, patting at his jacket. “Cost me $3 but boy, he loved to fly!”

“He wouldn’t stop howling!” Buck chimed in, appearing in their vision.

“That’s because he’s part wolf!”

“That wolf is part dog,” Buck corrected.

“Well, does he have a name?” Bucky demanded.

“Meatball!” DeMarco answered, a grin on his face.

“Welcome to the Hundredth, Meatball!” With that done, DeMarco took off towards the barracks to get Meatball and himself settled.  He had only been walking for a little bit before Meatball decided to take a turn of his own, going straight over to the woman sitting and writing in a bound leather journal. 

“Meatball, no—” 

Ruth’s head perked up as the dog, presumably known as Meatball, decided to nuzzle into her leg.  Stopping her notations, Ruth took a moment to pet the dog.  “I wasn’t aware the air base had a mascot,” Ruth said, glancing towards the probable owner—a man in shades and looking a little embarrassed about the entire thing. 

“He’s new!  Meatball’s his name.” 

Ruth had a small soft spot when it came to animals.  And though it certainly wasn’t regulation, she had no problem with them .  A small smile spread across her face as she ran her fingers through Meatball’s mane.  “Well if I get you the paperwork for this sweet dog, do you think you can fill it out and get it back to me before the end of the day?” 

“I-uh—” 

“Meatball’s against regulation and while I don’t have a problem with dogs, I have a feeling Huglin will,” Ruth explained.  

“I can do that.  Uh—Ma’am—” 

“Lieutenant Ruth Sharpe of the JAG-Corp,” Ruth extended a hand, a genuine smile on her face.  

“Captain Benny DeMarco,” Benny said, shaking her hand with a small smile of his own. “You’re the one that terrorized Egan a few weeks back?”

“Oh, I’ve made it into the letters.  My sole goal in life,” Ruth retorted dryly. 

“Ah no, we all thought it was pretty funny,” Benny admitted.  “Sometimes, he could use a good knock on the head.” 

“Noted.  Well I’ll do my best to not disappoint and continue to knock him on the head when occasion calls for it. And you didn’t hear it from me,” Ruth continued. “But Huglin’s allergic to dogs.  I’d hide him in the nurses barracks for now.” 

“Noted,” Benny replied, a grin spreading across his features.  “Let me know if you ever need someone’s help with Egan’s ego!  I’m in!”