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mostlycompetentwriter · 3 years

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Wow, he’s hot

“Pairing: Fem!Reader x Seo Changbin (SKZ)

Word Count: 8K

Genre: Neighbors to Lovers? Lol

Warnings: Aged up characters (Changbin is ten years older than the reader), explicit sexual content, language, drinking

Summary: You were a fresh college graduate, returning home for the summer before starting a bright, shiny new position in the city, but you certainly weren’t expecting to fall hard for your neighbor.

A/N: I hope at least one person gets my reference/pun at the end....But seriously? Oh, what have I done...

Your roommate was hungover again, dressed to the nines in a purple bathrobe and pink fluffy slippers as she attempted to move huge boxes of random shit between her bedroom and the foyer of your shared apartment.

It was priceless entertainment, at least in your opinion, especially after witnessing your roommate in rare form the previous night dancing from one frat boy to the next, draining entire bottles of alcohol like she needed the liquid encouragement.

From what you had observed, she was determined to embarrass you at all costs, and under normal circumstances, you could’ve avoided her rather inappropriate behavior in exchange for your regular hook-up, Joshua. But he decided to remain mysteriously absent for the entire evening, which meant that you had been stuck watching over your roommate, hoping that she wouldn’t get you kicked out again....

“I know what you’re thinking, Y/N,” Laura huffed, pausing next to the counter-top where you sat. “What did you expect? It was my last night of freedom before going back home.”

“Yeah,” you snorted. “It was mine too, but I wasn’t plastered face-down in the shower last night.”

“Whatever,” Laura grimaced. “Did you sign off on the lease yet?”

“I did it earlier,” you replied.

“Our bitchy landlord’s been complaining all week,” Laura said. “I’m tired of her late-night phone calls, plus my mom’s been really annoying about the move.”

“Oh?” you questioned. “When is she coming?”

“In like an hour,” Laura huffed. “Why do you think I’m busting my ass to pack everything?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “Maybe you needed a distraction from thinking about puking in the bushes behind the frat house last night.”

“Oh, shut up about that!” Laura hissed, slapping your arm as you kept laughing. “Isn’t you brother coming tomorrow?”

“Ugh, yeah,” you groaned. “He said he has to come super early because of work, but my ass doesn’t start functioning until at least 8:00.”

“Well, at least tell Chan ‘hi’ for me,” Laura said, giggling like a love-struck teenager because she had been infatuated with your older brother for years.

“If I remember to tell him,” you grumbled, stretching out your arms and deciding that it might be useful for you to start packing as well, especially since the most you would be able to accomplish tomorrow morning at the ass crack of dawn is following Chan around the apartment in a zombie-like state as the two of you loaded your belongings into his car.

“Don’t forget that I’m coming to visit next week,” Laura said, and you perked up a little at the idea of having your friend come around, especially since the two of you had just graduated together and those long days and nights of being glued together at the hip were coming to a bittersweet end.

“Sounds good,” you agreed, checking your phone one last time to see a weird gif from Chan (as you had come to expect from him) before joining your roommate in packing up the remainder of your former college life.

Chan had always been prompt when it came to his familial obligations, and the two of you spent two hours loading all of your stuff into his car before starting the long drive to your old childhood home. A place that you hadn’t ventured to since leaving four years ago to start undergraduate school.

“Looks the same,” you remarked, sunglasses perched low on your nose as you allowed the window to roll down to take in some fresh air.

“What did you expect?” Chan asked, humming away to whatever shitty metal song he had playing over the radio.

In a totally random and last-minute decision, you had decided that for the next three summer months while you were stuck in an in-between phase, you were returning home for a while before you were set to move into a new apartment in the city close to where you would be working full-time. It seemed logical to save money, and there was a small part of you that did miss your family and old friends.

Of course, despite Chan’s dismissal of your earlier nonchalant comment about the unchanging surroundings of your hometown, you were startled when you realized that the old house next door, which used to be occupied by an elderly couple until they moved away during your senior year of high school, was missing it’s familiar ‘for sale’ sign in the front yard, and there was a black Mustang in the driveway.

“Home sweet home,” Chan sighed when he stopped in the carport attached to your former two-story staccato, opening the door with a grumble.

You frowned, following him around to the back of his car. “Someone bought the house next door?” you asked, dragging your eyes away from the sleek, shiny sports car to look at your brother.

Chan grunted as he heaved your suitcase from the trunk. “Yeah, they moved in last month. I think the owner is a lawyer and he lives there with his daughter.”

“Huh,” you remarked. “That house has been vacant for years.”

Chan shrugged. “Yeah, well, the guy who lives there now is really nice. Mom and dad babysit for him a lot when he’s working.”

“Great,” I muttered. “They’ll rope me into helping.”

“S’ not so bad,” Chan said, growling in frustration when your suitcase fell over to the side with an unpleasant crash. “Can you help or what?”

You laughed at your brother’s outrage, reaching back to pull your hair into a messy bun.

Meanwhile, you noticed the front door of your house opening from the corner of your eye, smiling when your mother shrieked and rushed down the sidewalk to meet you halfway in a long-winded embrace. “Y/N!! I’m so glad to see you.”

“You’re crushing me,” you heaved through constricted lungs, accepting your mother’s open arms even if it was a little over-eager.

“Oh! I’m sorry, dear,” she said, pulling back just enough to allow oxygen to circulate once again, but not enough to pull you away from her mushy kisses. “You look so healthy and beautiful!”

“Yeah, thanks mom,” you said, slowly beginning the untangling process of removing her arms from around you while Chan struggled in the background to carry your suitcase up the front steps. “I should help.”

“Of course!” your mom agreed, but a distant tug of curiosity had you turning back to look at the house next door once again.

“Hey? Do you know anything about the new neighbor?”

“You mean Changbin? He’s wonderful, darling. So polite, and his daughter is so funny.”

You wrinkled your nose, never having been a huge fan of kids. “Chan said you babysit for him sometimes.”

“It’s always nice to help someone out,” your mother tsked, and you could recognize her patronizing tone from anywhere. “Such a shame that he divorced his wife. Heard it was kinda nasty.”

“It’s not any of our business,” you reminded her.

“Oh, I didn’t say it was!” your mother sighed. “He doesn’t talk about it much.”

“Jeez, how much do you guys talk?”

Because from the sound of it, Changbin had to be as old as your mom to make this much of an impression. You grinned as you briefly imagined the two of them on the front porch drinking tea together and gossiping about the rest of the neighborhood.

“He’s far more friendly than Mrs. Jones was,” your mother remarked. “I think you’d like him, Y/N.”

“I don’t know about that...”

“Well, you’ll get the chance to meet him tonight,” your mother said, smile full and wide. “I’ve invited him over for dinner!”

Oh, great.

“Can’t wait,” you forced out between clenched teeth, rolling your eyes when your mom clapped her hands together before grabbing your hand to drag you inside, feeling only a distant shiver roll across your spine as you walked onto the porch as if someone was looking at you from afar....

Your mother was hardly the type to run out of conversation, and you eventually were forced to leave her downstairs to argue with Chan over some menial thing that he forgot to do for tonight’s big dinner while you trudged upstairs to find some peace.

Unsurprisingly, your childhood bedroom remained untouched, and you circled around the perimeter, studying old pictures of yourself playing sports and hanging out with friends. Fingers dusting over your collection of old trophies and high-school yearbooks that recalled long-ago days of feeling carefree - with the future wide-open in front of you for the taking.

But you were well off in the present, allowing yourself to indulge in the nostalgia of looking through old diaries and journals before your mother’s voice called you downstairs for dinner later that evening. “Coming!” you called back, pausing next to your mirror to check your reflection.

The smell of your mother’s cooking had your stomach rumbling from the hunger of only stopping once on the way home to eat cheap fast-food with Chan, and you forced yourself to walk like a normal person even though every instinct was screaming at you to find the source of that delicious odor.

You were nearly salivating at the idea of your mother’s homemade cooking, and your hand caught the rail of the bannister to turn the final corner, but the sounds of voices from below forced you to pause at the top of the stairs, eyes growing wide as you took in the sight of the unfamiliar man standing in your foyer, talking to your mother like they had known each other for years. “Oh, Y/N,” your mother said, and you shivered when the man turned to look at you. “Come meet our neighbor, Changbin. I think you’ll really like him.”

You held back a snort at the ironic comment because it only took you a few seconds to come to the conclusion that Changbin epitomized the phrase “just my type.”

He was on the shorter side, built like he had literally spent his entire life working out, arms bulging beneath his t-shirt and chest straining the material tight to his front. So much so that you could practically see his nipples through the fabric.

His hair was jet-black, ruffled from the wind outside, and his eyes were equally as dark, lips contorted into a self-satisfied smirk that you found exceedingly hot.

“Hi,” you mustered without much thought, nearly tripping over your own two feet on the way down the stairs.

“This is my daughter, Y/N,” your mother said, inviting you closer so that you were standing directly in front of Changbin.

“Nice to meet you,” he said in a deep voice that was slightly rough around the edges.

“Y/N just graduate from college,” your mother gushed. “We’re so excited to have her back.”

“I’m home for the summer,” you explained, shivering at the dark look in Changbin’s gaze. “I’m starting an internship in the Fall.”

“Y/N will be working in publishing,” your mother explained, jumping in while you and Changbin continued to stare each other down - something intense and provocative.

“Really?” Changbin asked, eyes making a leisurely stroll of looking you up and in down in a way that had you feeling extremely self-conscious.

“Oh! Give me one second to check something in the kitchen,” your mother said, excusing herself with a smile before leaving the two of you alone in the foyer.

You inwardly cursed your mother for leaving you both in an awkward silence. Say something!! You screamed to yourself.

“So,” you started, clearing your throat and forcing yourself to stop swaying back and forth. “Chan told me you practice law.”

“Yeah,” Changbin agreed, and you swooned at his crooked smile. “It doesn’t sound as interesting as your work.”

“I don’t know about that,” you countered politely, but Changbin was unrelenting.

“You looked surprised to see me earlier,” he remarked.

You swallowed hard. “Oh, well when Chan mentioned a neighbor with a kid, I just wasn’t expecting someone so....”

“Yes?” Changbin prodded, encouraging you to continue.

Someone so fucking hot, you thought to yourself, someone who was literally made inside my best fantasies, but those explicit thoughts belonged exclusively inside your head. “Young,” you eventually finished, and Changbin seemed disappointed for some reason.

“I’m 32,” he said, and your eyes widened perceptibly, realizing that he was ten years older than you.

“I would’ve never guessed,” you said. “I mean, not that it’s a bad thing-”

“It’s alright,” Changbin interrupted, and you were relieved to hear him chuckle. “I know what you mean.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I can be a little awkward.”

“No,” he shook his head, coming to stand a little closer. “I think it’s nice.”

Oh? What was that supposed to mean?

“I used to have a boyfriend who looked a lot like you,” you went on, freezing when you comprehended what you had just blathered without thinking.

But Changbin didn’t seem bothered at all. “I bet he wasn’t as old as me.”

“He was my age,” you said. “But I kinda like older men...”

Fuck. Did those words really just come out of your mouth?!

“Y/N,” Changbin said, and you trembled at the huskiness of his tone. “You should be more careful.” He leaned in then as if trying to keep whatever he was about to say a secret for just the two of you. “I can be a very dangerous man.”

“O-oh,” you stuttered, finding yourself two seconds away from literally melting at his feet when your mother suddenly re-entered the foyer with a dusting of flour across her chin.

“Dinner’s ready!” she announced, and you were fleeing behind her without a second thought, escaping the intoxicating hold of Changbin’s presence before you did something you might regret.

For whatever reason, you found yourself sitting next to Changbin in the dining room for dinner that night.

“I made chicken,” your mother said, gesturing to each dish sitting in a line down the center of the table as she explained tonight’s menu. But you were barely cognizant of what your mother was saying because the close proximity to Changbin was doing very strange things to your head.

“So, Y/N,” your father started when everyone had been served. “I hope your brother was helpful with the move.”

Chan rolled his eyes, but you grinned at your father’s words. “Yeah, I was a little out of it though because of the time.”

“Like I said,” Chan huffed. “I couldn’t get there any later.”

“Let the bickering commence,” your mother said. “Changbin, you wouldn’t believe the fights these two had when they were young.”

“I can only imagine,” Changbin said, and you were wondering how someone could be even more attractive by the sound of their voice alone.

“Do you still need us to babysit for you tomorrow night?” your mother asked. “We would be more than accommodating.”

“That would be great,” Changbin said. “I’ve got a late conference call.”

“It’s no problem,” your mother continued. “Your daughter is just the loveliest.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Changbin replied.

“Y/N,” your mother said, catching you with a mouthful of chicken. “Changbin’s daughter is such a peach.”

You quickly forced down the food in your mouth when you felt Changbin’s gaze rest on you. “Oh? How hold is she, Mr. Seo?”

“She’s six,” Changbin said, and he shifted in his chair, causing your knees to brush together in a move that you knew wasn’t intentional, even if it didn’t stop your legs from wrapping together. “And you don’t have to be so formal with me, Y/N. Only my clients call me Mr. Seo.”

“O-oh,” you exhaled, reacting to the brief contact under the table, hoping that nobody else was noticing your strange behavior.

“Maybe Y/N could help watch Lucy when you’re gone,” your mother suggested, always the first to rope you into these things.

“Sure,” you agreed, even though the idea of pulling babysitting duty was less than appealing, and you could hear Chan snickering from across the table. He knew perfectly well your attitude when it came to kids.

“I think Lucy would like that,” Changbin agreed, and you started to nod along until you felt Changbin’s hand move to your thigh.

Just that single move had your entire form frozen in place.

While your mother continued talking about whatever subject caught her attention, you were left wondering how you should react to the very obvious posturing of Changbin’s hand moving decidedly against your bare skin.

“I’ll probably head back into town tomorrow morning,” Chan said. “I wasn’t able to get much work done.”

You knew it was a playful jab at you, but at that moment you were incapable of coherent speech.

“How is work, Channie?” your mother asked, just as ignorant as the rest of them to the situation unfolding beneath her table. “Anything interesting?”

“Not really,” Chan replied, and you nearly choked on the food you were swallowing when you felt Changbin squeezing your thigh.

“Try to chew it first, Y/N,” your father chuckled, and you forced a smile which you hoped wasn’t as strained as it felt.

“What about you, Changbin?” your mother politely queried. “Anything interesting happening lately?”

“Maybe,” he said with a tone that was far too knowing.

“Hmmm?” your mother smiled. “You aren’t seeing anyone, are you?”

You knew the question was invasive, but Changbin handled it in stride. “I think it depends.”

“Sounds scandalous,” your mother joked, and you couldn’t have possibly been imagining it, feeling his fingers reach so high under the opening of your shorts that his fingertips touched the outline of your panties.

You reached down to cover his hand with your own, bringing awareness to the fact that you weren’t ignoring what was happening, and he had every opportunity to pull back.

But he didn’t. In fact, Changbin’s light, playful touches only continued, and you were left reeling for what the intention could possibly mean.

Early the next morning, you were supposed to be cleaning the pool as a favor to your mother, but how could you be blamed for sneaking peaks at your neighbor working out in his backyard?

“Holy shit,” you cursed under your breath, failing to do a very good job of pretending to be occupied with your current task while ogling the man across the lawn who was in the middle of another round of push-ups, biceps flexing while the rest of his body practically glowed under the sun.

You knew it wasn’t a crime to permit the occasional glance, but your hardcore staring could certainly be qualified as spying at this point (especially in the direction of a lawyer) - making it blatantly obvious that you were very appreciative of the male form at the peak of performance.

Was Changbin seriously 32? And a father?

The questions boggled your mind, and in your distracted state, you clearly forgot to keep a firm hold on the handle of the pool’s leaf skimmer, huffing in annoyance when it splashed beneath the water.

It was enough to attract Changbin’s attention, and you were sure that your face was just as red as the towel draped over the back of your mother’s patio furniture when he stood to his full height before walking in your direction.

“Were you watching me?” Changbin asked, sauntering over to you with black mesh shorts hanging tantalizingly low on his hips, shirt foregone in exchange for a delightful sheen of sweat coating the skin of his thick upper torso in dripping rivulets.

“Uh...” you trailed off anxiously, realizing that Changbin wouldn’t be stupid enough to fall for your half-assed excuses, especially after what had happened between the two of you last night.

“You’re not planning on lying to me, Y/N?” he asked, raising one eyebrow in question.

“N-no, Mr. Seo,” you said, shaking your head quickly, barely keeping a firm grasp of your bearings as he abruptly leaned in closer, musk hanging heavy in the air between the two of you.

“I told you not to call me that,” he said, lips lingering far too close to your ear for a simple neighborly exchange, and you could feel the body heat emanating from him in waves, holding you completely hostage as you briefly entertained the idea of falling to your knees right then and there.

“What should I call you?” you asked instead, fisting your shirt between your hands because you were desperate for something to ground you in that moment.

You could practically feel his smirk, holding in a gasp when his hand settled at the low dip in your spine, fitting into the space there as he pulled you tight against his front. “You can always call me daddy instead.”

Your heart skipped several beats at the scandalous words. Either that or you had just entered cardiac arrest.

But before you could muster a response, you found yourself leaping out of Changbin’s hold when the backdoor opened, and your mother was screaming out your name while waving like a maniac. “Oh!” she said when she realized that you weren’t alone. “I didn’t mean to interrupt!”

“We were just talking,” you quickly inserted, glancing at Changbin from the corner of your eye to see him smirking.

For a while, the very strange flirtation between you and Changbin simmered down, and you tried your best to avoid him when you could, even if he made that very hard to do since he insisted on doing his morning workouts outside in direct line of your bedroom.

It was during the following week that you brought the divine glory of Changbin to your friend, Laura’s, attention, ushering her into your house when she parked on the side of street. “What the hell, Y/N?” she complained when you started practically dragging her up the stairs. “I’ve been driving for hours.”

“Oh, hush,” you said. “You’ll thank me later.”

“Thank you for what, exactly?” Laura questioned, but your response was to simply push her toward the window, standing side by side as you looked through the blinds.

“My new neighbor.”

“Holy fuck!” Laura gasped when she finally joined you, and you could only nod your agreement as the two of you continued to watch Changbin through two narrow breaks in your blinds, wondering how the image of your sexy neighbor simply mowing his grass could make you so wet. “That man is huge!”

“I think he does it on purpose,” you remarked, feeling your heart palpitate inside your chest when Changbin took a moment to pause his chore, reaching down to remove his shirt and tuck it into the waistband of his shorts.

Laura’s gasp was almost outlandishly laughable. “He’s ripped! Like, Sports Illustrated model worthy.”

“I would buy every last copy of that edition.”

“I’d even go a step further and tape the pictures to my wall.”

You both stopped to look at one another, nodding in your collective agreement. “Not here, though, my mom would freak.”

“Yeah, but how can your mom expect you to just ignore...that!” Laura exclaimed, gesturing wildly to Changbin.

“She thinks he’s a fucking Saint, but I swear to god, Laura, he’s provoking me on purpose! The other night at dinner? He came over and put. his. hand. on. my. leg,” you said, emphasizing the last line with what probably looked like a comical widening of your eyes. “And he works out every morning in front of my bedroom? What the hell am I supposed to think?”

“No think,” Laura sighed dreamily. “Just enjoy the view.”

“Do you think I’m not?” you snorted. “I’m serious about him doing those things!”

“So what?” Laura grumbled. “Why are you actually worried that your fucking super model neighbor wants to make a few moves on you? I would be honored.”

“I’m not worried,” you huffed. “It just feels like he wants something from me.”

“Well, if it’s a good fuck, then send him all the signals you can, girl.”

“Really?” you muttered. “You know I suck with flirting. That’s why I only hooked up with Joshua at those stupid frat parties. He didn’t care that I was an awkward mess.”

“Well, neither will your neighbor,” Laura said. “Especially if he’s as interested as you say.”

You pursed your lips, considering her comment, but the sudden and unexpected sound of your door opening sent both you and Laura jumping nearly ten feet into the air as you hurried away from the blinds as fast as humanely possible to take up some form of normalcy.

No, mom, of course we weren’t staring at Mr. Seo.

“Girls,” your mother inquired as she walked inside, and you prayed that your mother hadn’t caught the two of you taking sly peaks at Changbin outside, but she seemed completely ignorant. “I have a question for you.”

“Hmmm?” you inquired, innocently enough, trying to act like the position that you had forced yourself into on the bed was totally not uncomfortable.

“Changbin needs someone to watch Lucy tomorrow night, but your father and I already made plans,” she said. “But I told him you would be more than happy to come over and help him out.”

You winced when Laura elbowed you in the side, giving you one of those looks that you knew quite well from countless nights of barhopping as sophomores. “Yeah, I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Laura snickered, but you payed her no attention as you hurried to close the door behind your mother’s retreating form, breathing a sigh of relief to hear her walk back down the stairs.

In all of your years of existence, never had you questioned the appropriateness of an outfit to wear to someone’s place to babysit.

“Fuck it,” you eventually decided, settling on regular, well-worn jeans and a college t-shirt.

After all, it wasn’t like Changbin was staying for very long. He claimed he had something to do at the office, and you would be all alone inside his house with only his kid for companionship.

Still, after your conversation with Laura from the previous afternoon, you couldn’t help but feel more mindful about how he might look at you, and you forced yourself to wear your most professional smile when you rang the doorbell to his house, counting slowly from one until he opened the door.

“Hi, Y/N,” Changbin said, and you tried not to blatantly check him out; although, you couldn’t help but linger on the tight fit of his shirt across his pecs.

“Hello,” you nearly whispered, cursing your hormones as you followed Changbin inside.

“I actually have something to tell you,” Changbin said, leading you into the living room so that you could sit down while entered the adjoining kitchen.

“Oh?” you queried, as politely as you could, waiting for him to return.

It didn’t take him long, and you found yourself sitting up a little straighter from where you had made yourself comfortable on the couch. “So, I actually found someone else to watch Lucy,” Changbin explained, coming around to land next to you on the couch with two glasses of wine.

“You did?” you asked, surprised and taken-aback.

Why were you here then?

As if he could read your thoughts, Changbin smirked. “Thirsty?”

“Sure,” you agreed, taking one of the glasses and bringing the rim up to your lips. “I’m sorry, I just thought you wanted me to watch her.”

“I did,” Changbin said, and he seemed contemplative as he sipped his own drink. “But then I kinda wanted you for something else.”

“Something else?” you repeated because your mind was spinning those simple words in a thousand different directions, and you were only able to settle on one likely outcome when Changbin’s hand dropped to your thigh, reminiscent of your first dinner together from several evenings ago.

He suddenly moved in closer to you, allowing you to smell the subtle cologne that he was wearing. “You’ve been watching me,” he said, and you shivered, feeling both hot and cold at the same time as you looked at him.

“S-sir?”

“Don’t play coy,” Changbin continued, and you found yourself observing the way his throat bobbed as he drank. “I don’t mind the attention.”

“You don’t?” you replied, a rather useless question considering the circumstances, and Changbin took your glass and sat both alcoholic selections onto the side table.

“Why wouldn’t I like it?” he asked, tracing little nonsensical patterns on the covered part of your thigh. “You’re a very beautiful girl.”

What. The. Hell?!!

“Mr. Seo, I don’t think-”

“Y/N,” Changbin interrupted, and you were so frazzled and disjointed by the sharp grip he took on your chin, forcing eye-contact that was so intimate, you could feel yourself grow a little bit wetter. “I told you not to call me that.”

It was the only precursor you got before Changbin was delving in, gripping your chin firmly as he connected your lips in a deep, sensuous exchange that had you reeling from the sudden 180 degree turn that the night had taken.

In one word: everything was rough. Teeth meeting teeth, and tongues rolling in a messy glide against one another. Wet and warm. Silky and smooth. It was everything you needed in a kiss to get your gears turning, feeling your pussy positively throbbing in response.

“That’s right,” Changbin eventually said when he pulled the two of you apart - very much still in control. “We shouldn’t ignore this tension between us.”

“No,” you eagerly agreed, diving in once more for another earth-shattering kiss that rocked you to your very bones, taking the initiative to crawl into his lap, grinding yourself shamelessly against the tight bulge in his jeans while your fingers dug their way into his thick, dark hair.

“Eager,” Changbin whispered between feverish kisses, keeping your mouths locked together at all costs, even if that meant growing a little bit light-headed from losing too much oxygen.

But you couldn’t get enough of him, not after all this teasing and tension.

You didn’t care anymore, consequences be damned, and there wasn’t a single part of you opposing his intentional touches, giving him enough space to unbutton your jeans before sliding one hand beneath the waistband of your panties. In response, you moaned into his mouth, bracing your hands against his shoulders as he found the delicate folds of your pussy.

“Do you want me to touch you here?” Changbin asked, and you were feverishly nodding, sweat forming at the top of your forehead, trying your best to hold back your loudest moans when he slid right in with little resistance, moving his fingers around the inside of your cunt, stretching and filling you in a way that you imagined was nothing compared to what the thick cock beneath you could do.

But you would take anything from him, savoring the glide of his fingers since you were practically drenching him in sticky arousal, jerking forward every so often when his thumb pressed down a little too hard against your clit.

All the while, you could feel yourself start to break apart from the heated contact between the two of you, aching and wanting for the release that the look in his eyes told you he had every intention of providing.

And you were enjoying every bit of the journey to get there, bathing in his attention, groaning when his fingers curled up just right to tease your g-spot, and grinding down against the erection confined tightly in his jeans.

Everything was suddenly so much louder, the sounds of his palm smacking against your cunt, fingers gliding through wetness, and the joined harmony of your combined moans and grunts.

It was a rapid uphill ascent into the clouds, and you could feel him start to move even faster, pulling against the fabric of your jeans, and there was hardly any time for your mind to truly comprehend what was happening. Lost in a sinful haze of lust and divine rapture, wanting nothing more than to just lose yourself in Changbin.

Except he wasn’t letting you simply drown in the pleasure he was giving you, tugging at your hair to bring you back to the present, to the final string keeping your orgasm just out of reach. “You don’t think I haven’t noticed,” Changbin growled into your ear, keeping one hand tight around your waist to stop your squirming as he continued plunging his thick fingers between the tight walls of your pussy. “I see you looking at me because I want you to look.”

You moaned at the explicit expression of his desires, closing your eyes and returning your head against his shoulder, hips titillating according to the way he moved his fingers inside of you.

“Cum for me,” he said, and you were more than willing to let go of everything, including the moans you had been trying to hold back, filling the house with the loud raucous of your screams as your orgasm snapped and unleashed a molten hot thrill along your spine.

You were gasping for breath, returning from the highest peak of satisfaction, but Changbin hardly gave you anytime to recover before he was removing his hand from your jeans and forcing you into the floor.

“My turn,” he grunted, and the sound of his belt unbuckling triggered some semblance of rationale, and you were practically salivating over Changbin’s cock, eyeing the red bulbous mushroom head and wondering how deep you could take him. “Well?” Changbin prodded, grabbing the base of his thick erection to brush it across the pout of your lips. “Open wide.”

You whimpered, but obeyed, allowing your tongue to stick out just enough to taste the drop of precum leaking from the tip. It was bitter and unappealing, but since it was from Changbin, you couldn’t resist trying more of him, going further and further down until you felt him at the back of your throat.

Your jaw was already aching from the extension, and a distant thought had you thinking, damn, you were gonna be sore in the morning. But it was completely worth it to hear him moan from above you, fingers tightening in your hair as you allowed him to set the pace, rolling you up and down his cock, tongue sweeping the sides and tip and digging into the little slit where you discovered he was the most sensitive.

At the same time, you were all but humping his leg, desperate to get off again as he used your mouth for his own personal cocksleeve, hitting the back of your throat repeatedly, sending you gagging around his impossible length.

“You take cock like you were made for it,” he remarked, eyes glossing over in a way that had you feeling rather proud of your skills.

It only lasted for a moment, and he abruptly held himself all the way down for one, two, three seconds until you were whining for him to let you free just long enough to take in another deep breath.

“Finish me off,” he groaned, and you were working overtime to bring him to the edge, bobbing your head up and down the full expanse of his length, all gorgeous and velvety smooth skin. And you braced your hands against his knees, an anchor to reality, when he finally released down your throat, heavy and warm, causing you to nearly choke as you struggled to swallow every last drop.

“Good girl,” he whispered, petting your head softly as you whined and continued to rub yourself against him, jumping off the brink of orgasmic bliss right after him, allowing your head to fall down between his spread legs.

It was a quiet for a while as you both fought to catch your breath, but then he was moving again, rising from his position on the couch.

You sat back on your heels at the jostling, whimpering when he stood over you with a menacing sneer, grabbing your face between his hands, forcing your gazes to meet somewhere in the middle even though you still couldn’t completely concentrate. But you were cognizant to at least understand his next words: “Lucy won’t be here tomorrow night, either.”

“Changbin,” you gasped, understanding the implications of his request and shivering at the effect they could still have on your worn-out body.

“I’ll leave the door unlocked,” he whispered into your ear, keeping eye-contact as he brought his fingers still coated with your arousal into his mouth, sucking while you grew faint at the sight. Then, he pulled them free and knelt down to sear your lips together so that you could taste the riveting combination of your releases on his wicked tongue.

You returned home that night in a daze, immediately heading for your room after assuring your mother that everything was totally fine with the babysitting, even if you probably appeared a little out of sorts.

In the meantime, you landed on top of your bed with a sigh, opening your phone contacts to pull up Laura’s name, placing the call without any mind to the late hour.

She answered on the third ring with a curt grunt. “This better be good, Y/N.”

“Oh?” you replied with a nonchalant tone. “I thought you might be interested in hearing about my latest dick appointment.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. “You didn’t.”

“I did!”

“With your neighbor?”

You laughed at Laura’s shrill tone, rolling over onto your stomach with your feet dancing in the air behind you. “I totally sucked him off.”

“Shit! How big is his cock?” Laura whispered over the phone as if anybody could possibly overhear your conversation.

“Let’s just say he’s well-endowed.”

“You absolute slut!” Laura exclaimed. “Did he at least return the favor?”

“Oh, he’s a gentleman,” you explained. “He took care of me first.”

“Details!”

“He just fingered me,” you said, even as your mind sprinted with images and sensations; Changbin’s sultry gaze, defined muscles, and the burning desire he had planted deep in your core.

“That’s hot though,” Laura said. “I can’t believe you actually did anything with him.”

“What? I told you he was sending me signals!”

“Yeah, but I was only halfway assuming that those signals might lead to his fingers in you!”

You couldn’t help yourself, laughing at Laura’s incredulous tone, and spending the next several minutes doing your absolute best to provide a heavily detailed play-by-play of your evening tryst with Changbin.

“Lucky bitch,” Laura scoffed at the end of your long-winded tale. “I’d kill for someone to fuck me.”

“Well, we haven’t gotten there yet...”

“Yet? Are you planning to go back to him?”

“Obviously,” you said. “There’s unfinished business that I need to take care of.”

“You think he wants to fuck you?”

“I think he wants to do a lot to me,” you purred, smirking at the sounds of Laura’s outlandish squeals from the other end.

Still, you didn’t think those explicit fantasies would come to fruition so soon. But the next night when you returned to Changbin’s house under the guise of babysitting his kid, there were no formalities between the two of you because you both wanted each other in a way that should be considered improper.

Fortunately, you were tired of caring about other people’s opinions, and it only took Changbin a moment to pull you into his house before his lips were crushing against yours, holding you around the waist as he started working at your clothes.

If whiplash was a thing in moments like these, then you had it bad, trying to follow the taste of him as he backed you both into the bedroom, closing the door and enveloping you both in the gentle glow from the lamp.

“Get on the bed,” Changbin growled when he finally pulled away, reaching down for the hem of his t-shirt. You swallowed hard at the sight of his broad, toned upper form, stumbling backward along the floor, hopping on one leg to finish removing your jeans for him, leaving you completely naked as you lowered yourself onto the mattress. “Good girl,” Changbin cooed, and you shivered at the huskiness of his voice, rubbing your thighs together in anticipation as he blatantly traced the outline of his cock through his jeans.

“Changbin, please,” you panted, already so worked up from just kissing and feeling his hands all over your body that you were desperate for something more.

“What do you want, gorgeous?” he asked, walking slowly around to the front of the bed as you watched him with eager eyes.

“Want you to fuck me,” you said, heart thundering against your chest when he started working apart his belt, pulling down his jeans and boxers and allowing his thick cock to slap up against his abdomen, already so hard for you even though you had just started.

“Hands and knees,” Changbin ordered, and you were surprised by your quick compliance, supporting yourself on shaky limbs as you felt him climb on the bed behind you, tensing when the head of his cock grazed your wet opening. “Look at you,” Changbin rumbled, teasing you even more by running his fingers down your spine, allowing his other hand to reach around to grope your breast.

“Hurry,” you practically begged him, and it was like the metaphorical band had finally snapped, and you moaned when Changbin took a firm hold of your hips, manhandling you back into position.

“Good girls say please,” he snarled, and your entire form light up at the abrupt command.

“P-please,” you stuttered, and there was an unholy line of curses that left your lips when he directed his cock inside, penetrating you so slowly that you could feel every inch of him until he was snug against your ass.

“Since you asked nicely,” Changbin chuckled, and you had never been so turned on before in your entire life, heart racing and blood pumping, bracing yourself against the mattress when he started thrusting, gentle at first, but then faster and faster as you egged him on, wanting him to go so hard that he split you in half around his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasped, struggling to maintain any sort of grip on the headboard.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Changbin purred into your ear, sounding perfectly put-together despite the fact that he was literally drilling his cock into you. “All those guys you’ve fucked before, I would think your pussy wouldn’t be this tight.”

“You’re just too big,” you managed, crying out when he grazed a sensitive spot.

“Oh? Is that why this little pussy is leaking so much?” Changbin asked, and you had no response for him, clearly fucked out of all rational thought as his hips slapped against yours in a bruising meeting of skin-on-skin.

It was undeniable: you had never felt this full before...like Changbin’s cock was somehow reaching all the way to your guts, and you reached down to place a hand over your stomach, imagining feeling the bulge of his cock against the distended skin.

“How does daddy feel?” Changbin whispered into your ear, and if it was possible for him to literally destroy you, then it would be from that heavily suggestive question.

“So good,” you sniffled, tears falling inhibited, leaving your face just as wet as the place where he was crushing himself into you, repeating the same motion of leaving just the tip before re-entering you with added urgency, cock forcing its way between the slick walls of your cunt.

It was a beautiful melodic song after that (or, perhaps, hard metal would be a much better genre), the rhythm of his hips rolling against your own, hard and then softer, bruising and fleeting, stuffing your pussy on every upstroke, holding you in place by his pure strength.

You could feel that strength everywhere, the force of his cock squelching between your pulsating walls, the way you moved up and down the bed by his control, and, when you reached back with one hand to feel his arm, the flex of his biceps as his arms worked to move you however he pleased.

“What will your mother say, Y/N?” Changbin asked. “When she finds out that her daughter fucked the man next door?”

Your mother would absolutely lose her shit if she found out that you were willingly spreading your legs for a divorced 32-year old man who had a daughter you were meant to be babysitting. She would be even more taken aback to discover that you loved and craved every second of Changbin’s cock tearing you to pieces, stretching you so good that you imagined that you would still be gaping in the morning, desperate to have him fill you again.

“Her little girl screaming like a slut for me,” Changbin hissed. “Say my name, Y/N.”

“C-Changbin,” you whimpered, feeling him roll to a slower pace, merely grinding his hips in circles as if teasing you for the answer.

You flinched and nearly cried when he smacked the fleshy part of your ass, trying to look back over your shoulder to see what you had done wrong. “Try again,” he said, giving you a meaningful look that your poor, fucked-out brain still managed to decipher; although, you were burning in your own skin at the thought of saying it out loud....

“Daddy!” you moaned, and Changbin suddenly reached down to catch a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back and forcing your back into an even deeper arch.

“That’s right,” he sneered. “And Daddy’s about to ruin this pussy, fuck it so full of my cum that you’ll still be feeling it when you go back home tonight to your parents and lie about what you’ve done.”

Your next moan was the loudest of the night, overwhelmed by the nasty things he was saying to you, feeling your orgasm gaining speed and traction the longer he kept fucking you, cock moving at a neck-break pace, and fingers wet and hurried over your clit.

The combined friction of his cock and fingers had you reeling, struggling to keep yourself up as he pummeled you into the mattress. Taking great liberties in the screams he was forcing out of you, realizing that if he angled his hips with one of your legs stretched higher around his hip, then he could somehow reach even deeper, kissing your cervix and threatening to steal the breath from your lungs.

More and More. Faster and Faster. Until the breaking point was right under your nose...

The next thing you remember is a release that was so intense, you managed to black-out when it was all over, pussy fluttering around the distinct waves of pleasure, barely coherent as Changbin continued chasing his own release until he fulfilled his obscene promise to you.��

Three Weeks Later

You had gotten awfully good at keeping Changbin a secret - a dirty and scandalous whisper at that.

For a while, your mother questioned your insistence on going over to your neighbor’s house to babysit, especially considering your history of being less than willing to interact with children.

“She’s not like most kids,” you lied, waiting for your mother to relent before grabbing whatever bag you needed consisting of your overnight clothes, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible when you walked over to Changbin’s house.

Your mother watched you, at first, standing on the porch as if ensuring that you made it the dozen or so feet separating your yard from that of your neighbor’s. Eventually, she gave up on trying to catch you doing something you weren’t supposed to, but you still kept up appearances, ringing the doorbell and taking a few steps to the side to leave enough room for the screen to rotate on its hinges, offering you the irresistible view of Changbin standing there in all his glory.

“You’re early,” he remarked; although he seemed to take great pleasure in seeing you as early as possible.

“Is that okay?” you asked with a knowing look, and Changbin chuckled while giving you his most arrogant smirk.

In return, you smiled back at Changbin, watching him open the door just a little bit wider in invitation.

It was all you needed before surrendering yourself to whatever delicious and mind-blowing ecstasy awaited on you the other side.

Summer of 69 indeed.

#changbin fanfic #changbinsmut #changbin imagines #changbin scenarios #changbin hard hours #changbin oneshots #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #skz fanfic #skz smut #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids oneshot #skz oneshots #mostlycompetent

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ruhrohimrorny · 4 years

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What Subjects I Think LOK Characters Would Teach:

Lin: PE, obviously. Dating Kya and all the kids are happy cause there’s a noticeable shift in Lin’s mood once they start dating. She no longer forces kids to run a mile every day and instead does it once a week now, so the kids are hoping her and Kya stay together. She also coaches Golf and Lacrosse.

Kya: Waffled between MILF Math teacher, MILF Science teacher, and hippy/chill Music teacher, but decided on MILF Science Teacher. Getting strong Biology vibes. Very fun labs and not strict at all. Her and Zhu-Li are super passionate about leading the Science Bowl team. Seeing these young people be so passionate about STEM and helping their fellow teammates makes her hopeful for this young generation.

Tenzin: He kinda gives math teacher vibes, but a large part of his character in the show is about him keeping his history alive, and teaching others abut learning and respecting history, so I feel like he’s a History teacher. His class is a lot of notetaking but he plays quiet music and does a five minute meditation in the middle of class to encourage kids to relax, so students really like him and actually listen to him. Also, he’s kind of gullible so they make up fake trends to tell him. He once spent a week addressing people as “brony” cause students told him thats what people say now instead of bro. Kids got a good laugh out of that one. Him and Pema are another favorite teacher couple.

Bumi II: Def gives off eccentric/unhinged English teacher vibes. Very interesting and informative conversations in his class, but things get off topic very quickly. Whenever kids ask about Bum-Ju, he gets distracted and will talk the entire rest of the period about what to dress Bum-Ju up as for Halloween. Probably plays a lot of videos. And students don’t worry about if they read the books Bumi II assigns cause they don’t think he’s even read the books he assigns. When having discussions about the books in class, sometimes kids will make up stuff and say it’s in the book and for the most part, Bumi II goes along with it cause he doesn’t know what actually happens in the books.

Varrick: Also gives off eccentric/unhinged English teacher vibes, but because he’s a businessman/war profiteer, I’m gonna have to say he teaches Econ and gives students lots of unsolicited financial advice. Also supervises the Engineering and Robotics Club.

Zhu-Li: Science teacher, probably Chemistry. She’s very good at explaining and getting kids to follow her instructions. Not only is she a co-supervisor for the Science Bowl team, she helps Varrick run Engineering and Robotics Club, cause if it were only Varrick running it, no kids would come. His intensity and eccentricity scares them.

Iroh II: He’s definitely the young Math teacher everyone has a crush on. Very chill and doesn’t give a lot of homework. Kids love when he shows pictures of his dog to the class and eventually he brings in the dog cause admin think the dog is too cute to say no to.

Tonraq: Resident DILF History teacher. Kind of a hardass but also a nice dude so most everyone passes his class. Probably that History teacher that is also a football coach, so during fall he doesn’t give a FUCK about whether anyone actually turns anything in. Him and Senna is the teacher couple that seems like opposites but actually are pretty similar and balance each other out.

Senna: That English teacher that every mentally ill student becomes emotionally attached to. You know what I’m talking about. She’s so sweet, funny, and chill so all the kids love her class. Tries to include memes in her presentations to seem “with it” but they’re like, doge memes from 2014. But the kids appreciate the effort.

Pema: Definitely the sweet English teacher that occasionally has a mental breakdown when the students test her patience. Otherwise very chill. Also teaches the Childhood Education and Development class. Her, Senna, and Bumi II run the school newspaper.

Bataar: Drafting. Pretty chill, very skilled, and def smokes on the weekend. Also, him and Suyin are that teacher couple that everyone likes.

Suyin: Dance. Super nice and always has like to of those smelly plug in things going so her room smells good and has a “good vibe that evokes emotion”. Always plays EDM or weird 80s rock to get the kids moving. She runs the school dance team. When Bataar has prep period, he sometimes drops in to see Su dance, cause she’s mesmerizing to watch. All the kids think that, coupled with the fact that they eat lunch together every day, makes them the cutest couple ever.

Amon: Drama. He loves directing kids on how to totally live a role. If you can imagine, he sometimes gets a little overdramatic about drama, forgetting that these are just highschool kids, not Oscar winners, but his passion makes the class more enjoyable. Runs Drama Club with Tarrlok.

Tarrlok: Probably Physics. A difficult class, but he’s pretty good at explaining so most kids don’t struggle too much. His main focus is running student government, which he takes pretty seriously. Sometimes too seriously.

Unalaq: Teaches Psychology. The most pretentious teacher on campus. It’s literally so bad, that even other teachers avoid him. Amon abandoned his coffee still being brewed in the machine in the staff room cause Unalaq walked in and he didn’t want to be in a room with Unalaq again after he said that Amon’s outfit “looked like something stolen from the lost and found of a funeral home”. Unalaq sees it as “telling it like it is”.

Zaheer: Government and Politics. Tries to teach the class very well but also injects his own opinion into teaching a lot. The students find him scary but some also kinda think he’s hot. Also does Yearbook. Him and Senna run Mock Trial. Replaced the old Government and Politics teacher Hou-Ting after she retired. She was that one old teacher that made it a hobby to harrass students and constantly reminisced about when you could smack students.

P’Li: Math teacher. Much scarier than Zaheer. Plays her trash ass music very loudly while the kids work. Def yells at kids. She’s kind of funny when she’s in a good mood tho, and when she roasts kids it’s really funny cause it’s usually dead on. Her and Zaheer are those teachers that flirt a lot and you know they’re sleeping together.

Ming-Hua: Art. Loves drawing and, you guessed it, watercolor painting. Very chill and plays soft music but lets you listen to your own music. Super sarcastic and all the students eat it up. Literally a universal favorite. She runs Art Club and Fashion Club.

Ghazan: Guitar. Pretty cool teacher that definitely has some weird stories. All the students know he has a crush on Ming-Hua cause they flirt constantly, but he denies it. Runs E-Sports Club. Idk why I think that, it just feels right. Him and Ming-Hua are also the kinds of teachers kids become emotionally attached to.

Kuvira: Government and Politics also. Seems calm and reasonable, but is a total ass. Makes kids give up their phones, allows almost no talking, gives out more detentions a week than most teachers do in one year, and doesn’t allow for much discussion. Everyone wants her class cause she’s hot but most drop within the first week, to the point that counselors have to say no to some kids so they don’t have to get rid of the class altogether.

Bataar Jr.: Computer Lit teacher. None of the students respect him so they’ll play Minecraft the whole time or play inappropriate videos really loud. Doesn’t really put much effort into teaching, which for some kids is a dream, but for others is an annoyance. Him and Kuvira are the teacher couple that makes everyone say “wtf”. Literally no one knows why they’re together.

Izumi: Secretary/Attendance. Pretty much remembers everything and is super organized. She is the glue that holds the school together. Most students don’t know her name though cause she’s super quiet and works mostly behind the scenes. Whenever Zuko sends anyone her way though he reminds them of her name and to say thank you cause he recognizes how hard his daughter works to keep everything running smoothly. Izumi catches on to this and always manages to thank her dad with a nice tea and a hug.

Toph: Vice Principal. Scary as fuck. Doesn’t ever call kids’ parents cause she efficiently scares the shit out of every kid, so they never do whatever bad thing they were doing again. When she has to work dances, Katara always tries to get her to dance with her. She resists every time, but she always gives eventually. She’s happy to though, cause although she’ll never say it out loud, seeing Katara this happy at her old age warms her heart.

Katara: Health Clerk. Very sweet and everybody loves her. Sometimes kids pretend to feel sick just to talk to her. She doesn’t mind though cause a kid that has a tummy ache and a kid that needs to talk are both kids that need help, and she’s happy to offer whatever support she can. She also always offers to supervise dances when the school has them and always manages to bust a move.

Zuko: Counselor. Wants to be to students what his uncle was to him. Aang and Sokka were counselors too, some years ago. And while they could give some good nuggets of advice and offered the kids amazing support, they also would totally fuck up student’s schedules by accident cause those numbskulls were exactly that- numbskulls. So usually Zuko would have to fix that. He misses fixing their messes and, more importantly, he misses them (they aren’t dead, just retired). He hopes to retire soon too, cause he’s getting too old for this, but he secretly doesn’t want to retire just yet cause working at school allows him to see and spend time with Izumi. Since they’re both working, it’s not like they have too much time together, but even just her popping into his office to bring him tea or check in on how he’s doing that day brings a smile to his face that doesn’t leave for the rest of the day.

Raiko: Principal. After Toph stepped down cause she’s “too old for this shit” (her words), Raiko stepped in. The students aren’t a fan of him but he’s not terrible. And since Toph is still Vice Principal, she keeps him in check.

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headoverhiddles · 4 years

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Wrapped In Plastic - Marilyn Manson x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: The new kid at school intrigues you. He’s infatuated too, but beneath that scary exterior, you’ve got no idea what’s in store.

Notes: Era: Spooky Kids! Requested by anon: “High school Brian having a crush on you.”

There he is, sitting in front of the principal again. Brian Warner. You're surprised he hasn't been expelled yet, frankly, even though he just moved here to South Florida recently.

You watch from afar, sitting with your friends. He's making that face. That expression... or lack of expression. He doesn't give a fuck what he got in trouble for, and you, he and the principal know it.

"Hey. (y/n)," your best friend says, "What the hell? Are you listening?"

"Yeah," you mutter, glancing back into the office. God, he would probably fuck like an animal, taking you in some old haunted forest somewhere while spanking you and telling you you're his dirty little slut...

Your friend scoffs when she sees where you're looking.

"That guy is dangerous, quit fantasizing. That isn’t your picture perfect bad boy-- that’s like dating the next Son of Sam killer.”

Your other friend chimes in. “My sister told me she saw him and his pack of weirdos out lighting an abandoned house on fire. My sister’s friend said she hears him jerking off in the washroom every lunch hour. The whole school knows about it. Also apparently in creative writing, he turned in this story about this guy fucking his sister's corpse or something. Seriously weird, probably evil. He's gonna end up in jail, mark my words." You ignore your friend, but turn back into the conversation.

Eventually, the principal gives up, dismissing him. You see Brian join his friends outside the office door, who have been waiting-- Jeordie and Stephen, you think you've heard them called in class. The one with the brown comb-over is called Pogo outside of class, because of his fascination with serial killers. You think it's funny. Those guys just do whatever they want.

Your breath hitches. Brian tucks his long black hair behind his ear, looking up and grinning at his friends. He's describing what he did, and he looks like a gleeful child who just got away with murder as the other two bust out laughing and dig for details. How could anyone think he's evil?

Cold chills run through your body as he meets your eyes. Oh, fuck. He smirks a little bit your way, but you quickly look away. His features harden, and he turns back to his friends. You turn back to yours.

You can't help watching after him as he walks down the hall to fourth period, though... his head nearly reaches the ceiling, and that metal Planet Of The Apes lunchbox makes you smile. You've heard him make a threat or two to beat someone's ass with it, and you believe he'd do it. For every bully who promised him he'd be nothing, there's something about him that promised so much more.

The bell goes, and Brian sits down at the desk.

"She was looking at you."

"Yeah, she was talking to her friends about me," Brian mutters back.

"She looked like she was wetting her panties over you," Jeordie grins, "She looks like she wanted to suck your dick right there in front of Mr. Ogilvie!"

"That'd be the day," Brian sighs.

"Yeah, you'd have beat off material forever," Pogo laughs.

"But she wasn't," he said, "You guys are just fucking blind."

"I don't know, I got some blow job vibes from her,” Pogo says.

“You get blow job vibes from everyone.”

“I’ll blow you for lunch money,” Jeordie mentions. Pogo shrugs.

“I might take you up on that.” His obnoxious laughter rings out as you walk by the door. You recognize it immediately, and look back. Brian’s sitting there, knees tucked under the desk like his legs won’t fit. Shit. In your experience, being this preoccupied with someone meant you were into them... or at least, wanted to see more of them.

Brian looks up again, and sees you staring at him. This time, he frowns. You’re drawn away by your friend, who pulls you toward your next class. As you're walking, someone calls your name.

“Hey! (y/n), right?”

You turn as your friend keeps walking ahead. You scoff slightly as he approaches. “Like you don’t know my name.” You pause, backtrack. “I- sorry. That was mean."

“That’s okay. I’ve been known to be a little mean too,” he smirks, and he flips his hair out if his face. “I guess when you hang around a bunch of catty bitches all the time, it rubs off on you.” His voice is so deep and calm. It throws you off whenever he speaks, but does other things to you as well.

"Hanging out with a pair of delinquents can do the same." Your eyes dart inside the classroom to his friends, who are carving something into a desk. He gives a small smile.

"Touché."

“Speaking of rubbing off,” you raise an eyebrow, “Did you want to talk to me?”

He blushes, then forces his embarrassment away. “That rumor’s not true.”

“No?”

“Nah. I did light that abandoned house on fire though.” He grins, and you do as well, hugging your books closer to your chest.

“So. You’re a rebel, huh?”

“If not putting up with everybody’s bullshit counts as rebelling, then yeah. I guess so.”

“I can respect that,” you nod. “I feel the same way... but I’m not as fearless as you.”

“Are you saying you might commit arson with me, (y/n)?”

“Maybe. How did the conversation progress to lighting things on fire with you?”

He laughs, ducks his head nervously. “Well. Um, I saw you staring like a creep, and... I was wondering if you wanted to be creeps together. Y’know... hang out sometime? Come see my band, or...?”

“Are you asking me out?”

“Yeah, I am.”

You smile, poking his black shirt that read Christianity is Unnatural, Abnormal, and Perverse. “You’ve got balls, Brian.” You look at the clock, and back to his class. “What do you say we fuck off for the rest of the day?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “You wanna skip class today?”

“Sorry,” you walk your fingers up his chest. “I know I’m not quite at your level of rebellion yet, but it’s a start.”

He laughs as he follows you to your locker.

---

“So. Do you have a car?”

“No.” He scratches his head. “We can walk back to my house, though. My parents aren’t home.”

Following that plan, you make it back to his house. For someone hailed as the Antichrist of the school, he's got a relatively normal looking home, white picket fence and everything. All that changes once you get to his room.

"Wow," you say, looking up at everything. He's got serial killer-like writing scrawled on the wall by his bed, lyrics that seem like they're straight out of a porno or a horror film, or both. There are pentagrams drawn on his bed posts, and posters of bands like Nine Inch Nails, Ozzy Osbourne, KISS on his walls.

"I know it's stupid, but I'd give anything to meet those guys," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

"It's not stupid," you say, examining the edges of the posters, freyed from the move no doubt. "I actually think it's awesome. I love Ozzy."

"One day I'm gonna beat his record for most drugs consumed over a lifetime."

"Have you started practicing?" you tease.

"I... well, I haven't had the chance."

"Right. Let me know when you do." You smile, going over to sit on his bed. He looks down at you, seems to have a mini panic attack, then acts cool with it, playing with his lip ring and sitting beside you. You look around the messy floor. He's got a strange mix of stuff that oddly seems to perfectly fit his personality: leaking boxes of black hair dye, various lipsticks and nail polishes, a bag of weed, books on the rise of fascism and Carl Jung's red book, an antique-looking switchblade, a Willy Wonka hat, condoms with little angry faces drawn on them, an old deflated football with "FIGHT" written on it, and... "What's that?" you ask, leaning down. Brian coughs.

"Oh. Yearbook from last year."

You pick it up, looking at all the little drawings of candy, needles, Charles Manson and other doodles he's defaced the book with. "But you didn't go to this school last year."

"I traded my mom's diet pills for it."

"Huh. Hustling already. Must have been some good stuff." You hesitate. The page was open to the photos of you as the lead in the play last year. You smirk, pretending to squint. "Is that a cum stain I see on my face?"

"You wish," he huffs, but he's blushing, hair curtaining around his face. You give him a look, turning fully toward him.

"Why'd you really invite me over?"

"To tell you I hate you, knock you out, and bury you in my backyard." You laugh.

"I mean, if you think about it..."

"It's the perfect plan. Invite the girl you've got a crush on over, assume she's gonna make fun of you, lure her in, then get your revenge." You smile, laying back on his bed.

"You just admitted to having a crush on me."

"Wasn't it obvious?" he asks. "I only ever threaten to kill the people I really wanna fuck."

"And do you really wanna fuck me, Bri?" you ask coyly, crawling dangerously close to him. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing in his long, graceful throat. "You wanna fuck me right here, right now, while your parents aren't home, make me scream your name while you blare your favorite metal record and act like things'll never change?"

"That sounds good," he groans. His hands wander up your thigh, and you smile, bouncing on his leg. "...I also wanna share my music with you. Read a book over your shoulder. Maybe pop a few pills, key someone's car, grab a milkshake and look at the stars on Special K so we feel like we're floating, you know. Before I bang the shit out of you. Date stuff."

"Is this not our first date?" you ask. His tongue flicks up over his lip ring again.

"I guess you could say it is."

"Good. Cause I never fuck on a first date," you say, "Or so I tell people." He clenches his jaw, and braces a skinny arm beside your head, leaning down to capture your lips. His lips taste sweet, like mint and those sugary rocket candies. He takes his shirt off, and you rub your hands down, feeling a few scars. He lets out a whimpered noise at your touch, shuddering a little.

You make out and grind against one another for a few minutes, your hands pulling his hips closer by his black belt loops and his fingers tangling your hair. Your breath gets faster as he grinds harder, more desperately, and you reach a hand down to help him out, give him something to rut against.

"You feel so big," you moan, and he runs a hand through his hair, lips falling open.

"I'm gonna..." He makes another desperate noise, and you feel it right where you need him. But since all his condoms in here seem to be used or have faces drawn on them in scented marker, you opt for over the clothes stuff only.

"Use your fingers?" you breathe. He looks like he's about to cum, and you know it'll tip you over as well, what with all the times you had thought of him like this.

He reaches into your jeans, unzipping them, and messily finds your clit. For a teenage guy, he's not bad. He starts to rub, then reaches three fingers down to thrust them into you.

"Fuck, Bri! Three?!" you breathe. He looks into your eyes, not stopping.

"I thought girls were whores for that kind of thing!"

"It's..." you moan, "That's... oh... y-yeah... Jesus...” He really start to work them in, watching your reactions while rutting his clothed erection against your leg. "Fuck, Brian, grab my tits... yeah... this is just how I imagined it when I..."

He freezes for a second, and his whole body convulses. He gasps, and you see him reach down to cover his crotch, face going beet red. He doesn't stop, though. He keeps fingering you, and now that he's not worried about grinding, he can explore you in other ways. He attaches his lips to your neck, and sucks a hickie right below your ear.

“Brian... Bri, make me c--”

"Cum for me, you filthy little slut," he snarls, and you arch your back up, grinding down into his fingers as your orgasm hits. You rock through it, and he kisses you again, sloppy and hot. When he pulls away, he gives you your fingers to lick clean, which you do through a heated stare.

Things calm down into you laying back against his pillows with his stringy body tucked in a cramped position beside you. "I didn't know you were that..." you search for words. "Experienced?"

"What, you thought I was a virgin?”

You giggle. “I didn’t know what to think about you, to be honest. Kinky, inexperienced, I had no idea. Of course, I hoped that you were kinky.”

“I’ve been known to use restraints when asked,” he smirks.

“I’ve got that to look forward to. I thought you were cute too, though. I don’t care if you’re some devil worshipper who parents and teachers everywhere shiver at the thought of." He's quiet for a second.

"I thought you were scared of me."

"That too, a little bit. But what scares me turns me on." He rolls over to face you, a vulnerable position for him, you can tell.

"The way I dress is what I perceive to be beautiful. Looking like this, doing what I want to, it keeps the assholes who like to give my face their own version of plastic surgery away if they think I'm a Satanist who's gonna... cut off their mom's head or something if they fuck with me. Makes the hypocrites who call themselves teachers question their morals too, ‘teaching’ someone like me to be a good little boy and follow society’s rules. It’s all brainwashing, everything they feed us with their sugar and shit, and I’m the bad guy for standing up to it."

You stroke hair out of his face, and he looks up at you, lips pursed. "There’s always gotta be a scapegoat. I guess you fit that role.” You look beyond him. “You think it would ruin your image if those bullies found your poetry books?” He smiles.

“Nah. One day, I’m gonna grow up to be a big rock and roll star. I’ll use my own poetry and turn it into music, and I’ll look ten times more extreme than I do now. Then they can all say they knew me, and I’ll tell them to go to hell.”

You snuggle into him. "Mmm. Speaking of extreme... we should pull a Sandy and Danny. I'll come to school dressed all goth and shit Monday. Throw my friends for a loop."

"Does that mean I have to dress like a cheerleader?" he asks.

"You've got the ass for it."

He grins. "Stop it, you're making it very hard for me not to wanna fuck you for real right now."

"Here's the deal," you say, "I'll show you where I live this weekend. You tell me what your favorite fruit is, because that's a soul searching question. At that point we'll know each other better... and I'll be fair game."

He bites his lip. "I feel like I've known you forever."

"Yeah. Me too."

Just then, there's a knock at the bedroom door. Startled, you sit up quickly, and who you can only assume to be Brian's mom pops her head in. "When the fuck did you two get home?!" Brian blurts.

"About five minutes ago, honey. Don't worry, we didn't hear anything. Jeordie called, said he 'left the smoke bomb under the urinals.' I hope you aren't getting up to trouble like the last school, your father had a heck of a time getting you into this one.”

“Mom.”

“He had to switch jobs too, and with his back, you know how difficult long drives can be. Oh, how rude of me-- hello sweetie, you can call me Barb."

"Mom--"

"Brian, is this the sweet thing you had that dream about the other night?"

"MOM!"

“Hugh, Brian’s got a girlfriend over, we should turn the TV up to give them a little privacy.”

“GIRLFRIEND?!” a voice calls up, “GOOD ON YA, SON. THAT’S MY BOY!”

“Jesus fucking Christ...” Brian groans, burying his face in a pillow. You laugh so hard into his chest you nearly tumble off his bed. Most dangerous guy in school, your ass.

482 notes · View notes

goldenraeofsun · 4 years

Text

in my defense, I have none

A redo of the first installment of this verse!

Castiel scrawls his name on a nametag and offers Becky at the makeshift welcome desk a hesitant smile.

She beams back. “Hope you enjoy the reunion!”

Castiel strides down the familiar halls of Edlund High School and does his best not to regress to his teenage self, dodging glances and hunching his shoulders to make himself smaller. It’s been ten goddamn years; he has changed.

He passes a couple of his old classmates - he doesn’t recognize them - pointing at a poster with old pictures, excitedly naming names.

“Look at Dean Winchester, oh my god, I haven’t thought about him in years! I had the worst crush on him, you know?”

Her companion snorts. “You and everyone else.”

Castiel snorts. Everyone else, indeed.

He walks deliberately on, following the music to the gym. The bass thumps in a vaguely-familiar rhythm, but Castiel can't name the song or singer for the life of him. In high school, he didn’t listen to much contemporary music. His mother preferred the classical stations at home, and Dean, of course, only played his version of the classics in his car.

“Music stopped being good after the mid-80s,” Dean said as they drove down the dark highway, no headlights, only them. “Don’t let anyone ever tell you any different.”

Castiel doesn’t remember what he said in return, but he remembers the way Dean laughed, how his eyes crinkled, how he tapped his fingers along the steering wheel, how he looked, looking back at Cas.

Castiel steps into the reunion. The gym has been festooned with what looks like old prom decorations. Streamers hang off the walls in Edlund’s school colors, and bunches of mostly-inflated balloons are taped along the collapsed bleachers spelling out their graduating year. A slideshow of old yearbook photos flashes against the far wall of the gym.

Castiel stares out at a room full of strangers.

Inwardly, he sighs. He was hardly a social butterfly in high school. The exact opposite, actually. He can’t name a single person - except one - that would be able to put a name to his face.

“Clarence!”

Make that two.

Castiel spins around at the familiar voice. “Meg?”

He should have known. But if Castiel has learned anything over the past few years, it’s Meg Masters defies all expectations. He’d been surprised enough when she marched right up to him at his old school - Morning Star Academy - and asked him out to lunch.

After listening to him awkwardly explain that he was gay, Meg rolled her eyes and told him she just wanted to catch up. They had gone to the same high school, she said.

She didn’t seem very bothered when he said he didn’t remember her. All she did was make him pay for that first lunch, and that was the extent of his punishment for forgetting.

When Castiel took his current job at Carver Preparatory in their hometown school district, they started meeting up for drinks instead of lunch.

Meg smirks. “I didn’t think you were going to this little shindig.”

“It didn’t come up,” Castiel says distractedly as he scans the gym.

“Yet here you are, skulking the old hallways.”

“I didn’t skulk.” Castiel turns to her, offended.

“Unlike some people, my memory of high school is impeccable,” Meg says loftily, “You skulked in that coat with all those books in front of your face. I was always surprised you didn’t mow down more unsuspecting freshmen.”

“I -” Castiel breaks off, unable to deny any of her accusations. It’s true he wore his old trenchcoat nearly every day (in his more poetic moments, he saw it as a foil to Dean’s everpresent leather jacket) and he tried to shut everyone out by reading while walking from class to class.

“Don’t worry about it,” Meg says with an easy pat to his shoulder. “Teenagers are the worst. I thought I was so cool back then, with the boots and the bleached hair.” She shudders at the memory.

“I’m sure you were very cool,” Castiel says diplomatically.

Meg snorts. “You bet your ass I was not cool.” She tips her head over to where a group of well-dressed alums stand below the basketball hoops. “They were cool. And now look at them.” She sighs. “I would still set their extensions on fire if I could. Oh well, some things never change. Look at Victor. Talk about aging like fine wine.”

Castiel vaguely recognizes some of them from the poster outside the gym. But for the life of him, he can’t identify which one is Victor.

Meg smiles at his clueless expression. “You seriously didn’t pay attention to anything but your books?”

“I - ” Castiel breaks off, the faintest twinges of embarrassment curling in his gut. He paid attention to exactly one thing outside of his studies in high school.

Meg eyes him critically. “You’re usually chattier than this. I think you need a drink.” She steers him towards the makeshift bar on a folding table.

With newly acquired drinks, they retreat to the far end of the gym. Meg makes a game out of forcing Cas to try to name people from their class.

“I want to say, Jeremy?” Castiel guesses as Meg not-so-subtly points out a man at the end of the drinks line.

“Close,” Meg says with a smirk. “That’s Gordon Walker. He was captain of the football team.” She subtly points to a very pretty woman scrolling through her phone near Gordon.

“She looks like a Mina to me,” Castiel says critically.

Meg throws him an incredulous look. “How did nobody know you were gay in high school?”

“I’m guessing her name isn’t Mina.”

“Bela Talbot,” Meg corrects. “You don’t remember her English accent? Pretentious as fuck. Just like Principal Crowley - not that you have to deal with him any more, since you’re over at Carver, you lucky bastard.”

Crowley was one of the main reasons Castiel left Morning Star. In tightening the budget, he cracked down on students’ late lunch bills among other unacceptable measures. Crowley was not pleased when he found out Castiel regularly squirrelled away peanut butter and a loaf of bread in his desk for emergencies.

Castiel tried to explain it was for his lunch emergencies, but Crowley wasn’t hearing any of it. Castiel was fired, and, after a harrowing year of substitute teaching, he used his family connection to get his current job at Carver Preparatory.

“Eliot,” Castiel tries next.

“There isn’t a single Eliot in our class,” Meg says, laughing. “How can you not remember Lee Webb? He wore that stupid cowboy hat all sophomore year.”

It continues. The only person Castiel gets right is Tessa, and that’s because they had gone to the same church.

“You have to remember him,” Meg says as waves over a newcomer entering the gym.

Castiel’s mouth goes dry. Yes, he does recognize Dean Winchester. How could he forget?

Castiel might have been a friendless loner in high school with only his books for company, but he wasn’t dead. He knew who Dean Winchester was, with his leather jacket, muscle car, and stunning green eyes that would make a romantic portrait artist weep.

Castiel can recall with perfect clarity the moment he found out he’d been assigned to tutor Dean in Latin in the beginning of their senior year. A mixture of elation and dread filled his stomach before Ms. Siege had even finished speaking. He’d get to see Dean. He’d have to spend time, probably alone, with Dean Winchester. And, most terrifyingly, he’d have to open his mouth and actually say words in front of him.

When Castiel looks at Dean for the first time in ten years, he doesn’t think about when Dean would do his damndest to distract Castiel from tutoring and tease him to lighten up. Instead, Castiel remembers Dean’s flushed cheeks and grasping fingers the first time Cas made him come, and the way the Impala’s windows had fogged up, just like in the movies.

* * *

Castiel can tell the exact moment Dean spots him because he nearly trips over his feet.

“I - I need to go,” Castiel says to Meg, sheer panic flooding his veins.

“What?” she asks. “Already?”

“Bathroom,” Castiel blurts before he can think of a better excuse.

“That time of the month?” Meg asks with a faux-sympathetic frown.

Castiel doesn’t bother dignifying her question with an answer. Instead, he spins on his heel and makes for the second gym exit, the one that leads to the locker rooms instead of the rest of the school.

He breathes deep as the door closes behind him. Shivering from nerves with the close call, he takes a moment to get his bearings. Are his legs shaking?

At one of the sinks in the boy’s bathroom, he turns on the tap and pats his heated face down with a damp paper towel.

He’s such a mess, and he hasn’t even spoken to Dean yet.

What a goddamn joke. He hasn’t changed in a decade. Still running away from Dean like a coward.

Castiel has been - well, he wouldn’t say looking forward to this reunion - but he’s been mentally gearing himself up for it. Castiel promised himself, ever since he heard Dean took a teaching position at their old high school, to go to their next reunion and formally apologize.

He splashes more water on his face, grimacing as dark spots dot his tie. Somehow it’s already gotten turned around. Castiel halfheartedly fiddles with it, trying to get it to lie straight.

The door opens behind him. Castiel freezes, but it’s not Dean.

The stranger shoots him a weird look before slipping into one of the stalls.

The man’s belt unbuckles, and Castiel inwardly sighs. He can’t hide in here forever. He leaves just as the sounds of a clearly painful bowel movement start up behind him.

Right outside the gym, he steels himself. He owes this to Dean; the worst Dean can do is make a scene, and it’s not like Castiel has any plans to ever set foot in Edlund High again, anyway. He teaches at their rival school, after all.

He’s here for Dean. He can do this and go home.

Back inside, he spots Meg without difficulty. She’s alone and tapping away on her phone.

Castiel approaches her, already bracing for a wave of uncomfortable questions. “Hello, Meg.”

“Hey,” Meg says distractedly. She squints up at him. “What was with the Houdini act?”

Castiel shifts his weight to the other foot. “Where did Dean go?”

Meg jerks her head to where their ‘popular’ classmates congregate, now with one added Dean Winchester. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

Meg places both hands on her hips. “I think you forget that as a fellow educator, I have a stellar bullshit radar.”

“It’s personal.”

“Come on, Clarence,” Meg says, the faintest note of pleading in her voice, “This reunion is boring as hell. Nobody’s gone into porn or killed anyone since we graduated. I’ve been robbed. You have to tell me, what did Dean Winchester do to you way back when?” Her eyebrows raise as she takes in his conflicted expression. “Or should I say, what did you do to him?”

Castiel sighs. He frowns at the floor. “In senior year we were… involved.”

“Involved how?” Meg asks, her eyes gleaming. “Don’t tell me he broke your heart.”

Castiel slowly shakes his head. “The other way around.”

“Holy shit,” Meg breathes, her eyes as round as the balloons festooning the walls. She sneaks a peek over at Dean, still standing with his group of old school friends. “You’re serious.”

“I never pegged you as a gossip, Meg,” Castiel says dispassionately.

“Call me desperate,” Meg says, waving his criticism away with an idle hand. “It’s either ten-year-old gossip or watch that fucking slideshow for the fifth time in a row. If you have anything else you’d rather talk about, I’m all ears.”

Castiel jumps at the opening. “I have been wondering,” he starts, “how other schools have been integrating the state board’s recommen-”

Meg interrupts him loudly, “Anything except work.”

Castiel snaps his mouth shut with a glare.

“Come on,” Meg wheedles, “You got the class loner act locked down, but it’s not like I particularly want to see any of these people ever again.” She gestures around the gym.

“Then why come at all?” Castiel asks, honestly baffled.

Meg smirks. “Did you not hear my comment about the porn and murder?”

“If anyone did, I hardly think they’d advertise it at their class reunion.”

“Can’t blame a girl for trying.” She shoots him a pointed look. “But we’re getting off topic. You and Dean Winchester. Spill, Novak.”

Castiel sighs. “I was assigned to tutor him in Latin at the beginning of senior year.”

“Ohh,” Meg croons, “Somebody got hot for teacher?”

Castiel grimaces at the crude reduction of Dean’s feelings. “You could say that,” he says cagily.

Meg turns to look out across the gym, her dark eyes zeroing in on Dean. “I imagine your little heart wasn’t made of stone either.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

Meg claps her hands delightedly. “What happened?”

“I ended things,” Castiel says hollowly. “We were about to graduate, and I had plans to go to college.”

“And he did not,” Meg surmises.

Castiel shakes his head. “He was considering community college.”

To set a good example for Sam, Dean had said. He didn’t particularly care for higher education one way or another, not like Castiel, who saw college as his one way out of their hometown, out of his family, out of everything he hated about his first 18 years of life.

But somehow Dean wound up getting his degree anyway - he must have, or he wouldn’t be teaching English at their old high school.

Castiel has so many questions, but the likelihood of getting answers from Dean dwindles smaller and smaller the longer he puts off doing the very thing he came here to do.

When Dean breaks off from the group to grab another drink, Castiel seizes his chance.

Meg lets him go with a half-mocking, half-supportive, “Go get ‘im, champ!”

Castiel flips up his middle finger over his shoulder as he takes off after Dean.

He shoves his tingling hands in his pockets, finds walking with his hands in his pockets awkward and removes them, and somehow doesn't bolt in the opposite direction. By the time he catches up to Dean, it’s hard to think through his cloud of anxiety.

He just needs to tell Dean he is sorry; Dean was right; Castiel should never have ended things between them like he did.

Dean always did like being right - that can’t have changed much over the past ten years.

Castiel waits for Dean to see him, staring hard at the side of Dean’s head until he’s noticed.

Dean’s eyes go round, and he almost drops his cup of beer. “Christ,” he says, staggering off to the side of the bar table. “Someone should put a bell on you.”

“My apologies,” Castiel says gruffly.

This is not how he would have liked to start his first conversation with Dean Winchester in ten years. Not that Castiel had expected much better - if he learned anything from their tutoring sessions and later hookups, Dean always had at least one surprise up his sleeve.

Dean inhales a deep breath. “Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

* * *

Castiel swallows nervously. All that preparation at home and in the bathroom, and not a single word comes to mind.

“How, uh, how’ve you been?” Dean asks first. He takes a quick sip of his beer.

“I’ve been well,” Castiel says stiffly. “And you?”

“Can’t complain.”

The conversation is almost unbearably awkward, even for him. How in the world did Castiel get stuck making smalltalk with Dean Winchester? So much for best laid plans.

“I heard you teach here now,” Castiel says.

“I do,” Dean says, his eyes wandering around the gym. “English. Started this year. You?”

“Latin and French at Carver Preparatory.”

Dean’s eyebrows rise. “No shit,” he says, a bitter note to his voice. “You’re teaching those elitist assholes?”

Castiel blinks. True, he didn’t expect Dean to exactly welcome him after everything, but the deliberate antagonism is a surprise. “I wouldn’t - they’re not all assholes,” he stutters. He can’t bring himself to deny the elitism. He’s loyal, not blind.

“Hm,” Dean grunts, not giving an inch. “I hope you’re not here to sabotage anything.”

“Between Carver and Edlund?” Cas asks, baffled. “This is high school, not Soviet Russia.”

Dean tips back his beer and takes a large gulp. “Tell that to the seniors who got sued over a prank.”

“They stole five hundred dollars’ worth of Carver uniforms,” Castiel says incredulously, “for an internet fad.”

Dean’s mouth twitches. “I think you mean a meme. And it was hilarious.”

“A what?”

Dean snorts. “Never mind.” His expression closes off again. “And the seniors only borrowed them. All the uniforms were returned - no harm, no foul.”

Castiel has to put a sincere effort into not letting his disgust show on his face. The whole fiasco did not endear Castiel to anyone at Carver who called for the legal case. Even if they did not make up the majority of the faculty or parents, they had the numbers (and the money) to push it farther than it should have gone.

“The parents who paid for those uniforms definitely didn’t see it that way,” Castiel says to Dean.

“Sucks to be them,” Dean smirks, “If their biggest worry is leftover sweat from an Edlunder, better not tell them how bowling shoes or vintage clothing works.”

From Castiel’s parent-teacher conferences, he’d be surprised if any Carver parent had ever stepped foot in a bowling alley. He’s positive the Naomis and Bartholomews that make up the PTA would sooner give up their second homes than voluntarily wear a pair of bowling shoes.

Dean tosses back his drink. “Anyway, it’s not like they can’t afford to get the douchey uniforms dry cleaned.”

“I didn’t say they were right,” Castiel says carefully, “In fact, I think Carver’s reaction was completely overblown, but you probably don’t want to hear about our administration politics behind the decision.”

“Nope,” Dean says, lips popping.

After a beat, Castiel asks, “How do you like teaching here?”

“Can’t complain,” Dean says as he eyes the dregs of his beer. “Bobby - Principal Singer - retired last year, but he put in a good word for me with Principal Mills.”

“I’ve heard good things about her ideas for Edlund.”

“She’s all about finally bringing us into the digital age. She’s been talking with Charlie - do you remember her?” Dean explains, “She was in our history class junior and senior year.”

The name rings no bells for Castiel. He shakes his head.

“Really?” Dean pauses. “Red hair? Queen of the Nerds?”

Castiel gives another headshake, eyes narrowing.

Dean tries again, “You gotta remember her novelty tee shirts.”

Castiel says dryly, “I think you’re vastly overestimating how much attention I paid to our classmates.”

“But-”

“Dean,” Castiel says impatiently, “You are the only person I remember from high school.”

Dean balks for a moment, his cheeks flushing. “No way,” he says flatly. “You can’t seriously - I saw you talking to Meg Masters a while ago.”

Castiel eyes the mostly-depleted drink in Dean’s hands enviously. He doesn’t have enough alcohol to discuss his social deficiencies as an adult - or as a teenager. “We worked together briefly,” he admits, “at Morning Star.”

Dean whistles. “Well, I guess Carver is a step up from that.”

“Indeed,” Castiel agrees wryly. “I was only there a year. The administration at Carver is a nightmare, but at least they’re not sadists.”

“I haven’t heard great stuff about Morning Star,” Dean admits.

“There isn’t much good that goes on in that school,” Castiel says wearily. “Principal Crowley - well, the less said about him the better. Meg hates him. The students, though,” he swallows, “they deserve better.”

Dean’s expression hardens. “They always do.”

“Anyway,” Castiel says quickly because going down that road always makes him want to smite something - preferably Crowley’s smirking face, “I didn’t remember Meg either until she told me we went to school together.”

Dean lets out a surprised laugh. “I guess you always did have your nose in a book.” He makes a face and gestures around the gym. “Then why come to this snoozefest? The whole point is to catch up with old friends.”

“According to Meg, the point is to discover who went into pornography or to prison over the past ten years.”

Dean chuckles. “You can mark me down for ‘no’ on both counts.”

“I - I had thought so,” Castiel says awkwardly.

“Oh, so…” Dean drifts off, for once at a loss for words.

As the silence ticks on, Castiel’s reason for coming to the reunion crowds at the tip of his tongue. But he can’t make the words come out.

Dean drains his beer. He lets his gaze drift away from Castiel, lingering on someone or something over Castiel’s left shoulder. “Well, it was nice seeing you, Cas, I’ll see you ar-”

“I came here to apologize to you,” Castiel blurts.

Dean’s eyes snap to Castiel’s face. “What?”

Castiel swallows nervously. “For high school.”

“Okay,” Dean crosses his arms across his chest. “A lot of things happened in high school. Specifics would help.”

Castiel inhales a deep breath. “I’m sorry for how I handled our… relationship.”

Dean’s mouth twists, his expression darkening. “I wouldn’t call what we did a relationship.”

“Right,” Castiel says, biting his lip. “Our arrangement, then. What I did - what I did to you - it’s one of the biggest regrets of my life.”

Dean purses his lips. “What would’ve you done differently?”

“Excuse me?”

“Humor me,” Dean asks, and it doesn't sound like a suggestion. “If you could go back. Get a do-over. What would you do?” His eyes narrow. “Would you have come out? Or maybe stopped me before we got down and dirty in the Impala in the first place? ‘Cause I’ve played this game a few times, and I know which one I would’ve gone for.”

Castiel thinks it over. “Rationally,” he says,slowly, sounding the word out as he tries to put the rest of his thoughts into words, “I should have kept our interactions to our tutoring sessions.”

Dean’s jaw clenches. He nods.

Castiel can’t tell if his explanation is hurting Dean further. He feels like he’s been dumped out at sea while only knowing how to doggy paddle. Mouth dry, he barrels on, “But realistically, there’s no way that could have happened, so I probably should have asked you to wait for me.”

Dean blinks in surprise, his hardened exterior cracking the tiniest fraction. “Wait?” he echoes faintly.

“I couldn’t come out in high school,” Castiel says dully. What he wouldn’t give for another drink. “If my mother got wind of my sexuality, she would have put conditions on my college tuition without another thought, or forced me to take a gap year to do churchwork or something equally horrendous.”

Dean’s tense shoulders sag. “I didn’t know that.”

“I was ashamed,” Castiel drops his gaze to the floor, “You clearly loved your family, and your father… well, even with his flaws, he seemed to accept you. My situation was nothing like that.”

“Dad didn’t know about me either,” Dean mutters.

“Sorry?” Castiel asks, raising his head.

“Dad didn’t know I went for dudes and chicks,” Dean explains. “But he was hardly around, so if I didn’t tell him and Sammy didn’t tell him, odds were he’d never find out.” He bites his lip as he meets Castiel’s stare head-on. “How long?”

“How long?” Castiel repeats, confused.

“How long would you have asked me to wait?” Dean asks, a hard edge to his words.

Castiel hesitates, wrong-footed at their backtracking conversation. “Until I had started my first semester at college.”

Dean’s mouth falls open. “What?”

Castiel frowns. “I had no plans to be in the closet after I moved away. My mother has too many connections here, with the junior league, the civics board, HOA, and who knows what else. But in my college town, she knew no one. I could finally be myself.”

Dean splutters nonsensically before he says, “You didn’t think to ask me to wait one measly summer for you to get your head out of your ass?”

“But I wasn’t just asking for ‘one summer’,” Castiel protests.

Dean’s outrage falters at Castiel’s air quotes.

“It would have been one summer and four years of long distance. I knew you had… feelings,” Castiel doesn’t pause at Dean’s wince at the word, “for me, but I had already taken so much from you. Are you saying you would have waited?”

“I don’t know!” Dean says, sounding slightly manic. He runs a hand through his hair distractedly, muttering to himself under his breath.

Castiel inhales a deep breath to calm himself down. He forces himself to look Dean straight in the eye. “A part of me was looking forward to a completely fresh start, too. But, of course, I was the same as ever,” Castiel chuckles without a trace of humor, “friendless, caught up in the details, narrow-minded. It didn’t take long to realize I was only ever a different person when I was with you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean says, staring right back, “I had no idea.”

Castiel shrugs. “I never told you.”

“You should’ve,” Dean says shortly.

“I should have,” Castiel agrees.

Dean bites his lip, looking conflicted. His gaze flits around the gym, behind Castiel, where undoubtedly more of their classmates vie for his attention. And, that’s good, because Castiel finally said his piece. He can go home, and never think about Edlund High School or Dean Winchester again.

(Because that worked so well when he left Dean the first time.)

Castiel takes a step backwards. Personal space, he remembers. Stiffly, Castiel says, “Anyway, that’s why I came to the reunion. To see you. To tell you that. I shouldn’t keep you any long-”

“Are you single?” Dean interrupts.

Castiel’s brain takes an embarrassingly long moment to understand the question. “Yes?”

“Do you want to get out of here?” Dean asks, a strange glint in his eye.

“I do,” Castiel says truthfully. “I don’t like social engagements.”

“Some things never change,” Dean says with a small grin. He gestures to the door. “What do you say to a drive?”

Castiel blinks.

“For old time’s sake,” Dean says, with a fucking wink.

Castiel’s mouth falls open. “I - is this a joke?” His brow furrows. “Retribution for refusing to see you outside of our… trysts?”

Dean’s face goes through a multitude of expressions Castiel can barely hope to read - shock, guilt, perhaps cautious optimism? “God no,” Dean says quickly. He coughs and shifts his weight to his other foot. “Shit, I was trying to make a joke. Sorry. Not there yet.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Look,” Dean starts, “since we’re apparently crap at asking for what we want - we’re both single,” Castiel’s eyebrows rise because this is news to him, “and this reunion is boring as hell, so I’m asking if you want to do something else instead.”

“With you?” Castiel asks because it sounds implied to him, but he can never be too sure when it comes to Dean Winchester.

Dean glares. “Yes, with me, Cas.”

Castiel chews on his lip as he tries to figure out why Dean would initiate an activity with him, apart from the obvious. As Castiel fails to come up with any sensible reason, and Dean’s foot tapping becomes audible in its intensity and speed, Castiel has to ask, “Are you asking me on a date?”

Dean throws both hands in the air. “I swear, you’re being dense on purpose. Since you need everything spelled out for you: will you go out with me, Castiel Novak?” Without waiting for an answer, Dean tacks on, “Jesus Christ, high school really never does end.”

But he doesn’t really seem all that mad. So Castiel tells him, “Yes, I’d like to go on a date with you.”

Dean grins. He jerks his head towards the door. “Wanna go?”

“But,” Castiel waves one hand in the direction of the multitude of people behind them, “aren’t there people you’d rather talk to first?”

Dean shakes his head. “Not right now, no.”

* * *

Dean takes the steps down to the parking lot at a bit of a jog. He makes a beeline to the very familiar hulking beast, parked at least three spaces away from any other car.

A frisson of anticipation thrums up Castiel’s spine at the sight, a dormant instinct he’d thought ten years dead. Castiel pauses outside the passenger side of the Impala and tries not to fidget as he waits for Dean to notice him.

“Everything okay?” Dean asks as he yanks open the car door.

Castiel asks bluntly, “Does this mean you forgive me?”

Dean braces both elbows on the Impala’s roof, his face serious. “You were seventeen.”

That’s not an agreement. It’s an excuse.

“I was old enough to know what I was doing to you was wrong,” Castiel counters.

“Come on,” Dean rolls his eyes. “If there’s anything I learned from teaching, it’s that teenagers are morons. Uncle Sam allows them to go to war and vote, but I sure as shit don’t. Kids are idiots.” His mouth lifts into a tentative smile. “Even the ones with a 4.0 GPA and perfect attendance.”

Dean taps his fingers on Impala’s roof, but he doesn’t seem impatient, more pensive. It’s a look Castiel never saw on teenage Dean. “I’m sure you were doing the best you could’ve under the circumstances. I might not have got it then, but I get it now.”

“It wasn’t perfect,” Castiel mutters as he gets in the Impala.

“Sure it wasn’t,” Dean says sardonically as he slams the door behind him and starts the engine. “It’s not like I can’t hack the old attendance records and see for myself.”

“That seems like a lot of work to make a point.”

“If you think I wouldn’t do it, you don’t know me at all,” Dean says gravely, eyes twinkling.

“Oh, I don’t doubt you’d do it,” Castiel says, “You broke into Principal Singer’s office to steal back the switchblade that you brought to school for some unfathomable reason.”

“You remember that?” Dean asks, surprised.

“Your detention derailed an entire week’s worth of tutoring,” Castiel says dryly. “We couldn’t finish Cicero in time for your exam.”

Dean chuckles. “Figures you remember that part.”

“I had also recently fingered you for the first time,” Castiel reminds him, “I was very put out about waiting a whole week to do it again.”

Dean chokes on air as they come to an abrupt stop at a red light.

“I forget very little when it comes to you,” Castiel finishes placidly.

Dean shakes his head as the light turns green. “Christ,” he says, his eyes flitting briefly to Castiel’s face before settling back on the road. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?” Castiel asks. It seems they got into this whole mess precisely because Castiel refused to say exactly what he thought about Dean Winchester.

Dean opens his mouth, but no words come out. A ruddy flush crawls up his neck and face, just visible in the darkened car interior.

Castiel runs a disbelieving hand over the dash, reading the minute grooves and divots like he’s rediscovering his favorite book. “I never thought I’d be in the Impala again.”

“You were the one who wanted to wait,” Dean rolls his eyes, “I think ten goddamn years is long enough.”

#destiel fanfic #fanfic #destiel #profoundnet #teacher castiel #teacher dean #high school reunion #human au #the story of us verse #can i joss my own fic #if so thats whats happened to the first version of this #rae writes fic

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

The Crucible (part nine)

[UK Tour; Carrie AU]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Word count: 10,088

TW: Blood and gore

-------------------------

-Alma Mater-

“We found these in the dumpster behind what’s left of the gym.”

Bessie recoiled so sharply in disgust she nearly fell backwards out of her chair when Mulaney dumped several pieces of paper onto the table in front of her. She looked at the pile as if it were made of actual human hearts, wrinkling up her nose.

“I can’t believe you touched those!” She exclaimed in an almost humorously repulsed way. “They’re probably swimming with diseases.”

“Recognize them?” Mulaney asked, sitting across from her.

“They’re prom ballots,” Bessie said with a dismissive shrug. “I’m the one who Xeroxed them.”

“According to these, Ruby and Leila won prom king and queen.”

Bessie blinked at Mulaney in shock, as if he had just told her the secrets of the universe. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish caught on a hook, then she sputtered out, “I-I counted those ballots myself. Principal Holbein checked my work! You can ask him...yourself…” She trailed off with a grimace, hunching her shoulders in and looking away. For a moment, she looked a lot younger, and a lot more shaken than she thought she was.

“Anna and Joan won fair and square.” She finally spoke up again, although there was a not-so-subtle shakiness to her voice. Madeline gave her a sympathetic look.

“I’m guessing by a landslide?” Mulaney asked.

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t seem odd to you?”

“I just thought they were pity votes.” Bessie said, shrugging.

“They weren’t pity votes, Elizabeth.” Mulaney told her grimly. “Someone switched the ballots.”

------

“Attention! Attention, everyone!” Bessie called jovially from the stage. The mic she was using gave a few abrupt screeches of feedback, so she tapped it with a manicured finger. In the fairy lights, her dress glistened in shimmering waves of purple and made her look like a walking amethyst. “Can I have your attention, please!”

The DJ cut the music off hastily. Everyone inside the gym quieted down one by one and turned their heads to the stage. Bessie’s hair was blindingly white in the light.

“Thank you,” She said, then raised her voice excitedly, “We will now be voting for this year’s prom king and queen!”

“This contest insults women!” Margery Horsman shouted from near the globe tree. There were a few scattered applause and one loud, whooping cheer from a girl who must have been her friend.

“It insults men, too!” Francis Dereham piped up mockingly. Laughter followed, along with several eye rolls.

“Take your seats, please!” Bessie went on loudly. “Time to vote!”

Everyone began to swarm back to their respective table as Maggie and two other girls started to pass out prom ballots and small pencils. Anna, Joan, George, and Jane were already sitting, recovering from their intense dance session and playing Spoons with a deck of cards George had brought in (“I still cannot believe you brought cards to prom.” “I never leave home without ‘em! You know that, Anna!”). As far as games being played at a school party went, it definitely wasn’t the lamest option they could have gone with.

“Aha!” Jane exclaimed, seizing one of the three plastic spoons on the table after she got a match of four aces. George looked up at her lovingly. “I have totally figured out this game! I am the new Spoons champion!”

“Ow!!” Anna yelped. “You SCRATCHED me!” She had been trying to grab one of the other spoons when Jane’s fingernails raked viciously over her hand. She rubbed the scraped skin tenderly, giving Jane a playful pout.

“This is a very violent game,” Joan observed. When someone got a match of four cards, they were supposed to grab a spoon as quick as they could, prompting everyone else to do the same, which resulted in some mayhem. Especially because there were four players and only three spoons, so clawing and yanking and merciless tug-of-war would sometimes happen as a result. There was even a moment where they all lurched forward at the same time and bonked their heads together.

“What can I say?” Jane said with a shrug, flicking her spoon back and forth. “I play to win.”

At that moment, Maggie came around with ballots, setting four papers and four pencils on the table for them. Before she whisked away, she declared a louder-than-necessary, “GOOD LUCK!” into Joan’s ear. Joan rubbed her ear uncomfortably as Anna and Jane both glowered after Maggie, then examined the ballot in front of her. Her mouth dropped open.

“Anna,” She whispered shakily, grabbing onto Anna’s arm tightly. “W-we’re on here!”

“I saw that,” Anna said.

“Woah! Congrats!” George beamed.

“Can we decline?” Joan asked anxiously.

“Hell no!” Anna said, laughing slightly. “If you win, all you do is sit up there on those thrones for the school song, wave some scepter around, and look like a jackass.”

“Oh, and then you get your picture taken for the yearbook so everyone could see that you looked like a jackass.” George added. He, Jane, and Anna laugh lightly. “You also get to lead a dance! So that’s pretty cool.”

“Well...who do we vote for?” Joan asked Anna. “They’re more your crowd than mine. I don’t really have a crowd.”

“Ourselves, duh!” Anna said.

“Isn’t voting for yourself like voting for Ralph Nader?” George asked.

“Who’s Ralph Nader?”

“Well, I’m voting for you.” Jane said to Joan. She smiled and checked off Joan and Anna’s names.

“Thanks,” Joan whispered, ducking her head shyly. She glanced over at the thrones on the stage and couldn’t help but be enamored by them. They were so sparkly and pretty. “They are beautiful…”

“You’re beautiful.” Anna grinned, taking Joan by surprise. She would never get over the shock of hearing someone say that to her. “To the devil with false modesty.”

Joan smiled. “To the devil,” She said, and checked off her and Anna’s names.

------

“Look at how she’s smiling. Stupid little cow.”

Cathy peered over the shrouded edge of the catwalk they were hiding on. She could see Joan Seymour, the poor bitch this prank was on, playing cards at one of the tables with Anne’s younger brother, his girlfriend, and Anna von Cleves. Her dress was beautiful, Cathy had to admit, and she looked so happy.

It was such a shame it was all about to be ruined.

The buckets were poised and ready.

“God, and my stupid brother.” Anne rolled her eyes. “I should have known he would befriend the resident freak.” She shook her head and turned to Cathy, smiling again. “Are you ready? It’s almost time.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Cathy mumbled, feeling ill.

“Oh, cheer up.” Anne nudged her. “We’re just playing a little joke! Nobody is getting hurt!”

“Anne, this is--this is sick. Really, really sick.” Cathy said. “If we get caught--”

“We aren’t going to get caught.” Anne said firmly. “Calm down, will you? It’s not that bad. We’re just gonna give her a little scare, that’s all.”

Cathy shook her head and cast a dark look at the two metal buckets. She could still smell the contents from her spot, the scent of three-day-old pig blood and guts wafting heavily in the air. It was a miracle nobody else on the stage had smelled it yet.

“Do you really think they’ll vote for them?” She finally spoke up again, glancing at her girlfriend. In the dim light, only half of Anne’s face could be seen, and there was madness reaching out of that amber eye.

“Of course,” Anne answered her. “I set it up. Nobody else will even be close.” She smiled wickedly. “Do you want to pull the rope?”

------

Katherine was restless. It was starting to worry her sister, she knew. She kept getting up in the middle of the movie they were watching and would pace around the living room like a lion in a circus cage. She couldn’t help it- something felt off.

“Kit?” Isabel called. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Katherine replied, shaking out her wrists as if they were crawling with caterpillars. “Just a little anxious, that’s all.”

Isabel paused the movie and turned to her completely. “About the prom?” She asked.

“What else?” Katherine sighed. “I texted Anna and she said everything was going fine, but still… I’m worried about Joan. I hope she’s having a good time.”

“I’m sure she is,” Isabel said. “You’re letting your Mum Friend status get to you too much.”

Katherine managed to laugh. “Maybe.”

She took out her phone and checked it for what felt like the tenth time that evening. Just like last time, there were no new messages. Just her reply from Anna after she reacted to the picture that was sent, which was marked as “read.” Anna must have been too busy having a good time to text back, which was good. She was giving Joan her full attention. But what if she wasn’t answering for a different reason…?

“Ugh--” Katherine collapsed down on the couch next to Isabel, who looked quite amused. “Anxiety SUCKS ASS.”

“Preach it, sister.” Isabel laughed. She patter her shoulder with a tender smile. “It’s going to be okay, Kat. I’m sure everything is just fine.”

But she was wrong.

------

“You really make all your own clothes?” George was asking with great interest. After Maggie had come around again and picked up the marked prom ballots, the group decided to take a small break from Spoons to let their maimed hands rest and stop burning. Now, they were just chatting idly, talking about random things as they waited for the score to be tallied up.

“Yeah, most of them,” Joan answered, nodding.

“That’s so convenient.”

Joan smiled shyly. “Yeah. Sorry I’m not better at conversations. I don’t have a lot of interesting stories.”

“No worries!” George said dismissively. “You’re much better company than most of the people here. Some of them don’t know how to keep a secret.” Then, he turned his head and shot an irritated look at a boy in a dark navy blue suit at a navy table. “And SOME OF THEM think very HIGHLY of themselves.”

The boy in navy blue whipped his gaze around and narrowed his eyes at George.

“I can HEAR you!” He shouted.

“We all can!” Piped up someone else.

“I KNOW.” George shouted back. “We’re in a GYM! But I’m having a PRIVATE CONVERSATION, so stick your nose somewhere else!”

“Then why did you look at me?!” The boy in navy blue cried.

“Because I was MAKING a POINT to my FRIENDS!” George snapped.

“You WISH you had friends!”

“Go suck a LIME!”

“Now, now,” A teacher chaperone said in a bored voice. “Settle down.”

George turned his head back to the table and smiled. “Anyway,” He said, his voice all sweetness again, “Where were we?”

The other three burst into laughter.

And then, silence was called over the gym.

“Attention, everyone!” Bessie said into the mic. “It’s time to announce the elected prom king and queen!”

There was a drumroll as Bessie excitedly pulled out a slip of paper from an envelope. Everyone held their breath in anticipation.

“ANNA VON CLEVES AND JOAN SEYMOUR!!!”

Anna, who had been mindlessly taking a sip from her cup, not thinking much of the election, spit her drink out in George’s face. Joan froze, her eyes opening wider than possible. All heads turned to her table. Gasps and murmurs whisked through the crowd. The gym went very quiet.

And then, there was a huge, booming, explosive eruption of applause that seemed to shake the walls like thunder. Everyone began to clap and cheer loudly, roaring into one big celebratory mass of noise. One person even yelled, “Yeah, go Anna! Go, Joan!”

Two student body members dressed in (school appropriate) togas, a boy and a girl, walked over to the table, smiling. Anna laughed and stood up with her arms spread in a queenly gesture of sorts, and the crowd went wild, shrieking their support. George, who quickly recovered from being sprayed with mouth soda, was beaming in pride for his friend and Jane looked both a little stunned and absolutely thrilled. Anna nudged Joan’s side and then extended her elbow for them to lock arms, but Joan did not get up. She was far too starstruck to stand at the moment, lost in the whirling of the radiant, overwhelming glee rocketing through her. She had never been clapped for before like this, nor had she ever been so joyful in her entire life.

Prom Queen. Her. Joan Seymour. She was Prom Queen. A queen. Royalty. Important. Her.

It was a dream come true.

Anna gently grabbed Joan by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet, effectively snapping Joan out of her daze. She still remained breathless and dazzled, however, as the entire prom screeched for her when she finally got to her feet. She nearly fainted from joy right then and there, but managed to cling to her consciousness. She grappled onto Anna’s arm, a smile coming to her lips that she knew would not be leaving for a while.

The two of them, escorted by the toga-clad student body duo, began to stride through the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea when they passed. The band boomed and swelled into a loud, upbeat melody. The audience continued to applaud and scream and cheer. Any sarcasm was lost to its cacophony; this was honest and deep and genuinely happy for the elected pair. Someone whistled. Someone else patted Joan’s bare shoulder as she passed by. Miss Aragon, at the edge of the trench of students, looked so proud.

Tears were welling up in Joan’s eyes. Her mouth was starting to hurt from smiling so widely. Has she ever smiled for this long before? She doesn’t think so. She hoped she wasn’t hurting Anna, she was hanging onto her arm really tightly. Anna didn’t seem to mind, though. The older girl was practically glowing in the fairy lights, like a goddess of sorts.

They reached the short flight of stairs to the stage, where Bessie and Principal Holbein were waiting. The thrones were pushed up to the front arches of the decorative Parthenon, glistening in the spotlights poised on the apron. They were inlaid with gold and fake jewels and were so much more breathtaking up close.

“Come on up, you guys!” Bessie shouted over all the noise. She beamed at Joan as Anna helped her up the steps, then turned to shake hands with Principal Holbein. “You look so beautiful! Congratulations!”

Joan couldn’t possibly must up a reply with all these endorphins sprinting through her, so she just smiled even wider, if that were even possible at that point.

She and Anna were whisked over to the thrones (but not without Bessie launching herself into Anna and hugging her very tightly). A silver scepter was thrust into Anna’s hands by the boy student body member in the toga, while the girl swept a furry velvet and sunflower yellow cloak with a puffy collar around Joan’s shoulders. They sat in the thrones and another ear-splitting bout of applause broke out.

Joan was glad to be sitting. Her legs were shaking and her knees felt weak. She was dizzy from shock and bliss and excitement.

(look at me Mama look at me)

(i made it)

(i did it)

The crowns were taken out on big wine red pillows. Both were encrusted with surprisingly realistic looking diamonds and glittered like captured rainbows in the light. Joan nearly sobbed when her tiara was set on her head and she reached up to touch it instantly, just to make sure it was there and real. And it was. The jewels were smooth and bumpy beneath her fingers. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Anna grinning at her affectionately.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Bessie said energetically into the mic, “your king and queen on senior prom! Anna von CLEVES and Joan SEYMOUR!”

The audience howled. Anna laughed. She stood up and thrust her scepter into the air.

“Long live King Anna!!!” Someone yelled.

“SPEECH!!!” Someone else, George from back at the table, cried out.

Anna grinned brightly in his direction.

The band cracked and rose into a fever pitch as the school song was played. The audience began to sing along to the music, their hundreds of mixing voices spiraling into a cloud of haunting sound. Anna basked in it, her chest puffed out with pride, then turned and gently gathered Joan to her feet so she could bathe in the glory with her. Joan probably would have crumpled right to the floor if Anna hadn't helped her up.

It was such a dizzying feeling, being the center of so much positive attention when it was usually all so negative. All these people were cheering for her, Joan Seymour. And they didn’t look to be doing it mockingly at all. They liked her. They really, really liked her!

(i told you Mama i told you)

“Long live Queen Joan!!” Shouted the person from before.

“Queen Joan!!!” Someone else whooped gleefully.

Joan was shaking all over. She knew everyone could see that she was, but it wasn’t deterring their applause. They just kept clapping and cheering and singing, even as she quivered like a leaf in a hurricane.

But unbeknownst to her, among the crowd, Maggie Wyatt and Anthony Lee were smirking rather than smiling. Maggie kept glancing up every few seconds, which caught the attention of Jane, who began to sidle over slowly to see what she was looking at.

Bessie waved her arms and all the noise began to diminish. She turned to Anna and Joan, still grinning her head off.

“Your Highnesses,” She said, “your court requests you lead them in a dance!”

Like that, the cheering started up again.

The toga boy took Anna’s staff from her, but Joan’s cloak was left on. Anna extended a hand and Joan took it as the lights around them faded to soft blue and light purple. They walked slowly down the steps and onto the center of the gym floor, where they pressed against each other and began to dance in long, graceful movements. The band played an airy melody of violins and flutes, which Joan didn’t even realize they had, but she could hardly care. She was too wrapped up in dancing with Anna to care about anything at this point.

Her legs trembled, unsteady, unpracticed, fawn-like. Her head spins and her vision blurs with the opposite of vertigo. Her hands clasp tightly at Anna’s and her shoulder, like the older girl was an island out in a raging black ocean. Moats of silver dust float like moths in the rays of light beaming from the spotlight, and she had never been more awash in radiance.

Anna’s hand is warm on her waist and she looked up at her, dry lips parting with a slight pop. Anna tilted her head at her and smiled, the corners of her mouth held aloft by the spotlights. Her fingertips trail over Joan’s veins, bluer than hers, rivers snaking beneath her skin and crisscrossing the imperfect planet of her body.

But Anna doesn’t care.

Each sweeping step they take gave Joan more confidence and made the world come a little more into focus. This was all Joan has ever wanted- being held so gently, being loved despite her flaws, being wanted and needed and swayed like she is. Anna doesn’t care that she’s touching her, Anna doesn’t care about the roughness of her scarred palms, Anna doesn’t care that she wasn’t at prom with her girlfriend.

Anna cared about her and her alone. Nothing else in the entire universe mattered to her. And that was a dream come true.

Anna coaxed her closer in that honeyed voice of hers that makes Joan feel all fluttery inside, whispered that she wanted to show off to all these loons, and Joan does as she's told, tentatively placing one foot in front of the other, searching for stable ground as they whisked in loops inside the circle of students crowded around them.

“Anna?” Joan whispered.

“Yeah?” Anna looked down at her, still smiling with so much affection for her.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Joan.”

Joan was still shaky but that’s okay. If she fell, Anna would surely catch her.

There was a blooming warmth on Joan’s hand and she looked at it, and that’s when everything fell to pieces. Shafts of burgeoning gold cut through soft silver and burst outwards, filling the gym in blinding yellow waves. Violin and flutes were replaced with a marching drumbeat. Silence turned to an uproar of cheering and clapping. The dance floor melted away and the stage rose up beneath Joan’s feet. And there was Bessie and the band and the two student body members in togas and Anna, now up there with her again. And there was blood. On her hand.

“Your Highnesses,” Bessie said, “your court requests you lead them in a dance!”

Joan does not hear her. She can’t even move.

Red. Blood. On her fingers. Blood.

Her blood?

Was it happening again?

Anna looked at her in confusion, eyebrows furrowed together.

“Joan?” She whispered. “Everything okay?”

Joan does not reply.

Like how Anna does not see the blood.

It was the size of a nickel American tourists would sometimes accidentally drop on the streets. Bright red against her pale white skin, like a ruby buried in fresh snow. Completely odorless in such a small quantity.

Blood.

Where did it come from?

Joan looked up shakily and time seemed to slow down so she, and everyone else in the gym, could watch as two buckets full of blood poured out in an unhurried manner to fall, splash, splash, splash, right over Joan’s head.

------

“Hail, Alma Mater,”

The singing of the crowd mixed with the band and all the cheering was a mess of noise in Anne’s ears. She grit her teeth in rage and glared down at the thrones, where the pig herself, Joan Seymour, was being crowned Prom Queen. With her tiara.

“Why are they still clapping?” Anne hissed.

“I don’t know, babe.” Cathy said uselessly. “Don’t ask me.”

Anne growled lowly in her throat and gripped the rope in her hands tightly. The smell of the blood wafting from the buckets was intoxicating.

“Oh, Mother, we salute you,”

“Are you going to pull it?” Cathy asked. “They’re there. The song is playing. Get it over with already.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Anne snapped.

“We proclaim out devotion,”

Anne’s hands were starting to shake. Her chest burned as she held her breath.

“I’m not pulling it for you.” Cathy said. “That thing can sit up there ‘till hell freezes over.”

Anne elbowed her hard in the stomach and her girlfriend reeled backwards in pain.

“As we set our dreams into motion!”

“Your Highnesses,” Bessie said from below after the school anthem ended, “your court requests you lead them in a dance!”

Anne leaned forward and yanked the cord with both hands.

For a moment, there was slack, making her think Cathy fucked up the set up to get back at her, that the rope was attached to nothing but thin air, that Joan fucking Seymour was actually going to get away clean.

But then, it snagged and jerked away from her grasp, leaving a thin rope burn across her palms. The buckets tipped and glorious red fell free. She peeked over the edge to watch, then turned to Cathy, smirking widely in victory.

In the darkness, Cathy looked horrified.

And in the light of the stage, someone screamed.

------

Two weeks after the Black Prom, Elizabeth “Bessie” Blount, would write this for the detectives,

“I had been looking at the crowd when the buckets came, but I turned fast enough to see a majority of it. It got EVERYWHERE. Joan got the most of it. She looked like she had just been dragged out of a river of blood. There were barely any spots of pink left on her dress. But us onstage got some of it, too. Anna was wearing a white tux. She got splattered. She looked like she was in a murder scene. I got splattered, too. My dress and my chest and my face. And for a moment, when my mind flashed back to the showers on Friday, I wondered if this was period blood. It was clearly a prank of sorts, so did whoever planned this (which I now know was Anne), get a bunch of girls to squat over some buckets and bleed into them just to dump it out on this one chick?

But then I realized that it didn’t smell like period blood.

I don’t think any of you or anyone else who wasn’t there really understand the smell. It wasn’t just an awful sight--it smelled, too. Like--like...it’s so hard to explain. It smelled like blood, but blood that has been left out in the sun for a week. Like rotten meat. Have you ever smelled rotten meat? It was like that.

And it also wasn’t just blood. There were organs and pieces of organs, too. I don’t even know what it was, but there was a strip of /something/ on my face. But Joan was covered in guts. Intestines hanging from her shoulders, mushy livers and kidneys caught against her dress, a stomach snagged on her crown. There were even testicles. One missed her, but the other hit her in her head and then bounced off.

Joan was still for a very long time. She had been looking up, so her face was dripping and her eyes were closed. Then, she opened them and things all went to hell from there.

I look back on this a lot. I know it wasn’t that long ago, but it’s always so fresh in my mind. I got my period two days ago and I /cried/ when I saw the blood. Because I wonder, if I had been a little bit nicer, would it have never happened? I know that’s wishful thinking, but I still wonder about it all the time. I do that a lot, now. I just think about what happened. And it gets worse each time.

I wish about a lot, but I never wish to stop the Black Prom. I just wish I had died in there with everyone else. I could kill myself, but it wouldn’t be the same, you know? I was left alive for a reason, I think. It’s a punishment. Unless Joan thought I was innocent enough to let go. But I don’t think so. So now I have to live with what I did and what happened because of it.

I would like to see Anna again, though. I wish I got to say goodbye to her.”

------

She was covered in it.

Blood.

Whose blood?

(my blood)

The smell was overwhelming. Like rotten meat left out in the summer heat for several months. The taste was worse. She didn’t want to describe it. This blood did not have the same metallic tang of normal blood. There was something very, very wrong with it.

The blood was thick, half a liquid, half a solid. It was coagulated and clotted, thick chunks caught in her hair and eyelashes and dress. It drooled down her chest, between her breasts, and over the flat expanse of her stomach.

Everywhere. It was everywhere.

In her ears and her nose and her eyes and her mouth.

Blood.

Something else splattered down against her, too. It made a loud slapping sound when it hit her head and made her tiara crooked when it snagged on the points. Something long and squishy draped over her shoulder while something else went down the back of her dress and fell out the bottom with a wet /plop/. They all had a very rank, ripe scent.

Joan’s eyes were closed. She had been looking up, so her face was completely drenched. Her dress was ruined, dyed to a deep scarlet instead of a pale flamingo pink. Her hair was soaked and dripping and red, retaining no hints of the original platinum white-blonde. The cloak around her neck looked like a freshly gutted dog, and it fell heavily to the ground at her feet. Rivulets of red ran down her arms, oozing off her fingers and into the crimson lake all around her.

One by one, the clapping stopped, the cheering died off, and the smiles fell until the only sound was the creak of the two ropes the buckets were attached to and the splattering of blood on the floor. Nobody moved, nobody breathed, nobody spoke a word.

And then, Joan’s eyes opened.

Something was glowing behind those twin orbs of grey-blue.

Joan slowly raised her hands and stared at them, watching tiny rivers of blood snake down the palms. Her breathing picked up slowly, faster and faster and faster, until her body was heaving with the weight of her panting. Her eyes darted around- at Anna, spattered in red beside her; at Bessie, wide-eyed and bloody; at George and Jane, horrified; at Miss Aragon, with her mouth hanging open; at Principal Holbein, shocked into stillness; at the audience, silent. She looked down and saw the blood, then the guts.

She was covered in guts.

Intestines hung from her shoulders, several pieces of pruney and wrinkled pink tissue clung to her dress, a stomach was caught on her crown.

Guts.

Someone spilled guts on her.

Blood and guts.

Something itched in Joan’s throat, and when she opened her mouth, a whimper came out.

And then a cry.

And then a scream.

She screamed a horrible, nightmare-haunting scream that reverberated throughout the auditorium and jammed itself into the ears of the audience. It cut off after a moment and she stared at her hands again in horror, hoping they would be clean, but the red still remained. She tried to scrub at her arms, but the blood only smeared and coated her skin even further. She whimpered and keened loudly, scratching and clawing desperately. Someone in the audience snorted.

“WHAT THE HELL?” Anna roared in fury. She was the first to snap out of the terror-stricken trance, and now all she felt was outrage. “WHO DID THIS?”

No answer. Someone snorted again. A few people murmured. Heads whipped around frantically.

“WHO DID THIS?!” Anna screeched again. She looked around and spotted something in the wings- Anne and Cathy. She snarled lowly, like a dog about to bite, then took off after them when they fled.

Like that, with Anna’s jarring sprint into motion, the trance that had descended over the gym was broken. People began to exclaim in shock and whisper to one another. A few took out their phones to take pictures. Maggie Wyatt and Anthony Lee snorted and then burst into howls of laughter.

And people joined in.

They were laughing at her.

(Mama was right)

Joan felt her body start to seize. She went hot and then cold and then hot again until she was freezing. Her heartbeat hammered in her chest, racing faster and faster and faster until she thought it would burst apart.

“Pig, pig, pig, pig!” Anthony bellowed through bouts of laughter. “Sweet pig, pig, pig!”

(Mama was right they’re laughing)

(they always laugh)

“Freak! Freak!!” Maggie shrieked in giggles.

Everything was starting to bleed together. A blur of black and silver marched through the crowd below; Jane Parker slapped Anthony hard across the face.

Joan gasped.

Miss Aragon and Principal Holbein rush up to the stage, along with George Boleyn and Jane Parker. The whispers are swelling into a full thunderstorm of murmurs, but she can’t make them out. Her ears were too clogged with blood to really hear.

“Joan?” Jane called out, and her voice was but a distant echo. “Joan, can you hear me?” She waved a hand in front of her face.

Miss Aragon gently touched Joan’s shoulder, brushed away the tangle of intestines caught against it. Her nose was twitching; she could smell the overwhelming stench of the rancid blood and guts, too.

“Joan? Joan, sweetie, talk to me. It’s Miss Aragon.” The coach said.

But Joan does not awaken from the strange state she’s slipped into.

The adrenaline is making the strain on her body bearable, all the beautiful chemicals coursing through her veins as she flexed her powers.

That, and the anger.

It all made her so angry. Her mother. Her treatment at school. Her life. Who she was.

Fifteen long years of being the good Christian girl. Of turning the other cheek. Of enduring and bearing. Of being patient and understanding and letting things go, always letting things go.

It gets old. So fucking old.

She was tired of it.

The pillars of the Parthenon began to quake. The decorative spires and sculptures on the gym floor soon followed. Joan sent her powers through their mass and ripped them into chunks. The pieces locked together in the air like a growing puzzle until a long body was created. Wings from the ripped mural canvases, a tail of ice and marble, curved claws chipped from stone, sharp spikes torn out of chair legs, and a piece of the fire alarm and DJ booth attached to the back of the throat.

Everyone stepped away and stared in horror as the dragon thumped to the ground on its back haunches and let out an ear-piercing roar.

“Say. Hello.” It spoke in a gargled voice. “Everybody. Say. Hello.”

And then, a pipe from up above was ripped free and sailed straight into Maria de Salinas’s heart.

August had thought they had been scared when the buckets dropped, but not even that fear could rival the absolute terror pumping through them as they stared at the bleeding corpse just a few feet away. Several people were starting to run, but they couldn’t move. It wouldn’t matter anyway; all the doors were locked. They could hear students shouting over it in a panic all around them, through the screaming.

They looked up at Joan Seymour’s bloody form and realization dawned on them with a jarring shock.

She’s going to kill us all.

The pipe pulled loose from Maria’s heart with a spurt of blood. Joan peered at it curiously, as if it were a new pet. A moment later, it flew around and jammed itself through the spot that connected the second victim’s jaw to her neck. It went all the way through and left her nearly decapitated, spasming wildly on the ground before death overcame her and she stilled. Then, the pipe spun and sailed straight through a boy’s stomach.

By this point, full pandemonium had erupted throughout the entire theater. Everyone was running around screaming, panicking, crying. They’re trampling over each other like caged cattle—and they very well may have been, because they were all going to burn like the filthy cows they all were.

This is our punishment, August realized. For bullying her. We did this.

They looked up with tears in their eyes. The head of the conjured dragon turned to them slowly and creaked open its jaw.

“Repent, repent, repent, repent.” It said, and then smashed its talons over August’s head.

Nicola couldn’t even scream when August was crushed right before her eyes. Their body crumpled like a compressed can; she could hear their bones snap and break beneath the heavy weight of the strange monster’s talons. When the claws were raised, there was a huge splattering of blood and mushed organs, which oozed slowly off stone nails in droplets of liquid ruby and rose quartz.

August was dead.

Joan was not done killing yet.

Nicola dove behind an upturned table and tried to steady her ragged breathing. She yelped when someone collapsed down in front of her.

“Ari!” She cried.

Ari, shell shocked, but uninjured, scrambled beside her, ducking low for cover. Their eyes were wide and mortified.

“What--what the fuck is going on?” They whispered. Each word sounded like it took great effort to speak through heaving breaths. “What--is--happening?!”

“I-I don’t know!” Nicola replied.

Near the buffet temples, the flying pipe stabbed through a girl’s neck. Nicola shuddered and hugged her knees.

“She’s killing us,” She whispered. “She’s killing us all.”

“Oh god,” Ari muttered in horror. They pressed a hand to their forehead. “You know what, Nicola? I-I don’t want to die!” They laughed shakily, tears brimming in their eyes.

“Shh. You’re not allowed to die.” Nicola said, and Ari managed a tight smile.

And then, the pipe flew by and put itself directly between Ari’s eyes.

The table tipped backward, along with Ari’s body. The pipe pulled out with a squelch and squirt of blood, leaving a gaping hole all the way through Ari’s head. Nicola vomited, she couldn’t help it.

“Monster,” She whispered raggedly She glared at the stage through tears. “You’re a monster!”

Joan twitched, but didn’t look at her. Nicola braced herself and prepared for the pipe to come around and take her life, but it didn’t. It was currently embedded in the stomachs of two students at once. No, instead, her executioner was a snake that rose up from one of the candles.

Nicola’s breath caught in her throat as she watched the flaming serpent coil out from the candle. It was huge, with bright golden eyes and a tongue that spewed embers when it flicked out at her. Then, it opened its wide jaws and came at her faster than lightning.

Pain. Blinding pain. Blinding, unbearable pain.

She was on fire.

Her dress exploded into golden plumes almost instantly, with her hair following shortly after. She could feel the fabric of her gown fusing with her flesh as it dripped off her body like wax. She screamed and flailed helplessly, but it did nothing to help her. The serpent consumed her.

A thick shoulder smashed Violet into a rigid back. Boots stamped down on one of her feet. She heard a screech of pain that sounded like someone from her Economics class. She caught a glimpse of Principal Holbein trying desperately to calm everyone down. Someone grabbed her forearm, and she turned to see Lara, staring at a raging snake made of fire.

“Oh god,” She whispered. “What do we do?”

“I-I don’t know!” Violet said. “We can’t escape. The doors are locked!”

“There has to be another way!” Lara cried. “D-don’t say that! There has to be!”

Nearby, a kid burst into flames when the snake coiled around him. The dragon jumped into the fray, shaking the entire gym when it leapt to the ground. It lashed its huge tail, connecting with a large panicking group of students and sending them sprawling with an awful symphony of breaking bones and splitting skin. It trampled over kids as it made its way to the tree and climbed to the top.

“Respect me. Respect me. Respect me.” It said over and over again, flaring out its wings. Its mouth did not move when it spoke, rather just hung open like a snake spraying venom.

Violet and Lara backed away, getting pushed and shoved and nearly separated in the process. They clasped their hands together and watched as fire began to spread through the ripped murals against the wall.

This place was going to burn to the ground.

“JOAN!!”

The pipe, which had taken lodging in the back of a blonde girl’s skull, flashed through the air and cleaved into its next victim’s stomach, silencing them.

Lara gasped and buried her face in her talons.

“Oh no,” Violet whispered. “Oh no, no, no…!”

Anna coughed and was startled to taste blood. She touched her lips and her fingers came back red. Then, slowly, her hands slid down to her stomach, where an even bigger patch of red was spreading across her tux.

There was a pipe in her stomach.

Her vision blurred and she collapsed to her side, gargling on her blood.

“Anna!!”

Joan was there, even bloodier than her, grey-blue eyes wide. Her hands hovered around the pipe, then pulled it out, sending sharp bolts of pain through Anna’s entire being.

“Anna, Anna, no--” Joan stammered. Tears flooded down her face. “Anna, no--”

“J-Joan--” Anna coughed. She raised a bloody hand and Joan clasped it in her own.

“Anna, I’m so sorry!” Joan said. “I-I didn’t mean to…” She glanced at the gaping red horror in Anna’s stomach. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I know,” Anna said. “I-I know you...you didn’t…” Everything was starting to blur together.

“No, Anna, don’t die!” Joan begged. “Don’t die! You can’t die!”

“Think...think I still have a shot at being a singer?” Anna choked out a laugh that was thick with blood.

Joan sniffled and nodded tearfully. “Y-yeah, of course.” She said. “Y-you’d be the best!”

Anna smiled weakly up at her. Her brain felt very fuzzy all of a sudden. The pain was getting worse.

No. No. She cannot die, not now, not after all she’s done. Surely she won’t—the wound is likely not nearly as terrible as it felt, or this is some nightmare and she’ll wake up any moment, and there will be no more blood and George and Jane and Joan will be teasing her for falling asleep at prom and then they’ll go to the Blazer.

She doesn’t wake up.

And now she can’t breathe--her chest heaved and she gasped and coughed, and suddenly her throat felt very hot and full and it’s terribly uncomfortable.

She doesn’t want to die. But it hurt too much.

“Joan--” She rasped. “I-I can’t--”

“No.” Joan said through gritted teeth. Then, she softly pushed Anna’s head up to look at her. The spotlights glowed around her and made her look like a blood soaked angel. “You‘re not dying today. Not here.” She sniffled. “Not in my arms, Anna.”

Anna frowned and parted her lips, gasping for air so loud Joan’s own air almost got pulled out of her lungs.

“Please.” She begged quietly. “You have to--”

The rest of the words didn't come out, but Joan’s face paled and she understood.

“No, Anna,” She whispered. “No. Not after I--”

“I-it hurts, Joan.” Anna said.

“I-I can fix you!” Joan said, shaking her head. Blood from her hair splatter everywhere. “I-I can sew your wound! I-it’s gonna be okay!”

Anna shook her head sluggishly. “Joan,” She whispered firmly. “You can’t. You know that.” She lifted a quaking hand and wiped away one of Joan’s tears, smearing the blood already on her face. “Don’t--don’t be--sad.”

“W-we were supposed to w-watch that movie together,” Joan whimpered. “And have a party. You can’t die, Anna.”

“I’m sorry,” Anna breathed out. Then, quietly, she said, “I love you.”

“I love you.” Joan said back

Anna’s face lit up, regardless of the pain. “You’re incredible,” She said.

Joan cried harder.

“Don’t let--don't let this--w-world tell you--otherwise, mh?” She said. “Don’t let it--it ruin--you.”

“Anna, please.” Joan sobbed. “Please, please don't go. I-I need you. You--you brought me back to life.”

“And I’d do that again--and again..and again--”

Anna was delirious. She caressed Joan’s cheeks with her thumbs, and Joan leaned her forehead against hers. Joan let the silence between them fill the void she started feeling inside of her for a few seconds, but her sobs soon came back, filling the stage’s space. All around them in the gym, the panic of students and teacher chaperones was unified into stillness. They were all watching transfixed in shock and despair.

“Thank you,” Anna whispered.

“F-for what?” Joan asked.

Anna smiled. “For giving me the best night of my life.”

Anna’s neck snapped. Joan knew where to send her powers into her spinal cord to make her stop crying. Hurting.

To make it all stop.

If someone had asked her to do this, she would’ve killed herself. She would kill herself for Anna a thousand times. Over and over. She would let anyone torture her, use her, hurt her, however whenever wherever they would like to. But Anna asking her to end her suffering… She could not bear this. She could not bear her pain...not this one.

Not like this.

The one person who ever truly cared about her. The one person who genuinely wanted to be around her… She killed her.

Joan let out a long, keening whimper and began to rock back and forth, cradling Anna’s upper body against her chest.

If they only could’ve had more time. If they only could’ve had some more time to spend together, some more time to share, some more time to be friends. In such a short period of time, Anna had turned into the big sister she never knew she wanted or ever had. She wanted to be next to Anna forever and always. She wanted to be with her and her friends and even Katherine.

But it didn’t matter now. Anna was dead. And no amount of power was going to bring her back.

Joan cried for several long moments, clutching Anna’s corpse. Fresh blood mingled with the blood coating her entire being. Warmth was slowly draining out of Anna’s body.

And then, something itched in her throat and, holding Anna closer, she tipped her head back.

The thing that overcame the silence was just a noise, one that had been boiling up in Joan’s chest for hours; long before she had gotten blood dumped over her head, or walked into prom, or even got invited to prom at all.

Joan didn’t yell a whole lot, never had. She’d always had the tendency to quietly brood when her temper ran high or her spirits low, something that had helped facilitate her transformation over the years of torment and torture. So in reality, the noise that was escaping her right now was one she’d been holding back for a very long time.

It sounded stupid. But it felt good.

So she kept doing it. Screaming. Over and over again until it just turned into one long roar of agony and fury and anguish.

Intimidating or not, effective or not, when a sound was being uttered over and over by a teenage girl who’s been living the closest thing to Hell that could exist on God’s green earth, a teenage girl covered in blood with wild eyes, a mangy body, and a lifetime worth of pain...

It was a goddamn battle-cry.

Joan gently placed her flower crown on Anna’s chest, situating her limp hands to where they were holding on it, then stood very, very slowly as if she were underwater, or her muscles were buckled into place. Her movements weren’t right- they were too twitchy and abrupt like a robot with rusted limbs. And her eyes—god, her eyes… They were wider than humanly possible.

She stood, dripping with blood, tears still streaming down her cheeks, and stared out at the audience.

(i’m going to kill you all)

Someone should tell the Devil she was going to room with him because she was about to turn this place into a living Hell.

Grace period ended with the striking of the flaming snake. A poor boy in a dark purple tux burst into flames, and screaming erupted all around him once again.

“Oh fuck! Oh god!”

“We’re all going to die!”

“Open the door!”

“Somebody call 999!!”

“HELP!!!!”

Madness. It was pure madness.

(nobody will EVER laugh at me again)

She imagined storming into the school and screaming her head off at the inconsiderate teachers, the rude students. She’s a smart kid, dammit! She’s been in school as long as everyone else, and she’s very good at it. No more questioning her, no more arguing or trying to make her look foolish, no more bullying.

And then, it happened. Within the space of the gym, it happened. Absolute mayhem.

She imagined setting fire to the entire school, not caring about how much money it would cost to fix it. Just to hear the crackles of flames, just to watch the people scramble, just to be the chaos instead of the shield against it.

Roaring flames tore along the walls of the gym, thanks to Judgement. Her dragon at the top of the tree helped by fanning the fire with its giant wings, throwing embers all throughout the room. Students squealed when they were burned, music to Joan’s ears. Someone crumpled to the ground, charred as black as night. Someone else with their tux on fire was screaming for help. Several burned corpses lay half in, half out of the firestorm, so melted and disfigured that their gender could barely be made out.

She imagined stalking into her classes, kicking the door open like she would sometimes try to do with the prayer closet. She would watch class jump in surprise and fear, not just staring at her like she’s her mother’s trained puppy.

Her fingers clenched and someone’s head popped like a balloon, splattering bits of brain and bone all over the faces of the people around them. They all shrieked in horror. Someone else yelled in a higher register, and Joan realized it was some guy coming at her with a knife he must have snuck into the party. She couldn’t touch it, but she could feel her power surging through her fingers and she leaned into it, snatching the knife right out of the boy’s hands and making it cut murderously across his throat like the widest, most bloody smile in the world.

She imagined punching Anne in the face, hearing the crack of her nose. Better than any of the bullshit Christian music her mother makes her listen to.

And then, relishing it, she imagined dunking her into water until she couldn’t breathe, she imagined stealing Bessie’s clothes and leaving her stranded naked in a bathroom stall for hours, she imagined tripping Maria in the hallway and having her break her jaw on the way down, she imagined putting a snake in Maggie’s shoe and watching her howl and foam at the mouth when it pumped her full of venom.

Who’s the boss now? Who’s the tough one, who doesn’t take shit, who doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want, ever?

She imagined growling into all of their ears as she tore into all of them and didn’t care how much of a devil it made her.

How do you like me now?

Being strong, and bold, and standing up, taking what she wants when she wants it, for the first time in her goddamn life. Because, before this, she would have never done any of that stuff she imagines.

She never did that.

She never defended herself or stood up for herself or fought back.

She only endured and endured and endured like a good little girl, like Mama wanted, like how Mama made her.

It's what's best for her. What's best for everyone.

But not anymore.

Never again.

Joan reached out her powers and found Maggie among the panic.

(never again Maggie never again)

(you will never hurt anyone else ever again)

She coiled her powers around Maggie’s shoulders and clenched down. When the grasp was tight enough, she began telekinetically pulling away from Maggie’s body. Instantly, Maggie was alerted that something was very wrong when her arms raised outwards against her will. She fought against Joan’s power, but was much too weak, and began to scream loudly at the strain on her flesh.

“Maggie!” Anthony yelled in shock. “What’s wr--”

Joan halted his sentence. She didn’t want him speaking anymore.

She found his organs after a quick moment of searching and vacuumed them upwards. Anthony gagged loudly and clutched at his stomach. His throat bulged like an anaconda was trying to slither out of his body, and then his guts came pouring out of his mouth.

Everyone shrieked much louder than they were before, or at least those not completely panicking. Anthony’s stomach splattered to the ground first, then his kidneys and liver, large intestines, and then his small intestines, which didn’t make it all the way out and dangled from his mouth like a half eaten snake. He collapsed into the pool of his own insides, empty and very much dead.

“Anthony!!” Maggie shrieked, tears pouring out of her eyes. A moment later, her arms ripped off of her body and began spewing blood everywhere. Delicate bones poked out like stars on a dark night from the fresh openings against her shoulders. She would bleed to death quickly, and Joan left her to die on the floor, hoping it would be painful.

She looked around, noting how many people were still left alive. She watched Judgement corral three students, one of which fainted from terror. He set them all on fire and then whisked off for new prey. The girl who fainted woke up screaming, but the screams didn’t last very long.

Where was Anne?

(she ran)

(coward coward coward)

She had to go after Anne.

Joan got into the sprinklers overhead and activated them. The spray of water felt amazing over her tingling skin. The blood, mostly dried, began to run in red trails, but she knew it would do little to really clean her the way she wanted it to.

(i’m coming Anne)

But first, she had to finish what she started.

Violet took one step too close to the white tree where the watching dragon was perched. Having spotted her, the dragon roared a challenge, extending its wings in a brilliant display of dominance.

The roar it made was earth shattering.

Violet was still recovering from the roar when the dragon jumped down and its spiked forearm slammed into her chest, catapulting her backwards. It went after her, crushing several students into nothing beneath its talons, then pierced her with its tail, leaving her dangling several feet from the ground. Rich, ruby red blood drizzled from the razor sharp point.

She felt faint, the pain radiating through her like a dull ache as the dragon slowly brought her around, its beady white glass eyes fixed on her. She tried to wriggle free, but the sharp edge of the tail tearing into her unresisting flesh caused her to slide further down the blood-streaked appendage. The tail grated through her organs, cutting clean through them. She coughed blood and moaned weakly. Everything was starting to spin.

“Violet!!” Lara cried from down below.

Violet coughed blood again. The dragon lashed its tail and sent her flying free. She hit the floor roughly, hearing several bones snap, and then went very still. The last thing she ever heard was the sound of Lara’s skeleton being crushed in the jaws of the dragon.

Aragon was rarely ever scared, but the mayhem that had erupted throughout the gym nearly had her paralyzed with fear. For a moment, as she watched the destruction break out, she felt as though she couldn’t breathe, especially when she saw Anthony Lee spill his guts from his mouth, but when the sprinklers kicked on overhead, she put her head back on her shoulders.

She had to get out.

Amid the chaos, she saw a flash of white and purple- Bessie. She hurried over to the bleach-haired student, who was in the middle of a pretty bad panic attack, and grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Bessie! Bessie? Bessie, listen to me!” She shook her shoulders. “Come with me, alright?”

Bessie, unable to muster up any comprehensible reply, nodded. Aragon took her hand and began guiding her to a set of side doors that weren’t as blocked off as the rest of the exits. However, they were just as jammed as all the others.

“Fuck!” Aragon hissed, yanking on the handle.

“Wh-what do we do, Miss Aragon?!” Bessie whimpered, shivering.

Aragon looked around desperately, then located a vent up near the ceiling nearby.

“Get a chair!”

Bessie obeyed and grabbed the closest, most stable chair she could find. Aragon stood on it and ripped off the vent cover, then hopped back down. She had to let her kids go first.

“Go!” She shouted over the pandemonium. “Hurry! Get in!”

Bessie didn’t hesitate. She kicked off her heels and stood up on the chair, scrambling into the vent as quick as she could. Several other students who were smart enough to come over followed her in. By the time it was her turn to climb in, the sprinklers had cut off and the ground was covered in a layer of water.

Joan stepped off of the stage slowly. With every step she took, the water around her spread away so she would be walking on dry ground. Above her, the electrical equipment holding up the spotlights crackled, and Aragon realized what was about to happen.

“EVERYBODY, GET OFF THE FLOOR!!!” She screamed.

Aragon leapt up onto the chair and flung her arms inside the vent. As she was pulling herself up, the chair flipped and she was left dangling above the ground. And, at the same time, the electrical equipment exploded into sparks and fell to the floor.

It was horrifying. Absolutely horrifying. She watched her students spasm as they were electrocuted and then drop to the ground like birds with broken wings. Hundreds must have died, and she would soon join them. Any second now, her arms would give out and she’d plummet into the electrically charged water, joining the kids as a corpse inside the gym.

Her life began to flash before her eyes, surely thinking she was about to die. But then, a strange, unseen force began to lift her up and tuck her gently into the vent. When she turned her head, she saw Joan looking at her with shining eyes.

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huckleberrysclutterbucket · 5 years

Text

LOSING CONTROL

Lucas tries to keep his temper under control, but sometimes is just imposible.

Lucas POV

Control, is a small word with a big meaning. My dad used to say after I got in a fight, “If you could control your temper, you wouldn´t be in this situation”. I got sent to the principal´s office several times, I got suspended twice. My dad had business in New York and saw an opportunity to help me start over. And I did. I had everything under control, or so I thought.

First day, I haven´t even reached school, I meet this girl, she walks up to me like she owns the freaking subway and makes a number for her friend. They are both cute. The fisty one is named Maya and the other one Riley. I get to school and enter my new classroom, I was held back a year since I spent most of it in detention or suspended, and to my surprise, both girls are in my class. And to top it all, my history teacher is Riley’s father.

As soon as Maya recognize my accent, I was doomed. She wouldn’t waste a chance to call me names and make fun of me. Little did she knew, instead of irking me, I loved those names she gave me, Huckleberry, Sundance Kid, Ranger Rick. All western. The girl did her homework, she knew what I liked. It was time for me to find out what she liked and get to her.

As time passed, we became friends, even Farkle accepted me in his group. Riley was the one who kept us all together, even in the most difficult times, she always had faith in our friendship. I did noticed the moon eyes, she likes me, really likes me, in a romantic way, but I’m not into romantic stuff, so I never really asked her out. I was more intrigued about Maya, she’s more about act first think later, kinda reminds me of myself. Tuff exterior and soft in the inside, like a lobster. I wonder what made her put up all those walls around her. It seems like the only person she lets in is Riley. I really wanted to get to know her.

Everything seemed to be under control, untill Maya asked me to beat up a kid that was bulling Farkle. I worked so hard to keep my temper under control, change my old ways. I told her we shouldn’t use violence, it never ends well. We were in gym class when Billy, my team mate, started bulling Farkle, I lost my temper and pushed Billy, I had him pinned to the wall and was about to trow the first punch when Maya jumped on my back and stopped me. “Lucas, don’t!” “Isn’t this what you wanted Maya?” “No. Thats what he wants, he wants you to be like him” Hearing her anxious words in my ear and feeling her heart beating so fast on my back made me realize that she was scared. I imediately returned to my calmed self and talked some sense into Billy. That was the first time I almost lost control. If it wasn’t for Maya, I would have ended up in a fight again.

Valentines day came, and this girl asked me out, Missy Bradford. She was the most popular girl in our grade. Then something funny happened, Riley got jelous. She looked so cute all mad about it. I had a talk with Farkle about the girls, he knew them better anyways. That’s how I learned that Farkle was inlove with both Riley and Maya, and he wanted to know if I would ask one of them out, so he could ask the other. That was weird, so I asked “And what if I pick the other one?” and he just said “Then I get the first one! how long do you wanna play this game?” Was this a game for him? Ok then. I can play along.

Maya, had other plans in mind, she asked me out instead, the girl has nerve and wasn’t going to sit around waiting for us to make a choice, and I’m not afraid to admit I kinda like that about her. She told me to pick her up at Riley’s and I was so thrilled to do so, but I was ambushed. Maya set me up to date Riley, luckly Mr Matthews wouldn’t let her go unless Maya and Farkle came too, as long as she was there I didn’t care. The four of us took the subway, I kept stealing glances at Maya and noticed she kept looking at some older guy a few seats ahead. Suddenly she walked straight to that dude and started talking to him, was she flirting? Riley noticed me staring at Maya and explained to me. Josh Matthews, he was her uncle. And apparently Maya had the biggest crush on him.

Maya sat beside Josh, and after a few words were crossed I could tell he said something that hurt her feelings. He got off the train on the next stop, leaving Maya with sad eyes. I wanted to punch that guy so much. I almost did, but then I remembered I was supposed to be dating Riley. I told her to go sit with Maya and see if she was ok, but Maya pushed Riley back to me. That’s when Riley fell on my lap and kissed me. It lasted just a second, but I stood frozen, it seemed like time had stopped. I just sat there, wondering if anybody else saw that, more like, wondering it Maya saw Riley kissing me. I didn’t tell anyone about it.

No one knew about my conflicted past, untill Zay came along with his big mouth. That month his family moved to New York, and my old childhood friend transfered to this school too. He’s only been here a week and I’ve already got in a fight. All the work I put on having my temper under control goes to hell. His big mouth got him in troube with a senior and I had to get in troube to save his ass, again. I got detention for friday after school. Thanks a lot Zay. To my surprise Maya was there too. She got in trouble but wouldn’t tell me why. I walked her home after detention, I find out her mom works until late and her dad is not around since she was 5, we were in detention together a few times after that. Apparently she doesn’t like to do homework. I must confess I got into a few fights just to get in detention so I could walk her home.

I always sat behind Maya, that way was easier to catch on the details. I still wanted to get to know her. That’s how I noticed all the little drawings on the edge of her notes. She hated science and chemestry, I was her lab partner, it was basically like having no partner at all, she would fall asleep in my hand, literally. But I didn’t mind. I even liked to do all our projects together, more like me doing the project while I watched her sleep or doodle. Sometimes I took her to my house so that she would fall asleep in my bed. How I loved to smell my pillow. The scent of her shampoo lingered for a while after she was gone.

We had a school dance, the semi formal. I was supposed to ask Riley to go to the dance with me, but I never did. I asumed we were all going together as a group. However, Charlie Gardner had other plans, he asked Riley to be his date to the semi formal when I failed to do so, and she said yes just to try to get me jelous. I was kinda not okay with her childish behavior, so I got irritated but then again, Maya didn’t had a date, and I finnaly had a chance to dance with her. And I did.

At school things were not going great. Not only I had a bunch of homework and projects, but the Art class was about to be canceled. Is the only class Maya actually enjoys. Even when Maya said she was ok with it, and that it was just a class, or just a hobby, I knew her better by then. That class was very important to her, it was her escape from all the stress in her life, I could see that sadness in her eyes and I couldn’t stand it. We did all we could think of to convince the board to keep the arts program at school. And we succeded.

Riley’s and Maya’s friendship used to be the strongest, but now it seemed so fragile, to the point of crazyness. Me and Maya were voted as “best couple” on the yearbook, and when Riley and Farkle noticed, it was like if all hell broke loose. Riley was sinking into depressed Riley wich she called Morotia M Black. Maya tried to bring her back by pretending to be Riley. Farkle was angry too because he wanted to be “taken seriously”. I didn’t understand what was happening back then because I’ve always taken him seriously, but he changed his style and now he wanted to be called Donny Barnes. It seemed to me there was someone else he wanted to impress. Someone in particular that he wanted to notice him or to take him more seriously.

Zay told the girls about my accident riding a sheep when I was four. On vacation we went to Texas, more like Riley and Maya signed me up to ride a sheep to “overcome my fear of falling from Judy”. I would have appreciated their effort if it wasn’t for the fact that grown men don’t ride sheep, they ride bulls. So accidentally they signed me up to ride a freaking bull named Tumbstone, like if the name didn’t freak me out enough. What the hell were they thinking? Riley was trying to cheer me up, “You can do it Lucas, You’ll do great” but Maya, she knew how scared I was, and she knew why. I could die or get seriously injured. “If you do this, I’ll never speak to you again” she told me. But Pappy Joe was proud of me for doing this, and had already told all the town I was doing it, leaving me no room to back off from it without looking like a coward. Even though I didn’t got hurt and I could only ride the bull for four lousy seconds, it was enough to hurt Maya’s feelings.

That night we made a bonefire, we sat around it and talked, Riley broke up with me finally. She told me that Maya teases me because she’s attracted to me. Zay left with Riley and Farkle to “get ice cream” wile I talked to Maya alone. I asked her myself about it and she denied it. Against my better judgement, I lost control of myself again, I wanted to hear her say it so bad, I push and cornered her, “If you don’t like me, then why do you make fun of me? And why didn’t you wanted me to ride the bull?” “Because I didn't wanted you to win and get all coincided”. Yeah right... Lamest answer. I knew I was getting close to a confession, so I kept pushing her “Why do you make fun of me?” “Because you’re easy to make fun of” “That’s not it” I walked so close to her, I could almost hear her heartbeat “Because you are a Huckleberry” she was becoming more agitated and kept yelling all this western nicknames at me. I couldn’t take it anymore, so the moment she hahurred in my face, I reached with both hands for her face and I kissed her. It was a soft kiss and it ended too soon but it worked, she stopped. And most importantly, she let her walls down. “Why did you do that?” She asked me. I was dumbstruck... I had kissed her. I didn’t knew what to do next. What should I say? “I’m sorry. I… I didn’t know how to make you stop” Now I was too nervous. I blew it… from all the things I could have said... I apologized? “Don’t have to be sorry. Of course I like you Huckleberry, if you got hurt I don’t know what I woud have done”. I made her say it, and I didn’t felt any better about it.

Back home we were all a wreck. Riley was still upset about me liking Maya, and she started going out with Charlie Gardner. How I hate that guy. Farkle started dating Smackle, and I asked Maya out. We had a smoothie, well my head had a smoothie, my “I delivered a baby horse” line didn’t work on her. I should have known that it wouldn’t. She’s not like other girls, she isn’t looking for a prince or a hero to save the day. I was in real trouble, Riley was so easy to impress, she was happy to hear my cowboy adventures. But Maya made fun of me, I had to work hard if I wanted to impress Maya.

New year came, Riley made a party in her house. Oddly enough, it was Charlie the one who invited me, so irritating, but everything about him was irritating. At the party, Maya and I couldn’t catch a break. We sat alone by the baywindow only to be third wheeled by Riley. Then we were having this moment, at the balcony, it felt so romantic and I was about to lean in for a kiss, when Farkle came running and ruined the moment by announcing “Riley still loves Lucas”. Wait what? Seriously? Then Riley broke up with Charlie. I wasn’t going to break up with Maya. Not a chance.

That’s how we started this weird triangle thing. Maya wouldn’t go out with me anymore since Riley was back in the picture. Their friendship was healing and they didn’t want to hurt each other. We tried to be just friends for a while, but the truth is, we couldn’t. I like Maya way too much.

We started High school and it was full of changes and new challenges. Both girls introduced me as their boyfriend, I could hardly keep up with them both, and to top it all, Riley demanded too much attention. She was naive and gullable, we had to keep an eye on her all the time, I snaped a few times at Riley, Maya tried to stay out, but everytime Riley would ask Maya to scream at me too. It was getting ridiculous. So Maya decided to drop out, she broke up with me and asked me to “go tell Riley that you love her”. I could never say no to her, so I stayed with Riley. When she asked about Maya, I was honest and told her the truth “She’s the one who sent me to you”. She didn’t seemed to mind, she was happy I stay even if that meant loosing Maya. I wasn’t too happy.

I went out with Riley for a while, untill she moved to London, we never officially broke up, the relationship just froze. Her mom got a very good job offer and her whole family moved. We tried the long distance thing but it was harder than I thought. Specially after I found out that the only reason Maya broke up with me was because Riley’s uncle told her to. Josh and Maya started dating after that. Not that you could call that dating. He was in college and hardly got any time to see her, she spent most of her time alone in Toppanga’s coffee shop reading some novels. I know because, after Riley moved to London, I started going there too to keep her company. We had good times there.

It was like going back in time, back to when we used to date. But this time she had a boyfriend and I had a girlfriend, only they weren’t here. I spent almost all afternoons with Maya, we became very close friends. Except when Josh was “available”. I really hated that guy, and I could tell he felt threaten by me. One time we had an argument, after that He tried to stop Maya from hanging out with me, as if someone could force Maya to do something. She broke up with him after that. Farkle and Izzy broke up too, and before we knew what was happening we all went our separate ways. Zay and Izzy started a relationship, hanging out on their own. Farkle stopped hanging out with us too. Somehow now that he was single he seemed to be very busy, on his computer or his phone, but always talking to someone. I spent almost all my free time with my football friends, at parties or with Maya. Mostly with Maya. We would have movie nights. It started as a group thing in the livingroom, but since Zay, Farkle and Izzy ditched us most of the times, we stopped inviting them. Now it was just the two of us, laying on my bed, talking and watching movies while we ate junk food untill we fell asleep.

We were watching one of those teen movies, when the typical sex scene began. Maya started a conversation. A sex talk to be exact. “Huckleberry, do you think we should have sex right now? I mean not you and me, but you and Riley, and me and someone else?” “Why now?” “Because, you’ll be 18 very soon, and Riley is only 16, it would be ilegal, and right now is not” “But I’m not in a hurry to have sex. Besides, even if I wanted to, Riley is in London” “But, she’ll be back for the summer, after prom” “Like I said, I’m not in a hurry to have sex,” “But, doesn’t it bothers you to be the only guy in the football team with a V card?” “Does it bothers you?” “No. but is different with guys. I’m sure they must have teased you about it” “Well, they don’t know I’m a virgin. They think I have too much sex actually” “Really? With whom?” How can I explain to her that every guy in the team thinks she’s my girlfriend and they know we hang out in my bedroom, almost daily.

Here it goes... “Remember when we were freshmen and you told everybody you were my girlfriend?” “Yeah, so?” “Well... They also know that you and I hang out in my room most afternoons” “How would they know that?” I reach for my phone in my jeans and give it to her. She looks at me because she knows which picture I have as background, she took it herself. Is her in my bed, wearing just my jersey and I’m shirtless next to her. “This doesn’t prove anything” she says but I tell her to unlock it, she knows my passcode. And I see her questioning face. “What am I supposed to do with this?” “Read” I’ve been ditching my friends to hang out with her and it has been buzzing with stupid ass coments about my sex life all day. Is a group chat with the football team. I already know what it says but I wait for her to read it. “Friar? you in for later?” “We are at Ross house.” “WHERE RU?” “You coming?” “He’s coming all right. In the gf” “He’s Banging the GF?” “They allways banging” “I’m so jelous” “You dog” “Too much sex has to be bad for your game” “Dude, he killed last game!” “Then keep it up” “Is up allright” “hahaha” “LOL” ...

She stops reading the texts and looks at me with horror in her eyes once the realization of what’s going on hits her. “So they think we are having sex? Like right now?” “Yes. Basically.” “oh my god, they think I’m a whore!” “No no no. They think you’re my girlfriend” “Why didn’t you tell them I’m not?!” “Would you rather let them think we have casual sex?” “No! No wonder no one ever asks me out. I’m sigle and a virgin because of you!” “Would you rather loose your virginity to some idiot who would dump you next week?” “Yes! Damn it. I don’t wanna be a virgin anymore. I’ll even give it up to the next guy that asks me out!”

And right there I lost my temper again. The single thought of someone else touching her drove me mad, “I would never allow that! Everyone knows you’re off limits!” “Why would you do that to me?!” “I didn’t do it by myself you know! You are the one taking intimate pictures, cheering at my games, waiting for me after practice, I drive you everywhere, you wear my letter jacket like a girlfriend would.... You even sit on my lap for christ sake! What do you think it looks like when you spend the night in my bed?! Even my mom gives me freaking condoms because she thinks we’re fucking!” I knew I shouldn’t have said that the moment it came out of my mouth. Me and my goddamn temper.

I was livid, and Maya was furious at me. “Even your mom thinks I’m a whore! I’m a virgin whore. What are the odds?...” “You’re not a whore… They think you are my-“ “Don’t you dare say girlfriend, because you know is not real!” “WAKE UP MAYA! Is as real as if we were already fucking!” “SHUT UP! You’re Riley’s boyfriend!” “Pff please… we both know that relationship died way before she even left” “I can’t believe this... How could I be so stupid?” “Why don’t you admit that you like to pretend to be my girlfriend” “No, I don’t!” I had to make her say it “Then why are you here Maya?” “Because you invited me to watch a stupid movie!” “No. Why are you here, with me, in my bedroom?” With every word, I would take a step closer to her, until I cornered her to the wall. “Why spending the night in my bed when you know very well spooning you gives me a raging boner?” “I didn’t know.” “Stop... just stop lying already!” I was angry and I reached the wall, “What do you want me to say? That I want to lure you into having sex with me?” I had her trapped between me and the wall, I slammed my palms to the wall, on each side of her head “No! That you still love me! Because you know damn well that I still do!” I crashed my lips and claimed hers.

For the second time in my life I kissed Maya Hart, only this time I wasn’t gentle, I wasn’t a nervous kid and she wasn’t a scared little girl anymore. We had all this sexual tension and frustration we were eager to let out. She kissed me back with the same lust as me. Having her in my bedroom was just asking for trouble. She wanted sex and I was dying to give her just that. I slid my hands from her back to her waist, then down her hips, to her ass and held her up, she wrapped her legs on my waist grinding her hips to me, and I was gone. I lost control to my hormones. Next thing I know, I had her on my bed, me on top of her. My hands touching all her curves, Maya’s legs arround me and pulling me down, between her legs, I’m grinding myself to her, enjoing the feeling of that friction and her soft moans. I was about to make the rumors true, already yanking the elastic band of her underwear, but then my mom walked in. She slammed the door and as she walked down the hall I heard her mutter “Just friends my ass”.

I got off of Maya as fast as I could “Fuck! Fucking freaking fuck!”, she was panting. I turned to watch the tv, the movie was over, the music and credits were on. We calmed down a bit, she sat on the bed, and some tears ran down her cheeks as she fixed her clothes. I made her cry. I sat on the bed with her. “I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t planned this” “How could I let this happen? I’m so stupid. What’s gonna happen when Riley comes back and someone tells her that you and I.” “I’ll tell her the truth, and then I’ll break it up, officialy” “She’s gonna hate me” “She knows our thing is over Maya. We haven’t even talked for weeks” “This can’t happen again. Never!” She put her sneakers on and ran away from me, out of my room, and out of the house. My mom was in the kitchen. “Isn’t your girlfriend staying for dinner?” “Not my girfriend mother. And No, we weren’t having sex, we were just making out. If we ever decide to have sex, I’ll wear those damn condoms.” I told her very irritated and ran after Maya.

She was walking down the corner when I caught up with her, and conviced her to get on the car so I could drive her home. I could tell by her red cheeks that she was very embarassed about what was about to happen in my room. “Maya, don’t worry. If it makes you feel better, tomorrow morning I will tell everybody we are both virgins” “I don’t care about that.” “Then what is it?” “We were about to... This is going to kill our friendship” “I’ll deal with Riley when she gets back. But right now, we need to talk about what just happened” “I can’t do this... we have to stop” “Believe me, I tried to stop, but I can’t. I’ve tried for so long, and I’m done holding back” “I can’t” “I’m loosing my mind here Maya, I have these intense feelings for you that you were reciprocating just a few minutes ago” “We can’t be friends anymore Lucas” “We were never just friends Maya, the scene in my room just proved it. You’re just too stuborn to accept that” We stopped movie nights until we could figure our relationship out. Maya was avoiding me at school, with all the finals, and prom everybody was too busy to even notice, and the ones who did, just pinned it for a couple’s argument.

End of term came sooner than expected. And so did a certain brunette. It was the week before prom and I had just asked Maya to be my date. Flowers, ballons, chocolates, the whole thing. I wanted her back in my life. She said yes. I came back home and Riley was at my door. “Riles, hi” “hey! I’m back” “Yes, I can see that... Come in. So what brings you here?” “I came to be your prom date, I meant to surprise you in school but you were gone and I had an interesting chat with some of your friends” “Yeah, we need to talk” “About you screwing my best friend behind my back?” “Oh... so, you heard” “All the fucking school knows. It’s humiliating!” “Yeah... But it isn’t true” “what about all these pictures in your locker?” I had forgoten about all the photos I had in my locker, nothing bad, just some pictures of me and Maya, movie night, parties, after a game, and my favorite where she had my letter jacket on because it was cold that night.. “You went trough my stuff?” “Was it a secret? I kinda had the impression it was public knowledge”

It wasn’t the fact that Riley didn’t believe me, or trusted me, I didn’t cared about that. It was the fact that the lie would ruin Maya’s and Riley’s frindship that made me confess all of it to Riley. “It was all fake Riley, you should know by now, Maya wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. She didn’t even knew about that stupid rumor until recently, and honestly I didn’t care enough to tell people it wasn’t true”. “But why?” “Because I like spending time with her, we have fun together, and it was easy to let the guys think whatever to get them off my back and hers” “Do you love her again?” “I never stopped loving her Riley, but you already knew that.”

“You look happy together in all those pictures” “Yeah... that’s probably because we are.” “So, how does it work? She pretends to be your girlfirend?” “No Riley, we are not pretending, we just hang out together, like we always have, without labels. At least that was untill last week” “What happened last week?” “I told her about said lie. We had a fight and then I kissed her. But before you jump into conclussions, you should know that she freaked out and ran away from me” “She still loves you” “I know she does” “But she’ll never admit it” “Because she thinks you still love me. She cares more about you than herself” “Was she happy?” “The happiest I’ve ever seen her”. Somehow, even when she was the same Riley, she seemed different, more mature. She wasn’t really mad at me. She just seemed lost in thought. “I go away for a few months and you all wonder like scathered sheep” she joked. Riley excussed herself and left to go find Maya. Baywindow duty, and I’m guessing trying to fix all this mess we were in. I just hope that I didn’t ruined their friendship. Maya would never forgive me otherwise.

Maya called me that same afternoon, saying she couldn’t be my date to prom. She was still going, just not with me. I guessed it had something to do with Riley, but I wasn’t going to go with Riley so, I refused to go. I was tired of falling into that game. I decided to stop playing it. Prom day came, it was a clouded sky that day, and so was my brain. I decided to show up last minute, I had to see her on her dress. I changed to my formal clothes, my cowboy hat, my rose, and I drove to prom. As soon as I got out of my car, it was pouring rain, I walk down to the door and stoped, right there trough the glass I could see her. She looked beautiful, dancing and spining on the dancefloor, her bouncing golden curls, sorrounded by all her friends, Izzy, Zay, Riley and Farkle, all together again, it seemed so surreal.

As they were dancing, Riley caught my eyes, she was staring at me, watching me with a devilish smile, while Maya was dancing oblivious to us. Then I remember why I liked Riley, she just had to fix everything. From where I was standing outside in the rain, I couldn’t hear a word, but I saw Riley lean into Maya and whisper something to her ear. Maya nodded, and closed her eyes happily. I didn’t loose her from my sight, as Riley took Maya’s hands and led her right in front of me. I was breathless, watching her laugh with her eyes still closed. Riley made eye contact with me and opened the glass door, then whisper something in her ear and left. Maya counted to three outloud and opened her eyes to see me.

“One, two, three.” “Hi” “Hey. You’re here” “Yeah, I wouldn’t miss seeing you in that dress for the world” “You should come in... the storm.” “I don’t mind” “Don’t you wanna come in and dance with us?” “There’s only one person I’m interested in” I gave her the red rose and then I took her hand and pulled her outside. The rain was still falling and she was getting wet. She came near me and hugged me, I put my arms around her as I swayed to the rithm of the music. It was a slow dance. I told her softly to her ear “I missed you so much” and she stopped dancing. I looked at her face as she looked deeply into my eyes and when she was about to speak, I kissed her. Only, this time, after she kissed me back, she didn’t pushed me away. It was so weird, how things turned around. Maya used to be the one who pushed Riley and me together, ever since we met. And now it was Riley the one who finally was pushing Maya towards me. She wouldn’t have me any other way. I told her “I love you, even with that stubborn head of yours”. She laughed and said “I love you, even with that bad temper of yours”.

#lucaya fanfic #Lucaya #gmw fanfic #gmw fanfiction #gmw lucaya

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thelosersaretalking · 4 years

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Thoughts on each other

Bill- Well it's clear we're all best friends. I've known Eddie since we were five and there's so much people don't see to him because he's slightly more flamboyant. Richie is most like a brother to me. We've fist fought in the street more than once but in the end everything turns out okay between us. As for Stan, him and I have a bond that's hard to put into words. Maybe comfort? Mike is the real hero of this group. Everyone looks to me as leader but he outshines me in every leader-y way. Ben is the person to talk to if I ever feel lost or question things. He always has an answer. Bev and I used to share a romantic bond but now we're smoking buddies and I'm thankful that I can tell her my secrets.

[[MORE]]

Stan- I love each one of these guys. Richie has been my longest companion. Despite how much I mock him, I care for him deeply. He rarely ever truly annoys me. I met Eddie and Bill on the same day. Bill has always struck me as strong, handsome. He's very charismatic once you get to know him. Eddie has always been strong despite his meek appearance. I believe he is the most head-strong of us. He's gone through hardships that none of us have. Mike is a literal ray of sunshine who has proven to be tremendously brave. As Bill mentioned, he does have leadership qualities that I feel aren't recognized enough. Ben is perhaps the sweetest person I've ever met. He's well-spoken, polite and always sincere. Him and I have grown much closer since we first met. Lastly, Bev. Bev is the most bad ass woman I know for a lack of better terms. She doesn't give a damn what others think of her and I admire that.

Richie- I'm gonna make this simple because I'm not great with words. Bill=Jackass but I love him like a brother. Pretty good at impressions too. Stan=Weird. Stan is posh and shit but he makes weird little jokes and acts wayyyy too old for a teenager. Eddie=Cute cute cute! Mike=Human version of a golden retriever or lab. Ben=Smartest dude I know. He knows everything, I think. Bev=My bomb ass platonic girlfriend

Eddie- I really admire Bill. He's been there for me in my hardest times. He's the voice I hear when I'm telling myself to be brave. Stan and I are gossip buddies, sorta. We talk shit about the other losers, but never seriously. Richie... he always makes me laugh. Even when I'm frightened he finds a way to make me smile. Mike is big-hearted and can pick me up like nothing. It's... magical. I'm proud of Ben. About a year ago he started doing things to help his self image and I've seen him come out of his shell a lot since. Bev is just fucking awesome.

Mike- I really love all of these guys. They saved me from a lonely home life and I really don't know how words can help me express how thankful I am.

Ben- These guys helped me through a lot. I used to not have any friends... at all. They took me in without a thought and made me feel included for the first time. And Bev was the first person to ever sign my yearbook. I'll always cherish that.

Bev- Girls were never really my crowd. I'm bullied a lot by some bitches at school so when I found these guys, it changed everything. I didn't feel like I had to fit a specific standard. I did date Bill, but we realized fairly quick that we were only making up for the fact that we weren't with who we really wanted. I hope Bill gets with his boy soon and I get with mine. And no Richie, it's not you

#bill denbrough #stan uris #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #bev marsh

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the-cookie-of-doom · 5 years

Text

I had a silly/cute stitch idea a few days ago. We know that Scott and Stiles knew each other in 4th grade thanks to season 5, but I’m not inclined to believe they knew each other before this.

Instead, Stiles’ best friend was another boy named Mitch. They were thick as thieves, having practically grown up together. But when Mitch’s mom gets sick, they have to move to somewhere that has better treatment options, breaking both their little hearts. But Stiles is social, so within a few weeks he’s meeting Scott, and they’re fast friends.

Skip forward about six years later, they’re all juniors. Stiles is actually a playing member of the lacrosse team for the first time, since over summer he finally grew into himself. He’s still an awkward dork, but not nearly as bad as he was in sophomore year.

So imagine his surprise when one of the first games of the season is against a neighboring private school, and he recognizes the team captain. Imagine everyone else’s surprise when Stiles suddenly screams and goes tearing off across the field to tackle the unsuspecting guy (who luckily catches him).

Scott and Allison are trying to figure out what just happened because a second ago they were certain Stiles was about to start a fight, but now he’s chattering away like a happy bird. Lydia is curious but mostly just checking Mitch out, like most of the rest of the girls (and a few guys) present.

“I hope you don’t think I’m gonna let you win just because I missed you,” Stiles challenged, and Mitch grinned back at him.

“Please, you’re not going to let me do anything.”

They have to return to their respective teams before the game starts, and Jackson is immediately jumping Stiles’ shit for getting friendly with the enemy, but Stiles doesn’t care because his best friend is back. (”I mean, aside from you, buddy,” Stiles has to quickly reassure Scott.)

After the game they trade numbers, and before long they’re spending all their time together catching up. Mitch apparently just got back over summer, he and his mom are still getting settled in and unpacked. And also congrats on his dad becoming sheriff, that’s definitely a new development.

Stiles doesn’t even have a chance to enjoy his best friend being back before he’s catching Feelings because damn, Mitch grew up well. Last time Stiles saw him he was a dorky 9 year old with a missing tooth and his long wild hair all over the place, usually covered in scrapes and bruises because they were rowdy kids.

Mitch flipped through Stiles’ freshman yearbook, snickering when he saw his class portrait. And his unfortunate buzzcut. “You looked like a chipmunk.”

“Shut up, you look like a mop,” Stiles said, tugging a lock of his hair. It was softer than Stiles remembered, and shorter. Apparently his mom finally wrangled him into an actual stylist’s chair at some point.

Now Mitch is tall, dark, and handsome, tan and fit from all his time outside practicing for lacrosse. Southern California was certainly good to him, Stiles can’t be blamed for appreciating the view, okay?

While they’re off bonding, Stiles has just about no time left for Scott. He should probably feel guilty about that, but also he’s allowed to have other friends, just like Scott’s allowed to have Allison. Scott doesn’t see it that way, because he’s afraid Stiles is replacing him as Best Friend, and he feels Threatened.

Of course, Scott is an oblivious puppy and can’t tell that that is not what is happening here, not even close.

Another time Mitch comes over while Stiles’ in the shower, so he goes to wait for him in his room, wanting to surprise him. And oh boy, is Stiles going to be surprised. Poor kid isn’t expecting anyone to be there when he comes into his room, so when he sees Mitch casually lying on his bed and flipping through a comic, he screams, just about has a heart attack... a drops his towel.

Mitch, also not expecting what just happened, tips the comic down to see Stiles standing there buck ass naked and is just like huh, okay, that’s happening. He king of gives Stiles a onceover, not even consciously realizing that’s what he’s doing. Unfortunately Stiles is too busy freaking out to properly appreciate Mitch checking him out.

Stiles: Get out!

Mitch: You get out.

Stiles: It’s my room!?

Mitch: Then don’t get out.

Since Mitch isn’t a total tyrant, he rolls over to put his back to Stiles and give him some privacy, grumbling the whole time about, “Since when did you get so shy?” Because come on, they used to take bubble baths together, it’s not like he hasn’t seen Stiles naked before.

Stiles got shy about the time Mitch came back as hot jerk off material instead of the dorky kid he remembered. He was literally jerking off thinking about him in the shower, so to then get out and find Mitch in his bed was kind of a shock.

There’s more, but I’ll save that for the actual fic lol. Mitch and Stiles get it together and there are Confessions and Kissing and other Couple-y Things just in time for prom. And Scott finally relaxes once he realizes that oh, Mitch isn’t trying to replace him. After that he’s a properly supportive bro and happy for Stiles finally gettin some.

#cookie writes #stitch #stiles stilinski #mitch rapp #high school AU #love ma boys

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dirtyahs · 5 years

Text

Summer Break. (Tate Langdon x Reader.)

hi friends! sorry i’ve been so absent lately, school and life are kind of kicking my ass right now, but im trying to get back into the schedule of writing - i miss it a lot. i hope you guys enjoy this, you can expect to see me much more often now :^)

Thank you for the request @sydddboiiii

Prompt: “I’m going to show you exactly who you belong to.”

Word Count: 2,745

Warnings: not much, reunion sex, slightly rough, slight choking kink

It was summer break going into your Junior year of college You'd moved out of California to go to Arizona State University; it was close enough you could drive home, but still far enough that your mom and dad wouldn't be knocking on your door whenever they wanted to. And you absolutely loved college. You were having a wonderful experience and had met so many amazing people you now called your best friends. But coming home for the summer just sounded like fun this year. So here you sat, looking through your old high school year books, chuckling to yourself at all of the little notes from old friends and acquaintances.

"Love you forever bitch!! xoxo"

"Don't ever forget the time you threw up in my moms backyard - future (Y/N), does the smell of fireball still make you sick?"

"See ya in twenty years at the reunion."

Flipping the page, one was taken up entirely by a black felt tip pen and shaky handwriting you immediately recognized. Tate Langdon. You two had dated for two and a half out of your four years of high school, you were sure you wanted to be with him forever. But then you made the decision to move to Arizona, and Tate wanted to stay in California for awhile. So you two broke things off after graduation, and you hadn't heard from him or seen him since then. He did cross your mind from time to time, wondering if he was working, or had gotten into another relationship.

Maybe you'd try to get in touch with him while you were home - the idea made your heart flutter in your chest though. You hoped he didn't cut his hair. It always looked best long. You took a deep breath - you knew Tate followed you on Instagram and had probably seen you post photos of a guy you had briefly dated at the beginning of this semester. It'd been years since your relationship with Tate, but he'd always been the jealous type.

You closed the yearbook and put it back on your bookshelf, taking up the final spot at the end of the others. The day had gone on as normal, other than the fact you couldn't get Tate out of your mind. Reliving those memories from high school made your heart race.

The time he was throwing rocks at your window, and the time you two snuck out together to get high by the beach.

You'd stolen the keys to your moms car and somehow managed to get out of the house without her noticing. You picked Tate up, he was wearing black jeans and a blue and black flannel with his old beat up Doc Martens. You two sat at the shore, wrapped in a blanket, passing what felt like an endless amount of joints until the sun started to rise. You talked about his father, and about all of your insecurities. He said he'd adore you even with your stretch marks and slightly uneven eyebrows.

Tate was romantic. He was in touch with his emotions, and it was such a rarity among most men. Every other (not that there were that many) guy you had been involved with was chivalrous and kind at the start, but quickly lost that motivation when you agreed to have sex.

Tate was never like that.

He opened every door for you, let you wear his flannel if you were cold, and always let you have some of his food even when you said you weren't hungry. About seven months in, you two lost your virginity together. You expected it to be awkward and unenjoyable; everyone said your first time always is. But to you, it didn't feel real. It felt like something out of some cheesy teen movie, but it was amazing. He was so loving and gentle. You'd never forget the way he kissed your neck and told you he loved you for the first time.

The sun was setting now and you couldn't imagine going any more time without trying to see Tate. You looked at yourself in the mirror, wearing a black cropped tank top and denim mini skirt, you touched up your hair and grabbed your car keys. Hopefully he still lived in the same house. You got in the car and rolled all the windows down, letting the warm air blow through your hair - you had this drive memorized and could probably do it with your eyes closed if you had to.

Everything looked the same.

The large houses were all still intact and beautiful as ever, front yards lined with rose bushes, the sound of kids playing in the street was clear. You remembered watching Tate and Addie jumping on the trampoline they used to have in their backyard. It damn near gave Constance a heart attack every time they used it, but she couldn't manage to tell them no, especially when she saw all of her little ones playing together.

Beau's laugh was infectious, and Tate's love for them was so heartwarming. You pulled up to the house, looking at the large brick structure. You could see Tate's old bedroom window. It used to be covered from the inside with a big Sound Garden poster, making it as dark as he liked it. With a shaky breath you pulled the key from the ignition and made your way up to the front door, shoes clicking quietly on the cobblestone walkway.You knocked on the door, four times. You stood, feeling your knees shaking beneath you, the heat from the sun warming your back. You felt your heart jump when you heard the door open, looking up to see none other than your high school sweetheart. You meant to say something like "Hello," but your jaw hung open, the sun illuminating his golden locks, long and shaggy as ever.

"Hi Tate." You smiled up at him, his face was hard to read.

"(Y/N)..." He started, looking you up and down slowly before looking back up into your eyes. "I thought you moved to Arizona."

"I did, but I'm home for summer. No way in hell was I going to stay there for 130 degrees." His smile made you smile in response.

"Come in." He reached his hand out and you took it, shuddering when he instinctively brushed his thumb over yours.

"So hows college going?" He asked, you two sat at his kitchen table, he made you a cup of coffee, putting it over ice like he knew you liked."I mean, pretty bullshit honestly," You chuckled, "But necessary. I'm almost done now, might as well suck it up and keep going."

You two made small talk, everything feeling so easy and laid back. You two picked up right where you'd left off, you felt like old friends - sort of. An old friend you were wildly attracted to. He hadn't changed much, except he was wearing gray sweatpants and a black tank top. He never wore anything but long sleeves when you two were younger, but his arms looked strong and his shoulders were broad so he could pull it off pretty damn well now.

"So hows that guy you're with?" He looked up through his blond curls and you almost choked on your drink at his boldness. You couldn't be too surprised honestly.

"Oh," You shrugged, desperately trying to make it clear that you were over him. "We sort of had a thing for a couple months. It never really went anywhere, and he wasn't exactly my type." You flashed a playful smile, and you saw that devilish smirk of Tate's crawl over his lips.

"And what is your type, exactly?" He said, leaning back, giving you a clear look at his torso, legs spread, only aiding in your mind wandering further than you cared to admit.

"I don't know, I like tall blondes." You teased, heart racing nervously for how confident you were acting. "Maybe had an emo phase in high school."He raised an eyebrow, still looking as devious as ever.

"Sounds like someone I know." He leaned forward, taking your hand in his. "So what I'm hearing is that you're completely single?" He questioned, making you stand up with him, his chest close to yours.

"I couldn't be more single if I tried." You giggled, feeling your face get hot when you feel his hands slip around your waist.

"I miss you, (Y/N)." His voice was quiet, lips ghosting over yours, immediately sending shivers down your spine.

"I miss you too, Tate." Your knees felt weak, "More than I even know how to explain."

With those words Tate finally pressed his lips against your own, large hands firmly holding your hips - he still made you feel safe. Within minutes the kiss had deepened into something fiery and passionate. Your hands were tangled in his hair, you two had made your way up the stairs, a trail of your clothing leading to his bedroom door, which he now had you pressed up against in nothing but your black panties. His lips worked furiously against yours, your hands were pinned on either side of your head. His lips moved to kiss down your neck, stopping where your shoulder connected, biting at it teasingly.

"Tate...I need you, please..." You whimpered, hands searching for something to grasp. You felt him smirk against your skin, lips moving back up your neck to your ear.

"I'm going to show you exactly who you belong to." He breathed against your ear, your knees immediately felt weak beneath him. He pulled back, and you were met with a familiar expression. His eyes were dark and he looked so possessive and dominant. He exuded power and control and something about him controlling you once again only aided the desperate wetness forming between your thighs. He finally released your wrists and they immediately tried to touch him, whimpering when he stepped out of your arms reach.

"You know better than to touch me without permission, angel." He said quietly, raising an eyebrow at you.Angel.That was his favorite pet name for you. He always said it fit you perfectly - that you were radiant and truly made him want to live life happy.

"Please, I need you. You're all I've been thinking about," You begged, clenching your thighs together, "please Sir." If he wanted to pull nicknames out of the past then you could too.

His cheeks were dusted red when you brought out the name, but it only excited him more.

"Go lay on the bed." He demanded, pulling you by your wrist over to his bed covered in a black duvet.

"Don't even think about touching me yet." He pushed you so you were flat on your back, his hands on the inside of your knees to spread your legs. His lips peppered your inner thighs with kisses, moving closer and closer to your core. You writhed under his hands that were wrapped around your thighs. You needed him more than you even knew how to explain. Finally, you let out a relaxed gasp when he kissed through your panties, almost immediately having your back arched.

”My angel needs me, hm?" He whispered teasingly, one finger moving the thin fabric to the side, slowly flicking his tongue against your clit, making you moan loudly.

"More...." You gasped breathlessly, "P-please..."

Your eyes were closed but you could almost feel his satisfied glare burning into your skin. He leaned in, gently swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. His finger tips dug into your skin, your hands grasping at the thick duvet cover. He smirked against your hot skin before he buried his face between your thighs. He made shapes on your clit with his tongue, alternating between fast and slow. His right hand snaked over your thigh, his middle finger pressed against the wetness around your entrance before ever so slowly pushing it in, not stopping until he absolutely had to.

"Good girl," He praised quietly, adding in his ring finger. "So wet for me." He pumped his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace - your hands were desperate to tangle in his hair, but you wanted to follow his orders.

You loved being obedient for him.He leaned up from his spot between your thighs, lips glistening. He kept up the pace with his fingers though.

“Tell me princess, did you miss me all these years?" His voice was low and gravelly.

"Y-oh!" Suddenly he hit something inside you that made your legs shake.

"Yes sir, I missed you so much!" Your back was arched against the sheets and you. He knew what you liked, so he kept going, hitting that same spot over and over again.

"I-I'm gonna' cum, please can I?" You begged, feeling that coil tighten in your tummy that you haven't felt in so long.

"I think you deserve it, angel. Cum for me, all over my fingers like you used to."

His words sent you over the edge, damn near screaming as the coil snapped, your body was trembling beneath his touch, eyes screwed shut in ecstasy. He helped you ride your orgasm out until the very end, only quickening his pace as you screamed for him, blond curls stuck to his forehead as he watched your body shake. Ever so slowly, he pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine at the empty feeling.

It wouldn't last long though. You watched as he slipped out of his boxers, tossing them to the side. You looked him up and down, although your vision was fuzzy from the earth-shattering orgasm he just gave you, seeing Tate like this made your heart race. He looked perfect, defined muscles, beautiful dark brown eyes - he really was as close to perfect as one could get. He leaned over you, pushing your legs up so they were over his shoulders, pressing against your chest. His nose was close to yours.

"You're so beautiful." He whispered, lining his hard cock up with your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself into you, your body tensing at the familiar feeling. You both moaned in unison, your hands holding onto Tate's arms. Taking his time to do so, Tate began quickening his pace, thrusting into you, making you only want him harder and faster.

"I know you can fuck me harder than this." You teased, cocking an eyebrow at him. With your words, urging Tate to do what you said.

"I wasn't sure you'd be able to handle me anymore." He retorted - cocky as per usual. But he quickened his pace, hips snapping against yours roughly. His hand that previously rested next to your head moved to wrap around your throat, squeezing the sides the way he knew you loved.

"Fuck-" You gasped when his hand met your throat.

"Is this hard enough for you, princess?" He taunted, smacking your cheek lightly just to play with you.

"Yes sir..." You whimpered, looking up into his eyes. He was getting close and you could tell. He was breathing heavy and as dominant as he wanted to sound, his voice was shaking. His pace was fast, slamming deeply into you.

"I-I'm gonna cum again Tate!" You squealed, earning a tighter grip around your throat. He smirked, somehow going even faster than before.

"Greedy little girl," He hissed, "You want to cum again?"

You nodded desperately in response, knees beginning to tremble beneath him, your whole body starting to feel hot.

"Cum for m-oh fuck!" He hissed, suddenly overtaken with his own orgasm, covering your inner walls with his hot cum. At the same time, you felt your body convulsing under him, walls clenching around his length, only aiding in each of your orgasms. He collapsed on top of you, slowly pulling himself from inside you. Gently, he pressed a few kisses into your neck.

"Tate.." You whispered, fingers playing slowly with his curls. "I missed you so much." You kissed the side of his head, feeling him smile against your skin.

"I missed you too, (Y/N), I don't even know where to begin..." His voice was gravelly and quiet.

"Maybe Arizona isn't the place for me." You said quietly, not really meaning to say it aloud. He looked up at you, cheeks dusted pink.

"Or maybe Arizona is the place for me." He grinned, pressing his lips into yours firmly. You couldn't imagine going any more years without him.

#ahs #american horror story #ahs1 #murder house #ahs murder house #ahs evan peters #evan peters #evan peters1 #tate langdon #evan peters tate langdon #ahs imagine #ahs fanfiction #evan peters fan fiction #evan peters imagine #tate langdon imagine #tate langdon fan fiction

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