#i recently cut my long hair up to my shoulders and i kind of want to cry all the time

[groovyangelkisses]

okay so I can’t help but get the lyric “washing my hair, doing the laundry, late night tv, I want you only” by Miss Lana Del Rey herself out of my head. I keep thinking about it having something to do with Logan! More like X1 Logan (but any era you want) and maybe reader just saying it to Logan during soft and gentle sex after a long day? I’m feeling very cliche tonight. (love your writing btw)🎀

thank you for the kindness, sweetheart! this has been slowly corroding my soul recently so, absolutely yes. this is sooooo cage fighter!logan! 💋ྀིྀི

this is my first long, smutty fic. please be gracious with myself, and my work!

beautiful, deep normality.

nsfw— minors dni, please ₊˚ 🦢・₊✧ : my ode to lana x logan, not proofread, SMUT, oral (f recieving), copious "i love yous" during sex, fem!reader, cage fighter!logan, established relationship, spit (with love)

3:08 am. and no sign of him yet. cradling a bin of laundry to your hip, you ignore the exhaustion pulling at your shoulders, waltzing through your small home, tinted blue by a lonely moonlight. the small tv in the corner, usually crowded by a grumpy logan in his favorite recliner, hums lowly— static on static, you feel electric waiting for him to come home.

the velcro rollers lightly pull on the baby hairs at the nape of your neck, and tracing your fingernails over the offending pull does nothing to quell the stinging. the house feels empty without the presense of logan, without the feel of his towering being lurking on shadows of the walls or placing weight onto your bed. your chest bounces, up & down, as a glimpse of a life without logan settles on you like the soft weight of his white beater you wear.

waiting up for logan was never an easy feat, in fact, it's the hardest part of your day. waiting for greatness, for comfort, for ease and safety had the hairs on your arms pricking in anticipation. i wonder if he's thinking of me, you pause your folding minstrations to ponder, though you know the answer. "always am babydoll," he'd say, "just can't seem to shake you."

the scrape of the front door breaks you out of your trance, you turn, a small smile resting on your sleepy face. the house seems warmer, the nauseating blue of the grainy tv seems brighter— all because of him.

logan looks down as he enters the small space, shaking his keys in his left hand as he shrugs off his denim jacket; lined with the gorgeous, warm flannel pattern you sewed in for him a few weeks ago.

he doesn't meet your eyes as he toes his boots off, softly moving to his chair with the silent shuffle of his socks on the wooden floor. he plops himself down with an exasperated head shake, leaning his head back to rest when you notice it. a deep cut on his lip, healing slower than the rest of him.

"baby? oh, baby, what happened?" you coo, rushing over to him to perch yourself on the arm of the recliner— your usual spot. staring ahead at the late night talk show on the television, his hand instantly assumes its place, resting on your hip as he sighs, "'s nothin. shit day, is all." you nod, understanding why he blankets himself with silence; his work life is reduced to hit, after hit, all to provide for you & him.

your long nails scratch the hair at the nape of his neck, a desperate attempt for him to meet your eyes. his eyes flutter closed, the bright neon of cable swiping across his exhausted, sweaty face like a kaleidoscope. your other hand reaches up, lazily, gently, swiping across his face & tracing his beard. logan growls low in his chest with affection, and for a moment you think he'll meet your eyes— abandon the shame of his labor, the metal corroding sadness that a girl as beautiful as you is stuck with him in this shitty apartment. but he doesn't. this must've been a terribly exhausting day for him, you think to yourself.

with a light tap to your hip, his lips curled inward, logan stands and stretches his arms above his head. his triceps tense as he attempts to find relief, staring at the ceiling as he decompresses. he's too far away, much too far away.

"lo?" you rise from the chair, your his beater riding up across your tummy as you gaze up at him. "hm?" his hand rubs across his hairy cheeks and chin, his eyes finally opening to look at you.

in this light, his stature looks larger than usual. broad shoulders highlighted by the moonlight filtering in from the broken blinds. chest heaving in and out of the light reflecting from the kitchen— making a stripe across his white beater, in and out with his breath. his hands twitch, making a fist & releasing with the scattered applause on the television, and his socks dig into the soft carpet beneath his feet. stale sweat glistens on his face, pooling in the hollow of his collarbone as the overhead fan slightly blows hair across his forehead— the gel you put in for him this morning having melted from his match tonight.

and you want him. the thought of the weight of him on top of you consumes you, for a moment. so big, so scary and mean to the outside world, but so gentle to you. he needs that gentleness now, you can see it in his loving, hazel eyes. you & he stare at one another for a few beats before you speak, your hair rollers clacking as you maintain, "i want you, logan."

he was thinking it, too. just.. after the matches he went through today, he had no idea how to tell you just how much he wants you, too. logan's breath stutters, the strip of light from the kitchen bleeds into his shirt as he moves closer to you. eyes softening with desire, you double down, "i want you on me, logan. all the time." your head bobs as you nod, needing him to understand just how much you adore him.

breathless, though you've both been in this position many times, he wraps his arm behind your back, pulling you into him desperately. it seems that he's finally taken his first breath of the night, like he's finally free and safe— no longer King of the Cage when he's with you. logan's hand slides down your trembling arm, moving yours to rest above his heart as he cradles your head to him, "so sweet to me. i don't understand it."

"don't need you to, lo. just need you to know it... know that i want you. always will" sighing into his chest, you tear up. he pulls you back, a piece of hair falling over his forehead as he gazes down at you. in the darkness of your home, he tears up too, kissing you with both hands cradling your face, "take care'a me. need you so much right now" he stutters between kisses.

it's a blur, the descent into your bedroom, logan guiding you backwards as he kisses you. somehow, despite the lack of vision and control, this is the safest you've felt all day. he lays you down on your bed, hair framing your face as you smile up at him. and one finally stretches across his face, too. "beautiful. too fuckin' beautiful, ah christ, you make me ache" logan smiles, hand coming up to touch his chest in a movement of genuine infatuation. and you giggle at him, and his smile grows wider as he nips at your collarbone, hands framing your face like he is almost afraid to touch you.

the curlers dig into the back of your head as he moves down your body, lips dragging across cotton and skin. "did'ya think of me today, bub?" he asks, mid sniff of the skin of your womb, warm from his touch. you nod down at him, a little embarassed and flushed. "yeah?" logan smiles "when? when'dya think of me?" he pauses his movements to relish in your shyness— ever the tease. closing your eyes, your hand falling across them as you giggle, you place one hand in his hair and sigh, "washing my hair... doing the laundry... every second, lo" sweet, loving eyes stare up at you mid-kiss as the moment grows serious, you repeat "every second." logan grunts in response, calloused fingers peeling your white panties down your legs as his hands run down them— eager to touch as much of you as he can at once.

placing your legs over his strong, but weary shoulders, he leans in to lick a stripe up your cunt, gooey spit warming your thighs. logan sighs breathlessly into you, kissing and nipping at your button as his eyes close in relaxation. this is just as much for him, as it is for you.

his blunt fingernails dig into the sheets beside you, afraid to touch, ever gracious with his meal. you bring his hand to yours, locking fingers as he looks up at you, tongue never ceasing his adoring attention as you writhe and pant. making love to logan is one thing, one soul-shattering experience, but this? this is logan making love to you with the same mouth he claims never knows what to say. but every word is gospel to you, every prod of his tongue, as well.

"so sweet" he finally speaks, voice gruff as he releases your hand to cup your lovehandles, holding you in place. your release is right there, his nose leaving lovebumps on your clit as he swirls his tongue, dipping into a spot made by the universe only for him. you squeal, legs kicking his shoulders, as you attempt to back up from the intensity. but logan holds you in place, yanking you back to the edge of the bed, his heavy arm draping across your tummy to keep you in place as you wail. "c'mon sweet girl, 's okay, i can take it," he whispers, sloppily kissing your folds, big thumb reaching down off ur tummy to rub your clit in the sweetest little circles.

you cry out, mouth forming an "o" shape as you finish, logan mocking your face with a growing smile overtaking the wide-eyed "o", "'s a good girl... good girl, baby." bringing his thumb to his mouth, he licks the rest of you off of the pad quickly, moving back up to watch your face as you breathe and gather yourself.

the weight of him on top of you feels so good, so fulfilling, so right. you're so interlinked with one another, that as you whine from the aftershocks, he whines lowly with you unconsciously— your pleasure is his, it seems. with a hand behind his neck, fingers once again twirling in the hairs at the nape, you pull him into a kiss as he groans. "so good" he chides, "want you all around me, honey."

he pushes his jeans and boxers down, throwing his belt to the floor with a clink & raising his eyebrows in slight shock at the sound. you laugh, and he looks back at you with a flushed face, bad day seeming further and further away as the end-of-summer air floats in from the window. your back arches as he places his pillow beneath your hips, always wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.

logan lays fully on top of you, kissing you as you drag your nails down his back. pulling back, he exhales in pleasure at the drag— a welcomed pain, compared to the punches he'd taken, to appear normal, of course, at the bar. his hand trembles as he leans down, holding his cock in his hand as he drags it across your weeping cunt.

logan's breath falters, catching in his chest like a tied satin bow, "you love me?" he asks you. "y-yes... so much.. so so much, logan" you remind him, growing desperate for all of him, always.

"you-you want me?" his eyes are closed as he asks you, too afraid to look, too afraid to face the possibility that maybe one day, you won't. you cup his face, feeling the dried down mixture of his spit and your pleasure on his beard. no words are spoken as you nod, looking into your lover's eyes with sincerity. he mirrors your nod, interlinked as always, and slowly pushes into you, eyes clenching shut as he grits out "fuuuck, my baby."

logan bottoms out, letting you catch your breath from the stretch of him. he breaths roughly through his nose, gaining his control as he gets lost in the sounds, the smells of your shared apartment. the tv, long unwatched, continues to blare in the living room. the ceiling fan clicks with each rotation, and you're underneath him— as soft and pliant and good at taking him as you've always been.

lurching forward, logan connects your lips, a slight drag in his hips; back and forth, back and forth. you whine, lips parting in bliss as he looks at you, a line of spit connecting you as you pout. his head falls, one hand placed atop of your head as he wiggles his hips into you, deep enough that you swear he can feel your heart beating. "i want you. every... every fuckin' minute i'm awake, d'ya understand me?" he gushes, finally letting himself go in the pleasure, in the pain, exhaustion and you.

"i-i understand" you whisper as his hips lightly pick up his pace. there's so much slick between you, that when he slips out for a moment, he's gutted, frantically trying to find that warmth again as he pants, "theeeere we go... thas' good, thas' right"

the domesticity, the weight, the way he trusts you— all of it leads to you losing your breath, back arching as you warn "l-lo, 'm gonna...i-" he cuts you off, head snapping back up from watching himself disappear into you to kiss you, hot tongue comforting you. "i love you, f-fuck, thank you for waitin' up for me. sweet girl, i fuckin' love you. come, c'mon, i wanna feel you"

and when you do, when the stars spread across your ceiling and your eyes roll back, you can feel his hips stutter. pulling logan closer to you, you whine "more more more" and the poor, exhausted man loses it, his head falling next to your own as you feel the full weight of his metal skeleton as he chokes out a final, thick, rumbling grunt.

losing his breath, logan pants, hand grasping to find your own as he comes down from his high, spend leaking onto the bed beneath you. "jus' a few more minutes, babydoll. tell 'er to love me for a few more minutes" he asks, slowly starting to fall asleep with his face in the mattress, as your cunt clenches, loves around him.

an uncomfortable position? sure, but he won't move, you couldn't even make him. nothing could stop him from needing you, always, just as much as you need him.

the ceiling fan squeaks, the tv drones, the moonlight bathes him, the rollers pull at your hair, and he's finally home, in you.

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

Where The Shadows Dance - The Proposition (i)

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

CHAPTER I: The Proposition

SUMMARY: Beron has invited the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court to spend a week in the Autumn Court. Azriel and the rest of the Court of Dream believe he has ulterior motives, and they are correct - but these motives come as a surprise.

WARNINGS: Um. Misogyny. love that for us (i hate the autumn court). swearing (the f-word (as in fuck)), y/n has daddy issues (bc beron is a cunt) and uh... i haven't read acotar in ages so apologies for any OC characteristics and forgetting everything about the autumn court. but i did read HOFAS recently so hopefully az isn't too out of character. also tw: beron

NOTE: so obviously Y/n is the daughter of the autumn court. we know they have red hair BUT i want this to be as less oc as possible so y/n has your colour hair and u can make up ur own story about why but mine is that she's 'rebellious' (as you'll see later on) and just dyes her hair. also special thank you to my moots @icey--stars and @fieldofdaisiies for proofreading my work! i love you guys<3

WORDS: 2.7K

Azriel glowered at the male sat across from him. Eris either didn't notice or pretended he didn't care as he reclined in his chair, one arm over the back and looking for all the world he was in his own home, rather than the Court Of Nightmares.

"Eris," Rhys drawled, "if you have any information to help us with this meeting with your father, we would appreciate it immensely."

The High Lord of the Autumn Court had invited the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court to his castle for a week, as a gesture of good will, and an attempt to strengthen their bonds. Of course, the court was suspicious of the intent behind such actions. Although Azriel had sent his contacts in to find any sliver of information, his spies had come back empty-handed.

Eris rolled his shoulders, seemingly at ease despite being surrounded by the Night Court's most deadly warriors. "I am not entirely sure what he wants, but I assume it has something to do with my sister, Y/n."

Y/n, the only daughter of the High Lord of Autumn. She was quite young, by Fae standards – only seventy-nine. She had not fought in the war against Hybern, and had very little training according to Azriel's knowledge.

"Why her?" Feyre asked carefully.

Azriel heard the shift in her tone. She was wondering, as they all were, what Beron intended to do with her. The Autumn Court was just as backwards as the Court Of Nightmares, and females were considered little more than property. 

Eris simply shrugged, either not hearing the implications in the High Lady's tone, or simply not caring. "That is all I know, I'm afraid."

Cassian grunted, his eyes still on the heir to the Autumn throne. No one was particularly happy about the bargain they had struck with him, but he seemed to be a willing ally. For now.

"What can you tell us about her?" Feyre inquired.

Eris watched her for a moment, before responding, "She is… wild. Untamed, and unpredictable."

Despite his words, Azriel sensed a flicker of admiration in his tone. Azriel stored that piece of information away. It could be a weakness of Eris's, his sister. They may need to exploit it one day.

"Sounds like my kind of lady," Mor grinned.

The fact that Mor bothered speak in Eris's presence was a gift that the heir did not appreciate enough. Azriel glanced sidelong at her, noticing the way her unbound golden hair cascaded down her back, and the amount of skin her low-cut red dress revealed. Once, looking at her like that would have sent Azriel mad with longing. But after she had confided in him, after she had revealed she could never love him back because she preferred females… some part of him had been relieved to let her go.

Eris scoffed at Mor's comment. "Yes, well, she irritates my father to no end."

There was a silence, and Azriel wondered whether Y/n annoyed Eris as well, before Rhys sighed, "Well, if that's all, Eris, I'm sure you have places to be."

The dismissal was clear in the High Lord's tone, and Eris rose from his chair with a nod before leaving the council room. Everyone was silent as the male left, all eyeing each other. Feyre and Rhys were looking at each other, a clear indication of their telepathic conversation, and Azriel watched the two with a hint of jealousy. Of course he was happy from them – finding one's mate was one of the most fulfilling things one could experience. But he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for his own. It seemed he was the last of the court to find his mate, and he had a fear that he would never find them.

"Has anyone heard much about this Princess?" Cassian asked, looking towards Azriel.

Azriel shook his head. "She is one of the most guarded individuals in Prythian. My sources struggle to even see her."

"Very guarded indeed," Rhysand murmured.

The Court of Dreams debated between themselves the possibilities of what the High Lord of Autumn could want regarding his daughter. Azriel had a few of his own suspicions – to have her taken away, or perhaps trained in combat – but none of them seemed accurate. 

After a while of debating plausible explanations for Beron's offer, the court decided to head home to the City of Starlight in order to get a good night's rest before their meeting tomorrow. The High Lord and High Lady were going, as well as Cassian and Azriel. Morrigan was not permitted in the Autumn Court, so she would stay behind with Nesta to hold down the fort while they were gone. Amren would also be travelling to the Autumn Court, and although the monster she was no longer crawled beneath her skin, she made most people wary.

As he lay in his bed, Azriel couldn't help but wonder what awaited him tomorrow. He was curious about what the Autumn High Lord wanted, especially regarding his daughter, although he was also wary. Although Autumn had helped them in the war, they couldn't be trusted. Azriel fell into an uneasy sleep, cautious of the days to come.

Azriel awoke at dawn the next day. They weren't due in the Autumn Court until the evening, so Azriel decided to go through his morning exercises. The Valkyries weren't up yet, so he went through his warm ups, taking his shirt off halfway through. The morning was uneventful, and Azriel ran over the information they had in his head. Eris had suggested that Beron may be seeking a favour of some sort, so perhaps it had something to do with that.

The day passed by quickly, and soon enough, those travelling to the Autumn Court had gathered in the living room of the River House, just as they had planned. Azriel and Cassian wore their scaled, black armour, while Rhys and Feyre wore their finery. Rhysand held his mate's arm, and Azriel grabbed onto Cassian, before winnowing to the entrance of the Autumn Court castle.

It was big, and made of stone. It was quite majestic, if Azriel was being honest – high towers and red and orange flags waving in the wind, large windows showcasing rich carpets and tapestries inside.

Rhys led the way, Feyre on his arm and Cassian and Azriel following closely, and Amren trailing behind. Guards monitored them as they passed through the halls, their armour heavier the closer they got to the throne room. Azriel marked each one as they passed, something he was sure Cassian and Rhysand were also doing.

The doors to the throne room opened, and revealed the High Lord of the Autumn Court sat atop a dais, the Lady of Autumn seated beside him. Beron's sons stood on his left, and his daughter was seated to her mother's right.

Azriel paused at the sight of her. She was beautiful, even by Fae standards. Her h/c hair shone in the Fae light liming the walls, piled neatly on her head in a braid crown. Y/n’s e/c eyes sparked with mischief and curiosity, skimming over the members of Azriel's Court, until they finally landed on him. Her gaze was mesmerising, and Azriel couldn't find it in himself to break it. A small smirk played at the corners of her mouth, as if she were aware of the effect she had on him, although Azriel's mask of icy cold had not budged even an inch. Azriel quickly tore his eyes away from the Daughter of Autumn, marking the guards posted by the doors and the dais, and counting the weapons each of Beron's sons carried. 

"Beron," Rhysand purred, ever the arrogant High Lord, the mask back up despite the High Lords' meeting all those months ago. "So lovely to see you again. Thank you for inviting us to stay."

Beron rose from his dias and stalked towards the High Lord of the Night Court. Everyone tensed as he stepped closer and closer, and Azriel subtly reached for the dagger at his side. Beron's blood would spray across the marble floors the second Azriel suspected he would harm his High Lord or Lady. But Beron simply held his hand out, and Rhys gripped it tightly, his eyes holding a small amount of surprise.

"Rhysand. A pleasure to have you here," Beron replied. Azriel didn't miss the slight strain in his voice. "You must be hungry. Shall we?"

Beron inclined his head to the dining room and led the way with Rhysand and Feyre at his side. He hadn't even acknowledged the High Lady, something that made Azriel want to rip the male’s head off, but Rhys got there first.

“And what about my High Lady?” Rhys purred, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Beron’s smile faltered slightly, and he glanced at Feyre with a barely concealed look of distaste, as if he would rather rip off his own toenails than address a female with the same amount of respect that he would expect. Azriel felt a protective anger surge through him, and he watched carefully, curious as to what the High Lord’s next move would be.

“Of course,” Beron said, his voice dripping with fake courtesy. “My apologies, Lady Feyre. Of course it is wonderful to have you both visit.”

Cassian gave Azriel a look that said, And-what-about-us? Aren't-we-wonderful?

Azriel sent him a look back that said, Shut-the-fuck-up.

Beron led them all to the dining room, the Autumn colours present everywhere they looked. The chairs were all high-backed, and Azriel knew that Beron did not care if he and Cassian would be comfortable with their wings. Everyone took their seats — Beron at the head, Rhysand to his left, and Feyre beside him. Azriel sat next to his High Lady, Cassian taking his seat adjacent to the shadowsinger. The Lady of Autumn (still not a High Lady, despite the fact that Viviane was also now a High Lady) sat to Beron’s right, Eris beside her, and Y/n next to him, and across from Azriel. Azriel felt Y/n’s eyes on him, and he met her gaze. There was a curious look in her eyes, a look of anticipation mixed with mischief.

Dinner was served, an array of meats and vegetables placed on the table by servants, mostly lesser fairies. None of them looked Azriel in the eye, and he wondered if it was because they knew who and what he was, or if they’d been trained not to. Y/n, however, had no such qualms about this, and stared at the shadowsinger unabashedly.

Beron struck up a conversation with Rhys — small talk, something that Azriel internally cringed at, because it was definitely just to fill the silence. Ever the gracious guest, Rhysand responded in kind, although Azriel knew he was wondering what Beron’s ulterior motives were.

“How do your siphons work?”

The table went silent as Y/n spoke, her cunning eyes trained on Azriel. Beron looked at his daughter with a hint of irritation gleaming in his eyes, as if it was unacceptable for her to speak without permission. Azriel glanced at Rhysand, who was watching the daughter of Autumn with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

“How do you know that is what they are called?” Rhys asked, his eyes trained on the only daughter of Autumn.

She shrugged, and answered, “I read a lot in my spare time. I remember reading about the Illyrians, and their siphons. If I remember correctly, Illyrians tend to possess only one, yet the two of you hold several.”

“There is no need to question our guests, Y/n,” Beron scolded firmly.

Y/n frowned. “I was simply curious.”

“Do not speak back to me,” Beron reprimanded, a burning fury now evident in his eyes.

Y/n slumped back into her chair slightly and bowed her head. “My apologies, Father.”

Beron didn’t even acknowledge his daughter before he turned back to Rhys, as if her mere existence didn’t deserve another moment of his time. Azriel watched the female in front of him as she stared at her plate, and felt a sense of sympathy for her. Azriel owed her nothing — he did not know the female in front of him, did not know if she even deserved his sympathy — and yet he felt the need to protect, to wipe that blank expression off of her face.

“Our siphons act as a conduit for our raw power,” Azriel offered, causing Y/n to look up. Beron paused, glancing at the shadowsinger and the Autumn daughter, and Azriel continued, “It helps to control our magic, to make it precise and nimble, rather than a messy outburst of power.”

Cassian gaped at his brother, as if he had never heard that many words come out of Azriel’s mouth in one sitting. While that was an inaccurate statement, it was true that Azriel never tended to speak in front of new people. He wasn’t sure why he had done so anyway. But Y/n bowed her head in thanks at the information, perhaps still wary of answering and speaking without her father’s permission, but Azriel had observed a small, triumphant light in the female’s eyes at his reply.

Azriel watched as that gleam faded when Beron cleared his throat, gaining the attention from everyone in the room.

“There is a reason why I have asked you here,” Beron stated.

“Surprise, surprise,” Cassian muttered, and Azriel elbowed him.

Beron glanced at Cassian for all of a second before continuing, “There has been an attempt on my daughter’s life.” Stunned silence met Beron’s words, and Azriel caught Y/n rolling her eyes. That raised his suspicion — were Beron’s words false, or did she simply believe it was not an issue? “If it appeals to you,” Beron went on, “I seek to employ one of your Night Court warriors as her personal bodyguard.”

Rhys blinked once, his only sign of surprise. Beron looked at Rhys expectantly, and Azriel could have guessed the thoughts that flew around Rhys’s head.

“Why one of my warriors?” Rhys inquired carefully.

“I hoped it might help strengthen bonds between our courts,” Beron expressed.

Azriel watched the High Lord of the Autumn Court carefully. There seemed to be no ulterior motives hidden within his demeanour — he did not shift nervously, none of his facial features even so much as twitched.

“And say I agree to this,” Rhys said casually, “how long would you hold onto one of my warriors?”

“Until the threat against my daughter’s life is eliminated,” Beron answered.

There was silence for a few moments while everyone processed what was happening. Azriel looked at Eris to see the male’s eyes on his father. They were carefully guarded, a mask in place to ensure no one was able to discern what he was thinking. Azriel turned his gaze to Y/n, and a shadow slithered up by his ear.

She does not believe it to be such a serious matter, the shadow whispered. She wishes for this dinner to be over so she may go back to her quarters and finish her novel.

Azriel blinked in surprise at the information from his shadow. Usually, his shadows would tell him what others could not see and hear — but this felt almost like too much. Yes, his shadows had a tendency to recognise when someone was lying, or what weapons they were concealing, but to give him a person’s unvoiced opinion on a matter was something new.

But indeed, with her chin propped up on her delicate hand, and twirling her dessert fork in the other, she appeared to be completely disinterested. Azriel turned his gaze back to the male beside her, to see Eris already watching his sister. His eyes were cold and calculating as he regarded her, as if he was mentally playing out how this ‘bodyguard’ situation would go. With the slight frown tugging the corners of his lips downwards, Azriel assumed Eris did not believe it would end well.

“Please, do take time to come to a decision,” Beron offered. “I do understand this is a lot to ask.”

“We shall have an answer by the end of the week,” Rhys said with a nod.

Beron nodded back, and Azriel wondered what they were getting themselves into.

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[bloodlust-1]

˗ˏˋRelieve Meˎˊ˗ part 1

Halsin x fem Tav — Explicit 18+

Summary: Halsin is looking a bit tense, Tav offers to massage his muscles and relieve his tension in the best way she can. He wants to return the offer to help relieve her as well.

"I never felt my heart stir like this before you, I haven't loved in so long, and yet there it was...and I was in it.”

-> Part 2 <-

TW: none for part1

Note: needed some big-boy energy. This will be an explicit two-parter so ;p enjoy.

It was one hell of a day, everyone nearly dragged themselves into their tents for a well-deserved rest. Recently their travels have been getting harder and harder as they inch close to Buldars Gate. But no matter, the party seemed to try to keep their cool with Halsin’s and Shadowheart’s healing. Sometimes it was just too much though.

Tav sat by the fire with Karlach, who was rubbing her neck, “All that healing couldn’t get the crook out of this fucking neck. I’ve taken weaker hits that hurt less than this.”

“I agree, we’re all walking zombies at this point. Maybe we should take a break tomorrow. We all look like shit.” Tav laid her back on the floor and stretched her limbs out. Just as she sat back up her glance catches Halsin. He was walking by to pick up some food rations, an apple, and placed it in his mouth before walking away.

“Gods what I would do to that man…He makes me look small.” Karlach let out a small sigh of passion. She then looked at Tav who was lost in thought, “Hey, Soldier! Are you admiring our Druid, hm?” She nudged Tav’s shoulder with a smirk.

“He just looks…tense is all.” She rubbed her shoulder that Karlach nudged and hid her smile a little.

“Cmon you’re totally into him! Have you not laid in bed with him yet? I thought you guys were close..maybe even a little too close. Buuut— if it doesn’t work out for you let me know. I’d love to have a go with him.” Karlach giggled and nodded, “I’m serious, go talk to him.”

“And say what? What if he’s tired and doesn’t want visitors. He didn’t even say a word to us.” Tav was visible flushed. A nervous wreck even.

“Shit I don’t know! Make something up. You did say he looked tense. Touch some of those muscles in the name of help. You’re catching my drift?” She winked and pointed at his tent, “hurry before he falls asleep.”

“Karlach you’re a fucking genius. I’ll be back.”

“Or not.” Karlach chimed and sat up, “I’m heading to bed, don’t enjoy yourself too much, soldier.” Karlach reached out her hand for Tav’s and pulled her up to her feet. “Good luck.” Karlach ruffled up Tav’s hair before heading to her tent.

Tav palmed down her fly-aways before holding her head high. Karlach was right, they were close but they never took it to the next level. Why? She wasn't quite sure why, all she knew was that it was time to have courage. She wiped her sweaty palms on her shirt and made her way to his tent.

"Halsin, you there?" Tav pulled the draped curtains to the side. She saw him placing ointment on a couple scratches on his arms.

His eye darted up and he gave a surprised look, "Oh, Tav..I'm sorry, I would've cleaned up a bit. I wasn't expecting company. Please come in." His tent was littered with books, potions, and random old letters from the grove.

"Do not worry about that but—“ She welcomed herself in and kneeled down next to him. "Let me help you with this." She grabbed the small jar of ointment and started to smear any cuts she could find on his arms.

"You're too kind. I would not have bothered you with something small like this. I appreciate it all the same, thank you." He sat still and did not even budge to the pain at first,

Tav nodded her head. This was no trouble at all, after all, she really did care for his well-being. "If you don't mind, it'd be easier to get all these cuts without this shirt." She tugged on the hem of his shirt.

"Of course, little one." He grabbed the edge of his shirt and lifted his arms up. His muscles were immaculate as always, the sweet scent of eucalyptus wafted off him, and she could see all the untouched cuts. Some were deep, small, and even healed. Bruises of all kinds of healing stages were scattered on his skin.

"Halsin! You know these could get infected right? If you needed help it wouldn't be a problem!" Her face was angered. Her eyebrows furrowed, and the sight was nothing short of hurt.

"I'll manage." he patted her head and smiled softly at her. As if he wasn't in any kind of pain.

Tav shook her head, she was visibly angry, "You're so stubborn, allow me." She reached out her hand and placed it over his cheek, "I want to help you."

"You've helped me enough. I'll forever be in your debt if you keep going like this." Halsin stared with loving eyes. His gaze was soft and warm, and a gentle smile crept on his lips. His eyes sparkled with the joy of being in her presence, and he looked at her with admiration and affection.

"Then you'll just have to make it up to me one day." Tav pulled away her hand, "Now, let's see this back." She adjusted herself to face his back. Tav continued to aid his cuts, and from time to time he winced to the pain. "You know Halsin. Back at home, I dabbled in some medicinal skills."

"Oh really? This is news to my ears, tell me more, dear." Halsin perked up. He loved educating and learning new knowledge to add to his collection of skills. This definitely peaked his interest because Halsin never knew Tav had medicine skills since she was a fighter.

"Well— my people believed that healing was more than just potions. It's important to take care of your muscles and physique." She rubbed her hands together to create friction. She placed the warmth of her palms against his back. Tav began to lightly press pressure into his skin with long slow strokes. "This'll help reduce tension, improve circulation, and relieve any pain. I can definitely feel how tense your muscles are."

Halsin let out small little groans of relief as Tav's fingers glided up and down his spine. She started to apply a little more pressure and could feel his muscles start to loosen up. Halsin was truly all muscle, she's never touched a man with so much density, not for medical reasons and definitely not intimately. For as much as Tav was in awe, she genuinely tried her best to relax him. He deserved it after all. He did not need to leave his home in the name of aiding Tav. She was grateful for Halsin as much as he was grateful for her.

Her hands glided up and rubbed the muscles of his neck. Halsin could feel her breathing against his neck, it felt like hot little prickles that hit the skin. Halsin shivered in response. Tav noticed the goosebumps along his neck, "Does that feel good?" She whispered innocently in the back of his ear. The heat of her breath tickling his skin.

Halsin leaned his head outward to expose more skin, "Mmm, it puts a healing spell to shame." He complimented Tav. But under his relaxed facade, Halsin was melted with every touch from her warm hands. He was trying to find restraint in himself as an Arch-druid after all. He tried to close his eyes in an attempt to calm down his racing heart, but it only made it worse. He felt like he could feel and smell the presence of Tav. Lewd thoughts crumbled his mind and it made his skin crawl more. As a druid, all his senses were heightened, and the feeling for more clouded his judgment.

Tav noticed the small groans, his skin layered with goosebumps, and felt like his shoulders tensed up once again. She went back to work to massage him some more until she pulled away, and decided to sit in front of him instead. "Let me see your hand?" She said softly as she reached out for one of his hands and rubbed them lovingly.

His hand was way bigger than hers. She thought it was cute how mighty he was, yet how gentle his personality was. Tav thought Halsin was probably touched by the gods themselves with the way he looked. He was truly a masterpiece, a muse. As she rubbed his hands Halsin suddenly intertwined his fingers with hers, stopping Tav from massaging him. Tav's cheeks lit up crimson, and she darted her wide eyes at his gaze. He was holding her hand, one that engulfed her own but she felt so protected by it.

Halsin looked at the woman with an intense gaze, his hazel eyes softened. He was captivated by her beauty, taking in every detail of her face and scars. His heart was pounding in his chest as he thought of all the amazing moments they had shared together. He had such strong feelings of love for her, and he knew deep down that she was the one for him. He was filled with a sense of contentment and joy just being in her presence, and he looked forward to what the future held for them. "I never felt my heart stir like this before you, I haven't loved in so long, and yet there it was...and I was in it. I hope you feel the same, I fear the most these days." He grabbed both her hands and placed a tender kiss on them. "I want to repay your kindness, only if you'll allow me, of course."

Tav eagerly agreed to Halsin's offer, she too felt a connection and a strong mutual attraction. She was a woman who would never take Halsin's love for granted, "I feel the same, Halsin...I'd be happy too."

He smiled and placed a single kiss on her lips. It was tender and gentle, sadly it lasted only a moment before he pulled away, "Meet me at my tent tomorrow night and I will grant you a night of pleasure. One that you'll remember for all your long nights. I want to make you feel good too, my heart."

[ghost-proofbaby]

It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.

Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.

I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi

RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3

the smell of you

warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.

wc: 2.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

“Eddie?”

The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall. 

“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?” 

Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold. 

You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him. 

Something unspoken. Something homely. 

“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.” 

When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion. 

He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire. 

“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”

“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?” 

“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?” 

You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room. 

Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use. 

The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him. 

“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?” 

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.” 

It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.” 

He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him. 

When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm. 

“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.” 

“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch. 

“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently. 

He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back. 

One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home. 

“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”

“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-” 

“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.” 

You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”

“Good.” 

He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair. 

“Eddie!”

If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient. 

And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him. 

Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“I’m your idiot.” 

The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you. 

“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.” 

“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?” 

Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”

“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?” 

“The kind that gets off on annoying me.” 

His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”

You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum. 

You never grow tired of it. You never will. 

“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always. 

And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.” 

“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-” 

You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him. 

He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.” 

“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”

“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”

“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”

Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside. 

He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.

You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly. 

You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days. 

Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso. 

“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle. 

He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.” 

“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off. 

You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep. 

I love you.

I adore you. 

I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. 

And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you. 

The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?” 

To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”

[reyadawn]

Killing Me Slowly

*image not mine, credit goes to owner*

Summary: Reader has grown up with Noah Sebastian. Been through thick and thin, good days and bad, triumphs and losses, love and heartbreak and the full succession of Bad Omens. During that time, she fell in love with Noah. What comes later will have her experiencing her own bout of heartbreak...but will she survive?

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x reader, Joakim "Jolly" Karlsson x reader (platonic)

Warnings: 🔞+, Language, Kissing, Angst

Word Count: 🤷‍♀️

Side Note: Based off a dream I had last night and needed to get it off my chest so do not come at me for this...! Apologies for this being so long.

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It was cold. The kind of cold that sunk deep into your bones. The chill November air stung my cheeks as I tried and failed to burry myself deeper into my jacket, or should I say Noah's jacket, and scarf. I had lost track of how long I had been walking through the park and I hardly took note of the reddish-brown leaves drifting softly across the grass.

Bzzzz! Bzzzz!

I sighed heavily before stopping to rummage around through the jacket pocket for my phone. I rolled my eyes as Noah's face flashed before me - an image of his Twitch days in cat-ear headphones.

"Hey--", I started to answer but was harshly cut off by Noah's obvious irritated voice.

"Get your fucking ass back home before you get sick. Do you even know what time it is?!", he all but shouted. I rolled my eyes again, glancing at the time on my phone. 9:46 PM.

"You're not my father, Noah, so stop acting like it. I'm fucking grown, in case you haven't noticed", I replied, turning back towards the direction of the house.

"Oh, I've noticed. Just get back here", he said sharply before hanging up.

"Asshat", I mumbled, stuffing my phone back in my pocket.

Upon returning to the house about a quarter after ten, all hell broke loose. I had just finished tossing my keys into the basket on the cradenza and was in the process of hanging my jacket when a set of long, tattooed fingers grabbed my wrist, spinning me around.

"Noah, what-", I started but my words were cut off when I was pushed back against the wall, long muscular arms engulfed in tattoos caging me in.

"You ever leave the house again and not tell anyone, it'll be your ass", Noah hissed, his long hair creating a curtain around his face as his dark eyes glittered angrily. I shoved him off me as hard as I could. By now, the rest of the guys had gathered in the living room to witness the commotion.

"Get off me you overgrown Beowolf!", I yelled back. "You don't own me, Sebastian!".

"The fuck I don't! We all do! You're ours to protect! We can't do that if you don't tell anyone where you're going!", Noah shouted, causing me to flinch. I stared up at him. I could feel his anger and concern but that's not all I wanted to feel. I sighed, my body relaxing from the rigid state it was in. I didn't dare look at the others. Defeated, I simply nodded and walked past Noah, heading towards the stairs.

Once inside the dark confines of my room, I quietly shut and locked the door. I stood in the center of the room, arms wrapped around my middle to seek comfort I wouldn't get. Glancing around, my eyes fell on framed photos of me with the guys over the years. Of course, I had more of Noah and I because we had known each other since grade school. Picture after picture: the beach, hiking, making holiday decorations, gaming, concerts they played in the past to recent. My eyes suddenly fell on a framed one of Noah and I where I stood in front of him and he was crouched over with his head on my shoulder and we were smiling into the camera.

Realization had my knees buckling, sending my body to the floor on all fours. No. It can't be. How did I miss it when I'm the one who feels it? How stupid could I be?

A knock at my door had me scrambling to my feet to unlock it and throw it open. Noah stood there, hand raised in a 'knocking' motion. Before I even had time time to process my own actions, I reached up to grab his face in my hands and pulled his lips down to mine. Noah's body grew stiff before he pulled away from me, hands out in front of him.

I frowned up at him in confusion. Noah stared at me wide eyed before taking a full step back and running his hands through his hair.

"I can't do this...I can't have this with you. It'll ruin everything...I'm sorry", he said softly before turning back down the hallway to his room. Confusion, hurt, disbelief and anger swirled within me. I didn't know it then but Noah was already in love with someone else...

3 Months Later...

Snow blanketed the streets, covered benches and street lamps as it fell sofly from darkened skies. Once again, I was walking late at night but this time I had a tail as I glanced over my shoulder to see Jolly following me in his car.

I turned back around, heading for the park when suddenly Jolly called out to me.

"Wait, karaste", he said, standing on the sidewalk dressed in just jeans and a long sleeved shirt. Always amazed me how he never got cold in the winter here in the U.S. Damn Sweedens. I stopped, studying him momentarily before turning back around again.

"Stop", Jolly said more firmly. I turned to him again. "Please, don't go to the park. Walk somewhere else". I regarded him carefully before it donned on me why he was trying to stop me. Despite the snow, I turned and took off in a run. I could hear Jolly behind me, snow crunching under his boots. The gazeebo was within eyesight. There were two figures sitting on the wooden steps and I halted behind a nearby tree. Noah was one of them. Dressed in a simple black Bad Omens hoodie, black skinny jeans and tennis shoes with one hand in his pocket. His other hand reached for the person sitting next to him. A woman. I couldn't see her face but her hair was a beautiful auburn and was loosely curled. Her small body encased in a hunter green coat, hood lined in faux fur. Her slim legs were encased in black leggings and snow boots. Noah smiled at her befoe pulling a black box from his pocket and opening it.

I brought a hand up over my mouth, my world turning blurry but not before Noah pulled the woman into a heated kiss. The kind of kiss you see in Romantic movies or read about in Romance novels. I couldnt breathe, my body trembling so hard I was afraid I would shatter. My heart sunk into my stomach, finger tips tingling as I sank to the ground. I doubled over, clutching my arms around my stomach as the tears flowed hot down my cheeks.

I wanted to scream; to kick something, punch something. I pressed my nails into my palms behind closed fists, hoping the pain would wake me from this nightmare. No help came. No savior to speak of. I felt as though my chest had been ripped open, heart pulled from my body.

The feeling of arms wrapping themselves around me to haul me to my feet felt distant. Like I was floating. I stared at my feet as they sunk into the snow in step next to Jolly's. Just going through the motions. Half way to Jolly's car, I could hear Noah call my name in the distance behind me. Not daring to look back, I willed my body to run the rest of the way to Jolly's car and threw myself into the front seat. Jolly joined me only seconds later before driving off. Out of the side mirror, I could see Noah stepping into street, hands in his hair before turning to his fiancè.

I leand over the center console to lay my head on Jolly's shoulder, wrapping both arms around his right arm as his hand rested on my thigh to give it a gentle squueze. Sobbs shook my body, the cries that escaped sounding like a gutted animal. I had never experienced this kind of pain. My stomach was in knots, muscles cramping from the force of the gutteral sobbing that I could not control. Go figure, the first man I fall in love with is in love with someone else.

Jolly spoke soft words of comfort in Sweedish, for all the good it did him. Nothing could stop the pain. I finally turned to look up at him through my tears.

"Why Jolly? What did I do wrong? Why wasn't it me? Why am I not good enough for him?", I asked, voice hoarse. I couldn't understand. I had been with Noah all my life. Been through everything with him. All of the up's and down's life brings including the success of Bad Omens and I never left. Never faltered in my loyalty to him or to Jolly, Nick, and Nicholas. Even Matt and Bryan.

I made Jolly drop me off at a hotel instead of the house, much to his disagreement. Giving me his car charger for my phone, I gave him the spare room key, just in case. He pulled me into his arms tightly and my eyes welled up again but I detached myself from him before the tears could fall.

"I'm a big girl, Jolly. I'll be ok. Shower and sleep. I need to clear my head...call my parents", I said trying to reassure him. Jolly scowled.

"In Virginia? No. You can't. You can't leave, karaste", he said firmly, arms crossing in front of his chest.

"I don't belong here anymore, Jolly...I'm not sure I ever did", I replied. "I'll let you know if I leave town".

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Jolly reluctantly returned home, heart weighing heavy. He wanted to help her but didn't know how.

Entering the house he met Noah, his fiancè, Nick and Nicholas in the living room. Noah ran over to him, long hair wild about his shouldsrs.

"Jolly? Where is she?", Noah asked, looking over Jolly's shoulder. Jolly could only shake his head.

"Tell me, now! Where. Is. She?", Noah asked again through clenched teeth.

"I can't tell you, man. Right now, she doesn't want to be found", Jolly replied. Noah carded his fingers through his hair and let out a gutteral scream, fisting the long strands to the point his scalp hurt. His fiancè ran over to console him but he all but shoved her away.

"We'll find her, Noah", Nick said, placing a hand on his friends' shoulder.

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I sat on the floor of the shower, arms wrapped around my legs, head resting on my knees as the hot water pummeled my skin, tears mixing in.

My heart beat in a body that felt numb, cold, unfeeling. Noah and the rest of the guys were my family. Had been for years. They took me in, gave me a home. Made me feel like I mattered. Gave my life meaning. With them...with Noah...I always felt like I belonged. Now I didnt belong anywhere.

The realization that I had nothing left was killing me but it was killing me slowly...

@concreteemo @concreteangel92 @bluestdai @exitwoundsx @english-fucker @amourtoken @alloraiona @lilhobgobbler @bloodylullaby @lolitasangel @lovexsleepyhead @livingdeceasedgirl @darling-millicent-aubrey @doomhands-jr @flowery-mess @thatchickwiththecamera @thefallennightmare

[teamatsumu]

kinktober 2023 -> day 16

daddy - miya osamu x reader

word count: 1386

kinktober masterlist

A sizzling noise broke through the relative quiet of the kitchen, accompanied by your out of tune humming. The smell of spice filled your nose and made your mouth water slightly as you swerved the vegetables around in the pan. It felt almost nostalgic to be doing this, considering you hadn’t cooked in quite a long time. You never had to, your boyfriend took care of that almost every day. And you were beyond grateful for it. You didn’t like cooking, and you weren’t too good at it.

But recently, things had really picked up for Onigiri Miya, with Osamu on the verge of opening a new branch in central Tokyo. His hours had been long and strenuous, and he came home later and later. You had decided to lessen his load as much as you could, which included taking over some of his home chores and the kitchen duties. Of course, it would be nowhere as good as Osamu’s expert cooking, but it was one less thing to worry about for him.

And while your food wasn’t great, it’s not like it was inedible.

You were brought back to the present when there was a click and the door squeaked open, signaling Osamu’s return. You smiled and turned back to the pan, waiting for him to make his way into the kitchen. You listened to the sounds of him toeing his shoes off in the genkan and sighing heavily, making your smile falter. He was probably tired as hell. He really needed to slow down a bit.

“Hi baby.” Your words were laced in affection, turning to look at your boyfriend as he lumbered into the kitchen, his cap bunched up in his hand while the other ran through his dark hair. He deposited the cap on the kitchen island, making a beeline for you and wrapping his arms tight around your waist from behind, head digging itself into your shoulder.

“Tired?” You asked rhetorically, feeling at ease with his hands finally on you after a whole day of being apart. Osamu hummed, reaching out to the knob for the stove and turning off the fire.

“Hey-” Your protest was cut off when Osamu lifted his head enough to lay a small kiss on your neck, his lips moving up to tickle the shell of your ear.

“I appreciate the gesture, babygirl,” he whispered, large hands squeezing your sides. “But there’s somethin’ else Daddy really wants right now.”

Your body reacted instantly, like it always did when Osamu used that word, and you could feel as he pushed his hips into your ass, that Osamu was ready to go. He was already throbbing, so hard against the swell of your ass that it made your breath stutter. Your lips parted when Osamu started placing the smallest kisses over your skin, stopping at the collar of your shirt to trace his tongue along its edge, biting at your shoulder a little. You felt your mind muddle, your pussy throb with need, your eyes glaze over and you slipped, straight into the role that you and Osamu had crafted together for you.

“W-what does Daddy want?” Your voice was husky and small, pushing your hips obediently back into the erection in Osamu’s pants. He hummed in approval.

“I wanna taste my baby.” He whispered back, fingers slipping into the waistband of your shorts. “Then I want my baby to lay back and take as many loads of Daddy’s cum as she can.”

You clenched hard around nothing, feeling yourself grow wet at the thought. Miya Osamu had many talents, and one of his best ones was how well he ate pussy. With the kind of mood he was in, you were certain he was going to leave you a whimpering, drooling mess.

And you were right, half an hour later, you were wailing at Osamu to stop, your cunt overstimulated beyond belief, your thighs covered in your juices, legs shaking, Osamu humming into your clit as you came again, wetting more of his face, his jaw, running down his neck, while he remained completely unbothered, holding your legs apart with an iron grip, tongue and lips working over every single part of you with a desperation you hadn’t seen in him for a long time. Osamu was often tired when he came home these days, but you didn’t know there was a kind of exhaustion that could lead to this.

By the time he resurfaced, tongue running hungrily over his coated lips for any remaining taste of you, you felt he had transferred all his exhaustion to you, leaving you boneless and numb, pussy tingling and clenching like mad. And yet, you still wanted more. You whined and reached for his shoulders, trying to pull him closer with your shaky legs, yearning for his cock to fill you up just the way you liked it.

“Daddy,” you cooed in your best voice, pouting at him. “Can I have your cock now, please? I’ve been a good girl, haven’t I?”

Osamu hummed, a little smirk lifting one corner of his mouth as he played with a strand of your hair, damp with sweat. He tucked it behind your ear so tenderly it made your insides squeeze. Leave it to him to be romantic at a moment like this, with your legs spread open around his waist and his cock gliding over your weeping pussy.

“Ya’ve been so good, babygirl.” He affirmed, making you close your eyes and bask in his praise. “Takin’ it like a champ. And now ya want my cock, too? Daddy’s really spoiled ya, haven’t I, princess?”

You whined and nodded, hips jerking up instinctively, to which Osamu grabbed your thighs, pushing them up until you were bent into a mating press. Your breath hitched, realizing just how rough this was about to get, and the thought nearly made your eyes roll back. And when Osamu finally filled you up, when his dick carved its way into your walls, hitting parts of you that made your toes curl and your chest squeeze, you understood exactly why he wanted to do this after a tiring day at work.

Osamu sighed as if a load had just been lifted off his shoulders, draping his torso over your body until you were unable to move, rendered motionless to just lay there and take what he gave you. It filled you with a primal satisfaction, being at his mercy like that, just taking what Daddy gave you, trusting that he would take good care of you. As he always did. Especially when you two were like this, when he felt overwhelmed and wanted to take control, he could come home and take care of you, reassure himself that he was still good, that he was capable of handling things, and protecting those he loved, and as he fucked into you, thrusts harsh and rough, listening to you whine about how good it felt and how he did it just right, Osamu felt like he was whole again. That he was himself again. That he could do this.

“Daddy ‘m gonna cum.” You babbled out, crying and weeping at how good his cock felt plowing into you over and over again, how your insides were melting and caving, fluttering around him, ready to fall apart as soon as he told you to.

“Good,” he rasped, face flushed red and hips picking up the pace even more, the sounds of skin slapping against skin growing even louder as Osamu’s breaths grew irregular. He was on the verge of cumming, and he wanted to do it with you. “Come on, baby. Cum all over Daddy’s cock. And take his cum while yer at it.”

And so you both allowed yourself to fall apart, you allowed Osamu to fuck his load into your tiny hole, spilling over and running down your ass until it met the floor. You let your nerves fire up, pushing and tugging until you were breathless and overstimulated, until you had gone completely limp in Osamu’s arms, not even registering the fact that Osamu was as hard as ever, still fucking hard into you and showing no signs of stopping anytime soon. Not that you were protesting.

Afterall, you let Daddy do whatever he wanted.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

[tenjikufag]

Hiii I can ask a Shinichiro Sano has a crush on male!reader who is classmate, reader is taller than him, sensitive and romantic please ? fluff thank you 😊

Cheesy.

Shinichiro Sano x Male Reader

-fluff, mutual pining, confession, tall!reader, kind of long

-thank you for the request, I miss this man sooo much. Also the series I mention in this is purely my own imagination It Does Not Exist. Pulled out my ass.

There you stood, looming over a classmates desk that wasn’t his. Your tall stature noticed by everyone, almost hunched in half to meet just close enough to his peer to hear them.

You smiled, you laughed, at whatever they had been saying before you received the exchanged class notes.

Shinichiro couldn’t help but blush, just a little, when you made eye contact with him and you flashed a bright smile his way.. his heart leaped, the crush he had on you almost unbearable these recent days.

You felt the same, the past few days had been more than frustrating trying to think about a way you could tell him. The two of you had become friends this recent year, despite attending the same schools for almost your whole life it just seemed the timing was never right for you two to gravitate towards each other.

But, this was the time it seemed. As mature as you could be as a high schooler, you still held a child-like crush on him. No outside factors were to deter you from getting closer to him each day, and he thought all the same.

You approached his desk, quick to ask him to hang out with you at lunch. The teacher walked in, squinting at your stature to signal you to sit down. Shinichiro nodded, shooing you towards your desk that was but a few classmates behind him. With a quick ‘see ya’ you left his desk.

Your thoughts had been plagued by the black haired boy, sighing out to yourself while listening to the subject at hand albeit not even absorbing half of the information.

As said, it’s been bad the last few days, that’s why you needed to nab some notes from a friend.. you wanted to ask Shinichiro but you couldn’t, for the life of you, read his chicken scratch hand writing. Laughing lightly to yourself, you tried to jot down the ending pieces of the lesson before the bell buzzed- making all your classmates jolt up and almost run out of the classroom for lunch period.

You were rather slow to stand and gather your things, taking a moment to stretch while the class traffic jammed themselves at the door trying to escape before the other.

Letting out a satisfied sigh, you approached Shinichiro and put a hand on his shoulder, giving a solid squeeze before walking infront of him- looking over your shoulder to make sure he followed you. A soft smile played on your lips, his bright eyes staring up at you and following close behind.

The hallways bustled with bodies, some rushing, others waltzing without a care and others stopped in groups to talk amongst each-other. You kept giving quick glances over your shoulder to make sure the shorter male kept in tow with you, eyes widening a fraction when you’d lost track of him.

Pouting, you kept walking towards your typical meeting spot- expecting him to make his way there. A hand reached out and clasped your wrist, looking behind you once again, it was Shin, looking slightly flustered.

Pulling him to your side, you placed a hand on his outer hip and pressed him into your side and ushered him outside- many making way for your tall stature and companion.

Your hand on his hip, his body so close to yours, his own hand placed ontop of your hand.. it felt right. It was natural. This feeling was what you wanted forever- only for it to be cut short when he quickly pulled away from you once out into the locker room- quick to change his shoes and shove his bag away.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to hold ya like that Shin.”

He froze for but a second, contemplating his response for a moment.

“Don’t mind, it made us get out faster!”

“So ya wouldn’t mind me holdin’ ya like that to get food sooner, would ya?”

Shinichiro flared up in a red blush, how were you so nonchalant about it?! His hands slapped over his cheeks, eyes looking over at you in surprise. You seemed to be just as flustered from what left your lips..

“I uh..”

“Ack! Sorry Shin.. been watching too many romance dramas.. didn’t think about it..”

Scratching your neck in embarrassment, you changed out of your school shoes into street shoes and followed him wordlessly.

“Watching romance huh? Didn’t think you’d be into that kinda thing.”

“Really? Guess we never talked about shows..”

Tapping your cheek, you gazed up as if to think about what you’d talk about.

“Yeah guess not. I’m not too much into them either, but what do ya like about them big guy?”

He smiled at the way your eyes lit up, a grin spreading across your face as you spoke about your most recent binge session.

“Gives me so many ideas about asking someone out..”

You sighed, his heart clenched just a tad.. did you even have anyone to ask out?

“I can imagine.. researching for the real thing? Who’s the lucky girl?”

Looking down at him, he had stopped his steps beside you. You blinked, it was him but you wouldn’t tell him just yet.. a devious plan came to mind.

“Lucky guy, actually.. I gotta ask you a question about that.”

He tilted his head, not all too shocked you liked dudes but curious about your question..

He wished you would ask him out..

“Meet at my place tonight, i need your help brainstormin’ an idea for him..”

Nodding, the two of you entered a convenience store and made your way back to school- the two of you didn’t share the same classes for the second half of the day.

—

The two of you sat in your room, you passing romance mangas to your friend and having a long favourite serious playing on your tv.

“Let me know which one stands out to you, or one you like.”

Oh so subtle, you thought. You knew Shinichiro would be none the wiser, so he started browsing your books and comics, your watchlists and reading the descriptions.

You also turned through your well loved pages, imagining yourself as the mc and Shin as the love interest.. sighing out, you reread your favourite passages over and over before the boy beside you put the book down and showed you.

“This one, I like this one. If I were to ask someone out I’d use this.”

Glancing down, he held up the most worn manga you had. “Days of our love.”, it was a BL surprisingly. The couple were both helplessly pining but never suspected the other to know. So in came the gifts, day by day, a new small gift would appear on their desks or in their locker cubbies, notes with subtle hints and implications.

Your eyes gleamed, picking the book up and rereading it again- the main scenes that is.

“Really? You’d be into this?”

“Yep, I’m sure the guy you’re into would also appreciate it.”

Nodding, you thanked him for the idea. Even if his own heart hurt thinking of you going through all this trouble for someone that isn’t him, he was more than happy to aid you finding your person.

“I gotta get goin’, Mikey is probably throwing a fit at gramps by now.”

His slim wrist came into view, his eyes checking the watch that laid wrapped around it.

“Alright! Get home safe, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nodded, letting you walk him to the front door as he thanked your parents for letting him come over.

The pang in his chest didn’t let up, even while he rode his bike home it seemed to only worsen with every pedal.

Why couldn’t it be him?

—

Day One.

You’d waited atleast a week before putting your plan in motion- you’d even gotten your other friends involved to drop off the gifts and notes for you. Also going as far to make sure he’d forgotten the talk you’d had, Shin wasn’t one to have the greatest memory especially when he didn’t have to be involved. He had little to no recollection of even the manga he’d picked from that day.

Smiling, you neatly folded a note and slid it into the small gift. It was a motorcycle model, one to fit in your hand and be easily displayed. He loved motorbikes, always spoke about having one and even having his own shop one day.

—

Shinichiro reached into his desk, fumbling around searching for his pencil case but grazing an unfamiliar object. He ducked down and spotted a neatly wrapped cube.. scrunching his nose he pulled it out and hastily unwrapped it- eyes widening at the sight of a motorbike figure, exactly like the model he dreamed of! He looked around, trying to spot anyone watching him open it only to sulk down when no one was watching him.

Day Two

Breaming with excitement, you passed off the second gift to your friend which she happily received and skipped off towards Shins cubby.

A meticulously crafted origami flower laid on a note with a couple of Shins favourite hard candies.

—

Before he even got to put his things in his cubby, something dropped out and he fumbled to try and catch it.

Without crushing it, he saw the beautiful craft.. eyes glittering at the perfect folds- all pristine and sharp, not a single mistake in a fold or even a crinkle from adjustments, paired with his favourite treat. He smiled, delicately packing the gift home with him.

Day Three

Shinichiro was happy, a slight pep in his step while he walked through the halls and was gripped by you- leading him through the halls quickly.

When he reached for his shoes, a small stuffy with another favourite snack of his stuck out. You were giddy but held it down to ask what was up. He smiled brightly, showing you what he had found.

“I’ve been gettin’ gifts these past few days.. dunno from who but they seem to know what I like!”

It made your heart swell, walking out with him in tow telling you about the other two gifts.

Day Four

He was buzzing with anticipation for the next gift that would surely come, they weren’t big extravagant gifts by any means but he adored each and every one of them. But, he wanted even more to figure out who it was! Even coming to school earlier to see someone drop it off but it would already be placed! Whoever it was wanted to be secretive but by the end of the week he’d find out who!

A small piece of paper with a lovely poem was in his hand today, along with a small bunch of flowers.. they smelled so nice and the poem made him feel like he was in a cheesy romcom.

Day Five

The end of the school week, what would he get today? He would have two days apart from whoever it was, surely he could put an end to the mystery.

And yet, he stood by his desk where a Tomogatchi laid. Hours to feed it and times it slept were already mentioned and worked with his schedule along with another sickeningly sweet note. He loved this one, he’d given his own to Mikey ages ago and it was long dead so this was very sweet in his mind.

Day Six

You’d managed to hang out with Shinichiro over the weekend, but early in the morning before Shin even woke up- you knew his gramps and Mikey would be awake and snuck your way into chatting with them and bribing the younger brother to place a gift on his older brothers desk. The boy wanted to run to his brother immediately and tell on you but you’d come prepared with Taiyaki and other sweets for him, making his eyes go wide with pleasure and he delivered the gift with no further fuss.

You left and said you’d be back a bit after lunch- waving at the two, Mikeys cheek full of sugary treats as his little hand waved at you.

Shinichiro woke up a couple hours later, groggily reaching over the check his alarm clock for the time. He got up and quickly washed up before noticing a gift on his desk.

They managed to sneak in his house?!

“Mikey!”

Mikey wandered into his brothers room, lollipop in hand as he looked at him.

“What?”

“Did you see who dropped this off?”

By the way his younger brothers face twisted in a grin, he knew he’d seen who it was.

“Who was it Mikey?!”

“Sworn to secrecy, we have been silenced!”

“We?”

“Gramps is in on it!”

Shinichiro raked his hand down his face- there’s no way this person had such a broad reach!

Day Seven

He felt a little on edge, there was no gift when he woke up but he was going to hang out with you so his mind was occupied. The two of you were meeting at the park, just to hang out and maybe get food.

Shinichiro sat on a swing set, rocking back and forth while he waited.

Your figure came into view and he was quick to hop off and run up to greet you.

He stopped dead in his tracks though.

A gift sat in your hand, through your non-chalant look he assumed it wasn’t from you.. his heart sank. They got to you!

“Who’s that from?!”

He snatched it, inspecting the gift that was wrapped this time. You stood there a little shocked by the reaction.

“Do.. do you not like the gifts?”

His head snapped to you, before going back to inspect it.

“No, I love them! That’s the whole problem!”

Laughing lightly, your heart soothed itself in your chest at the fact he enjoyed them.

“You know the person, right?! You gotta tell me!”

“Uh yeah, obviously.”

“Spill it Y/n!”

“Open it, he said this one’ll be the last one if you uh.. just open it.”

You almost gave away the plan, this was the final one if he didn’t accept it- but if he did you’d be sure to gift him all the time. His eyes went wide, tearing the delicate wrapping paper, exposing a small black box. Shinichiro felt his hands shake a little, opening it and exposing a sleek silver chain- obviously not expensive but it was nice! Under it laid the note

“Will you go out with me?”

He read aloud, looking up at you.. you were flushed red but trying very hard to hide it.

It all made sense. It took him a second to recollect himself, the faint memory of the talk you’d had and.. everything else leading up to this.

“It’s you.. isn’t it?”

Shyly, you nodded. The fear of rejection making light tears prick at your eyes. Shinichiro felt like he was going to pass out.. you gave him all this and he didn’t even think about it being you?! He would’ve rejected this if it was anyone else, hell he would’ve given it all back if it wasn’t you and he happened to find out!

“So uh, whaddya say? Go out with me?”

Sucking in a breathe, he looked up at you, passing the gift back. Your heart sank, thinking this was a rejection.

“Can you put it on me?”

He turned around, waiting patiently for you to place the chain around his neck. You fumbled around with the box and chain, lightly touching his soft skin as you clasped the chain around his neck. When he turned around, a hand running across the silver links- he looked up at you.

Taking a step forward, he pushed himself to his tip-toes and placed a kiss on your lips.

“Of course I’ll go out with you..”

The tears you’d held back brimmed over and slid down your cheeks.

“Eh?! Why are you crying?!”

His quick hands went to wipe away the tears, confused about the tears because this was happy right?!

“It’s just! You picked from my favourite manga and it’s just! I can’t believe you like me back!”

He laughed lightly, hugging around your waist while you cleared up the random tears that rolled out from your eyes.

“Sensitive huh? Guess I’m dealing with a real romantic hm?”

You nodded, blushing when he kissed your jaw. Shinichiro was excited to see how else you’d try to woo him- not that he could be anymore infatuated with you at the moment. But he was happy, and looked forward to the future with you.

[moonyswritinq]

howdy! i recently stumbled upon your account and saw that your requests were open. i have a small request for a newt x m!reader one-shot. feel free to ignore this if you don't feel like you're up for it 👍

maybe one where the reader has longer hair, and is a runner, as the weather's gotten warmer it's starting to become more of a chore when it comes to maintaining it so he asks newt to help him cut it? it can be as silly or goofy as you want, platonic or romantic is up to you.

i hope you're having a great day and enjoying the fall weather

-🦇

if the haircut fits — newt x male reader

❝ IF THE HAIRCUT FITS ❞

Thank you so much for the request, Bat. So sorry it took so long to finish, and I kind of ran away with this one, but I hope you enjoy!

SYNOPSIS ➢ As summer started to creep into the Glade, the sun’s rays had been hitting you much harder than usual; your hair, especially, have been more of a nuisance. Your solution? Get one of your closest friends to cut it for you. But losing the weight of your hair made you want to get rid of some weight off your chest, as well.

PAIRING ➢ newt x male reader

CONTENT WARNING ➢ friends to lovers, kissing, touching, banter, light insults sexual innuendoes, fluff, slight hurt/comfort, mentions of eating, mentions of drinking, slight violence (a slap), mentions of body, no use of y/n

WORD COUNT ➢ 7.3 k

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ I like to keep any image of the reader’s body out of my writing, but in this he’s implied to be well built, but not explicitly mentioned. The hair may also be more of a non-black standard, since I’m not sure exactly how black hair behaves in this situation, but I tried to keep it as vague as possible. I’m sure there are also a lot of inaccuracies in this concerning the Glade, such as the weather and the sun and the lake, but for the sake of this fic it works like I say it does — I am the author and therefore, God.

The air had gotten warmer recently. You’d noticed it only a few days ago, when your breath hadn’t exhaled in a cloud of white smoke and your neck had started to sweat after a full day of running in the Maze. The weather didn’t exactly respond to how the seasons—that on some level your subconscious knew existed—worked, but it changed all the same. It had only gotten warmer, and quickly, too. With the sun bearing down on from overhead, the air was chokingly warm, your skin practically dripping with sweat and the ends of your hair clinging to your neck. It had grown long during the past few months and while it was a comfort in the colder weather, strands of it now hung uncomfortably in your eyes despite your best attempts to pull it back into a knot.

Minho walked just in front of you through the gates of the Maze and entered the green forestry of the Glade. The walls closed right behind you and in spite of the late hour of the day the sun still shone bright in the sky. He was just as eager to take cover from it under the cool shade of the Glade’s woods as to throw himself into the equally cool lake. You ran up beside him, patting him on the shoulder.

“This weather,” he grunted, wiping the palms of his hands on his trousers. They left tracks of sweat. “I swear it’s got something against us.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a sigh. You peeled your drenched shirt from your skin, pulling it over your head in an attempt to ease some of the warmth. It didn’t made much of a difference.

Minho threw you a sideway glance as you walked across the green fields. “Eager to show your body off?”

You threw your head back in a bark, sidestepping so you would walk backwards to face him. Your hands spread as your head tilted with conviction.

“You’d want to show off your body too if it looked like this,” you said. Minho couldn’t help but smile at your comment, shaking his head in exasperation. You turned around to walk beside him normally again. 

As the two of you made your way to the lake, you passed the gardens and its track-hoes, Newt being one among them. Despite the fact that he was second in command, he liked the calming repetitiveness of caring for vegetables and flowers. He’d told you one late night when you’d found him sitting by himself, staring up at the night sky, and your curiosity had gotten the better of you. Now, his eyes met yours in an instant, as if he’d known exactly where you were. As if he’d been watching you for some while, and waiting for you to notice. Your stomach flipped at his unashamed staring, nervous under the gaze, as your mind drew a blank. Quickly, you rearranged your mouth into a smirk, to which he shook his head out of his stunned stupor and continued with his task, but you could tell his mind wasn’t present as his eyes kept jumping back and forth.

Minho saw your smug smile and hit you across the chest, hard enough to cause you to stumble. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Newt cover his mouth from something that looked like a chuckle and you glared back at Minho’s now-smug smile. He just tilted his head and kept walking to the cover of the trees.

“You can flirt with Newt later,” he said. “Let’s go wash off.”

“I wasn’t flirting with anyone! Let alone Newt.”

“Whatever, man.”

You grumbled something unintelligible, which he ignored, as you walked together to the lake on the other side of the Glade. It was a rather long walk, but the time in the trees’ shade cooled you down nicely. Reaching the lake, the water was darkening with the passing of the sun, seeming almost more ominous now than inviting. You found a few other Gladers there already, some of them laying by the bank with their shirts discarded and the rest of them submerged in the water. Minho wasted no time removing his shirt and running into the dark water. You discarded your earlier thoughts and quickly followed suit, pulling your hair from its knot and jumping into the lake with a splash that earned you an ugly glare from a Glader nearby. Minho shared the glare and slapped the water hard, sending it flying in your direction.

“Shankhead,” he muttered.

You only laughed and leant backwards, fully submerging your body under the dark water. Your muscles relaxed and let the water carry you out further in the lake, effectively cooling you down. This was exactly what you needed after a warm and exhausting day; your head under the water, your hair spread around you like the halo of some angel—if an angel could be trapped in a maze. The cold water felt like a blanket across your mind, quieting your thoughts down to a tenth of their usual volume. There were few things that could calm you like this.

The peace didn’t last long, though, as Minho’s hand suddenly closed over your arm and dragged you above surface.

“What?” you spit at him.

He cocked his head to the end of the lake and when you turned your head you saw Newt’s figure walking closer, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. You immediately tried to stand up, but forgot you were too far out, and instead of touching the sand you sunk deeper in the water with a splutter. Again, you broke the surface with a gasp and a flail of your arms, struggling to wipe your hair out of your eyes. Minho was unsurprisingly unhelpful, barking out his laugh at your unfortunate. You glared at him and swam to the bank where Newt stood waiting. It was only then that you noticed a lot of the other boys were gone or also on their way from the lake.

“Smooth,” Newt commented when you reached him.

“Shut up.”

He nodded his head to the woods behind him. “Dinnertime’s soon. Reckoned I’d go get you.”

“I am honoured your lordship would bother thinking of little ol’ me,” you smiled. He only rolled his eyes.

Your steps brought you up further, the water splashing around your knees. Newt’s arms were crossed over his chest as he leant on one foot, waiting for you to reach him. You noticed that he adamantly kept his eyes fixated on a spot just above your head, refusing to glance at any part of your body that was currently on display. A part of you sparked with amusement. Minho stepped out just behind you and went over to retrieve your clothes, throwing your shirt and boots at you.

“Thanks,” you bit at him, just barely avoiding one hitting your head.

He flashed you with a smug smirk as he pulled his shirt over his head, immediately causing wet spots to bloom wherever it touched his skin directly. “My pleasure,” he said and started walking back to the huts, through the now-dark forest.

The sun had settled quickly and long shadows now stretched before you as you turned to walk into the forest. Newt followed suit, staring at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Not going to put on your shirt?” he asked.

You turned your head to catch Newt’s gaze sweeping across your figure. It filled you with a strange satisfaction to see him checking you out. When he noticed that you’d caught him, he immediately looked away, his posture suddenly stiff. His cheeks were definitely redder than they had been before, although it was difficult to tell in the darkening light. Your lips tugged into something resembling a smile.

“Why? Does it bother you?”

Newt scoffed and met your gaze defiantly underneath his golden fringe. “No. I just don’t want your stupid arse to get sick.”

Your smile widened. “Oh, really? Do you happen to care for me, Newt?”

“I am not admitting that,” he said and rolled his eyes. His tone was suspiciously even, as if it took everything in him not to check you out again. “I’m only saying it’d be be more trouble than you’re worth to get you healthy again.”

His brown eyes met yours, obstructed with a few strands. You had the urge to reach out and pull them away, to see his eyes more clearly, but instead you sent him a simple smile and nudged him lightly with your elbow. “Okay, you have your priorities clear,” you said.

“Just go get ready, won’t you?” His glare was enough to send shivers down your spine and his hands started to turn your body in the direction of the huts, now already having reached the end of the woods. “See what I told you? You’re already getting cold!”

“Fine,” you drawled with your hands up in defence, looking at him over your shoulder. “I’ll see you at the bonfire.”

He lifted his hand in half a wave and swiftly turned away from you, walking to where the others had begun to gather by the fire. Sometimes you forgot he had hurt his leg—it had happened before you arrived in the Glade—but looking at him now his limp was evident in his step. You lingered a moment longer to watch his hair glow in the contrast from the fire, vaguely resembling the sun in an eclipse. You found the view almost poetic, entrancing you in its picturesque aestheticism. It reminded you of Icarus flying too close to the sun, you standing by, helpless to aid him in his downfall, inevitably and irrevocably fated to meet his doom. You weren’t sure where the thought or the name had come from, but ancient knowledge seemed to lord over you in a cloud of mystery.

“Go!” called Newt suddenly over his shoulder. He met your eye with a quirk of his brow and for a second his eyes seemed to draw you into the depths of his soul, but then you blinked and the feeling was gone.

“Going!” you jumped out of your daze to call back and quickly turned to make your way to the huts. How he had known you’d stayed put you didn’t know, but didn’t question further. You rushed to your cot to grab a change of clean clothes and a towel to dry off with, even though most of the water had already dried and cooled your skin with the night’s chill. Still, your hair hung heavy with water, wetting the new shirt you put on. You groaned as you tried to wipe it with the towel, but to no avail. The only downsides to having long hair was it took forever to dry. It would have to warm by the fire.

You changed into the warm pair of trousers and put on your boots. Still, your damp hair felt cold against your skin, which would have been nice if the temperature didn’t drop so suddenly as soon as the sun was gone. You hurried to the fire, the air enveloping you into its warm grasp, eyes already searching for the familiar blonde boy. A lot of the Gladers were milling about, eating the good food Frypan had cooked up or drinking some of the incredibly strong spirit you knew Newt fancied. Someone was laughing loudly nearby but you ignored it in favour of searching for the quiet spot you knew you would find him by. When your eyes settled on him, sitting on a log with a drink in his hand and a plate on his knee, your hand reflexively made its way to pull back your bangs from your eyes. Warmth settled in your stomach that was equally familiar.

“Don’t worry, you look good,” came Minho’s voice beside you. You shot him a glare and removed your fingers from your hair, still itching to pull it away. “Not that your ego needs the boost.”

“Not what I was concerned with,” you said. You swallowed. “But thanks.”

Minho grinned. Your lips lifted into an answering grin and Minho nudged you towards the fire. “Go get ‘em.”

You frowned at him, pretending not to understand what he meant, before shaking your head and walking towards where Newt was sitting. His gaze lifted as you approached and you felt your stomach flipping, not uncomfortably. 

“So, he can wear a shirt? Was starting to believe you weren’t capable of it,” said Newt, lowering his drink from his lips.

“Yeah,” you answered with a sheepish grin.

You sat down next to him on the log and reached over to nick a few pieces of his fruit. Newt immediately leant away, lifting the plate away from your reach.

“Woah--oi, hey! Don’t take my food! Get your bloody own from Frypan,” he grumbled, settling you with a glare. You recognised the glint in his eye though, the one that told you he wasn’t entirely serious. His eyes shone in the firelight, softening the longer you stayed quiet, and his lips even started to turn up. At the sight of it, yours did as well. He always knew how to bring out your mischievous side.

“Your food tastes much better.”

“It’s exactly the same.”

You shook your head. “No, by its mere proximity to you, the food is better.”

Newt rolled his eyes and placed his plate back on his knee, where your hand quickly snatched away the remainder of his fruit. He only sighed and took a long sip from his drink, pretending to ignore your staring at him. Finally, he lowered his glass and met your gaze with a sigh.

“What?” asked Newt, tone as flat as he could manage to make it in your presence.

Your lips tugged into a smile. “Nothing,” you said and glanced away.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Newt swiftly turn to you before you felt a nudge against your side, almost pushing you off balance. You cried out and reached towards him to stabilise yourself, sending him the harshest glare you could muster in spite of the laughter that was waiting in your throat. He met it with a glare of his own while ignoring your hands on his arm and shoulder, which suddenly felt too hot to the touch. Blood rushed to your cheeks.

“Nothing,” you repeated, avoiding his gaze. You were forced to let go of him with a clearing of your throat, conscious of your cold hands. You became too aware of your hair brushing your cheek, annoyingly tickling your skin. Before you could move, Newt’s hand had reached out to brush it away. Your breath hitched in your throat and you were unable to rip your eyes away from his.

“Sorry,” he said bashfully and withdrew it, curling it into an uncertain fist.

You smiled. “No, no, it’s okay. It’s getting too long,” you mumbled, your hands moving as if with a mind of their own to fiddle with the longer strands of your hair. 

“I could help you, you know?” spoke Newt, drawing your gaze to him. He seemed not to have noticed your flustered state or he chose to ignore it. You hoped it was the former.

You frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

His voice broke as he opened his mouth to speak, but he cleared his throat and nodded to your head.“I could help cut your hair.”

“Really?” you asked, surprise evident in your voice. You supposed cutting weeds while gardening got him familiar around shears. 

“I mean, yeah, sure,” said Newt. “Reckon I’d do a better job than anything you’d manage, anyway.”

Your head whipped to the side, mouth open in indignation. “That’s foul!”

His lips tugged into a grin and he lifted an eyebrow with the argument. “Am I wrong?” Your eyes swept over his own hair, which you assumed he’d cut himself, and pursed your lips in contemplation. It looked good. He looked good. Especially in that light, when the fire casted a golden aura that settled around his head like a halo. It effortlessly managed to draw your attention to every shift in his movement.

“No,” you finally grumbled, again tugging at a strand.

His hand reached out to tuck the stray strand of your hair away, and in doing so pushed away your own. The short moment of contact made your breath stutter and come out in a short burst. Newt met your gaze with a smile. It felt different than before, none of his usual amusement visible in his gaze. Instead, there now hung a heavy silence over the both of you, despite the loud chatter and laughter of those who had gathered by the fire. You were so close to him that you could count the lashes on his eyes. His gaze, which usually swirled with the pain and frustration that served as a reminder that Newt was capable of more than he let on, was now void of that. There was only curiosity and something softer that you couldn’t describe to be found. Newt must have felt your breath on his hand by now were it not for you holding it in anticipation. As if suddenly realising it, he blinked and leant away from you, his hand falling down at your side. Your breathing returned to normal as you tried to keep the warmth rushing to your cheeks at bay, trying in vain to ignore how close you two had just been. It was too dark for you to see if he was feeling the same way, or he was just too good at hiding it, but it didn’t keep you from scrutinising his face for any clues.

“Take a sick day tomorrow, meet me by the gardens,” he said after a few minutes of silently staring into the fire. His voice was level, as if he hadn’t been caressing your cheek only moments before.

You tried to match his nonchalance and arched an eyebrow. “Minho will murder me.”

Newt cocked his head. “Let that be on my head.”

“Fine,” you said and stood up with a groan, feeling the stretch of your muscles from the day’s run. Newt followed your movement, meeting your eye as you pointed an accusing finger at him. “On your head, be it.”

Newt nodded, sending a smirk your way. You stepped away from him and made your way to Frypan. As you grabbed a few sandwiches, Gally sneaked up by your side, swiping one of the sandwiches in your hand.

“Got tired of flirting, huh?” he chuckled.

You glared at him and bit into your sandwich. “Shut up.”

He smirked smugly. “It’s plain as day, Greeny.”

“You’re worse than Minho,” you grumbled. Your finger lifted to point in his direction. “And stop calling me that, I haven’t been Greeny for a year.”

His mocking laughter followed you as you walked away from the fire towards the huts, shaking your head. A few Gladers had followed your trail of thought, also deigning to go to bed early. You fell into your sleeping cot with your feet kicked up and a deep sigh escaping your lips. Your mind couldn’t keep from trailing back to the sight of Newt by the fire, his brown eyes shining along with his smug smirk. A groan fought through your throat as you rubbed your eyes in frustration.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Newt. On the contrary, you liked him a lot. He was kind and funny and witty and smart and always knew how to both make you laugh and trample on your nerves to get you furious with him. But you didn’t fancy him, no matter how much Minho and Gally liked to imply it. He just had a special way to worm his way into your thoughts and then burrow there. For days after an interaction, you would think of how he looked at you a certain way or how he would accidentally touch you while brushing past.

It drove you insane, how easily Newt could get inside your mind.

And how easily he could stir up the warmth inside your stomach and make it rush to your cheeks with only a simple gesture. You had found yourself trying to hide your cheeks when around him too often lately and you were sure he had noticed, but only given you the curtesy of not commenting on it.

“Fuck,” you groaned again and turned over in your cot, your hair prickling your skin with reminder of what tomorrow would bring.

It was difficult to distract your mind from Newt long enough to settle down. Eventually, you managed to fall into a restless sleep, filled with the muddled dreams of red sunlight bouncing off of bluish marble, almost creating the illusion of moving water. You saw the reflection of your form against the stone below you but before you had the chance to take it all in, a hand had clasped your own and another drawn you in by your waist. When you looked up, it was the face of none other than the person you had previously been trying to forget, although you could not fathom why at that moment. Newt. His warm smile calmed you down and you allowed him to lead you into the first steps of a waltz. How you had learnt it you didn’t question, but just followed his captivating eyes and trusted him to catch you if you fell. Those same eyes were gazing into yours, big and brown and with the same curiosity that had gazed on you earlier that day. Only now, you allowed yourself to get lost in the sight of them, to be entranced by their deep swirling darkness. Right when Newt had stretched his arm out and sent you into a light spin, and his hand was ready to welcome you back into his embrace, had his expression changed from one of bliss to one of chock and disgust. You halted, frowning at his actions, before following his line of sight and reaching a hand up to the top of your head. To your horror, all your hair had suddenly vanished. Panic rose through you, clawing blindly at your empty head, wanting to escape from this, from everything, from Newt’s hateful glance. You took a step and tried another but caught the only small imperfection in the marble that caused you to stumble, falling down, down, and down… waiting for the ground to hit you.

What came instead was a slap on your chin, harsh enough to force you awake.

“Ngh— fuck,” you croaked, blinking drowsily. Your vision cleared up as you squinted at your assailant, recognising the judging stare immediately. “Come on, man.”

The sun had barely come up again over the tall walls guarding the Glade when Minho had deigned to make you a visit. That time was usually when you would get ready for your run in the Maze. Apparently, Newt had not said anything to Minho which made you let out a deep groan. Minho was staring down at your messy form, his arms crossed over his chest with a harsh stare pinning you to your place. He cocked his head, raising an eyebrow.

“Anyone tell you you’re an ugly sleeper?” he asked, a sickly sweet smile on his lips.

“No, I’m adorable,” you stated, trying to sit up as best as you could. “I’m taking a day off. I’m sick.” You punctuated your words with the best fake cough you could muster.

Minho looked unconvinced. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am,” you countered. When he raised an eyebrow you sighed in defeat. “Okay, I’m not sick. But I’m still taking a day off. If you want to argue, take it up with Newt. He’s got senior on you. And we both know you won’t miss me today.”

Minho’s breath released in a sharp burst as he contemplated your words. Finally, he let his arms fall to his side. “Fine,” he said, but raised a finger to point at you. “But you better have a damn good reason as to why you’re staying here today.”

You shot him a smile. “A damn good reason.”

He rolled his eyes and turned to walk away. “I will miss you, by the way,” he called over his shoulder. Then, he added, with a smug smirk, “Sweetheart.”

It was then your turn to roll your eyes as a bark of laughter forced itself out your throat. You rubbed your face from sleep, trying to get rid of your sluggishness. As you were already awake, you figured you could just as well get up to meet Newt a little earlier. It wouldn’t be long until the rest of the Gladers woke up, anyway.

Minho and the rest of the Runners were already by the Maze’s walls. You could see their figures in the distance as the gates started to open with a loud rumble, one that you could feel shaking the earth beneath your feet. You shook your head and stretched your limbs, feeling them pop and crack individually. Minho liked to be up and early with his runs, but you were glad to get a day off to rest. You turned to your things, changing into a clean pair of clothes and put your hair up, mostly out of autonomy. Last time you would do that for a while, you figured.

Newt’s cot was among one of the empty ones, so you assumed he would have already gone to Frypan’s station to get breakfast. You made your way over there, spotting his slumped figure immediately. He jumped when you dropped down beside him, nicking an apple from his plate.

“Could you maybe get your own food for once?” he asked with a cocked eyebrow. You smiled through your amusement, slowly chewing on the fruit. You swallowed with an exaggerated motion, sending him a sickly sweet smile.

“No,” you said. He rolled his eyes while taking a mouthful of his scrambled eggs, ignoring your presence in the process.

“Remind me again why I needed to take the whole day?” you asked. “Hopefully, Minho won’t feel as murder-y when he gets back later as how he felt this morning.”

You saw the corner of his lip lift into what you imagined to be a smile. Smug bastard.

“My art takes time,” he eventually answered, turning to you. “I want it to look good.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I already look good.”

“And I want you to stay that way.” Newt shot a meaningful glance at the other Gladers, which had you wincing. Some of them could benefit from a more skilful haircut, you must admit.

“Fine.”

“Besides,” he said, “it’s easier when the sun is at its highest. Less chance for me to fuck it up then.”

Newt smiled at you, but his words indicated an underlying threat, one that had you smiling back in amusement. He really loved pushing your buttons. It didn’t help that you actually were concerned about your hair being fucked up—not that you would consider yourself a vain person, but you knew how much someone’s looks could be diminished because of a bad haircut. And your thoughts ran to the dream you’d had; was it a nightmare or a premonition?

You scratched your neck, conscious of the hair touching your skin. “You know what? I’m actually not so certain about this.”

Newt sighed and pinned his gaze on you. “I see you swatting your hair away all the time,” he said, exasperation shining through annoyance. “It’s clearly annoying you.”

His words made something in you flip. “Are you saying that you notice me all the time, then?” you asked with a smug smile, unable to keep your amusement at bay for long.

He ignored your question. “I’m not going to fuck it up, mate.” When you sent him a sceptical glare he sighed again, and asked, “What are you so afraid of? Don’t you trust my skills?”

Your lips tugged in earnest for a moment, before again settling into their smug familiarity. “I guess I’m just scared you’ll find me less attractive if I cut my hair.” You blinked through your eyelashes, meeting Newt’s incredulous gaze. “I mean, what if the whole reason you like me is because of my handsome hair?”

“That’s ridiculous,” he scoffed, turning to look down at his plate.

“So you admit you do find me attractive?” you chuckled.

“Never said that.”

Your lips pressed into a line, wondering if you had crossed the line that time. It took a moment to decide before opening your mouth again. “Will you still help me?”

“Of course,” he smiled at you, winking playfully. The gesture made butterflies immediately appear in your stomach and you had to look away lest he see the smile gracing your lips. He stood up from his seat, leaving the rest of his breakfast untouched, and nudged your side. “C’mon, let’s get going.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. Or would you rather we wait until I get tired and the light is bad for me to slip with my shears?”

He had a point, damn him. “Fine,” you admitted, following suit and going outside with him. The sun blinded the both of you, already high in the sky. It felt strange for it to be this bright out and not being in the maze running.

Newt started walking toward the garden so you followed point, close at his heel. He picked up a pair of dirty looking shears, turning to flash you a grin. You looked at them skeptically, which he must have noticed.

“Look, they’ll get the job done, alright?”

Your eyebrow cocked. “You sure? Looks like they haven’t worked since ten years ago.”

Newt laughed dryly and nudged past you, walking the way to the woods.

“Hey, where are you going?” you asked.

“The lake. Need to get your hair wet,” he called over his shoulder.

Hmm. Sounded reasonable. You ran to keep up with him and joined him by the lake you had been swimming in the day before. The water looked even more inviting now, with the sun glittering across its surface instead of the afternoon’s deep shadows. Newt, none too gently, shoved you in the direction of it, sitting himself down by the bank.

You flashed a smile to him. “That eager to see me shirtless again?”

He rolled his eyes and reached for the water to splash it up at you. You yelped and jumped out of reach, giving him a stare full of contempt. “Just dump your ‘ead in the water, you knob.”

“Since you asked so kindly.”

You lowered your body closer to the bank, only letting your head submerge under the water. It felt cold, but not uncomfortably so. You felt a tap against your shoulder, Newt, and sprang up into sitting position. Water dripped from your hair, drenching your shirt and face. When you turned to Newt, your smile was crooked.

“Great,” he said, moving to sit behind you, shears in his hands. “Now all you have to do is keep still. Think you can do that?”

“Anything for you, Newt.”

You sighed happily and leant back, letting the sun cast its warm rays over you. You didn’t notice the moment Newt hesitated after your words, before he started drawing his fingers through your hair. All you knew was that suddenly his touch was there and it felt heavenly. You knew he only did it to measure your hair to cut it, but every time his fingers brushed against your scalp shivers erupted across your spine. You almost had the mind to close your eyes and fall asleep right then and there, with Newt almost caressing you. You imagined those same fingers running down from your head, touching the skin over your neck, brushing past your abdomen and squeezing your thighs. Even the thought of it made your breath hitch and you kept still to keep him from noticing anything amiss. Slowly and carefully, he worked, cutting methodically. You cracked an eye open, trying to glance at him from the corner of it.

“How’s it going, Newt?” you asked.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled lightly, and said, “Don’t rush me.”

It was enough to make warmth travel to your cheeks and your abdomen, so you kept quiet after that and let him do his work in peace. His fingers danced closer to your skin then, trying to get to the nape of your neck and it took all your willpower not to shy away from him. Slowly, you relaxed into his hold again, numbed by the featherlight touches and breaths of air fanning over your skin when he sat too close.

And suddenly, it was all over. With one final brush of his hand, his fingers running through your hair thoroughly, he cleared his throat and moved away.

“All done,” said Newt, though it was almost a whisper.

You opened your eyes to the sight of him sitting on his folded knees and his fingers fidgeting with the shears, looking almost as if it took all his power to concentrate on his breathing. You smiled, raising an eyebrow, and ran your own hand through your hair. It felt lighter, and smooth, and you hadn’t realised how much of a relief it was to be gone with the length.

“How do I look?” you asked, meeting his eye.

“Good.”

“Better than before?”

Newt shrugged and stood up. “Good, like always.”

Your lips quirked into a mischievous smile. “You think I’m good looking?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he scoffed, but you could definitely see a redness spreading across his cheeks. He tried to turn away but you were quicker, bounding closer to him and shaking away the cutaway strands in the same movement. It was fun teasing him.

“You’re the one who said it!” you exclaimed.

“Oi, stop being difficult,” he settled his glare on you.

“I’m not.”

He shot you a look, one that told you he was trying to stay annoyed but secretly enjoying your antics. “You are,” he said while turning in the way to the rest of the Glade, shears hanging loosely from his grip.

You ripped your gaze from his long fingers, the image of them making your mind return to how you had wanted him to touch you earlier, and instead ran to keep up with his steps. You could sense the smile hiding in the corner of his lip, almost like a sixth sense, determined to bring it out. So, eyebrows lifted in a suggestive expression, you saddled closer to his side and said, “But you like a challenge, right—so why are you complaining?”

The gaze Newt responded with could only be described as filled with disbelief, and something else—something mischievous. “So now you’re a challenge, hm?” he asked, his eyebrows disappearing behind the ruffles of his hair.

You frowned and tilted your head at him. “Hey! Are you calling me easy?”

“Well, if the haircut fits…” he trailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence up to your active imagination.

“Now that’s just plain rude,” you muttered, lowering your gaze to the ground to avoid any missteps in the uncertain terrain of the Glade’s woods.

“I’m so very sorry, mate,” said Newt, without much conviction. You rolled your eyes at his sarcastic tone and noticed the flashing smile that was then all too visible on his face. “How can I make it up to you?”

“You can start by not calling me ‘mate’,” you retorted, not thinking through your words except to win this ‘argument’.

Newt glanced at you. “And what would you rather me call you?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, avoiding his gaze, while all too aware of what he was trying to get you to admit. But you were comfortable with the dance you and him were engaged in. It had been going on for so long that you had forgotten how to not do it with him. It was easier to keep dancing with him, to keep the illusion of a ballroom couple perfect rather than to quiet the orchestra and run from your Prince Charming. Newt seemed to sense where your thoughts had run to, as he tried to meet your gaze.

“You sure about that?” he asked sceptically.

“Er, yeah?”

Newt was way too good at reading you and would not believe any excuses you tried to make, however convincing they may be. You both despised and admired him for it. He stopped you in your tracks with a hand across your midriff; the feel of his fingers pressing against your skin, even through the shirt, made shivers travel down your spine. The hand quickly retreated as he tried searching your eyes.

“I—,” he started, voice unsteady. He cleared his throat to regain his composure as you waited for him, arms crossed, trying to keep up the charade any way you could. “I think you’d rather me call you ‘good looking’. Or ‘handsome’. Or ‘pretty’. Or what about ‘love’, hm?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth traveling up your neck to rush to your cheeks. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” he said, an eyebrow raised from the very obvious tremor in your voice.

“Are you teasing me, Newt?” you asked incredulously.

Newt flashed you a smug smile and shrugged, looking away bashfully. “Got to be my turn to do it sometime,” he said.

You were used to you teasing him and poking fun, but he always took it in stride and seldom flirted back—which was what this had somehow turned into. If you’d known you two would end up flirting because of him cutting your hair you never would have agreed to his help—or maybe you still would have. Either way, there was no escaping it now. Fuck it, you thought. A frustrated groan seethed through your pressed lips as you threw your hands up in exasperation.

“You know what? Fine,” you said, meeting Newt’s gaze defiantly. “Yes, I’d like to be called all of those things. And I would like to call you all of those things.” You paused to then search Newt’s gaze, but he just stared at you in stunned silence and made no attempt to answer, so you kept going, albeit slightly more hesitant. “I—I want to hold you, to touch you, embrace you in the way that simple friends shouldn’t do. I’d like to whisper into your ear at night how much you brighten my days and make this shucking life worth living. Most of all, I would like to call you mine.”

You paused again to inhale deeply, your breathing shallow after your rant. It had driven your emotions to the surface so well you might as well have been wearing your feelings on your sleeve, ready to hand out romantic professions for anyone bothering to glance your way.

You hadn’t noticed how warm your cheeks had suddenly gotten, and made to move away while muttering, “There—I’ve said it. Let’s just go.”

“Wait—no—” Newt shouted, throwing out his arm to grab your wrist.

He pulled you back into him, making you lose balance, and a moment later his lips had closed over yours. The surprised gasp that had escaped your lips was quieted by his kiss and you quickly melted into his embrace. Immediately, his fingers closed over your nape, taking hold of your now-short hair and drawing you even closer. You could feel him pressing himself closer in whatever way he could manage, one hand tugging at your hair and the other clawing at your waist. Each individual touch sent sparks of warmth and cold over your skin as your hands closed over his jaw and throat. Even your imagination couldn’t have predicted how he would feel, how his body would fit against yours and make you want to never breathe again if it meant you could stay with him, like this, forever.

Finally, you had to pull away to suck in a deep breath of air, Newt trailing after and barely letting you go. You couldn’t fight the chuckle that forced its way out nor the grin that spread over your lips. Neither could he, as you saw his blushing face break out in a beam and his eyes jumping all over your face. It made you painfully aware of yourself and you bowed your head to settle against the crook of his neck, bashful in spite of your close contact. His hands were still holding onto your waist and kept your body pressed against him.

“Don’t get shy now,” he chided, though his tone was light and his fingers were rubbing slow circles across your back.

Despite the warm sun that glared over the pair of you, his gesture made a shiver crawl up your spine and you pulled away to look at him with an arched eyebrow. “Really, you’re calling me shy?” He nodded to your question. “I’m shy when you’re here— Have you completely forgotten who’s always bold and teases and openly flirts with you?”

Newt scoffed, drawing his hands over the small of your back. “Well, maybe I stole your boldness when I kissed you.”

You almost couldn’t believe him. His cheeks were already flushed, but burned even brighter when your hand pressed against his neck to pull him in again, forcefully pressing your lips against his and claiming his tongue as yours. In doing so, you swallowed his surprised gasp with your kiss, but he didn’t manage to suppress the moan when you took his bottom lip between your teeth and bit lightly. It made you smile smugly, pulling away immediately to look upon his bright red face and dazed expression.

“Who’s shy now, hm?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest and stepping out of his hold.

Newt shot you an angry glance, but it was difficult to take him seriously when he was also blushing furiously. He decided to leave it at that and with not much dignity, pick up the shears he had dropped and started walking back towards the huts. Again, you had to run after him with laughter playing on your lips. You could tell he wasn’t really annoyed, but it was easy to slip back in the comfortable dance of your relationship.

You wouldn’t let him pretend like all of this had not happened, though. He looked at you in surprise when your hand sought out his own, fingers intertwining and closing over his. You smiled back, feeling a slight burning at the tip of your ears, but he leant in and placed a light kiss that made you wish for more again, which eased your nervousness.

“Guess we’re both a little shy, huh,” he remarked. You just shrugged, looking ahead to the opening of the forest, but the smile still apparent on your lips.

“And where the fuck have you two been?” cried Alby’s voice as soon as you stepped out of the trees.

Immediately, you felt as if you jumped out of your skin and let go of Newt’s hand, his cheeks burning as much as yours did. You scratched the back of your neck and glanced sheepishly at Newt, catching the mischievous glint in his eyes; neither of you could fight the smiles that broke out on both your faces.

“On your head be it, you said,” you smirked, slipping away from his indignant eyebrow raise.

You left Newt to deal with Alby alone with a playful wink, to which he only shook his head and hid his smile as he faced the approaching commander. You had half a mind to skip away with the happiness that were bubbling through you, but managed to contain yourself to walking away with a steady pace, though you couldn’t keep your thoughts from running back to the memory of Newt against you nor the smile that followed.

END NOTE ➢ I do have an idea for a part two should anyone be interested in it. Hope you enjoyed this!

[peachhcs]

jealousy, jealousy

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

will does a bit of stalking on his burner account

1.7k words

here's a bit of will's groveling while talking with the guys from back home. if i had a burner account, i would also stalk my ex on it, so will's kind of real for that haha

au masterlist

will's eyes glued themselves to his phone screen. he didn't mean to click into samy's account, but one thing led to another and his fingers just typed away the password to his burner account that the girl had no idea he had so he wasn't blocked there.

he just needed to look. a check-in? what sounded better than calling it plain stalking? at least gabe and ryan weren't there to peer over the boy's shoulder and chirp on him for stalking his ex.

the boy's fingers slid through her profile. he hadn't seen it in awhile, so when he saw four new posts in her feed since the last time he looked, he was immediately tapping into them. will's gaze slid over every single photo.

samy's smile was wide and bright as she stood with hannah and their other friends. even her soccer photos captured her large smile and seeing it made will smile back. he always loved seeing her love soccer as much as she did.

the blonde scrolled until he stumbled onto a photo in one of her recent posts. the fourth picture out of the ten in the set was of samy standing very close to a guy will didn't quite recognize. his arm was wrapped around her waist and something in will pinched.

that feeling—one he had so long ago he hardly remembered it—started resurfacing the longer he stared at the photo. memories of samy's senior homecoming flashed in will's mind while he compared her date to the guy in this photo.

who the fuck was this guy? luckily, he was tagged, so will went to his account. it was public.

upon further inspection, the guy was their age, a soccer player for the men's team, and worst of all he had a similar photo of him and samy on his account too. actually, the brunette was in his feed twice.

they looked really close. too close.

will scoffed. the guy wasn't even that good looking. plus, he so wasn't samy's type. the boy clicked back into her account to inspect the rest of the photos.

for some reason he couldn't believe how happy she looked as if they didn't break up. she looked like nothing even happened, but that was how will looked too. at least he tried to.

suddenly, the boy's phone buzzed in his hand. gabe's name flashed across the screen and a smile appeared on the blonde's lips as she slid to answer the call. his friend's face quickly appeared.

"hey, did i catch you at a bad time?" gabe wondered when he connected.

"no, no. i'm in my room," the blonde chuckled.

"okay, good. ry and drew are with me too. they wanted to say hi," the dark-haired boy pointed his laptop towards the other boys who waved.

"hey smitty!"

"yooo, what's up!"

will smiled widely at their hello's, "hey, it's good to see you guys again."

"we miss you a lot here. it's not the same without our other guy," drew cut in.

"i miss you guys too. it doesn't feel the same not playing on the same team anymore," the blonde hummed a bit sadly.

that was the hardest thing about all of this. on top of going through a breakup, will's best friends weren't around to help him through it. he only saw them through a screen now.

"you start soon, right? in a week?" ryan wondered as him and drew sat behind gabe in what must've been one of their rooms or something. 

"yeah, i make my debut at the game next week," will nodded, excitement filling his system at that. he's waited since he was a kid to finally take the ice as an official nhl player and knowing that day was finally a week away didn't quite feel real. 

"dude, you're gonna be awesome. i wish we could be there to see it," gabe frowned a bit which made will frown again. 

"i wish you guys were here, too. how's boston been? the same?" 

"yeah, pretty much. tailgates, parties, practice, you know. the usual," drew commented earning small eye rolls from gabe and ryan. 

"mostly practice. coach wants us working extra hard this year after last season," ryan cut in and the blonde nodded. he figured coach would get on the team harder this season after they lost the ncaa finals without scoring any points. 

"what've you been doing though? are the guys cool?" gabe changed the subject. 

"oh, they're great. they've been showing me around the area and i think i'll really like it," the boy nodded. he felt content and the people on the team seemed like good guys, so he knew he was in good hands. 

there was just a few things missing. 

"met any girls?" drew teased with a large smirk. 

will's expression faltered while gabe and ryan glared in the other boy's direction. they didn't hound will as much about the whole breakup anymore, but the subject was still touchy and they knew for a fact will wasn't ready to meet other people yet. 

"dude," ryan mumbled, but will still heard him through the call. 

"uh, no. i haven't, but it's fine," the blonde offered a tight-lipped smile. the other three studied their friend for a moment, trying to decide if he was being truthful or not. 

samy's name wasn't one that came up a lot around them anymore when will was in conversation. they knew he didn't wanna talk about her, so they tried keeping her name out of their mouths as much as possible. they never even told him she visited last weekend to see them for their first home game of the season not knowing how that'd make will feel, but gabe decided to try his luck today with the topic. 

"uh, samy was up last weekend. she came and saw us for the first home game of the season," the dark-haired boy informed. he studied his friend's face for a reaction, worried that will would get mad or something. 

"oh, she did?" was all will said. 

"yeah, it was really nice of her. she was pretty excited for us. we took her out for dinner and everything, too," gabe smiled a bit. 

"that's cool. i'm glad she..she went out," will nodded while a part of him twisted. 

he knew the guys were still her friend, he just never really thought that she'd actually fly out to see them still when he wasn't there. plus, none of them even said anything to him about it last weekend. there wasn't even a story post about her being there. will knew his friends loved him, but did they really think they needed to hide whenever they were hanging out with his ex so he didn't know? 

"she asked about you..or well..we started talking about you a bit and she asked about you," ryan hummed making the blonde's ears perk up. 

"what did she say?" 

"just asked how you were. we said you were good. settled into san jose. she said she's glad you're doing good," ryan continued. hearing all of that made will's stomach continue twisting. of course she was glad he was doing good even when he (stupidly) broke her heart. 

"i haven't talked to her. i don't think she'd wanna talk to me anyway," will laughed dryly. 

"i'm sure she does if she asked how you were doing. she's not that heartless, will," drew chuckled some. the blonde could only manage a weak smile in response. 

"do you know if she's like..talking to anyone or anything?" will tried asking casually so it wouldn't seem like he was stalking her account and so the guys didn't know he resorted to the burner account to look her up. 

"uh..not really. i think she's just going on random dates. nothing serious," gabe shrugged. 

"so she is seeing people though?" 

when gabe nodded will felt his heart sink. he figured she probably would, but hearing it aloud hurt even more than he thought. 

"why do you ask?" ryan wondered, eyebrows raised. 

"no reason. i was just curious," the blonde attempted to play off his disappointment. 

"were you stalking her account?" gabe said because he knew his best friend well, even through a screen. the boy knew about the burner account because he saw it on will's phone a few months back when he caught him stalking samy's account too. 

"no." 

"will." 

"okay, maybe i was," the blonde rolled his eyes. 

"i thought she blocked you?" drew raised his eyebrow. 

"she did..i was just looking on my burner account," will admitted, embarrassment coating his expression. 

"oh boy," ryan muttered like he was unimpressed, yet he knew will would do something like this. 

"oh, come on. give me a break. it's not stalking. i was just..checking in?" 

"i think you should reach out to her. see how she is?" gabe cut in before ryan began arguing with him. 

"i told you, she doesn't wanna talk to me. she said she never wanted to see me ever again, so i doubt she'd want me to randomly text her. i'm probably blocked anyway," will mumbled knowing he definitely was because he actually did try and reach out to her about a month ago. his text went green, so that was a clear indication his number was blocked on her phone. 

"well, i hope you know she does wanna see you again even if she won't say it. i know she still thinks about you because she wears her charm bracelet and she's always stroking the shark charm i'm guessing you have her?" gabe raised his eyebrow. 

will immediately thought back to his farewell party where he talked a bit with mrs. hughes. the envelope had sat in his pocket all day deciding if he should find samy and give it to her before deciding it was probably better to have her mom give it to her instead. he didn't even know if samy would want it, so hearing that it was on her charm bracelet was a surprise. 

"i wouldn't think she doesn't want to see or talk to you too fast, will. you guys have history. you're like family. we're rooting for you guys," ryan said with a soft smile. 

the hockey player hummed, swiping out of the facetime to go back to samy's instagram. after another sweep of her recent posts, he did notice the charm bracelet sitting on her wrist. all of the charms were still there, even the ones he gifted her since she's had it. a soft smile spread across will's lips when he caught sight of the shark one. 

[azurlily]

Dont ask just read, this is what a bored and horny mind can come up with. Yes, this woman needs a name so for now we will call her LSM. What does that stand for? Lets find out together. Completely UNEDITED.

Lesbian Sugar Mommy

You had a daily schedule, a routine. You followed this routine everyday for years. For years. So you being poor as hell at only 24, being barely able to afford food and rent. It was an all time low for you, and an embarrassing one at that. Recently your friend recommends you try a sugar dating app. At first you thought it was stupid, but mulled it over and remembered how broke you were. You made a profile and it took a couple days before you matched with a woman. At first you were incredibly awkward when texting and felt embarrassed. She seemed like the kindest woman you've ever met. She understood you and was better than any man or woman you had previously dated.

You were honestly pretty enamored with her, she has dark green eyes. Like a forest green, god they're beautiful, and you swear they change color depending on what she's wearing. Her hair is long and dark, contrasting her lightly tan skin. Her hair is slightly curly, definitely not straight. In the many pictures she's sent you, you notice all her nails are perfect manicured, but two on each finger have been cut down completely. You didn't bother asking, weren't a virgin or stupid, simply poor. You two began talking a bit more about finances after a couple weeks. She listened to you talk about your financial situation, how you could barely keep a roof over your head. By the end of your two and a half hour conversation, you found yourself being wired $10,000. It wasn't as if it was out of nowhere considering what the conversation was, but it was surprising. LSM had said she wanted to give you a bit of money to keep you going for the month. She had not said she was give 10,000 fucking dollars! You didn't know what to do with the money. Other than pay your bills and let the rest sit.

For a couple days you were worried she'd want it all back, but no, instead she asked if you wanted more.

"Well I didn't give you that much...so I'm just making sure it's enough. I can give you plenty more, sugar."

You had reassured her it was enough, much more than enough. In the following days you were finding her flirting with you more, being more straightforward. You blushed everytime she made a crude joke, but you almost wished it was a statement.

When LSM had asked if you wanted to have dinner at her place you agreed. You wondered how the night would go, if you would fuck up and she'd be mad. You hoped the night went as well as possible, and if not, that she'd at least tell you.

The night went a lot of different ways. At first she was playing the kind and gracious host, then she was flirting with you. Finally you had both drank a little too much of her expensive red wine, and she fucked you against her king size bed.

You dont remember the first little bit, but you certainly remember how your night ended. Well not all of it, that woman has the sex drive of a beast. She continued until she couldn't, until you couldn't walk and she couldn't see straight. If nothing else; your legs will remember this until you die.

"Good morning sugar, how are you feeling? I hope I wasn't too rough on you, although I can't say it was entirely my fault. You kept begging me to keep going, and who am I to deny you?"

You whined, talking hurt, and you couldn't move without some part of your body below your waist hurting. You sit up just a enough and look at yourself in your phone mirror. Oh she knew exactly what she was doing, theres a massive bite mark on your shoulder. Everywhere else there's hickeys, like they're changing color.

"Before you get mad- please look at my back!"

She turned and you saw large scratch marks running down her back. From her shoulders to her ass, you can also see quite the array of bites on her shoulder. One looks like it was actually bleeding. Your reaction must be funny because she's laughing like crazy. She gently cups your face and kisses your lips.

"So pretty. My girl is so pretty arent you? Mommy's little girl."

You just laid in her arms for a while, letting her talk about whatever she wanted. You were tired and her touch made you weak. You began thinking about your job, did you have to call in to work today? Were you working today? You asked LSM, but she just smiled and shook her head.

"You wont need your job anymore, at least not this one. I've already sent your monthly allowance over to you. You can quit that job anytime, it'll give you more time for me."

Monthly allowance? You pulled away to check your bank account. Sure enough she had transferred over $40,000.

You stared at the number for a moment a then looked back at her. You assumed she was some sort of big millionaire, but now that you're looking around. Really looking. You dont want to know what this woman does for a living.

"Pay no mind sugar, now come here. I'll have someone bring breakfast and we can stay in bed all day!"

[jazziejax]

𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐌𝐬.𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥

Pairings- Black!OC x Abbott Elementary Cast, later Black!OC x Manny (Can be read as x Reader though!)

Summary- Pilot Episode Experience with Naoya Lovel

Warnings- Swearing, kids, mixed race reader( those aren’t warnings really, just what to expect)

Jazzie’sNotes!- let me know what you guys think!! I’ve been really obsessed with Abbott Elementary recently and I’m contemplating if I want to write S1&S2 just to get to the Manny season. I want to get there fast but I know what won’t be possible with two seasons worth of writing. Let me know what you guys think I should do.

Word Count- 6,358

“Okay, so you wouldn't put the number on the bottom because that's what?” The older woman asked, drawing out her words as she stood in front of her fourth-grade class, pointing at the whiteboard behind her with her yardstick.

“The denominator.” The class answered.

“Correct, and what do we call the one on top?”

“The numerator.”

“Yes! You guys are killing this lesson.” She smiled as she placed her hands on her hips. She caught the camera crew in the corner of her eyes and then turned to them. “Or should I say I’m killing this lesson?” She smirked, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she posed. It was silent for a moment as they all watched her just smile.

“Wouldn’t you agree?” She’s asked, looking at one of the guys behind the camera. He nodded, moving the camera along with him, causing her to smile and adjust her glasses. “Why, thank you.”

“Hello! My name is Naoya Lovel. Pronounced Now-Ya, it’s Japanese because I’m half Japanese. Don’t ask why I’m half Japanese in Philly, it’s a long story.” She sighed as she shook her head.

“Well, actually, let me tell you the story because it’s actually kind of crazy.” She chuckled, starting to explain, but it then cut to another clip of her in the class.

“Ms.Lovel, we ran out of paper towels.” A student said, standing in front of her desk with paint on the palms of his hands. Noaya looked up, at him, a slight frown on her face. “Ohh, okay, well I have some in my desk.” She started, pulling open her desk drawer. The camera angled down to catch the empty towel box staring back at her. She smirked up at them awkwardly and shrugged her shoulders. “What, I have a constant runny nose.”

“As a teacher, you teach kids how to solve problems while solving your own. In your personal life and at school. And in this school, there are a lot.”

“Ms.Lovel, I need paper towels too.” Another student said, showing her blue and pink palms to her teacher. Noaya then stood from her seat, looking around her room. “Okay, okay class. Give me one sec.” She said, nervously looking around her room to solve her paper towel problem. She the. Saw a stray beach towel near the window on her small bookshelf. “Oh! Here we are, guys.” She said, rushing over to the towel and snatching it up.

“This could be a lesson too.” She smiled excitedly and grabbed a pair of large scissors from her desk. “I probably shouldn’t have these just sitting out.” She mumbled to herself, giving the camera a sideways glance. “So class, this is going to be a hands-on moment. If there are almost thirty of you, how many pieces would I need to cut this into for you guys to share?” She asked, looking at all of them. There was a moment before anyone said anything, the kids thinking over their answer. Then, some of their hands shot up. Naoya flashed the cameras behind her a quick smile before turning back to the kids.

“Noaya, Jacob, and I came in last year with 20 other teachers. We’re three of the four left so…trauma bonding, I guess?” Janine said, in regards to the other girl.

“Yeah, I taught for two years before I got here, I transferred from Addington to here because those people are a bunch of stuck-up freaks who are just in it for a little extra on their check.” She said with a smirk. “And that’s not what I’m here for, I’m here to change lives.” She boated, folding her arms.



“Hey, Melissa, can you please tell “Ta-Nehisi Quotes” here that “white boy” is a term of endearment from the corner store people?” Janie said as she walked into the break room on the second floor.

“Ooh, cheese steaks?” Naoya questioned as she looked up from her papers, knowing the full situation after only hearing the words ‘white boy’ and ‘corner store’.”

“For Zach Ertz, yeah.” Melissa started, turning around with a fresh cup of coffee in her hands. “For him. It’s an insult.” She smirked, then paused at the sight of the cameras in her face.

“Well, you guys, I need a new rug. Mine is officially done.” Janie said.” Coming take a seat right next to the working woman.

“Mhmm! Me too.” Jacob started, taking a seat on the other side of her. “I shook mine out and all the asthma kids had to go to the nurse's office.” This conversation caused her to raise her head, placing her work aside and adjusting her glasses as she listened.

“Yeah, mine’s busted.” Melissa started. “And you can’t class up a rug like you can a couch with a nice coat of plastic.”

“You guys have rugs? All we have is a little mat.” Naoya started, looking between all of them. They all cringed at her words, but couldn’t say more before someone’s loud voice cut through the air.

“Hey-yo! What it does, baby-boo?” Ava yelled as she walked into the break room and over to where they were sitting. “What yall think about this little film crew I bought in here.”

“Distracting makes our jobs harder,” Melissa said disinterestedly, shooting the crew a glare.

“I wish I would have known this was going to be a video thing, I would have made myself look better,” Naoya mumbled, causing the camera to turn her way. She smiled, making her face appear happier than usual.

“But exciting. We about to be on TV.” Ava said, looking between them all.

“Because they are covering underfunded, loosely managed, public schools in America.” Barbra interrupted in a matter-of-fact tone.

“No press is bad press, Barb.” Ava practically disregarded the woman’s claim, continuing to smile at the camera. “Look at Mel Gibson. Still thriving.” She laughed. “ “Daddy’s Home 2”? Hilarious!” She looked around the room, either expecting people to laugh with or or just so confined in her large ego that she didn’t care if they laughed or not.

“Ava’s the worst person I know,” Noaya stated. “I’ve never seen her show an ounce of care about anything other than money. Which is a terrible mindset to have as a principal because you’re literally in the brokeest position of power.”

“There you are.” Ms.Schwartz sighed as she rushed into the room, spotting Ava. “Ava, can I talk to you?” The woman was out of breath as she stood before the principal, and her attire was disheveled. “I-I need an aid. I’m outnumbered there. The kids are crazy.” She ranted this wild look in her eyes. “One of the kids told me to ‘mind my six’ this morning, I don’t know what that means! I need help!” She ranted. Ava placed and hand on her shoulder.

“Calm down.” The darker woman said, cutting Ms. Schwartz off. “They’re just kids. And, besides, aids cost money, and we don’t have that.” She said before flashing a quick smile at the cameras. “Right, but I just—” Ms. Schwartz started again.

“Do you want to split your salary with somebody else?” Ava asked, leaning closer and angling both of them away from the cameras.

“No.” The other woman said dejected.

“No!” Ava cut her off before she could continue to rant. “No, I didn’t think so.”

“Well, if we can’t get aides, maybe we can get new rugs?” Janine chimed up, standing from her seat.

“All I’m hearing is “new, new, new, need, need, need,” Ava answered. “And yet, Barb, one of our best and most senior teachers here.” She continued, walking over to the older woman who sat at the table with Melissa and drank her coffee. “She never complains. What is your secret, Barb?”

“Knowing there’s not much you can do, Ava.” The woman said with a sarcastic smile. But Ava didn’t care to hear her condescending tone.

“So understanding.” The principal smiled, looking around the room. “Be like Ms.Howard, people.” That was all she said before she left the room.

Noaya shook her head as she started to collect her things, knowing the bell would be ringing anytime soon.

“But, I’m not Ms.Howard.” Ms.Schwartz cried from where she stood.

“Ohh, Tina, look.” Janine started, walking over to the stressed woman. “Try some counting exercises, between one and forty the kids start to quiet down.” The other woman gave a slight nod before she exited the room, still in obvious distress. “You, know, a little support might help make things happen, ladies,” Janie said, turning around to face the older two women in the room.

“My support was gonna do about as much as that five-year-old bra you’ve got on right there,” Barbra said as she pushed in her chair. The camera then cuts to Naoya staring at the camera, her jaw clenched. Janine looked down at her chest for a slip second, before covering it up with her sweater and deciding to ignore the woman’s bra statement. “Hey, it’s not impossible to get things. Melissa asked for those new toy cash registers for her classroom and got them.”

“Yeah, those aren’t toys.” The Italian woman stared as she put on her coat. “I know a guy who wired a Walmart demolition. I got a guy for everything. I know a guy right now working on the stadium build. Need rebar?” She asked, looking around the room.

Noya just shook her head.

“No,” Janine answered.

“Melissa is resourceful, capable.” Ms. Howard started, looking between all the younger teachers. Naoya’shead jerked back at what she was insinuating but before she could say anything, Janine placed a hand on her shoulder and started talking.

“Well, I think the younger teachers are capable.”

“Really? Then why is it that Ms.Schwartz’s hair is falling out? Why does Jacob here need a smoking break every five minutes?” The woman sassed, gesturing over to the male beside her.

“I switched to an herbal vape.” He tried to defend himself.

“And why can’t any of you stick it out longer than two years? More turnovers than a bakery.” She hissed before her and Melissa walked out of the door. Once it shut behind them, Naoya turned to her friends beside her.

“I almost lose my job every day dealing with the people here.” She shook her head, resting her butt on the table behind her, the other two following suit.

“You know what? Hell, I think we should still try for rugs.” Jacob’s said.

“Yeah.” Janine agreed.

“You know, before I taught here, I was in Zimbabwe.” Jacob started, causing Noaya to stand up completely and begin to walk to the door. “I was going Teachers Without Boarders, and what I learned—.”

“Jacob.” Noaya cut in, turning to face the two of them. “What did we say you about, like, not talking about your time in Africa?” She said, gesturing between her and Janine. The boy stuttered, trying to come up with an appropriate answer.

“We told you to stop. Yeah, it’s weird.” Janine finished, looking over at the male.

“I have an immense amount of respect for my elders, including the ones I work with.” Naoya smiled at the cameras. “But Mrs.Howard has a smart mouth on her. A mouth that has never been directed at me.” She continued to smile, although strained, and raised her hands in mock defense. “But the day it is the day I got to prison.” And although she was finished, she was cut off by the sound of quick hurried footsteps making their way around the corner. She turned around just in time to catch Janine with a student.

“Noaya, come quick, there’s a fight.” The older woman got out as best as she could, although out of breath. Naoya ran around the corner, practically leaving the child and shirt woman in the dust.

“Damn, she’s fast,” Janine said, briefing glancing at the kids next to her before rushing to follow the running woman.

“What the hell is going on here?” Naoya yelled as she entered the hectic scene with a bat in her hands. She saw the crazed look the teachers were giving her and she shrugged. “I heard there was a fight, I brought it just in case.”

“Where did you get that? I was right behind you.” Janie asked, out of breath with her hands on her knees.

“I didn’t know she had it in her like that.” Melissa nodded a proud smirk on her lips. “I like her.”

“That’s beside the point, what happened?” Naoya asked, looking at the older white woman standing in front of a child. “He hit me first!” Ms.Schwartz said, pointing at the boy across from her.

“Liar!” The boy yelled back at her, being held back by Ms.Howard.

“I’m a liar? I'M A LIAR?” Ms.Schwartz asked a crazed look in her eyes, her gaze solely trained on the little boy.

“I can’t believe she hit a kid,” Noaya said, shock written all over her face as she folded her arms. “I mean, I threaten that I will but I never actually do it.” She shrugged.

“Okay!” Ava yelled, interrupting the conversation between the small group of teachers. “So, not good. Ms.Schwartz was out of line and clearly didn’t know how to handle her class.” The woman sighed.

“You hired her.” Melissa spat back.

“And fired her,” Ava responded. “They give me a lot of power around here. It’s crazy.” The woman smirked.

Melissa and Noaya both gave the camera a look of disbelief.

“In the meantime, Mr.Johnson will be watching her class.” Ava finished.

“Mr.Johnson the janitor?” Naoya spoke up. “Our conspiracy theorist janitor? Teaching social studies? Do we not see the problem with this?” She asked, looking around at the group.

“I think maybe we should alert the school district to this,” Jacob spoke up, getting spins of approval from the rest. “I mean, a child was harmed.” He tried to finish before Ava cut in.

“Hey! Harmed?” She questioned. “I handled this. No need to let them know that a child was harmed on my wa—” She stopped, remembering that she was being recorded, and looked towards the camera. “On the school's watch, to be clear.” She clarified.

“Ava, this is not handled,” Janine spoke up. “There is a 70-year-old custodian who voted for Kanye teaching social studies right now.” The woman stressed, pointing down the hall. “We need help. Look, I know we don’t have any money—“

“Okay!” Ava cut her off. “Alright. I’ll make a small emergency budget request to the district, and then you guys can get pencils and hire aides or whatever else you need.”

“So, even rugs?” Janine asked her entire demeanor from earlier changing at the woman’s words.

“Sure! Just email a request.” Ava replied.

“Okay! I can- I can write an email.” Janine smiled excitedly.”

“Another day in principal life.” Ava smiled at the cameras before walking away, horribly singing some old song. “I believe the children are our future.”

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

“Um…Hello?” An unfamiliar voice called out as she came into the school building, making their way to stand in front of the desk. “I’m looking for Ms.Coleman.” The man said. Melissa looked up at him. “Oh, yeah she’s—“ She was cut off by Ava rushing up next to her.

“Hello.” Again said flirtatiously, looking the man up and down.

“Hi, I’m Gregory Eddie. I’m the sun for the teacher who, uh…” He trailed off, looking down at the papers he pulled from his briefcase. “Pinter a student.” The man said worriedly, looking back up at her.

“Oh! You’re the sub.” Ava said. “Forgive me, I thought one of my colleagues here hired a stripper for me.” Ava laughed off, dismissing the looks Melissa and Barbra gave her. “Okay.” That was all Gregory could say to that, giving the woman obvious judgmental looks.

“Nice to meet you, young man.” Barbra offered him a kind smile.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, Ryan,” Melissa said, staring at the together papers.

“It’s Gregory.”

“Eh, let’s see how long you’ll be here.” She said, only flexing up after she was done stapling. “Then I’ll remember your name. Okay, Tim?”

Gregory didn’t even have time to fully digest the interactions he just had with the women before him before Jacob came around the corner. “Yes!” He smiled, stalking up to the man. “My dude.” He said, arms open for some sort of hug but was cut short by Gregory putting his hand out. “Oh, yeah,” Jacob said, placing his hand on the one offered out to him. “Keeping it profesh. I like that.” He smiled, leaning against the counter. “I’m Jacob. It’s nice to see another male teacher in here. It’s not a lot of us. Hey, now I got somebody to talk sports with. You like women’s tennis?” The paler man asked, before shooting the camera a sideways glance. “Or, as I call it, you know, regular tennis.”

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Naoya was walking the halls, whistling a tune with her bad over her shoulders when she came across a tall, good-looking man in a gray sweater. Hearing her, the man turned around to see a tall, light-skinned woman with a large, light brown puff ponytail at the back of her head. She had on specs that covered most of her face, enlarging her eyes. She was dressed in a slightly baggy pair of dark wash denim jeans with brown shoes that matched the brown in her green sweater, paired with a white shirt underneath. Seeing the mysterious man, she furrowed her brows at him from down the hall.

“Uh, hello.” The man waved awkwardly from down the hall.

Naoya waved back as she made her way closer to the man. “Uh, hi. Are you lost?” She asked, slowing down when she got in front of him. “In a school building?…And smelling like pee and/or vomit. I’m calling security.” She started to back up and pull out her phone, or even yell before she stopped and frowned. “Oh wait, I am security.” She said, moving her bat to her good hand getting ready to swing.

“Wait!” The man yelled, sticking out his hands in defense. “I’m a sub! I’m here to fill in for the woman who kicked the kid.” He defended.

Naoya visibly relaxed as she looked the man up and down, taking in his formal attire. “Okay.” She said, dropping her defensive pose. “That still doesn’t explain the smell.” She said, giving the man a disgusted once over. Gregory stuttered to get an answer, embarrassed by the cameras and such an awkward situation in front of another beautiful woman.

“It’s a long story. A broken toilet, a student wet his pants, another one threw up.” The man shrugged, a look of disgust crossing his face as he thought it all over. At his words, Noaya nodded with a look of understanding.

“No, yeah. I get it. Well, um, congratulations on being here considering…” She trailed off, gesturing around the school and then to him. “If you need anything at all, I’m at the very end of the hall. I'm Naoya Lovel, and I teach fourth grade. I’ll be here to help any way I can, I am known for having everything anyone might ever need, so.” She shrugged and began walking away, pat him, and to her class. The man nodded, a sliver of a smile on his face as his eyes stayed trained on the spot she just left. Catching the camera out of the corner of his eye, she quickly straightened up and then turned the opposite way to face her. “May I ask why you’re carrying a bat?” He asked.

Naoya stopped walking, the bad still in her hand as she angled her body slightly to look back at him. “No, you may not.” She said with a smile before continuing to walk away and into her classroom. Gregory just nodded and walked into his room as well.

“Today was utterly disgusting, but she and Janine seem nice.” He smiled slightly.

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“I got a good feeling about this,” Jacob smirked at Naoya and Janine as they and the rest of the teachers gathered outside at the entrance of the school. It had something to do with Ava needing them to see the improvements she made to the school. “Right? Me too!” Janine said excitedly. Naoya rolled her eyes, stuffing her hands in her pockets due to the cold weather.

“I wish I could live in the blissful ignorance you guys call optimism.” She said, looking between her two friends. They only rolled their eyes at the girl, who was usually a pessimistic person, so they didn’t take her words too seriously.

“Good morning!” Ava said to all the teachers before her, who were obviously in no good mood. “Good Morning!” Janine was the only one to respond.

“Gregory.” Ava finished, giving the man a look. Noaya furrowed her brows slightly, throwing the man a sideways glance.

“The district was so moved by my plea that they approved the emergency budget and sent us the money right away,” Ava said to the group. The crowd started clapping, Jacob and Janine were genuinely happy while most were in shock that the district pulled through.

“Okay, we could have hired aides, we could have got rugs.” Ava continued as the clapping died down. “But then I thought, “No. We need something more immediate.” She said, her words causing Naoya to nod her head as she began slowly making her way away from the group. She knew this wasn’t going to end well, and this was her stopping herself from throwing her loafers at Ava’s head.

“Oh, no, no. The rugs are immediate.” Janie spoke up. “They’re like instant Xanax for kids. I explained it all in my email.” She told the group as she made her way to extract her phone from her purse.

“Girl, who told you to send an email?” Ava asked, looking down the steps at the shorter woman. Jannie stopped what she was doing and glared at Ava. “You did.” She hissed, looking at her confused.

“Anyways, I always feel better when I get my hair done.” Ava continued, not caring for what Janine had to say, as she showed off her new blonde number. “Thus, I do better work, like I’m doing now.” She smiled at them. “You know, fix the outside, the inside takes care of itself.” She then gestured up to the giant tarp over the building, the man pulling it down to show a sign.

It was a giant Willard R. Abbott Elementary sign with Ava on it, leaning onto the letters. The teachers just stood there and looked up at the sign, no words were said between any of them. But they all had the same thought.

What the fuck?

“Yall seeing this?” Ava asked, copying her pose that was on the sign.

“A plastic sign?” Janine asked, looking between the woman and the sign.

“Thank God for the school district, because they gave us $3,000 and I had to spend all of it.” Ava said as if she didn’t care about the severity of the words she just said.

“You spent all of the money on this?!” Janie asked in disbelief.

“Rush job, can you believe this quality?” The terrible principal continued.

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“This is fucking ridiculous, she has gone too far,” Naoya said as she, Jacob, Janine, and Gregory rushed back into the school.

“Somebody needs to do something before I get my bat back out. Actually, Forget the bat, I’m gonna go get a gu—.”

“Okay! Yes.” Jacob cut her off, trying to ignore the scared look Noaya received from Janine and Gregory, while she just continued to sit in her anger, not even seeing them. “Somebody, anybody but you, should do something.” The man said to the angry woman.

“You know what. I’m gonna do something.” Janine said, as stored up and Naoya. Well, maybe not as much but still fired up.

“Okay, alright. Whatever you do, I will co-sign it.” Jacob encouraged. “Yes!” Janine said. “That is how change works. Someone does something and somebody co-signs it.” He finished.

“I want Jannie to succeed in what her plan is because Ava needs to be out in her place, “professionally”, or whatever Jacob said,” Naoya stated, rolling her eyes. “But I also want her to prove something to Barb. For her sake. Because Janine really needs a mother figure in her life and the constant groveling for Barb’s praise is starting to make me want to choke.” She finished with a shrug. “That’s my girl though, I love her.”

“Hey, you two, wait up! I’m going out to lunch too.” Janie called out to Melissa and Bard as they walked down the hall. The camera caught Naoya, who rolled her eyes at the situation she was just talking about making an appearance as she walked after Janine.

“Oh yeah, where are you going for lunch pip-squeak? Bird feeder?” Melissa joked, putting her purse over her shoulder.

“Thought you’d be working on your next miracle from Saint Ava.” Barbra pushed.

“Ha ha, No.” The shorter woman defended herself. “I don’t think I’ll need anything from Ava ever again.” Janine smiled, her words causing the other three women to look confused.

“What does that mean?” Naoya chimed in from behind them, ready to go out for lunch as well.

“Well, I emailed the superintendent and told him everything Ava has done today. No way she doesn’t get fired.” Janie bragged.

“Oh, for the lives of God.” Melissa groaned.

“Janine,” Noaya said in disappointment. “This is why I told you to tell me.”

“What?” She asked, looking between the three women.

“The superintendent never sees our emails,” Barbra told her. “He has them bounced back to the person in charge of where they came from.”

“Wait, I’m sorry.” Janie stared. “Person in charge? That means the emails go back to…” She trailed off, the dots connecting. Just in time for said person to come in the intercom with an announcement.

“Teachers, it’s come to my attention that some of you—one of you—.” Ava clarified, looking through the glass of her office at the group of women standing at the door, her eyes trained on one in particular. “Think it’s okay to go over my head. So, during lunch break—this lunch break—we’ll be having a trait workshop so that we can learn how to become a woke family.” The woman was clearly pissed off, glaring at Janine from where she sat. “It’s gonna be fun!”

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“We are at a crossroads, this is a crisis,” Ava stressed as she stood before the hired group of teachers.

“No, a crisis is eating the cafeteria pizza for lunch.” Naoya chimed in from where she sat in the back.

“Uh, why are we here, exactly?” Gregory asked his seat right in front of hers.

“Well, chocolate drop.” Ava started, causing Naoya to snicker at the name. “I learned that someone here doesn’t respect me. But it’s not about me. Because if you don’t respect me, how can you respect this school?” She continued, causing them all to look at her confused as such a stupid correlation. But, it looks like Ava took that as a look of confusion due to her question.

“You can’t. It’s mathematically impossible.” She finished.

“W-Whoa. Who doesn’t respect you, Ava—I mean, the school?” Jacob asked.

“Me,” Naoya said but seemed to be completely ignored.

“It’s not important. We’re gonna make this a group matter so as too not to single any one person out.” The woman answered him. “Let’s try an excuse where we say whatever we want out loud to each other, no matter how critical. It’ll be fun, let’s start with Janine.” She said, looking over at the short woman who was practically shrinking in on herself.

“Janine?” She asked, smirking evilly.

“Yes?” Janine asked dejectedly, knowing that this whole situation was her fault and knowing that Ava did the exact thing she said she didn’t want to. Single her out.

“You’re pushy, squeaky and annoying,” Ava stated.

Collective disagreement was heated around the room.

“Excuse me?” Melissa piped up.

“Thaya just…” Gregory said.

“When is it my turn?” Naoya asked, starting to take her earring out of her ear.

“No, it’s not bad. No.” Ava defended. “We’re shaking to make us all better. Constructive. Hershey kiss, why don’t you try, start with Janine.” She pushed.

“I don’t want to.” The man sighed.

“You’re right, it should be someone who knows her better. Noaya, Jacob, Barbra?” She asked, looking between the two.

“When is it your turn? I wanna go when it’s your turn.” Naoya stated, folding her arms to keep herself at bay. Gregory glanced back, seeing the look of pure hatred on her face.

“Well, her hair is—“ Jacob started before getting cut off.

“Not!” Noaya and Barba said at the same time, the younger more so talking to her friend next to Janine, who gave the man next to her a look of disbelief.

“Ava, no one’s doing this to anyone.” Melissa started, looking at the woman before her.

“Hold on, I came prepared for this. Sheena, come on in.” Ava said, looking behind her to a student who was sitting behind the library desk.

“Ava, that is my student, she should be at lunch right now,” Janine complained, as everyone in the room looked at the little girl, trying to see what Ava's plan was.

“I am kinda hungry.” The little girl sighed, begrudgingly walking closer to the woman.

“Sheena, remember what we talked about? What was the thing that you wished was different about Ms.Teagues?” Ava asked the little girl. She just stood there, not knowing what to say as the whole room waited on her.

“She got some big feet.” Mr.Johnson chimed in from the very back of the children’s library where he was sweeping.

“Okay.” Janine sighed before standing from her seat. “Everyone, that’s enough. I am the person who disrespected Ava. I emailed the superintendent to tell him that she spent the school's money on a sign.”

“And got her hair done,” Naoya said, Janine, gesturing over to her in agreement.

“I’m sorry, Ava.” She continued. “And I’m sorry everyone missed lunch, especially you, Sheena. But I didn’t it because I care about the kids in this school, and that shouldn’t be a bad thing.” She ranted. “I—Okay. You know what.” She sighed, done talking. She felt as if no one was listening anyway and just wanted to leave. She was on her way out before turning back around. “Sheena, you should have this. I’m sorry.” She said, handing the school pizza over to the girl.

“Uh, no thank you.” The girl said, shaking her head. Janine just sighed again and turned to leave.

Ava chuckled as she watched the girl walk off, shaking her head. “Not a compelling speaker.” She smirked as she shook her head. “Charisma vacuum, am I right?”

Noaya cracked her neck as she stood up. The teachers in front of her filmed a little at the sound and her sudden movements. But she ignored that. “You know what, Ava? I was going to whoop your ass in the parking lot, and as much satisfaction as that would bring me, I don’t want to lose my job. Because I care about these kids. Just like Janine. And she may be a lot of things, like naive, a bit clingy and too cheerful—.”

“Ooh, this is good stuff, let me call her back in here,” Ava smirked as if she didn’t hear the first part of the girls’ speech.

“But she is also right.” Barba cut in, standing up with Naoya. “You know, actually wanting to help the children at this school shouldn’t be a bag thing.” The older woman finished for her. Afterwards, both her and Naoya walked out, letting Ava sit with their words.

They walked out to find the girl in front of her classroom, looking through the window. “Janine, ignore Ava. Big feet are a sign of fertility.” Barbra stated.

“I’m telling you to just give me the signal, I can have her framed for mur—something.” The light skinned girl said, catching herself in front of the cameras.

“Every lunch period, guys.” Was all Janine said before stepping out of their way to show the inside of her class. They both looked in seeing a little boy napping on his jacket, as the library door sounded again. “Every single one, Amir comes and naps in the rug.” She said, informing the whole group as Melissa, Jacob and Gregory joined.

“Mm-hmm. He was in my class.” Barbra said with a fond smile on her face. Mom’s got a lot of kids. Dad’s not around and when she is, the parents fight.”

“Right, so he doesn’t get much sleep. I told him to sleep at his desk, but she says that rug is softer—.” The shirt woman paused, trying to get emotional over the whole situation. “Softer than his bed at home.” There was a moment of silence as all the adults sat with her words. It’s hard hearing about the life of the kids you see everyday, knowing they live lives no one should. And knowing it’s on you to create a better life for them at school.

“You know what? I don’t care I you think I’m good at this or not anymore. I care about whether or not I can make a change.” Janine told Barbra as sternly as she could, which wasn’t a lot.

“Janine.” The woman started. “Teachers at a school like Abbott— we have to be able to do it all. We are admin, we are social workers, we are therapists, we are second parents. Hell, sometimes we’re even first.”

“Mm-hmm.” Melissa agreed.

“Why?” Barbra continued. “It sure ain’t the money.”

“Yup. I can make more working the street, easy.” Melissa chimed in. Causing Jacob and Naoya to look at each other in concern.

“Prostitution?” She mouthed over to the man, who shrugged.

“Look, we do this ‘cause we’re supposed to.” Melissa said to Janine. “It’s a calling. You answered.”

They all looked at eachother fondly, before Jacob started.

“I believe it was Brother Cornel West—“

“No.”

“Don’t.”

“Not right now, white boy.”

They all told him, causing the man to retreat back to his corner.

“You want to know my secret?” Barbra asked, ringing the subject back to where it was. “Do everything you can for your kids.” She smiled. “We’ll help. Hey, I suggest we put our money together and buy Janine the rug.” The older woman encouraged. “What yall think?”

“Absolutely.” Melissa said, pulling out her wallet.

“Guys, you can’t.” Janine started, looking between them. “You don’t have it. I know because I have the same salary as you and I overdrafted on a doughnut hole this morning.”

“Don’t tell me how much money I have.” Noaya stated, holding her hand out as a halt to the girl's words. “I do not claim that broke energy.”

“Well, why are you gonna do?” Barbra asked. “Steal a rug?”

“Not me, but I know a guy who knows a guy?” Janie trailed off, looking between Noaya and Melissa. The light skinned girl raised her hands. “I don’t know a cute guy that can steal that many carpets that fast.” She shrugged, a hopeless look on her face as she glanced at Melissa.

“Way ahead of you.” The woman said as she started typing into her phone. “I’m gonna have to bake a ziti.” She said, holding the phone up to her ear. “Hey, Tony, ya big strung, listen, you still working that stabiuk build?” She said into the device as she walked away from the group.

Sometime later, a guys pulled up in a truck around back with a bunch of rugs for them. They all celebrated, going one by one to grab a rug. “Yay! I finally have one! My room was so depressing.” Naoya said as she waked down the hall with her rug.

“You’re on a mission.” Gregory stated, looking at the shorter girl in between him and Noaya. “It’s cool to see.”

“Thank you. Just a day in the life of being a teacher here. You get used to it.” Janine smiled.

“And that smell in the walls?” He asked, pointing.

“Oh no, you’re never gonna get used to that. Sometimes I wish I had a bad nose like Naoya.” She joked, elbowing the girl next to her. The taller woman lightly groaned. “Janine, you know that’s a big insecurity of mine. I have a fear of smelling bad.” The half Japanese girl tried to clarify to the male. “You’re subbing to go full time right?” She asked, wanting to change the subject.

“Um, we’ll see.” He said as they all briefly stopped in the hallway. “This job definitely surprises me.”

“Well, I hope you stay.” Janine said. “For the kids.” She clarified. Naoya shot a quick glacé to the camera, a small smirk on her face. She then decided to walk away. The camera caught Gregory’s eyes jumping from both women walking away, a small smile on his face. He then looked in the camera and dropped his expression.

“I’ll stick around for a while.” He said. “You know, for the kids.”

“Look guys!” Naoya said as she rolled out her shakes rug for her students. They all celebrated, clapping excitedly at the fact that they had a rug now.

“Ms.Lovel, I hate the egales.” One student said, standing next to the woman.

“Yeah, me too, kid. But don’t tell anyone I said that.” She said, patting the top of their head as Ava walked past her door. She paused at the sight of the rugs. Naoya placed her hands on her hips and cocked her neck, making Ava glare at the woman for a quick second before walking away.

“And that kids, is how you get rid of the enemy without fighting.” She said, pointing around the room to make sure they were watching. “Now that we have a rug, let’s watch that nature documentary!” She said excitedly, causing all the students to yell with excitement well.

[cuubism]

A little headcannon that has been stewing in my head for a while and has absolutely no proof from the cannon

Death has wings right? What if Dream used to have wings too but when his kingdom got invaded for the first time(that story he tells in the Overture) the invaders cut his wings off. That's the part of the reason why he crafted his helm and why's he so dependent on it. They took his wings so he took their skull and a spine, an eye for an eye kind of situation. Also, that's when Dream first started employing a raven. He still has scars on his shoulder blades that follow him to any form he takes. He's ashamed of them, sees them as a sign of weakness, a reminder of his failure and his flaws and goes to great lengths to cover them up. That's about it, but I'd love to hear what you think of it^-^

(Plus: Hob gently running his hands over the scars, showing Dream his own ones and reassuring him that there's nothing broken, or wrong with him)

NO BUT THIS IS SO ANGSTY I LOVE IT. i love suffering

i feel like a permanent injury like that would have to be done to dream's core essence, such as it is, rather than his 'physical form' - i don't know if dream's physical form in the waking world or other realms can even be hurt like that. it would have to be like, something that deeply wounds the dreaming, or the concept of dreaming, or just like the deepest core of dream as an 'entity' rather than it being a physical wound. (this is leading me on a mental tangent about injuries to large groups of dreamers also injuring dream, like, extinction events and such, but that's for another time).

you managed to rope me into it, congrats XD

content warning for blood, gore, violence, Things Done That Can't Be Undone, etc.

--

There is not much, in his long life and memory, that Dream is able to forget. Thoughts do not drift into irrelevancy, into the past, the way they do for humans. He is able to hold much, all at once, in the cavern of his mind, eons of all that has happened hovering close enough to touch. It is a heavy weight more often than it is an aid.

But he forgets, sometimes, with Hob.

With Hob, the rare points of their contact stand out as singularly bright stars in the nebula of Dream's existence. All else within him fades. When Hob takes his hand Dream feels clear as a desert sky, when Hob kisses him for the first time, Dream is floating free in a great salt lake, hanging weightless.

He forgets.

It's only after, bodies pressed together with pleasing heat and sweat-tackiness, Hob tracing patterns over his back, that Dream begins to remember again.

"Dream..." Hob's fingers stutter over his shoulder blades. His voice catches with the hesitance he has often displayed with Dream since their reunion. I think you're here for friendship. Dream feels the echoes.

He kisses Hob's throat, tastes the salt tang of his skin, hides his face away there. The weight of embodiment returning. "Ask your question," he says. "I swear not to part from you now."

"Is this from...?" Hob's fingertips dance up the raised arcs of scar tissue over his back. Pain sparkles in the wake of his touch like the sharpness of a hand-drawn tattoo in the permanence of its inking. As humans imagine it. Dream is not truly physical and could not bear such a mark. Except for this.

"No," he tells Hob. Blame for many of Dream's recent ordeals can be laid at Roderick Burgess's feet, but not this one. "Much older than that."

"Oh." Hob keeps tracing the scar over Dream's right shoulder blade. The touch aches deep in Dream's being where those wounds originate, but he does not tell Hob to stop. Even like this, Hob's hands bring him back, and back, and keep him here.

Hob is waiting, leaving an opening for him to elaborate. Dream is not yet sure whether he wishes to.

"It is not a pretty story," he says.

Hob strokes through his hair. Dream keeps his head tucked under his chin and so feels each word as it's spoken. "Neither of us is a pretty story, darling. Tell it if you want to."

Dream has not spoken of this in many years. There are those in the Dreaming who have served him for millennia whom he has not told. He has taken lovers, had them see the scars during their lovemaking, and still not relayed the story.

"When I was young," he begins, "and still coming into my power, the Dreaming was invaded. My borders were not as strong, then. My realm, less populated. Ancient beings, older than I was at the time, hungered for my realm. Sought its power for their own."

"Older than dreams?" Hob asks.

"In their universe, there were no dreams," Dream tells him. "Perhaps it is what drew them to me."

"Alright. Wow." Hob sounds thoughtful. He rubs Dream's back, between his shoulder blades where it doesn't hurt. "Go on, love."

"I fought them. But the collective unconscious of this universe was young and undeveloped, as was I; I had not mastered all elements of my domain. I fought, but inelegantly, and struggled to counter dreamless beings when all my power was in the unconscious. They were wholly anchored in the present; I, in the space between seconds; we were poorly suited as combatants."

"What did you do?" Hob asks, quiet. He can sense, Dream thinks, the direction this is going, that Dream would not be so hesitant to tell the story of scars born of victory.

"I did not know," Dream admits, equally quiet, still shamed by it, his own failure, and its branching repercussions, "what to do. And the Eldest God, he who had first rent open the walls of my realm, pounced on my uncertainty, captured me, held me--"

The memory, never forgotten, always just within reach should he turn towards it, rises again -- the silk-smooth black sand on the shores of the Dreaming, crushed into his cheek; the warm waters lapping at his mouth, nose, eyes, drowning him; the impossible weight on his spine of the impossible dreamless creature holding him down, arms wrenched behind his back, the feral animal growl that had escaped him, the equally animal panic beating under his ribcage, the fragile spun dreamstuff of him held in the sharptoothed maw of cold reality, his wings--

"Dream?"

Dream comes back to himself. Comes back to Hob. The overwarm flannel sheets. The soft press of Hob's body. He's tapping something on Hob's arm, and hadn't realized he was doing it. It's the rhythm of an old song from before the time of men, the electrical beats passed along root chains from tree to tree to tree, all the way across the great forests that now exist only in scarce patches on the earth.

Dream shifts ever closer to Hob's body, slips a knee between Hob's thighs to tangle them, bare skin to bare skin, limb to limb, root to root.

"I had wings, then," he says.

--his wings, flapping frantically in the face of the thing that pinned him, feathers catching and tearing on jagged armor, held to the ground the way a creature of flight was never meant to be--

"Oh," breathes Hob. He touches the long scar over Dream's shoulder blade again and pauses there. The pain catches the story to Dream again like a hook and holds it there as he continues bleeding it dry.

"The Eldest God dug his claws into me and tore the wings from my body." Dream's voice doesn't shake but he does not manage more than a whisper. "I am not a physical creature, Hob, understand this, I cannot be so easily harmed, it was not a physical form that was damaged, rather, the Old Gods came from stone and earth and it was stone they harnessed as their claws, ancient stone to carve into my being and tear out my wings from the essence of me, root and stem, flesh and bone, air and feather and starlight."

All of this comes out in a continuous rush, and Hob kisses the side of his head, says, "Breathe."

He can still feel, if he but thinks back, the tearing of the claws. A cold so bright it felt like burning. His face ground into the sand to muffle his scream, the howling whiteout of pain overtaking all other noise, the crack of his shoulder joint as it was broken. Star stuff spilling out over the sand - Dream hadn't even known he could bleed until then. Hands that should never have touched in the first place releasing him. Collapsing, disarmed, to the ground. Every limb on fire, the ones that were left.

"Dream."

He lost himself, and found himself again some time later curled in the shallows of the Dreaming sea, seeking shelter from the cold in the warm waters. Face half submerged, breathing as much salt water as air. Blood still spooling around him like leftover paint whirling in a water glass.

"Dream."

Even in those warm waters, he was shivering. Dream doesn't think he's ever been quite warm since; that cold latched itself in him somewhere and never left.

Hob's voice, now, against his ear. He's curled himself around Dream while Dream wasn't paying attention, Dream's back to the warm protection of Hob's chest. "You don't have to finish if you don't want to."

Dream will not leave a story unfinished, not even one such as this. "When I had regained my strength enough to fight back," he continues, "I was... not in control. I knew only survival. If the Old Gods had wished me to understand their world, they succeeded. I abandoned my powers and fought with my hands and my claws and my teeth, and I tore the Eldest God's skull and spine from his body. Both of us would be maimed, I thought; if he would have my dreams then I would have for my own the backbone upon which he held his earth. I listened to him scream. I watched each rib pry up from his chest and snap, my hands slick with his blood, his with mine, and felt nothing but the raw satiation of a wolf setting upon meat. I have told you, Hob." He takes his first breath in a while and feels it rattle, hollow, around his ribcage. "It is not a pretty story."

"No." Hob's hand finds Dream's against his middle, tangles their fingers, holds him. His breath is shaky in Dream's hair, words more so. "No, darling, it's not. I'm sorry."

They rewrote the story of the Dreaming, Dream recalls saying to Destiny, after. Before he had come to know, truly, what Destiny was. Kneeling in his garden, blood still draping his raw back like a shroud, Dream had sought meaning, answers, reason. Foolish, in retrospect, to even consider asking for succor.

Destiny had said that the Dreaming had seeped too far into the Waking world. That what had happened was a necessary rebalancing.

Had Dream not been forbidden from physical violence against his siblings, he would have bitten off one of Destiny's hands with his own sharp teeth and asked if he felt more balanced then.

"Now you know what vicious creature you lie with, Hob Gadling," Dream says. The words are heavy in his throat, but he can't find it in himself to slip from Hob's hold. Now you know the jagged turn at the beginning of my story.

He wonders, sometimes, what the Dreaming might have been like had it continued on the other branch of Destiny's forking path. What he might have been like. There is so much space between a winged creature and a once-winged creature. The entire sky.

"I know." Hob bites at the back of Dream's neck, light but sharp, then kisses that same spot. The nip of pain is unexpectedly soothing. Hob too knows what it is to bite and claw and writhe and maul. “I know. I’ve known your darkness, honey. Don’t you worry.”

“They fled me,” Dream tells him. “The Old Gods. After. I did not understand why at the time.” He had stood, bloodied, shaking, over their Eldest one, bones grasped in his hands, and watched them disappear. These beings that could still have shredded the Dreaming and swallowed it, but chose to run. “Now, I imagine it is like the way men will flee from an animal that is so much smaller than them but has gone rabid. The wrongness. The danger of irreparable madness. They saw me ruined and wished not to catch it, saw the Dreaming—”

This wound has dulled over time and become but a throbbing ache at the base of his skull, a reminder of something missing. But it never disappears.

“The Dreaming, changed, from what they had wanted.”

Dream’s back has never been quite right, since. His anatomy is meant for two sets of joints, not one. But it is only a fitting marker of the permanent damage done that day.

“Changed?” says Hob, so gentle now, lips brushing his skin.

“There was once more,” Dream says. “The collective unconscious was once more… collective.”

“Wait. D’you mean…?”

“Yes. There was more interconnection between minds when I was young. There were not human minds in the sense that you would know them, not yet. But there was communication, and knowing, back then.”

Vestiges of it still linger. In the vast underground networks of the trees, the paired spins of distant atoms. The matched steps of lovers finding perfect synchronicity in a dance. But—

“That was sundered with my wings.”

The cold that had washed over Dream when that realization hit had been worse than the pain of losing the wings in the first place. How he had failed the dreamers under his care. Let things fracture and tear and separate when they were meant to be together.

Hob sighs against the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry, Dream.”

“I am sorry,” Dream says. “It should never have happened.”

“No, it shouldn’t,” Hob agrees, and it’s sweet pain sliding between Dream’s ribs, for Hob to press his fingertips to the rawness of him and say, yes, failure, failure, I see it now.

But Hob kisses the point of his shoulder, the ever-tense muscles of his upper back, the hard curve of his scapula and the calcified line of another almost-joint, lost to time. His lips find the uneven scar tissue and press there, which is its own sweet pain, but sliding towards sweet, a sharp bite to kissed lips.

“It shouldn’t,” Hob whispers, and the words vibrate to the core of him. Hob does not see his failure, will not; Dream had forgotten Hob’s charity towards him, how he will see the blood on Dream’s hands and wipe it away instead of asking how it got there. Dream’s failures have stolen something from him he does not even know to miss, and still.

Now Dream does wish for Hob’s hands slipping under his ribs. Hob would find the aching wretched thing within him that had been loosed that day and hold it in his palms, wash the blood from it with careful strokes. Would that Hob could have held him then, submerged him deep in the waters of the Dreaming sea until the dark and the warmth and the strong hold of his arms had soothed the flayed and violated creature that Dream had become back to sanity. Before the gnashing rageful part of him had turned predator and fully grown its claws.

Perhaps there is succor to be found, after all. How quickly Hob Gadling has become it.

“I wish that I could have…” Hob sighs. It sounds mournful, longing. “I don’t even know. Helped you. Held you. Futile, I know.”

“I would not have you feel badly. It is long past and cannot be undone,” Dream says, as if Hob’s words don’t mean more to him than he could possibly know.

“Nothing can, sweetheart,” Hob says. His hair brushes Dream’s shoulders. It is terribly soft now, in this day and age. Dream suspects it was not always so. Human lives have rarely been soft on their bodies. He appreciates the softness of Hob’s body now, and how it cradles him. Dream himself has long been unchangeably hard-edged. “But I would still help you.”

“Sweetheart,” Dream repeats. Dream might have been sweet, once, at the end of a different story. “You would call me this, at the end of this tale?”

Hob turns him so they are facing each other once more. A tear has gathered in the corner of his eye, and slips down to wet his pillowcase as Dream watches. Tears for Dream. Warm salt water. He smiles at Dream anyway.

“You’re my sweetheart. My dear one. You think I would think anything about this other than sadness for you?”

“Dear one,” Dream echoes. “Always good to me, my Hob.”

“‘Course.” Hob squeezes his hand. Hands that too have known violence, but soft for Dream, always. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”

“Only what you have already done,” Dream says. “Be a cavern where I can shelter from the cold.”

Hob kisses him, hot and lingering, and pulls the blankets up over their heads.

[ereardon]

Golden Hour || Ch. 9

[Bob Floyd x Bradley Bradshaw x OC]

A Bob Floyd & Bradley Bradshaw AU [Hart of Dixie inspired]

Synopsis: Willow, Georgia. Barely even a town, just a speck on a map that you tried to wipe off, mistaking it for a crumb. You’re the outsider: a fancy New York doctor, fresh out of a failed engagement, with zero primary care experience. You’re also the new town doctor, taking over for a recent retiree who was beloved. His son, Bob Floyd, is the other physician at the practice, and takes an immediate dislike to you. But you were looking for a fresh start, and Willow doesn’t seem all that bad if you can get past the fact that there's only one restaurant in town. It helps that you've caught the eye of Bradley Bradshaw, the town attorney, despite the fact that you vowed to take a break from dating. How long until you start to make friends in a town where social circles have been set in stone since elementary school? And what will it take to make Bob Floyd see you’re not as bad as he wants to believe you are?

Pairing: Bob Floyd x OC; Bradley Bradshaw x OC

Tropes: Love triangle, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Angst, cursing, alcohol

Chapter summary: Bob invites Olive to the office after hours to sort paperwork ... but maybe there's more intent behind the date after all

WC: 1.6K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

In the morning, you woke up to a clattering sound in the living room. You sat up straight in bed, the strap of your silky nightgown slipping down your shoulder as you sucked in a tense breath. 

And then the memories flooded back. Bob showing up at your door late at night drenched from the rain. His panic attack. 

The fact that he was asleep on your couch at that very moment. 

Before you could even think, you were scrambling out of bed, throwing open the double doors to the living room as Bob stood hunched over the couch, putting on his shoes. He looked up, hair mussed on one side, blue eyes wide. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I, uh, I was trying to be quiet.” His eyes roamed over your chest quickly, before zipping back up to your face. 

You crossed your arms, suddenly aware of how thin your nightgown was. “It’s OK, I was awake.” A lie, of course, and he knew it too. But you were being nice. 

“I’m sorry I stormed in here last night,” Bob said, straightening up and running one hand through his hair, combing out the knots. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“I’m the town doctor. Kind of my job, right?” 

He grinned, softly. “Guess you can add one more patient to your files.” 

“You’re due for a physical.” It came out automatically and you gasped audibly, slapping one hand over your mouth. Where the fuck had that come from? There was so much dirty intent behind the words it shocked you. 

Bob’s pink mouth rounded in an “O” before he let out a laugh. “That’s a first, Dr. James. Are you hitting on me?” 

You removed your hand. “Well that would just be downright unprofessional, wouldn’t it?” 

Bob shifted his weight from one leg to another. “What are you doing tonight?” 

You frowned. “Tonight?” 

“Is Bradshaw around? If the two of you have plans…” 

“He’s out of town on a trial,” you added, cutting him off. “For another few days.” 

“Come by the office, around seven,” Bob said, stepping toward the door. “I’ll bring wine.” 

“For what?” you called out as he made his way to the front door and swung it open. 

“It’s a surprise,” he replied before shutting the door behind him. 

***

For the first time since you stepped foot in Willow, you were nervous. As you raised your hand to the door of the office, you stopped. What were you doing? It was your practice, too. You had a key. 

Rolling your eyes to yourself, you slipped the key in the lock only to find it already unlocked. Gently, you eased open the door, the sound of your heel sending staccatos of echoes into the long hallway. 

“Hello?” 

“Back here.” Bob’s gravely voice came from the other end of the hallway but he was nowhere to be seen. You shut the door behind you and stepped inside. 

“What are you doing?” you asked. 

“Just come here.” There it was, that exasperated tone that he had so often used when you first met. A part of you grinned as he lapsed back into annoyance with you. 

You peered over the edge of the front desk where Molly usually sat and frowned. Bob sat on the ground surrounded by files. “You asked me here to do paperwork?” 

He held up a bottle of wine with one hand. “Yes, but we get to drink while we do it.” 

“Gimme.” Your hands reached out for the bottle, fingers wagging, and Bob reached up, pressing it into your hand, your fingertips overlapping for a second before you pulled away. 

Bob scooted back, giving you some room on the floor. He had on a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up toward his elbows, and he was wearing only a pair of thin socks instead of shoes. You tried to sit in your miniskirt and heels, but it was no use. You sighed, standing up and Bob frowned. “Where are you going?” 

“Hold your horses,” you said, stomping off to your office. A minute later, you returned in a pair of baggy scrubs, feet bare. Bob’s eyes sparkled. 

“Nice outfit change.” 

You rolled your eyes, folding yourself onto the floor next to him. “Alright, what are we doing?” 

“Molly, bless her heart, isn’t the best at administration work. So once a quarter, I come in and organize all the files.” 

“She’s the secretary,” you said. “What do you mean she’s not good at administration work?” 

He shrugged, moving a pile of papers to his left. “She just doesn’t do it how I like.” 

“So she’s not bad at admin, she just doesn’t do it exactly how you like.” 

“Correct.” 

“That’s the problem with you, Floyd,” you said, leaning back against the wooden cabinet. “You want people to fit perfectly into the little boxes that you’ve set out. Sometimes you can’t categorize things exactly how you want them. Sometimes people just are what they are.” 

“I’m particular.” 

“You’re annoying.” It slipped out before you could stop it. 

Bob looked up. And to your surprise, there was mirth in his eyes. He gave you a tilted grin. “And you think you’re perfect, Olive?” 

“Not perfect,” you replied. “But I’m not the grouch in this situation.” 

“Grouch?” 

“You’re grumpy,” you said, “and you know it.” 

“No one has ever called me that before.” 

“You’re kidding.” 

“I assure you, I’m not.” 

“Well, we were all thinking it,” you replied, leaning back against your palms, head tilted to one side. “You’re insanely grumpy for someone who isn’t eighty years old.” 

Bob laughed. “I think you’re the first person in a long time who has had the courage to say something like that to my face.” 

“People are scared to admit the truth,” you replied. “Now are you going to tell me about this absolutely insane organizational system, or am I just going to sit here and drink wine and watch you do all the work?” 

Bob grinned. “Hand me that stack.”

For the next two hours, Bob taught you how to categorize files according to his preference. Whereas Molly filed them according to the calendar year, Bob liked to group patient files all together and then chronologically within. 

By the time you were done, two bottles of wine sat nearly empty on Molly’s desk as you lay spread out on the ground, eyes closed, as Bob clapped his hands together. “Done.” 

You groaned, tossing one arm over your face. “Fucking finally.” 

“Is that a complaint, Dr. James?” 

You opened one eye. “You’re not the only one who can be grumpy.” 

“Would it make you feel better if I said I knew where Molly kept her candy stash?” 

Your eyes flew open and you sat up quickly. “Candy?” 

Bob pulled open a drawer that was full to the brim. Snickers and Reeses and Starbursts. Even a pack of Milano cookies. You reached in eagerly, pulling out a Nerds rope and tearing open the package. “I’m saved.” 

Bob chuckled, leaning back against the file cabinet, his legs outstretched in front of him. The two of you were facing each other directly, your back against the wooden desk. He took a bite out of a Twix bar. “So that’s the key to your heart? Candy?” 

“And Hermes.” 

Bob frowned. “What’s an Hermes?” 

You rolled your eyes. “A purse, Bob. The purse.” 

“How is a purse better than candy?” 

“It’s not just a purse, it’s a statement.” 

He shook his head. “Sometimes I don’t understand you.” 

“I don’t understand you at all either,” you replied. “One minute you hate me. The next minute you’re offering me wine on a dirty floor.” 

“I thought you were the one who hated me,” Bob said quietly. 

“Same here.”

He shook his head again, running his fingers through his hair to comb it back into place. “I never hated you, Olive. I just didn’t know you.” 

“And now that you know me?” you whispered. “What do you think?” 

“I think you’re amazing.” 

And despite the fact that you were drunk, and so was Bob, your head started to scream. Because your heart knew that he was telling the truth. The pink flush across his cheeks and the tips of his ears was a dead giveaway. 

“Amazing, huh?” you said quietly. “I’m going to hold you to that next time you get mad at me for something.” 

Bob rocked forward onto his knees, bending over toward the open desk drawer to your left. But just before his fingertips could land in the drawer, he pivoted, one hand coming to rest on the top of the desk above your head, his face only a few inches from yours. Your breath was heavy in your chest, his blue eyes glued to yours and before you knew it, Bob’s lips were on yours, his free hand wrapped around the back of your neck, tugging you in closer as your fingertips reached out, circling his wrist. 

He tasted sweet like chocolate, and so much more passionate than you had expected. 

Then, without warning, he pulled away, eyes wide. 

Your voice was raspy as you caught your breath. “Bob–”

He leaned back onto his feet, standing up. “I have to go.” 

Before you could even get to your feet, Bob had his shoes on, the empty bottles of wine scooped up in his arms. He turned back to you, blue eyes wild. “I’ll see you on Monday,” he said before hurrying down the hallway, swinging the door open and jogging down the steps. 

You leaned your arms against the wooden desk and pressed a finger to your lip, the heat of Bob’s kiss still warm on your skin.

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[geralts-yenn]

I need you now

Evan Marshall x female reader (second-person pov)

summary: after an accident, your cute neighbor takes care of you

warnings: mention of a car accident, reader gets an injection, has a broken arm, that's it, I think

word count: 3,6k

A/N: A sweet nonnie asked me to write some Evan fluff. My first thought was "Another WIP, I can't do that!" But then the little devil on my shoulder whispered "You always wanted to write for Evan!" And one sleepless night later, I had the plot for this in my head.

Hope you like it, nonnie!

My masterlist

Slowly, you tried to open your eyes, but everything was just a blurry mix of colors. You realized you felt hot streaks running down your cheeks and assumed that tears must be the reason for your limited sight. Other than that, the only thing you noticed was a piercing pain in your left arm. The kind of pain that suffocates all other senses. 

You didn’t know how long you sat there but after some time your body moved. You blinked again and saw a blurred face hovering above you.

“Hey, ma’am, can you talk to me? What’s your name?” You wanted to nod but realized that your head wasn’t moving. With difficulty, you drawled out your name.

“Okay, that’s good! Are you experiencing pain right now? Do you recall what happened?” You told the guy about your arm and after some thinking you remembered being on your way to run some errands when suddenly there was a loud bang and your car spun around in circles. Then another bang. That was all you knew.

The man kept talking to you, his voice deep and soothing, even if you couldn’t follow what he was saying. Then you felt a sting on your other arm, followed by the sensation of ice running up your arm through your veins. 

After this, everything got clearer with every minute. And the pain in your arm slowly faded. You opened your eyes once more, and now the face in front of you wasn’t blurry anymore. In fact, it was gorgeous. Sharp jaw, covered in maybe three days of hair growth. Dimples on his nose and on his chin. Blue eyes with lashes to die for watching you attentively. Oh, he’s cute. And somehow familiar. You heard a chuckle and realized you probably said this out loud. But you were still too dizzy to really care. 

“Your arm is broken, but apart from that, you seem to be fine. We'll take you to the hospital, but I think there's not much to worry about. You'll get a cast and some painkillers for the next few days.”

Your gaze was still on the medic that was now sitting beside you. And you finally recalled why he looked so familiar. 

He was the guy who ran by your kitchen window every morning. You had seen him the first day after you moved into your new home, he lived across the street from you. 

“You're my neighbor,” you told him with a stupid smile on your face. So you were still a little confused because if you were thinking straight you would have been too shy to tell him.

He looked at you curiously, but then you saw how it clicked. “Yeah, the house with the blue door. You're the girl who moved in recently.”  He gave you a warm smile. “I'm Evan.”

***

There was a knock on the door and you wondered who it could be. You didn't know anyone in this town and you hadn't ordered anything. Maybe it was the police, wanting some more information about the guy that cut you off and hit your car. 

But you would have never suspected to see Evan when you opened the door. 

“Hey! I just wanted to check on you and see if you need anything.” His smile was adorable. You greeted him and let him in, even if you were painfully aware of how horribly you must have looked. 

You told him that you were doing fine. You really did, considering the fact that you had a cast up to your shoulder and you were living alone, most of your stuff still packed away in boxes. So, objectively, you were probably not doing too fine.

And that's what Evan noticed, too, when he saw the plate with the left-overs of dry pasta and ketchup that you've been eating. You were on your way to grocery shopping when you had your accident, so your fridge was almost empty.  Evan looked at you with a frown. 

“And now the honest answer?” He was probably trying to look stern but you couldn't think of anything else as "puppy". 

But you admitted that it would be helpful if he could get you some food and maybe he could also go find the box with your books because you were already bored as hell, not being able to do anything but sit around. 

Evan opened the fridge and made mental notes of what was missing. Then he accompanied you to your bedroom and after opening some boxes, you finally had a book to spend some time with. 

When Evan was gone to get your groceries, your mind went back to how his shirt was riding up his stomach when he reached for your boxes and you had gotten a glimpse at his toned abs. 

You decided you needed to stop thirsting over the nice guy who only wanted to help you, so you carefully sank onto the couch. There was a cup of tea that Evan had made for you before he left and you sighed contently as you opened your book. 

You were about fifty pages in when you realized that your brain had made the male protagonist in your story look like Evan. Maybe you should have been embarrassed, but to be honest, who could blame you? He was incredibly attractive and you were just a woman, not a saint.

You had just arrived at the scene where your book hero admitted his feelings to the oblivious main character and they shared a first kiss, when there was a knock on the door again. 

And seeing the real Evan standing there, packed with bags, did so much more to your heart than the story you were reading. And the way he moved so comfortably around in your kitchen, stowing away the things he got for you, you couldn’t help but think that he really fitted well into your home. Damn, so you really had a crush on him! 

You were trying to help Evan, but he took everything you picked up out of your hand, just asking you where to put it. When everything was put aside, you made your way to the door. 

“Thank you so much, Evan. You really saved me today.” But Evan didn’t follow you. He kept leaning against the kitchen counter with his adorable smile only widening. 

“I’m not done yet. You need to eat some real food. Let me cook something for you, please.” Now, that was unexpected. How could you say no to that? And so Evan started chopping vegetables while you sat back on the couch with your book, as he had insisted. 

Soon the room was filled with the scent of the curry he was preparing for you. Every now and then you glanced over at him and your heart skipped a beat when he caught you and winked, dimples forming on his cheeks by the way he smiled. 

You got up and eventually Evan let you help to set the table and then you both sat there with a plate of curry in front of you. Evan looked at you expectantly as you took the first bite.

“Oh my god! This is delicious. How can I ever make up for your help, Evan?” He chuckled and shook his head. 

“You don’t have to make up for anything. I love cooking and having someone to share a meal actually makes it so much more fun.” 

You chatted about your work and the town and whatever came to your mind while eating and everything felt just incredibly comfy and easy. Evan put the left-overs into your fridge so you could warm them up. And then, of course, he also took it upon himself to do the dishes. You wouldn’t let him, but he was having none of it. 

But then he had put the last plate into the cabinet and it was about time for him to leave. You didn’t want him to, but you would have never told him. So he was standing on your porch, smiling at you. For a second, you considered if kissing his cheek was an option, but you didn’t dare. 

“Thank you, Evan, really! You are my hero today.” To your surprise, he wrapped an arm around you and hugged you. It was a little awkward with your cast in the way, but nevertheless your heart skipped a beat when you felt his touch. 

***

The next day you spent with more reading. And more daydreaming about the man who had turned your life upside down in an instant. You ate the rest of his curry around midday, and the memories of the last night its taste brought back were too sweet. 

You had been sleeping on the couch for a while when you heard the knock on the door. Could this be Evan again? He hadn’t said anything about coming back yesterday. 

You could have jumped for joy when he really stood there at your door. 

“Hey! Are you hungry? I brought some steaks.” He held up a bag. 

This time he actually let you help him. At least the little things you could manage to do with one hand. Evan cut the potatoes and vegetables and put them on a tray, while you were allowed to put the olive oil and herbs on top. When they were in the oven, you started to set the table while Evan took care of the steaks. 

When you both sat at the table and you looked down on your plate, you started to laugh. Evan frowned but then he realized his mistake. 

“Oh shit! I haven’t thought of that. Damn!” Quickly, he moved around the table and squatted down beside you. He took your cutlery and began to cut your steak and vegetables into small pieces, his arms wrapped around you and his chest pressed against your back.

You could feel his breath on your neck and it took all of your willpower not to turn your head and kiss him. Way too soon, all your food was chopped into small enough pieces and Evan was back in his chair. Again, talking to him was so easy and sitting there and eating with him next to you felt incredibly cozy.

Some of the pieces of food were a bit unruly and you had to fight to get them on your fork with one hand. Evan noticed and leaned over. He put them on his own fork and held it out for you. And damn, having this man feed you this delicious meal made you feel things. You watched his slender fingers wrapped around his fork moving to your mouth and you thought about what you wanted those hands to do to you. 

After taking a deep breath, trying to keep your composure, you locked your eyes with Evan. And for the first time you noticed something in his gaze that told you that maybe you weren’t the only one that felt like this. Evan watched you with hooded eyes and licked his upper lip as you took another bite from him. 

The rest of the time you spent eating, you dwelled on how to tell Evan about your growing feelings. This was all happening way too fast for your liking. And the fact that you couldn’t just ask him out on a date because you were forced to stay at home with that stupid cast, sitting here in an old shirt and sweatpants was utterly annoying. Without coming to any conclusion, you just helped Evan to put away the dishes he had washed and then he grabbed his jacket. 

“Hey, can we share numbers? I thought that it would be a good idea. You could send me a text when you need something.” 

‘I need you now’ probably wasn’t the text he had in mind, but it was the first thing that came into your mind, and somehow it felt good to know that you had the opportunity to do this if you ever were brave enough.

As you said goodbye to each other, this time you expected the embrace, so it wasn’t that awkward anymore. But Evan surprised you another time when his lips brushed gently over your cheek. “Good night. Tomorrow I have to work the evening shift. Would you mind if I got us breakfast?” 

***

You hardly slept at all, pondering about your feelings and cursing about the cast that was in your way, no matter how you turned. 

A look in the mirror after you got up made you curse even more. Damn! You managed to wash yourself and you could change your pants. But you just couldn’t get out of that stupid shirt and after three days in it, it was wrinkled and you thought it was smelly too. And your hair!

You tried to comb through it as good as possible with your good arm, but it still looked awful. You needed to wash it, but how? Taking a shower wasn’t an option, and you needed two hands to wash it in the sink or in the bath tub. 

Long story short, you felt like shit. And thinking of Evan seeing you like this wasn’t improving your mood. Okay, he had seen you twelve hours earlier, and probably you didn’t look considerably worse. But twelve hours earlier, you hadn’t yet realized just how much you felt for Evan. At least you hadn’t admitted it to yourself.

Speaking of, there was the knock on the door. 

“Hey! Good morning!” He greeted you with the smile that you had grown to love, but today you didn’t reciprocate. You barely nodded as you let him in. And of course Evan immediately knew something was off. 

“Hey, are you in pain?” He guided you to sit on the couch and squatted down in front of you, switching to paramedic mode instantly. You shook your head but Evan didn’t let go of you. “What’s the matter? You’re not okay!” 

Lacking of other ideas what you could tell him, you went for the truth. At least for half of it.

“I feel horrible. I need to get out of those smelly clothes and I really need to wash my hair.” 

Evan let out a breath he was holding when he heard you. 

“Oh, sweetheart! First of all, you’re not smelly.” He chuckled. “And I can help you with that. I’m a medic, if you forgot.” You hadn’t even thought of that option. And now it was too late to wonder if you were comfortable with Evan doing this for you. Because by now you knew how stubborn Evan was and he surely wouldn’t leave you without helping you. 

He guided you to your bedroom. “Do you have a shirt with buttons or a zipper? It would be easier for you to undress with that.” He looked around in the chaos of boxes that were still spread over the room. 

“I think there should be a zip hoodie in this one.” You pointed to a box standing on top of your bookshelf. Evan fished for it and started to browse through it. As you poked over his shoulder you realized your mistake too late. Evan carefully put your lingerie aside and acted as if he hadn’t seen it, though you noticed his ears reddening. Finally he held the hoodie in his hands. 

That was when you recognized the next problem. You weren’t wearing a bra. You couldn’t let Evan help you into the hoodie with no bra on. There was just so much embarrassment you could endure. But you weren’t wearing a bra for a reason, you weren’t able to close the clasp, dammit.

“Uhm, I may need you to help me into a bra first.” You hid your timidity behind your hand. All of this was not at all how you had imagined getting closer to Evan. In fact, it was so absolutely awkward that it was almost funny. Almost!

Evan’s ears reddened further, even if he told you that this wasn’t a problem at all. You managed to fumble a bra under your shirt and pressed it against your chest. Evan’s hands moved under the shirt, too, and you held your breath when his fingers brushed over your skin. He skillfully closed the bra without needing to look at it, which you were very thankful for. 

Next, your shirt had to be removed. Now this wasn't as easy. Evan helped you out of the sleeve with your good arm. Okay. Then he grabbed the hem of your shirt and locked his eyes with you, silently asking for your consent to lift it. This felt incredibly intimate. It WAS incredibly intimate and you were surprised at how comfortable you still felt.

Evan pulled your shirt up and over your head. You heard him taking a breath before he pulled the shirt sideways over your cast as carefully as possible. When your head was free again you looked at him and he gave you a shy but encouraging smile. 

Evan circled you to stand behind you. Probably so he didn't need to focus so much not to drop his gaze to your chest, you thought, and to your own surprise it amused you. This was probably the most awkward way of flirting you had ever done, but it worked. 

He helped you get into the sleeves of the hoodie. Without him, you wouldn't have managed to get it over your cast. And the way his hands moved over your arms and shoulders to adjust the fabric made you feel butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Then his hands wrapped around your waist to close the zipper. More butterflies. You really tried to suppress the moan as you felt his touch but it slipped your mouth. And it got you a sharp inhale of Evan in response.  But in the end you were decent again.

“Uhm, bathroom?” Evan's voice told you how much he was affected by the situation, too, and somehow that knowledge was calming. 

You led the way to your small bathroom. Evan looked around and after some thinking he put down a few of your towels and guided you to sit on them. Your back resting against the bathtub, you looked up at him. 

"I think this will work. Is it comfortable for you?” he asked and you hummed affirmatively. 

Evan knelt down next to you and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. You watched him, your eyes fixed on the veins of his forearms. 

And Evan watched you watching him, clenching his jaw. By now, the tension between the two of you was undeniable. None of you spoke more than needed, and every movement seemed to happen in slow motion. 

Evan bowed down over you and turned on the water on the hand shower. His chest was hovering inches over your face and you took in his scent. 

As Evan checked the temperature with his wrist, you decided to shut your eyes. You definitely had to reduce the sensations that hit you while he washed your hair, else you'd go insane. 

There was Evan's hand in your hair, carefully running his fingers through your locks. Then the warm water was gushing over your head. Evan's hand kept brushing through your tresses, making sure that every strand got wet.

“Is this okay?” he checked on you once more, and again you couldn't give him more than a hum. 

It seemed to be enough for Evan to go on. He turned off the water and after checking your numerous hair care products, he decided on one and lathered his hands before putting them back on your head. His fingers massaged your scalp with just the perfect amount of pressure. 

The strawberry scent of your shampoo filled your nose, replacing the notes of sandalwood that Evan's cologne had left. But you couldn't be sad about it as long as his hands worked their magic on your head. 

A trail of foam ran down your forehead but Evan was fast enough to catch it before it reached your eye. 

He started the water again and rinsed your hair. You thought this wonderful experience was almost over but then Evan repeated the procedure with your conditioner.

At one point you decided you were brave enough to open your eyes again and when you blinked them open, they fell directly onto Evan's. The blue of them was almost gone, his pupils blown wide. When he saw you looking at him a soft smile played around the corners of his mouth. “Hey!” he just said.  “Hey!” you returned, a sheepish smile on your own face. 

As long as Evan had managed to drag this out, now he was done. Your hair was rinsed clean and he took a towel to wrap it around your head and rubbed your hair carefully. 

With a sigh, he got up and held a hand out for you. As you stood, you could see yourself in the mirror and watch how Evan continued to dry your hair. He removed the towel and started to comb through your strands. Goosebumps spread from your neck over your whole body. 

Evan looked deeply at you through the mirror. “Are you feeling more comfortable now?” he asked, his voice hoarse. 

“So much more.” you whispered and you turned to face him. Your hand cupped his cheek, brushing your fingers over the stubble that covered his jaw.

“That's good!” he breathed. “So you're comfortable enough to finally kiss me?” 

Instead of an answer you closed the small gap between you and pressed your lips firmly on his. 

[kumememe]

Hi if you have time could you do a Felix x male reader who works at a flower shop. Maybe the cattons use the store for all flower needs but maybe it’s lasso because Felix like to see the reader who works there. I read your fics today and they are amazing!!

fleur de lis (felix catton x m!reader [requested])

note: you are so sweet! thank you for being my first every request and i hope you enjoyed this story. i wrote it all in one go as i got inspired, so please be wary of any spelling mistakes. thank you! also ps: i chose that title because i wanted it to be fancy lol warnings: none, just felix being a soft simp for the reader. ______________________________________________________________

the wind chimes attached to the door of a quiet little flower shop do a little dance as it opens, their gentle melody greeting those who go inside. the enchanting smell of freshly cut stems and florals wafting through the air as felix made his way towards a certain aisle of white flowers. orchids, daffodils, tulips, and gardenia flowers stand up daintily in their pot, dripping with water as it seemed it was recently irrigated. at the back of the store, a variety of freshly wiped brown pots were scattered, and types of rocks, seeds, and dirt in small packets were nearby as well. as the six-foot-five male observed the type of flowers the store was selling, a tap on his shoulder startles him. he turns to see a shorter (skin color) male with beautiful (eye color) eyes, a green apron with a name tag reading 'y/n' covering his collared up shirt and fitted khaki pants.

y/n clears his throat, "nice to see you again, felix! may i help you with anything?" he asks with a small smile, hands behind his back as he looks up at him slightly.

felix felt his heart flutter a little at the sight of the shorter male, smiling as he nodded. "hello y/n, yes, i do need help." he said as he looked around at the array of flowers, "elspeth wants a bunch of flower arrangements for this fancy dinner we're having, and i'm not really good at picking so..." he trails off, hoping y/n got the gist. y/n chuckles as he pats him on the shoulder. the gentle touch sends shivers to felix's body as y/n spoke.

"don't worry, i can help." he reassures the taller male. "for starters, what kind of theme is the party?"

as felix started going through all the details, he couldn't help but feel his chest tighten as he watched the male talk about flowers, clearly showing his expertise and his interest in the topic as he suggested different bouquet types and sets. the tall male had always gone to this flower shop in particular for his family's flower needs, and whenever he needed help, y/n would always be there for him. the way y/n's soft short fluffy (color) hair swayed as he moved, his eyes blinking softly which showed off his long lashes, and his red lips stretching as he smiled, took the breath out of felix's mouth. for the record, felix wasn't the type to fall so easily, especially for someone as average as the small flower shop clerk. but there was just something about the way the latter would greet him with the brightest smile, his soft honey-like voice that made felix's skin get goosebumps as he spoke, and his bright personality drew felix in like bees to pollen. it was addicting. just to see that gorgeous smile come his way, his day would be left with replaying the moment in his mind.

"...lix? felix? hello, sir?" y/n gently shakes felix out of his trance.

"hm? oh sorry, i spaced out. can you repeat what you said?" felix cleared his throat, his face turning red slightly as he tried to maintain his cool. he was just caught dozing off, so he tried to mainatain his cool attitude.

y/n nods, "it's okay. so to summarize, the theme is great gatsby, and mrs. catton wants soft colored florals in big and small arrangements. did i get that right?" he asks, to which felix nods. "must be a really big party then, right?" y/n says as he writes it all down. felix finds the chuckling cute as he nods, leaning over a bit to see what y/n had written. "yes, that is right. oh! and the party will happen on friday, next week."

"i see, i see. will you pay it straight, cash or?" he asks, trailing off as felix nods. "i can do straight payment, yes." he says softly to the smaller male.

"got it, follow me this way." y/n said as he made his way to the counter, getting the card reader machine up and running as felix followed him. felix watched as y/n worked, the latter's head bobbing softly to the jazz music that played in the background. "cute." felix said without much thought, making the small male perk his head up to him with a small surprised expression. "hm?"

felix realized his mistake and cleared his throat, deciding to be bold and repeat what he said. he thought he might as well shoot his shot. "i said you're cute, y/n."

y/n's cheeks turn a pinkish hue as he nods shyly, "ah, thank you." he says quietly as he places the receipt down on the counter, asking felix to sign it. y/n watches felix sign the paper as he bit his lip, hesitating before he spoke. "the feeling's mutual, felix. you're pretty cute too." he flirted subtly, which makes felix grin as the tall male gave back the pen.

felix's gaze meets y/n's for a bit as he lets out a playful huff at the flirting. "the flowers will be most likely ready within two hours before the party, so you can come by and pick them up." y/n says, and felix nods. "cool, ill see you then." felix said as he was turning away. as he was about to make his exit out of the flower shop, he stopped. he knew he had an opportunity to ask the clerk out, and if he had run away from it, he wouldn't stop thinking about it.

felix turns back to the clerk, who was busying himself by cleaning up some of the papers on the desk. "y/n, I want to ask you something."

y/n's ears perk up in intrigue, "yes?" he asks with a slightly eager tone.

felix leans against the counter, biting his lip as bit as he whispers to y/n. "i was wondering you know, since i'm already here, if... we can go out sometime?"

y/n's face turn red as his mouth opens and closes, taken off guard by the sudden question. felix tries to remedy this as he starts to spill out words, a little flustered though he tries to act as nonchalant and cool as possible. "i've admired the way you work, and you're always so kind to me and my family. think of it as a 'thank you' gift from me- er, the family." felix said as he hoped y/n wouldn't catch up on his slip-up.

"n-no, i mean- i'd love to, felix." y/n said as he held onto felix's arm to stop him from rambling, which eases felix's lightly tense demeanor. "i just didn't expect it, that's all," he said timidly.

felix chuckles at the bashful reaction as y/n looks away. "good, i mean, i could pick you up after work if you want? we can get some coffee together."

"yes, that would be nice. my shift ends at three pm- i can text you if it ends earlier? you have my number." y/n said and felix nodded, grinning. "yes, yes, i do. i'll see you later then?" felix asked as he opened the door of the flower shop, looking back at the blushing male who nodded.

"mhm, see you, felix." ______________________________________________________________ hope you enjoyed this, even though it is a bit shorter than usual. i personally loved the idea, i feel like it would be a nice story for an actual book. rich guy meets quiet flower shop clerk, what a cliche. a good one, at that

[lanaxoxoxoxoxox]

Request for you to write that picnic thing from our dms

AHAHAHAHAH i've been waiting for this moment *cracks knuckles*

strawberry kisses

warnings: adorable fluff, reader called "woman",

musician!bur x fem!reader

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Yes, I was indeed in love with William Gold. I mean, what can I say. He's kind, incredibly funny and talented, and very pretty. His brown, fluffy hair basically shines in the stage lights, and don't even get me started on his mesmerizing eyes. I don't think it's possible for anyone to hate him. Even the first second I met him on stream, I knew in a matter of seconds we would be strong friends. Soulmates, you could say.

It was about 4 pm, and Lovejoy had just finished a late afternoon show in Brighton. They absolutely killed the performance, and the audience adored them. Wilbur, the rest of Lovejoy, the other Sorry boys and I decided to go to a relaxing strawberry field to wind down a bit. The sweet aroma of strawberries and fresh cut grass overwhelmed me. Wilbur, Ranboo and Tommy walked next to me.

"I haven't been to a strawberry field since I was a kid. Really brings back memories." Ranboo sighed, looking around at his surrondings.

I smiled in response. "I bet the strawberries back near your childhood home are much better than the strawberries here. English strawberries are usually pretty shit."

The boys laughed at my comment. Tommy punched my shoulder. "Y/n! Stop being a mean woman and calling out your homelands! Long live England!" Tommy exaggerated. We laughed even harder and kept walking across the wet soil beneath us.

I looked over at the quiet Wilbur, as he dazed off looking in the distance. I bit my lip, and I playfully hit him in the arm. "Will, what's going on with you? You're awfully quiet." Tommy nodded at my statement.

It looked as if Wilbur was knocked back to his reality and senses. "U-uh yeah, I'm just thinking. About something." he winced.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Alright..."

Ranboo and Tommy quickly changed the subject, talking about recent games they've enjoyed playing on stream. I still couldn't get a grasp on why Wilbur was acting so weird, but I kept it to myself. I probably was just overreacting!

We walked for a bit more, talking about random things, when suddenly Phil called Ranboo and Tommy over to come check something out with Charlie about 6 fields over. They both ran over, jumping over strawberry plants as Wilbur and I laugh at them trying not to step on any growing strawberry flowers.

Will and I continued to walk more, when Will suddenly stopped in his tracks and exhaled deeply. I looked back at him. "Will, is everything alright-"

I was interrupted by Will speaking up softly. "Y/n, love, can we stop for a moment? I need to tell you something."

I blushed and felt butterflies in my stomach at the nickname. "U-uh yeah, of course! What's up?" I said, coming closer to him.

"I think I'm in fucking love with you, y/n. I can't help but admire you. I love everything about you. Your face, your lips, your smile, your hands, fucking. everything. You're perfect to me, and I've wanted to say this to you for a while. If you don't like me back, that's okay, but I needed for you to know." Wilbur rushed out his words, but every single thing he said felt like heaven to my ears. I've been waiting for those words for who knows how long.

"Kiss me." I stated.

Will's eyes widened in surprise at my words. "W-what?"

"Kiss me." I repeated.

Will's pretty lips slightly parted, and his face leaned a bit closer to mine, leaving hardly an inch for me to change my mind. "Are you sure about this?" Wilbur whispered.

I closed the gap between us in response, pressing my lips against his. I wrapped my arms around his neck and felt Will smile into the kiss and then pull away, catching our breaths.

"I've never felt like such a teenager." I said, Will laughing in response.

Suddenly, we heard whispering from the field next to us, and saw Tommy staring at us in disgust. My eyes widened, knowing what was going to happen next was going to be certainly interesting.

"PHIL! Y/N AND WILL FUCKING KISSED!" Tommy yelled back to Phil and the rest of the group.

"Cool, I guess- WAIT, WHAT?" Ran yelled back.

Uh oh.

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tee hee this is so cute omg