#she’d bully only the boys

[trashiiking]

[yandere-writer-momo]

I often daydream about a mean girl who is actually a yandere (closeted) lesbian. She’s a spoiled rich girl that has an unhealthy attachment towards you.

Yandere Imagines: What She Wants

Yandere Mean Rich Girl x Fem Reader

Mean yandere who was your childhood bully growing up. She hated you the minute you arrived in her fifth grade class with your bright smile and cute clothes. She’d often pull your hair or throw rocks at you at recess. Anything to get you out of the good graces of others… yet she couldn’t help but be fascinated with the texture of your hair…

Mean yandere who apologizes months later because she can’t help the way her cheeks heat up whenever you’re around. To her, you’re like a new toy she really wants. She’s never felt this way before since she wanted you more than any toy she’s ever had.

Mean yandere who integrated you into her ‘friend’ group just to keep you closer to her at all time. You became her designated ‘best friend.’ The two of you now went everywhere together as you sat with her and her lackeys… she threw tantrums if you refused anything she asked of you so you always went with her will. She loved your submissiveness

Mean yandere who plays with your hair whenever there weren’t people around. She thought your hair was so pretty… and she didn’t want anyone else to touch it. Despite being ‘friends,’ she doesn’t allow you to hang out with other people. She cannot stand to share you.

Mean yandere who told everyone that you still slept with a stuffed animal like a baby in high school! She didn’t want anyone else to think it was as cute as she did… it seemed it wasn’t an odd enough rumor either since no one seemed to care as much as she did. You’re a bit frustrated that she shared that secret about you, but it’s not a secret you really cared too much about.

Mean yandere who gets a boy expelled for starting a rumor about sleeping with you. She will not let anyone tarnish your reputation except her! She would rather cut her toes off than let someone touch you… yet she wasn’t sure why that bothered her so much.

Mean yandere who ended up going to the same college as you. She was so delighted when you ended up as her roommate in her dorm. It would be easier to keep an eye on you then! She totally didn’t pay the dean off to make this arrangement happen.

Mean yandere who uses her daddy’s money to buy you new clothes. Clothes that cover most of your skin since she didn’t like the way the men and women stared at you on campus. You deserved only the best!

Mean yandere who is taken aback by how sweet you are. You obey all of her rules and you clean up after yourself. Were you some kind of house wife? Did you want to be?

Mean yandere who can’t help the wet dreams she has of you. She’s always so terrified whenever she dreams of kissing every inch of your soft skin as her fingers explore the inside of your wet heat. The possibility of liking other women never occurred to her… she always thought she just hasn’t met the right guy.

Mean yandere who found out you’re bisexual when she comes back to the for early to see you kissing another girl. She pushed that poor girl out of the dorm before she storms off to her own. Her hands clutch at her chest to try to calm her frantic heart. Why was she so jealous of that other girl? And why did she want to kiss you so badly?

Mean yandere who crawls into your bed when you’re not home so she can inhale the scent of your pillow. Your scent drove her wild and it felt like she was closer to you than ever… it finally hit her that she was in love with you. That’s why she was always so strange when it came to you…

Mean yandere who finally gathers the courage to hold your hand as the two of you watch a movie. Her heart hammers in her chest as you give her an odd look. Yes… this felt right! Being with you felt right!

Mean yandere who doesn’t handle your rejection well. She loves you! Why can’t you accept her? Was that other girl better than her? She highly doubted it because she was far prettier than she was! She had more money! Didn’t you know she could ruin that girl’s life.

Mean yandere who resorts to threats. She doesn’t want you to leave her! You cannot leave! Never ever ever ever ever. She would ruin your life and make your family live on the streets. She will chase you to the ends of this earth until you’re in her arms where you belong.

You can only watch as your childhood friend has a mental breakdown before you reluctantly accept her. You’ve seen her wrath once and you don’t want anyone else to suffer because of your selfishness. If would just be better to give her what she wants.

[littlexdeaths]

fever pitch - r.b.

softball player robin buckley x cheerleader fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: all characters are 18+, oral (f receiving), fingering, public sex, thigh riding, secret relationship, allusions to sex, bullying, mean!dom robin, little bit of mean reader, jealous reader

this is a collab with the absolutely brilliant @undead-supernova !! i literally had so much fucking fun writing this with you august, and it might be my favorite robin fic i’ve ever written. i feel like our brains collided and made a gay ass baby and i’m so proud of us. we hope you enjoy xx.

word count: 3.7K

“Shhh, don’t want us getting caught like this do you?”

Robin’s voice is hushed but stern, now lifting her head from between your trembling thighs. The blonde has you spread out on a bench in the dugout, skirt shoved up around your hips as her tongue laps up everything you have to offer.

That is until a broken moan leaves your lips, unable to stop it as her fingers curl up inside you. The sound breaks through the silence, the only thing heard above the soft hum of cicadas.

“What would your little friends think, hmm?” she taunts, brow raised as she looks up at you, dirt still smeared across her cheeks from the game. “Knowing a loser is the one making you feel so good?”

In that moment you can’t find it within yourself to care anymore, gripping her hair in your fist to guide her back between your legs. “Let them.”

Robin hums, her lips drifting lower to nip at the tender skin of your thighs. The action causes another loud whimper to leave you. “You sure about that, honey?”

“I don’t care,” you admit out loud for the first time, thoughts completely overwhelmed with all things Robin.

“Fuck, I don’t care anymore,” you sigh.

Never in your wildest dreams would you think tonight would turn out like this.

You’d been watching her from the sidelines as she attempted to slide into homebase, coming up a little short. You’d never gotten to see her play before, your extracurriculars usually running at the same time. But today had been just your luck, with Chrissy spraining her ankle, immediately being rushed off to get it iced. Coach ended practice shortly after—no use continuing without the star of the squad there, right?

It gave you the perfect opportunity to watch her without raising any suspicion—two of your teammates by your side, laughing as Robin struck out. You took your lower lip between your teeth, trying not to gawk as she rose to her feet. Dusting the dirt off her thighs when she caught your eye, biting back a smirk as she made her way towards the dugout.

But not before stopping by where you were leaning against the bleachers. Right there, in front of everyone for the first time.

See, this has been going on for months. The sneaking around, the feigned rivalry.

If only they knew what was really happening behind closed doors.

You first noticed her late one afternoon, walking to your car after cheer practice. Robin hadn’t even crossed your radar, barely a glance in the hallway. Too wrapped up in your own world to notice. But there was just something about the warm glow of the sunset laying against her flushed cheek. The way she found your eyes, like she knew your secret, before she spit out the shell of a sunflower seed. Chuckling as she grabbed her bat and walked off.

All you knew after that was you desperately wanted to know more. And boy, did you.

You quickly learned through word of mouth that she had been caught hooking up with some girl in the band room after school. That confirmation prompted you to start dropping her little hints. Longing glances when no one was paying attention, nods in the hallway. Sneaking out of practice early just so she’d notice you walk by. And, sure, she noticed.

But Robin wasn’t going to come easy, was she?

No, she wanted to make you work for it. To prove to her you were serious, not just another girl looking to make out with her for the thrill of it. Or some sick joke conjured up by the cheer squad to humiliate her more.

You quickly realized that your subtle hints were not going to get you what you wanted. Her.

One day you’d finally had enough, boldly slipping a note in her locker between classes. Coaxing her to meet you in the secluded alley between the gym and the cafeteria. A place you’d only used to meet a certain super senior when you wanted to buy some weed.

A spot unknown or used by the majority of the students of Hawkins High, knowing you wouldn’t be seen or heard by any curious passersby.

Part of you was worried she wouldn't show, becoming increasingly more nervous as time passed. Any lingering qualms were squashed when you saw her striding down the narrow path towards you. She looked good, her dark jeans hugging her hips just right. A button-up shirt tucked loosely into them, the top few buttons left open.

You wanted nothing more than to lean forward, closing the short distance between your bodies. Leave a trail of blues and purples along her exposed skin. And that terrified you, to know that one girl could mess you up in such a monumental way.

“So,” you mumbled, kicking a pebble with the tip of your sneaker.

“So,” she answered, crossing her arms over her chest.

Without hesitation, you introduced yourself but Robin gave you a confused look.

“Yeah, I already know who you are.”

“You do?”

“Well, we’ve gone to school together our whole lives…” she paused, running a hand through her hair, “and when a girl is practically eye-fucking you in the halls, it’s hard not to notice.”

“Oh, right,” you replied, looking down. Embarrassment washed over you. “Sorry, I guess I misinterpreted this whole thing.”

You carefully pushed off the wall, ready to walk away and pretend like this whole thing never happened. Save yourself the humiliation.

But her soft voice stopped you in your tracks.

“I wouldn't say that.”

“Then what would you say?” you asked, more confident now.

“You’re the one who asked me here,” Robin pointed out, turning the focus back to you.

And just as quickly as your confidence had risen, it fell. So you looked down again, now fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

“I don’t, um,” you struggled. “I don’t really know how to say it. I just…I…”

“Oh, just spit it out already.”

You looked up at her exasperated expression, narrowing your eyes. “Fine! Fine. Whatever. I like you, okay?”

“Like me? We’ve never spoken.”

“Don’t give me that when I’ve seen the way you look at me too.”

Robin’s hardened expression fell. “Touché.”

Silence fell between you, Robin lifting her head to look at the sky. You couldn’t help but squirm again, feeling a desperate urge to breathe in her scent.

You sighed. “So, what do we do now?”

“Hell if I know,” she replied, looking back at you. “I thought you were stuck up like the rest of your prissy friends.”

“Not when I’m around you,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “You make me feel…different, somehow.”

“I could make it much worse for you, you know,” Robin replied, a smug grin reaching her lips as she stepped closer to you. “All you have to do is ask.”

“Please—”

“Actually, no,” Robin interrupted, fingers inching towards your hip. “You should beg.”

“Please,” you said without hesitation. “Please, Robin. I need you.”

Robin knew she shouldn’t. And so did you. But there was just something there, pressing against your chests as Robin pressed you against the brick. And when she kissed you the first time, you nearly whined in contentment, mewling softly against her mouth.

That kiss left you feeling desperate, eager for her to show you more. However, Robin wasn’t going to chase you, forcing you to take matters into your own hands. You sought her out one night after practice, pulling her into the equipment room outside the gym. Backing her body against the door, lips meeting once you heard the lock click into place.

“Just couldn’t stay away now, could you, baby?” she mumbled against your mouth, pulling a soft whine from you as she nipped at your lower lip. The noise caused her to laugh softly.

“I want you, Robs.”

She hummed in response, letting her lips trail across your jaw. “Want me how?” she prodded as the tip of her nose skimmed along your collarbone, rendering you utterly speechless.

“Show me,” she breathed, further stealing the breath from your lungs as she kissed you deeply. Taking control as she flipped your positions, enclosing you against the door.

You’re pliable under her soft touch, guiding her fingers up and underneath your pleated skirt. The blue of her irises nearly swallowed whole by her pupils as she gazed at you hungrily. That look ignited something within you, feeling emboldened as you reached forward to undo her pants. Exploring each other in a way that was unfamiliar to you, her skilled fingers helping to guide you with ease.

After that, it was just your little secret, with no one being the wiser. Why would they? You were on the opposite ends of the food chain, fractured by the Hawkins High hierarchy. Leaving little glances across the cafeteria, brushes of your fingertips in the hallway as a secret reminder of what you two had. It didn’t hurt that you could sit in class, practice, or even the shower and think about how they’d brush against your breasts later.

Of course, you couldn’t help but wind her up whenever you could be overheard. As she would gladly put you in your place in private.

But you knew as she approached you on the field with that familiar glint in her eye— you were really in for it this time.

“What’s so funny?” Robin asked, removing her gloves. You let your eyes linger on her fingers for a moment as she gripped the leather. Quickly shifting your gaze elsewhere as you pressed your thighs together.

Something the blonde didn’t miss. Holding back a smug smile as she looked between the three of you.

“You’re just such a loser,” Carol snickered, snapping her gum between her teeth.

Heather joined in with a giggle. “Yeah, maybe you should look into joining the t-ball team. Seems like a much better fit for you.”

Heather knew she struck a nerve, pleased with herself as Robin’s jaw clenched in anger.

“Oh, yeah?” Robin said, ready to egg her on. “And what do you know, Holloway? I’d like to see you do something other than shake your ass at Billy Hargrove during games. Don’t you find it pathetic how desperate you are for his attention?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Heather snapped back. “As if you are getting any. No one even knows your name.”

“You’d be surprised,” Robin replied, her eyes shifting towards you as if on instinct. “You know, I don’t recall ever seeing this one with a guy.”

“You better get back to that pitch before you strike out, Buckley,” you bit back, shooting her a warning look. “Again.”

With a shake of her head, Robin glanced behind you at your “friends” before scoffing and turning. But not before she took her cleat and scuffed up dirt onto your shiny white sneakers.

“Oops.” She laughed, giving you one last look before walking away.

Not missing a beat, Heather turned to you with a bewildered expression. “You know her name?”

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s on her uniform.”

“Oh— right,” she murmured, the conversation quickly forgotten as they discussed their plans for the night: yet another kegger at the Harrington residence. It was something you definitely weren’t interested in attending.

Though they begged you to join them, you merely shrugged and told them to go without you. They didn’t even blink before heading off, their laughter fading as quickly as it started. But you soon found yourself lost in the chatter of the crowd and the roar of the umpire.

You decided to move up, leaning against the chain-link fence, pom-poms thrown to the dirt as you watched your girl stepping up to bat again. The score had been tied, this being Hawkins High’s last chance to win the game.

As always, Robin found you again. She gave you a wink before you heard the sharp crack of the bat. You gasped along with the crowd at the sight of the ball shooting through the sky and into the parking lot.

You couldn’t help the loud cheer erupting from your lips, clapping along with the crowd as she sprinted through each base with ease. And as she slid into home and was declared safe, her eyes met yours. They followed you as she picked herself up, sweat dripping as she removed her helmet. Shaking her dampened hair out with a wide grin.

There was no longer anything inside you that beckoned you to be malicious. You could feel a swell of pride inside you, wanting nothing more than to show her just how incredible she was. How much you cared about her…and you planned on it.

Her teammates were quick to surround her, lifting her up onto their shoulders as the crowd continued to cheer. Robin was clearly embarrassed by the sudden swarm of attention, her cheeks beautifully flushed as they carried her across the field. Soaking in the glory for a few more moments before they were called to line up, shaking hands with the opposing team.

But as everyone began to clear out, you noticed Beth Wildfire hanging back, laughing near the dugout with Robin. As you moved closer, you could make out the way Beth was checking out Robin’s ass as she bent over to grab her glove.

Robin lifted her head slightly, noticing you making your way over.

“Nice win, Buckley,” Beth said, popping in a piece of gum. “We should go out and celebrate.”

“Oh, yeah?” Robin asked, a devious smile on her lips as she rose. You couldn’t stop the jealousy beginning to surface. “You think we should invite the team?”

She was making you work for it, wasn’t she?

“Actually, I thought maybe you and I could—”

“Hey, Robin,” you said, directly in Beth’s line of sight now.

Beth gave you a look, clearly annoyed by your interruption.

Good.

“Hey,” Robin greeted. “What’s up?”

“You still need that ride?” you asked, clutching your pom poms tighter in your fists.

“I’d almost forgotten,” Robin replied smugly.

“Well, uh,” Beth said, taking a step closer to Robin. “I could always take her home after heading to Benny’s.”

“No, that’s alright,” you said curtly, faking a smile as you also took a step forward. “I think I’ve got it from here.”

You and Beth exchanged glances before her eyes widened, flickering between you and Robin who was only looking at you. Beth said nothing, opting instead to give you both a quick nod. But the clear disappointment on her face brought you more joy than you cared to admit.

“I’ll see you later, then,” she said. “Again, nice win, Buckley.”

Even as she walked away, Robin never broke eye contact. “Thanks, Beth,” she called out, a grin widening on her lips.

“Ready to go, mon chéri? I’m starving.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

And that’s how you ended up here, your legs draped over Robin’s shoulders as her tongue circles over your clit. One hand buried in her hair and the other clutching onto the chain link fence behind you. Her blue hues never leave your face, taking in each and every reaction she pulls from you.

“You know, you’re pretty cute when you’re jealous.” She grins, flicking the tip of her tongue over your swollen clit. Enjoying the way your body twitches with every motion.

“I wasn’t jealous.”

You breathlessly try to deny it, but you both know you’re lying. Once again letting your pride get in the way, prompting Robin to remove her tongue from your center.

“No— Robbie, please,” you whine as she pulls away fully, resting her cheek against your inner thigh as she continues to slowly thrust her fingers inside you.

She revels in the way your walls grip tightly around the digits, almost as if you’re trying to keep them trapped inside. And as much as she loves feeling you, she loves making you beg even more.

So she slips her fingers out of your dripping cunt completely. Standing up to hover over you as she brings them to your lips.

“Please what, princess?” she taunts, her fingers now slipping into your mouth. Your tongue eagerly swirling around the digits until they’re devoid of any trace of you.

Robin removes them just as fast, trailing the saliva-coated digits down your jaw until they wrap around the base of your throat. “Answer me,” her harsh tone only further dampening the area between your thighs.

“Please don’t stop,” you plead without hesitation, rocking your hips up against her thigh. A look of desperation flitting across your features as you clutch onto her shoulders.

“Aww, you wanna cum, pretty thing?” Her tone is laced with condescension, finding yourself nodding almost frantically as you gaze up at her.

“I don’t know, baby… you were pretty mean earlier.” She paused, a small pout forming on your lips as she traced over them with her thumb. “You think you deserve it?”

You nod as if on instinct, whining as she pulls away from you completely. Rising to her feet once again, grabbing your hands and pulling you up off the bench. Your breasts press together as she whispers softly in your ear, “Prove it to me, then.”

You eagerly reach for the buttons on her uniform, tugging the zipper down. Impatiently yanking her pants down over the curve of her ass as you take back control.

“Sit,” you demand, resting your hands on her shoulders. Coaxing her to take your previous position on the worn bench.

“So bossy,” she teases, gripping your hips as you swing your leg over her thigh.

Taking a seat as you slip your fingers past the elastic of her underwear, moaning at the wetness you find there.

“This all for me?” you muse, your thumb brushing over her bundle of nerves with ease now. Having become quite familiar with every inch of her body over the last three months.

“I mean… Beth was looking good tonight—”

You cut her off with your mouth before she has a chance to finish her sentence. That surge of jealousy coursing through your veins as you kiss her deeply.

“She can’t have you,” you mumble against her mouth, before taking her lower lip between your teeth and tugging. “You're all mine.”

Robin curses softly as you begin to grind your hips against her thigh, slipping two fingers into her awaiting heat. Pumping them in tandem with each rock of your hips, as she mewls against your mouth.

“Please.” Now she's the one doing the begging, despite your hips continuing to grind down against her thigh. The mixture of her saliva and your juices making a mess on her bare skin.

You giggle softly as you increase the pressure on her clit with your thumb, burying your fingers deeper inside her. “Say it again.” She moans as you attach your lips to the base of her throat.

The blonde tilts her head back to expose more of her neck as you greedily suck on her flushed skin. A feeling of pride washes over you as you leave blotches of red and purple in your wake.

“You’re mine, Robin.” Your tone is overly possessive, enjoying how her body trembles beneath you. Your words being the thing to finally send her over the edge as she pulls your face back up to crash her lips against yours.

Her fingers dig harshly into the skin of your hips, encouraging you to keep grinding on her thigh. Lifting her leg to increase the pressure on your core. “That’s it… such a good girl.”

She pulls back slightly to watch you with hooded eyes, lips lifting in a genuine smile.

“My good girl.”

Her words elicit a bigger response than either of you expected, your thighs tightening around her own as you loudly cry out her name. Her hands continue to guide you along her thigh, working you through each wave of euphoria that crashes over you.

You’re both panting as you begin to come down from your highs, nuzzling your face in the crook of her neck. “Wow,” you breathe out, lightly tracing over the darkening love bites on her neck.

“Jeez, I think the whole town heard you,” Robin teases, running her fingers along your back.

“Well,” you start, pulling back to look at her. “I’m just trying to congratulate my girl on her big win.”

“Your girl?” she teases.

You bite your lip, trying to hide your smile. “Mhm.”

“Admit it,” Robin says, lifting her eyebrows, eyes tracing the lines of your face. “You were jealous.”

“Maybe I was,” you finally admit, earning an amused smile from her. “But I don’t think I have to worry about anyone else.”

“No?”

“Mm-mm.”

You press a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth before standing, helping her to her feet. Leaning back against the fence as she wiggles her pants back up over her hips.

Robin is still fastening the buttons as you walk out onto the field. Her eyes follow your figure as you reach the pitcher's mound. A fond look falls over her features as your eyes flutter shut, letting the last glow of the setting sun soak into your pores.

Feeling the weight of her stare, you turn back around. Flashing her a beaming smile as she finally reaches you on the field.

“So… Benny’s?” you ask, twisting your skirt back into place. “I’m actually starving now.”

Robin looks at you in utter disbelief as she places her hat back on her head, the brim facing the opposite direction. “Wait, you’re serious? What if someone sees us together?”

You can’t stop the giggle that leaves you, now closing the few feet separating you from her. Cupping her face in between your palms as you press another kiss to her lips.

Right in the middle of the open field.

“I told you,” you say, louder this time. “Let them see us. I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

You slip your hand into hers, lacing your fingers as you begin leading her towards your car. A sight to see, her bat and glove in her unoccupied hand. Your pom-poms in yours.

“You were still an asshole earlier, you know that?” Robin says.

As you share a laugh, you swing your intertwined hands back-and-forth. You’re practically skipping as you pull her along, light-hearted and winded.

“And you ruined my sneakers,” you counter. “Are you gonna clean them for me?”

“Only if you’re good, mon chéri.”

“I think I can manage that,” you reply as you venture further into the twilight. “At least for a little bit.”

tagging some moots 💕

@xxbimbobunnyxx @babygorewhore @impmunson @voyeurmunson @eddiesxangel @taintedcigs @strangerstilinski

[finelinefae]

tongue-tied

synopsis: y/n has a stutter and harry likes to hear her talk

word count: 3.1k

contains: fluff, highschool romance, harry's a football player, popular boy x shy girl, brief mentions of bullying

a/n: happy soft girl Sunday !! I wasn’t planning on posting just because I posted the second part of the aviator a little later than I was meant to but I could resist putting this one out <3

. . .

“E-excuse me!” Y/N weaved her way through the mass exodus of students heading in the opposite direction to the lunch hall. She had tried to leave class a few minutes before the lunch bell to avoid the large groups of people but she had been so invested in writing her essay, she’d lost complete track of time. 

She was running as fast as she possibly could to get to the library, knowing the person waiting for her wouldn’t get too impatient but she didn’t want to waste a second of their lunch break not being with him. Her bag slipped from her shoulder, her braids flying behind her and her knee-high socks falling down her calves. 

Y/N barely registered the people around her, wondering where she could be going in such a rush, until her face collided with soft, grey fabric. Before she could even get embarrassed and profusely have to apologise for bumping into them, long arms snaked around her, hands clasping behind her back. She caught a whiff of his woody cologne and the floral fragranced detergent his mum always used to wash his school uniform.

“There y’ are, Dove.” He murmured, “I was starting to get worried.”

Y/N looked up and settled on those familiar green eyes she loved so much. She relaxed into his embrace, “Harry,” She sighed. 

Harry and Y/N had been dating since they were fourteen. If it weren’t for the fact that their parents all worked together at the local hospital, they probably would never have met at all, although Harry liked to believe they were fated to be together so they would have ended up meeting each other some way or another. 

Harry had always been popular at school. For one, he was on the football team which instantly made him a name within their year group. He was also very handsome for his age. Girls would whisper and giggle whenever he passed by in the hallways even those from the lower years. Despite the fact they had just turned seventeen, Harry could honestly pass for an almost twenty-year-old with how tall and mature he was. 

Y/N was the complete opposite. When it came to her social life she was shy and not often one to make friends easily. She was part of the arithmetic club and had made a few friends there and in some of her other classes. She liked to keep to herself and struggled to talk in class not only because she was quiet but also because she had a particularly bad stutter. 

It had developed when she started High School. She had been to multiple speech therapists to help her get rid of it and although it wasn’t as bad as it used to be, it still never failed to make her life all the more difficult than it already was.

A lot of the other kids liked to pick on her for it too. Whenever teachers picked on her in class and she’d reply, the rest of the class would start snickering, whispering in each other’s ears. She wanted to be invisible to everyone but it was her stutter that made her stand out.

When Harry’s family would come over to Y/N’s house for dinner, her parents would often force them to go off together whilst the adults spoke in the dining room. She remembered the first time she invited him into her room and how embarrassed she was when he saw all her comic books lying on the floor that she had forgotten to put away. But it eventually became the seed of their relationship, the common ground that allowed them to bond. 

Soon Harry was inviting Y/N to his football games and up to his room every other weekend when she’d come over with her parents. They’d exchange comic books and talk about their favourite characters. Y/N was always apologising for her stutter whenever she’d ramble on for too long but Harry never cared, he loved hearing her talk. 

Their first kiss was on her bed whilst their parents were in the room below them. Harry was the one to initiate it and Y/N hadn’t been expecting it so it was slightly awkward at first but then she got used to it and eventually all she ever wanted to do was kiss him. Every weekend, whether at her place or his, all they did was sneak around and kiss each other, giggling and falling in love all at the same time. 

Now, three years later, things were still the same except they were older now and more in love than they were yesterday. 

Wherever you looked, Harry was there, and Y/N was never too far behind. Students had grown accustomed to their relationship, and the bullying Y/N endured wasn't as severe as it used to be. Even teachers couldn't help but be enamoured with their young love — how fortunate it was to find love at such a young age. 

Things were great, everything was great and Y/N had hoped she could finish her last year of High School on a high note. That was until she entered her English class on a Friday afternoon when the teacher announced it was time for their presentations which would go towards their final grade. 

“I can’t Harry!” Y/N cried into her pillow after school, Harry was sitting on the end of her bed with his back against the wall as he rubbed his hand up and down her back. 

“I know Dove,” He comforted her, already knowing the reason she was so upset over it.

“Everyone’s going to l-laugh at me,” She could already picture herself standing up in front of her class and everyone pointing and laughing at her. 

Harry sighed, “Dove,” He shook her gently, “Will y’ look at me?” 

Y/N hesitated before turning her head so her cheek lay against the pillow. Harry smiled and lay on his side in the spot next to her, their faces inches apart, “There’s m’ pretty girl,” He cooed, his heart hurting at the tears on her cheeks. He cupped her cheek in his big hand and wiped some of those tears away with his thumb. 

“I-It’s not fair,” She huffed, “Why’d I have to have this stupid stutter.” 

“Hey,” He frowned, “Enough of that hmm? Everything about you is beautiful, y’ know I love to hear y’ talk. Could sit here for hours and just listen.” 

“But you’re d-different,” She whined, shuffling closer to him so she could hide her face in his grey jumper. Her stutter was rarely ever that bad in front of Harry which was why he was the easiest person she could talk to. 

Harry laughed breathily, his hand going to her hair to play with the strands, “Would it help if I helped you a little?” 

“How?” Y/N asked, her words muffled by his jumper.

“We could practise in the library at lunch, y’ could read me a few things and it might help your stutter.”  He thought.

Y/N’s head looked up to his face where she could count every mole and freckle on his nose and cheeks. She couldn’t help but pucker her lips to kiss his jawline, “That’d be nice,” She murmured. 

“Yeah?” He smiled, kissing the top of her head in return, “I only want to help you so if you don’t enjoy it or you’d rather practise alone then y’ can tell me,” 

She shook her head, “N-No, I want to do that with you. I’d like it very much.” 

So it became a daily occurrence, five days a week during lunch hours when Harry didn’t have practice, they’d sit in the library and Harry would pick out a book for them to read. They started with simple YA books with less complicated words. 

“Good job, Dove!” Harry cheered every time Y/N finished a chapter. 

“Wait I’m not done,” She huffed and then said the last line just for Harry to cheer for her again just as proudly as the first time. 

Now that the day of her presentation was getting closer, they had finally made their way onto Classical novels which Y/N had come to despise. 

They walked with their hands intertwined to the library after Y/N had bumped into him in the hallway. It was natural as they stepped into the library and headed straight to their table in the corner hidden away by two tall bookshelves. 

Y/N placed her bag under the chair whilst Harry unzipped his to pull out the book they were currently reading. It was Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, even looking at the front cover made Y/N’s stomach turn. 

“A-Are you sure we can’t go back to YA books?” Y/N huffed, taking the book and opening it up to the chapter they were last on. 

Harry laughed, “But you’re doing so well, Dovey.” 

“I-it’s hard though and the w-words are so tiny.” She pouts, Harry can’t help but lean forward and kiss her. 

“C’mon, jus’ a few pages and then I can show y’ something I got for you.” He tried to persuade her, knowing the surprise would be enough to win her over.

“Fine,” She sighs dramatically. 

She read for five pages, Harry listening intently to every word. His eyes focused on her lips as she spoke, stumbling over a few words here and there. He tried to hold back from smiling so much with how concentrated she was on each letter of every word. He thought it was adorable how her eyebrows creased and her hands gripped the book. 

Eventually, she had enough, placing the book down on the table and closing it shut. “Good job baby!” He cheered, pressing multiple kisses to her cheek, “M so proud of you.” 

Y/N giggled, “Thank you, Harry.” 

Harry smiled and reached into the pocket of his blazer for the surprise he had promised her. Y/N looked down and saw a small, black pouch in his hand. He gave it to her, her fingers carefully pulling on the ribbon before pulling out the small item inside. 

“It’s an anxiety ring,” Harry explained as she held the silver ring in the palm of her hand. He picked it up and slid it on his pinkie finger to show her, “Y’ can twist this band whenever you feel nervous, thought y’ could wear it on the day of your speech.” 

He passed it back to her, Y/N narrowing her eyes to look at the spinning band which had a small inscription written on it, ‘i love the way you speak almost as much as i love you, your harry.’ 

Y/N’s eyes watered, unable to come up with the right words to say how much she adored it as well as the boy sitting in front of her. Instead, she leapt forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, “Thank you,” She murmured, “I love it. I love you.” 

Harry softened even more from her embrace, “I love you more, Dove,” He whispered. 

Y/N pulled away enough to kiss his lips, she was thankful for the privacy they had in the back of the library since she was never that good with public displays of affection and all she wanted to do now was kiss him because she was so grateful for him being there all the time. 

It wasn’t long before the day of her presentation. After school, Y/N had been working on a short essay. She was going to speak to the class about her favourite comic books and why she loved them so much. She had recited the words out loud to herself and Harry and even her parents, that she could probably speak it off by heart. 

Harry and Y/N stood outside the school. Her English class wasn’t until the third period but she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate in her morning classes until the presentation was over. Harry was wearing his football uniform because he had a game against another school in the morning. Y/N had been with him after school as he practised for it, wearing his coat as she wrote out her speech on a notepad. 

They stood side by side facing the school building as if it was some kind of beast they had to tackle, “O-okay,” She huffed, “I can do this,” 

Harry looked down at her smiling and then reached for her hand, “You can do this,” He squeezed her fingers in encouragement. 

“Good l-luck with your game today,” She grinned, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. 

“Thank you, baby,” He spoke softly, “Y’ can tell me all about your presentation and how well it went afterwards.”

“Okay Harry,” She nodded, completely determined despite how nervous she was. She had spent weeks preparing, she couldn’t let fear get the best of her. 

“Good luck kiss?” Harry grinned, cheekily. 

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes and craned her neck to kiss his lips. Harry held her face in his hands, unable to pull away from her even when she tried to, “I love you,” He murmured against her lips.

“I love you too.” She sighed, blissfully. 

When third period came around, Y/N stood outside her English classroom, counting to five in her head. She clutched onto the piece of paper where her speech was written out in gelled ink, spinning the ring Harry had gifted her on her finger. With a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped foot into her classroom. 

. . .

Harry could hardly concentrate during the football match but he was trying his best. His team were two points ahead and it wouldn’t be long before the game was over. Since it was the morning and the game was mostly practice for the two schools competing, there wasn’t a huge audience watching them. 

He was glancing down at his watch every few minutes when he was supposed to have his eye on the ball, checking to see whether third period was about to start. All he could think about was his little dove and how nervous she was when they stepped into school this morning. 

She had been working so hard on reading things out, even stopping in shops when they went to town together to read the labels on the backs of food containers. He fully believed in her and her ability to speak in front of the class even when she didn’t and it killed him not being able to watch her do it. 

So when the whistle finally blew marking the end of the game, Harry ignored the celebrations with his team after they won the match and ran across the field through the entrance of the school. He raced up the steps, his football boots clicking against the crowd. He knew he probably didn’t smell the best and his knees were muddy from falling over but he didn’t have much time to think about it as he searched for Y/N’s English classroom. 

“Y/N?” He heard the teacher’s voice call her name as he approached. 

“A-Already? O-Oh, O-okay.” He could hear her nerves just by listening to her speak. 

Harry was about to knock on the door but he hesitated, wondering if it would worsen her nerves if he was in the classroom watching her. He knew how much of a big deal this moment was for Y/N and he didn’t want to intervene or make a spectacle of the moment especially since he wasn’t in her class. 

He lowered his hand and instead pressed his ear up to the door. 

“H-Hello,” Y/N started, “My name is Y-Y/N and today I will be sharing with you m-my love for comic books,” Harry’s heart ached as her voice came out quietly. 

“C’mon Dove,” He whispered, wanting her to do well. 

Y/N cleared her throat and let out a shaky exhale, “A-As you can probably tell, I-I am not all that good at speaking. I s-stumble over letters and sometimes even have to replace words with o-others because my mouth t-turns into mash potato and I can’t seem to get t-the words out.” People chuckled and Harry’s heart began to beat against his chest, “T-That is why I love comic books so much because of the l-lack of words. Instead, there are pictures,” Y/N continued, her voice gaining strength the more that she spoke, “T-They tell stories without the need for p-perfect sentences or flawless speech.” 

Y/N continued her speech and Harry spent the entire presentation with his ear pressed up against the door. He ignored the looks of teachers and other students walking past as a huge grin spread across his cheeks the more Y/N spoke in front of the class. 

By the time she had finished, it fell silent before the class responded with a round of applause, “Brilliant work, Y/N,” Her teacher said. 

Y/N felt like she was floating on a cloud as she left her English classroom. Even if her speech wasn’t perfect, she had done it and gotten through it all in one piece. As she stepped out, two arms snaked around her waist and lifted her off the ground, “Harry!” Y/N giggled as he spun her around.

“M so proud of you, Dove.” He kissed her softly, lowering her to the ground but refusing to move his hands from her waist. 

“I-I can’t believe I did it, Harry!” Y/N almost squealed. 

“Heard every word, y’ did so good, M so proud of you.” He rambled, unable to cease his admiration for her. 

“You heard?” Y/N’s eyebrows creased, her lips pouting slightly. 

“I ran here as fast as I could and stood outside to listen to you,” Harry explained, “Y did perfect, honestly, the best speech I’ve ever heard.”

“You really ran h-here to listen?” Y/N asked, still in disbelief.

“I did,” Harry smiled, “It was all I could think about when I was on the field.”

“Did you win?” Y/N asked. 

Harry pulled her flush against him, “You already know I did baby,” He smirked, kissing her. Y/N smiled against his lips.

“Let’s go out tonight,” Harry murmured, “To celebrate.”

“And do w-what?” Y/N wondered, even though the idea of spending any time with Harry was always her favourite. 

“Maybe go to the bowling alley and get dinner after,” He shrugs.

“O-oh and maybe we can stop at the comic book store on the way home!” Y/N said, excitedly. 

“Course m’love,” Harry’s smile widened the more she spoke, “We can do whatever you want as long as I get to hear you talk.” 

Y/N grinned broadly as Harry interlaced his hands with hers, feeling the cool metal of her ring against his skin. Together, they walked hand in hand down the hallway, Y/N unable to stop talking the entire time, while Harry hung onto her every word.

[droaxa]

awe yandere nerd is so cute!! i wonder how someone who acts oppositely to them would act as a yandere.

-🎀 anon

ooh you’re so right 🎀 anon, a yandere jock or popular kid would be interesting.. so here u are!

✧ yandere jock x reader

yandere jock who is one of the most popular guys at your university, everyone knows him. he plays basketball and is so charming that girls (and guys!) can't help but want to be around him, his handsome features totally help too.

yandere jock who you'd had some classes with in your freshman year. however, you hadn't seen him after that and forgot about him. but he couldn't forget about you

yandere jock who actually didn’t like you when he first met you, he thought you were too much of a doormat. he assumed off your quiet nature and antisocial tendencies that you couldn’t stand up for yourself or make your own decisions. and boy was he wrong

yandere jock who stumbles into you after class, well not really cause you hadn’t seen him yet. he watches a girl say somthing and shove you by your shoulder and he mentally scoffs ‘she gets bullied too? we’re in university i thought she’d grow a backbone by now’

yandere jock who is flabbergasted when you punch the girl straight in her face, she stumbles back, shocked, and curses you before running out the door and past yandere jock

yandere jock who is intrigued by your personality, so this is who you actually were. he tries to get closer to you: sitting beside you in lectures, talking to you after class, but just seem to hate him. often shutting down interactions or using the excuse that you’re busy to get away.

yandere jock who is frustrated but still dedicated, atleast until that semester ended. he’s annoyed because he never sees you anymore, and now that you didn’t have a shared class it’s even harder to catch you.

yandere jock who has you on his mind for the next two years, trying to make conversation with you whenever you saw he saw you. but the confused expression on your face said it all, your forgotten who he was.

yandere jock who’s fucking pissed, he spent two years thinking about you and you don’t even remember who he is? he makes it his life goal to make himself relevant to you. even if his ways were a bit.. unorthodox.

yandere jock who starts to pick on you, pushing you in the halls and spreading rumors about you. you’re confused, what did you even do to him? when you ask him, he just responds with “do i need a reason to?” with a tight grin.

quiet you who is now pissed. who did he think he was? a fucking gift from god that could do anything he wanted? you responds back with shoulder checking him in the hallways and pretending that he was bullying you and other students to the professors (well he kind of was wasn’t he?).

yandere jock who is mildly surprised, wow he knew you could fight back but this was different. he was flustered, you put all this effort into him?

yandere jock who retaliates with something a bit more extreme than you would’ve anticipated, he manages to convince one of the teachers that you cheated on a important test. the end of the year exam.

quiet you who is frustrated and angry, you’d worked your ass off to get that 95% and now he does this? oh it’s over for him

yandere jock who gets expelled from the university a week later. the reason? illegal drugs were found in his sports locker, not only was this against the school code but it put the basketball team at risk.

quiet you who pretends to not know anything, smirking as you get back into your study grind

yandere jock who decides that you need to be taught a lesson, although he’s not allowed on campus anymore, the girls dorms are in the edge of campus.

you wake up in the dark, what time was it? oh, just 2 am. you try to go back to sleep and hear some fabric rustling and you freeze. in the moonlit darkness of your room you can vaguely make out a shadowy figure at the foot of your bed.

your eyes widen and before you can scream or react, the figure leaps up and slams a rough hand over your mouth while keeping your body down with his own weight.

just as he leans over you, you make out his face as the moonlights from your window hits it. a strong face with messy hair you’d seen many times before. you didn’t think you’d see him again.

he grins manically, “you thought you could mess with me, forget about me and get away with it?” his voice breathy, like he was about to break into laughter at any moment.

you shake your head desperately no, tears form in your eyes as you register what’s going to happen to you.

he pressed you deeper into your pillow, your tears now running down your face and his hand. he then leans down to lick your salty tears off his hands and then your soft cheeks.

“fuck, i’ll make you understand why you shouldn’t forget about me”

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 011 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. 18+.modern royal au. infidelity. angst. reader is confused with her feelings. toxic characters. toxic relationships. smut. unedited. implied dub-con. smoking. getting drunk. physical violence.

notes. @sunasbabie bullied me into updating so here it is. alsoo the start of suna’s downfall arc???

wc. 11.8k

series masterlist 

[ ELEVEN ] I care, I care, I care like perfume that you wear, I linger all the time, watchin’, hidden in plain sight. ooh I try, I try, I try, but it takes over my life. I see you everywhere, the sweetest torture one could bear

Rintaro had known from a very young age he was different.

He had brothers, quite a number of them, and yet even when everyone had their own maids and butlers, Rintaro stuck out like a sore thumb. For one, they were strictly not allowed to call him by his name. He was never Rintaro – always His Highness or Crown Prince. He was never allowed to play with his brothers, either, despite being close in age to most of them. Instead, he stood watching from the windows of his study as they frolicked and lived like normal boys. They attended school, played sports, made friends – the normal way of living, even for Princes. But Rintaro wasn’t like that. Her Majesty had different expectations for him. That because he was the only son of the King and Queen, he simply had to be better than the rest.

No, he had to be the best, and he believed it at some point.

Until Her Majesty announced it was about time he learned some ‘proper socializing’ into society. She’d enrolled him in the same private academy as his brothers, got chauffeured to and fro, and was expected to give nothing but the best of grades when he returned. It sounded simple enough – study, excel, and prepare himself for the throne.

No one had warned him that high school came with other unexpected surprises, one that came in the form of a brown eyed beauty he’d been eyeing since his first day.

Her name was Iris – top of the class, all long, lean legs, and a mop of long, wavy hair. It was hard not to notice her. She was popular, in the way that everyone asked her for her notes, and you could trust her to whisper the correct answer when you’d been called to recite in the middle of the class. An academic overachiever, a teacher’s pet – they all had some sort of name for her. A stickler for the rules, too, always appropriately dressed and speaking in polite, clipped tones. She spoke in a manner elders would love, and Rintaro found that fact rather endearing. He wasn’t a great reader of people, but he could tell one thing: Iris was not her true self.

Her smile might be respectful, but something about the way her lips twitched when being told what to do gave him an idea that perhaps she wasn’t as obedient as she made herself to be. And she was always helping others, putting others before herself, but she never did it looking satisfied.

Rather, it seemed that her actions always stemmed from one thing: obligation.

Iris was not who she is because it was her, down to her nature, but because she felt she had to be. It was such a quality Rintaro resonated with. To deny oneself, and to put duty and order first. They both walked with stiffness in their shoulders, with the weight of the world on their heads. They were simply too young to be caring about such. And Rintaro found it unfair – how they’d been deprived of their right to normalcy and had a future they never even wanted shoved down their throats. He couldn’t speak entirely for her, of course.

They had entirely different backgrounds – with Iris as a foreign scholar, who had to work twice as hard to prove she was worthy as any local, and then there was Rintaro, who couldn’t really tell which parts of him were himself, or fabricated by the throne.

They were both young people who lied to themselves. And strangely enough, he found comfort in that. He found comfort in her. He felt less alone when she was around, and she’d definitely made her presence known. Whether it be slipping notes into his desk and walking away without a word, or sharing her milkbread with him during lunch – which he found hilarious, yet cute – or when she simply made the effort to get to know him.

Not the Crown Prince, but Rintaro.

She began to ask things about himself that he’d never thought of before. Like what his favorite food was – he blanked out, because he wasn’t supposed to be picky with food, so he just ate anything. Or what his favorite game was, and sometimes, she’d even asked him to teach her, even if bringing cell phones in class were prohibited.

She made him feel like a real person. She didn’t treat him specially; she didn’t swoon or fall to her feet when he entered a room. She spoke to him normally, treated him like a friend when no one would dare call him as such.

To her, he was just Rintaro. He could just be. And before he’d realized it, he began to look for her – in the hallways, watching her talk to her friends, or being curious on what snacks she brought so he could buy some for her next time, or intentionally trying to get partnered with her on any project.

But he hadn’t fallen for her.

Not until that day they’d rain poured over them unexpectedly, and they retreated under the nearest tree. Class had long been dismissed, and pretty much everyone had left – save for the two of them due to a late tutoring session. Rintaro struggled with English, but Iris was great at everything. And it was also a good excuse to spend more time together.

“You know, you’re different from what I expected,” Iris spoke, tilting her head up to catch some raindrops falling from the leaves with the tip of her finger. “When they said the Crown Prince was going to attend class, I figured you would be more… uptight. Strict. Or, you know, perhaps more arrogant than your brother.”

Rintaro fought the urge what she thought of him now. He’d become curious about it lately, unhealthily so. He wanted her to like him, to think positively of him – to be more than just ‘handsome’ or ‘charming’ or ‘regal.’ Because he most definitely wasn’t regal around her. He could be more himself, which is why he slouched, learned to smoke, longed for a tattoo, and even learned how to curse. Because he wasn’t Crown Prince Rintaro. He was just a normal high school student, Rin. Rin who stood under a tree while rain poured heavily against the pavement, next to a pretty girl who wore strawberry flavored chapstick and introduced him to a world he never imagined he could be part of.

If she had said he was regal, and well-mannered, he would’ve taken offense. But he didn’t ask, turning his gaze away from the way Iris leaned back against the damp tree and pulled out a cigarette. Even the way she smoked had him fascinated because it meant as a sign of trust to him.

The good, perfect student Iris was no longer perfect around him. She trusted him enough to let her guard down, and reveal her flaws. She had no need to impress him. In return, it made him want to impress her by mimicking her habits – even if he would’ve never dared doing them before.

“I have a lot of arrogant brothers. Which one are you talking about?”

“The ridiculously tall and talkative brunette in our year.”

“Tooru,” he said, gladly accepting when she offered him a stick. He didn’t light it though, because he was on his way home and didn’t want to reek of smoke. Well, if he was to be completely honest, he hated smoking. He didn’t like the way it burned his throat and made it itchy. But Iris smoked often, and she revealed more about herself each time she did, so he joined her. Everything he did was for her.

“Iris, why do you speak so casually to me?”

She shrugged and puffed out a smoky breath. “You just looked lonely. And everyone treats you like you’re fragile – always stumbling over their words or being excessively polite. I can tell it makes you uncomfortable, so… But if you truly mind, I can stick to the formalities. I just thought you might want someone to treat you like a normal person.”

“No, I-I don’t mind,” he reassured, “I like that you speak to me normally.”

“So, friends?”

He chuckled at that, and he didn’t stop her when she took out her lighter and lit her cigarette for him. He supposed one couldn’t hurt. “We have been friends for months now.”

“I know,” she beamed, “I’m just waiting to be invited over to your fancy Palace for tea parties.”

“I don’t even like tea.”

“Shame. I would’ve killed for some expensive drinks.”

And so their unexpected friendship began until they were practically attached to the hip. Wherever Iris went, Rintaro followed. She’d started calling him ‘Rin’ too, and Rin had to hide how much he liked it. He blushed madly each time he did, and it didn’t help that Iris had become more physically comfortable with him – locking arms together when they walked in the hallway, absentmindedly brushing his bangs back during their tutoring sessions, or laying on his lap when she had a book to read as they hid in the corner of the library. Each touch of her skin against his sent heat to his groin. It embarrassed him, because he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about his ‘friend’ like that, but could you blame him? He was a growing teenager. He wasn’t immune to a pretty girl’s subtle touches.

“You know, you can make it less obvious that you’re staring at the scholar.”

Glancing away from Iris playing volleyball with her friends, Rintaro glared at his brother. He shared classes with Tooru, but otherwise barely spoke to him. Tooru was too loud and confident; a little flashy for his liking. He also basked in the attention he received from the girls, shamelessly flirting with them and getting their hopes up.

Rintaro thought he was an ass.

“Shut up.”

“Well, well, can you believe that? I believe the Crown Prince just uttered a vulgar phrase that would surely displease Her Majesty. I wonder if she’ll ground you tonight for being such a naughty Prince.”

Rintaro glared at him, gesturing to Tooru’s childhood friend lurking in the corner. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Like reject that poor girl showering you with gifts again?”

Tooru sighed, and upon seeing Maiko’s face light up when he looked her way, he bid his farewell. “Don’t remind me.”

His brother suddenly disappeared. He almost felt bad for Maiko, the heiress from the Rai Clan. She grew up having multiple play dates with Tooru, and they’d been close all the way to middle school when she grew a crush on him – a crush nearly bordering on obsession. When she invited him over to play with her new puppy around the ninth grade, Tooru was met with a ten feet portrait of him in her bedroom. Tooru hadn’t spoken to her ever since. But the poor girl was too innocent to understand his rejections, and she kept following him like a lost puppy.

Not that Rintaro was concerned. Neither was his brother concerned with him, anyway, so they stayed out of each other’s way until they graduated.

Sometimes, Rintaro still wished he never graduated at all. Maybe Iris wouldn’t have disappeared, then. She didn’t have a phone, so they couldn’t keep in contact, but even if she did have a phone, Rintaro wouldn’t be allowed to be casually conversing with ‘commoners.’ Her Majesty would hate it. And he wasn’t certain where she went. Perhaps university, but last he’d heard, Iris was occupied with dealing with some family matters, and Rintaro stopped prying. Her family was one of the things Iris never spoke of. But from what little he knew, she only had a loving mother who did her very best to raise her alone.

Rintaro would’ve never expected that when they saw each other again, they would run into one another at the Palace, of all places. “Iris?” he couldn’t believe his eyes. Had he missed her so much he was beginning to hallucinate? “I don’t understand. What are you doing here?”

Iris looked like a deer caught in headlights.

He almost couldn’t recognize her. It’d been years since he last saw her and spoke with her, but she seemed entirely different now. She’d gone back to speaking in those forced, clipped tones, her posture perfect, and her smile a little stiff for it to be genuine. She’d been lying again to herself and to the world, but he couldn’t understand why. Rintaro still found it hard to believe that she stood in front of him, draped in lace dresses with the Royal emblem pinned to her right breast in the way royals did.

In the way he did.

“Your Highness,” she said, her tone sweet and airy, as she curtsied. Rintaro felt his stomach twist. This wasn’t the Iris he’d liked for so long. Iris didn’t speak sweetly, or said her words like she treaded on air and had that breathy, ridiculously feminine laugh. Iris’ voice was raspy from constant smoking, and when she spoke, it was always carefree. She never called him by his official title before, so why was she doing it now?

Rintaro couldn’t shake the feeling he was being betrayed.

“You mustn’t have been informed. I’m…”

“Do you serve the crown now?”

“No, no! Not quite in that way,” she smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. It was then he noticed the ring sitting on her finger. “I was married to your brother last night, my Prince.”

“Which brother?”

“Prince Kiyoomi.”

He felt like his world had been crushed.

He was never a hopeless romantic, but he was learning. She’d taught him what girls liked. And he… he thought she liked him, too. She must have, right? If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be staring at his lips when he talked. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t hold his hand and rub circles along his knuckles when they were alone together in the library. Or had he just fooled himself all this time? Was he really nothing but a friend to her?

Rintaro felt foolish all over again.

He felt like he was seven years old once more, holding back his tears while Her Majesty lashed at the backs of his thighs because he wasn’t able to memorize a clause from the Royal Acts and Commands. He heard the word ‘stupid, idiotic, slow,’ and ‘foolish’ resonating at the study room again, while his tutor shook his head in disappointment. Taking a step back, Rintaro released a shuddering breath. He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. Surely, she wouldn’t befriend him just to make a fool out of him, but if she did… she would pay. He was the Crown Prince. He would become King. He would punish her, humiliate her and put her in her place if she treated him cruelly – but nothing could have prepared him for Iris stepping forwards, eyes drooping with sultriness as her palms flattened against his chest.

Stepping on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his.

“But I wish it had been you.”

When she kissed him for the first time, Rintaro knew one thing for certain – she had ruined him for anyone else.

Rintaro isn’t a man quick to anger, but he was getting there.

To leave him for a trip with another man was one thing, but to completely leave him on radio silence was another. A whole week you’ve been gone and not once had you texted. No calls, no voicemails, not even an e-mail. He felt like he had no wife, and quite frankly, your determination to pretend he didn’t exist was getting on his nerves. What had he done wrong, anyway? Hadn’t he been sweet to you before you left? He wasn’t going to deny he made mistakes, but he was putting effort into making it all better. He hadn’t spoken to Iris when you were around. He ignored her, and avoided her even when you weren’t in the same room. And he fucking hated it – because why did you make him feel like he was a cheater when he loved her first?

And now, you were messing with his head. He was certain you were.

Apart from some photographs the paparazzi took of you shopping with Kanami, or sharing lunch with her or having coffee dates, he hadn’t seen you with Kiyoomi. He hadn’t the smallest clue what you were doing. Were you sleeping well? Better without him, maybe? Did you miss him, too, or were you just glad to finally be away from him?

He was going insane with every passing second you didn’t speak to him.

“You’ve been unusually quiet.”

Iris’ voice flittering through the loud noise of the music snapped him back to the present. Right. He was at a party attended by celebrities and models, with liquor in red cups and suspicious leaves and powder being passed to one another – the type of parties a Crown Prince shouldn’t be seen at. But the twins had insisted, claiming he should enjoy himself and ‘do whatever the fuck he wants’ since he didn’t have a wife around to criticize him. He thought it was stupid. He didn’t want to do anything to upset you, but Iris wanted to come along out of boredom – Kiyoomi was away fulfilling their duties for them as mediator between two countries, so she had nothing better to do. Besides, Rintaro figured Iris had been itching for these environments. She’d played the docile and agreeable Princess role for several years now. She must be tired of it, and as soon as she saw the opportunity to let loose and be her true self, she wouldn’t dare let it pass.

And maybe his brothers were right. There was nothing wrong with just taking some time for himself. If you could do it, why couldn’t he?

However, he couldn’t convince himself he enjoyed this party he was in. People were making out at dark corners of the hall, and he was pretty sure there were illegal activities happening tonight. Iris didn’t bat an eye on it. The twins, too, seemed to be enjoying themselves as they flirted with a model he’d seen before, but couldn’t care enough to remember the name of.

“Sorry,” Rintaro said, “I just have a lot on my mind these days.”

“Is it her? You can’t stop looking at your phone.”

Grimacing, he offered her an apologetic smile. Iris didn’t look jealous, but then again, it was hard to tell under the dim lights, and not when she was hugging her fifth cup of whatever foul-smelling liquor she seemed to indulge in. But neither did he want to offend her by lying, so he slid his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and feigned disinterest. “She hasn’t texted or called since she left. I have no idea how she’s doing at all,” he glanced at her, “Has Kiyoomi texted you?”

“As if that would happen,” she chugged her drink and gestured to the doors. “Let’s go. I need some fresh air.”

They exited and walked all the way to the balcony. On their way there, Iris hugged his bicep and leant against him, causing the passing by hotel staff to eye them warily. But Iris couldn’t care less, and Rintaro leveled the staff with a warning glare. They should know better than to say anything. Tonight, the world was theirs. Iris was in his arms, as free as they could be, as free as he always hoped, and he swore he wasn’t going to think about you.

With the fresh air kissing his exposed skin, Rintaro immediately felt better. He wasn’t surrounded by the stench of alcohol anymore. He could breathe better here. Leaning against the railings, he and Iris overlooked the Kingdom of Inarizaki laying beneath their feet.

At one point in time, he promised to give all of this to the woman beside him. They’d talked about having children and raising them in the Palace. How they would make great monarchs, and they could finally be powerful while still being free. With them on top of the world, no one could tell them what to do. They could simply be themselves. But just a hundred times better, because Iris would be beside him and sharing the burden of the Crown.

At least, until Rintaro realized none of that felt right.

You were his wife. He didn’t want to share this Kingdom with anyone else but you, although there was a more worrisome voice whispering at the back of his head – Rintaro didn’t want to share you with this world. He wanted to hide you and keep you for himself. He didn’t want you anywhere Kiyoomi, or Tooru. You were his. He was yours. He’s your husband, and you his wife.

You should be the one here with him, and he should be there with you.

Did you feel the same way, too?

Iris lit up a cigarette. Before he could think better of it, he snatched one from her and she lit it up for him, just like she did when they were younger. Her brows rose at his sudden eagerness, “You haven’t smoked since you met her.”

“I didn’t want her to think I smelled.”

“What’s the change?” she teased, “No longer worried she’ll think you reek because you’re married?”

“I just need the distraction.”

“Do you miss her?”

“I’m just worried.” He gritted his teeth, not liking how all of this just felt… wrong. Iris smelled too much of the old perfume she wore when they were teenagers, and it made him nostalgic in the worst kind of possible. Like recalling a childhood memory you thought was great at the time, but growing up completely changes your perspective on it. Rintaro hated it – how he tasted bitterness at something he once craved so much. Worse, he couldn’t keep lying to himself. He didn’t know where his heart was at yet, but something was different.

He desperately wanted to see you.

“I feel like… I feel like she’s going to leave me, Iris. Something’s changed.”

“You’ve changed, Rin,” she snapped, throwing her cigarette on the ground and stomping at it. Rintaro frowned; he’d seen her do it before when they were kids, but seeing her still do it now confirmed his theory: Iris still had her mean temper. She could never hide it even under silk dresses and velvet gloves. “You haven’t been the same since the honeymoon. I feel like we left behind the old you, and the one that came back is someone I barely know.”

Rintaro couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to. She was right. He’d changed. He didn’t know why, or how, but maybe he was falling in love. Could he be? No… maybe he just missed you. Maybe he just hated the way you seemed so resigned and distant when you left.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could tell her, because Rintaro was too lost.

“Are you changing your mind about me?”

“No, no. Gods, I would never. I just – I’m confused, okay? She’s mad at me, and she just left. What if she never speaks to me again?”

“She will. She’s your wife.”

“You don’t even speak to your husband,” Rintaro argued, and Iris rolled her eyes. Once, he would’ve found her irritation appealing. But directed at him? He just felt like he was being looked down on.

“That’s different. You know, Rin, if you’ve changed your mind about me, it’s okay. I already knew before this most likely wouldn’t work out, and even if you did become King and legalized divorces, what would happen, then? I’ll be your concubine,” she sneered, as if the mere thought sickened her. “People would reduce me into nothing but a whore. I don’t want to be hated just because I wanted you.”

Rintaro pursed his lips. Sure, the title ‘concubine’ didn’t come with many good meanings. But it was all he could give her. He couldn’t imagine making her his wife. Iris had too much of a temper for that, and with all the pretending and acts she puts on, he didn’t trust her enough to treat his people right when she wielded enough power.

She wasn’t kind like you.

She wasn’t like you.

He knew all of this, had realized it just now, yet he couldn’t bring himself to just go back. Running his hands through his hair, he sighed in defeat. “I’ve already gone this far. It’s a little too late to tell me to change my mind, you know?”

“I’m just reminding you this was your choice, not mine. And don’t forget if you do legalize divorces, and Kiyoomi and I did separate, does that mean you’ll divorce her, too?”

He threw his hands up in the air, frustrated. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I’m not a whore, Rin. I’ve changed my mind. I no longer want to be just your sidepiece, your secret lover. I have been here with you before people even acknowledged your existence. I was here first. Don’t you think it’s unfair she gets to have you in all your glory and I can only have you in secret? Like what we feel for each other is something to be ashamed of,” tears pricked at her eyes, and Iris angrily wiped them away. Rintaro was frozen to his spot. He didn’t even feel like reaching to wipe them for her – his mind was just in a different place entirely. His exhaustion ran bone deep.

“If you want me to divorce Kiyoomi when you become King, you should divorce her too.”

“That wasn’t the plan. You said you were fine being a concubine–”

“It’s either me or her, Rin. Choose. Who will be your wife? Me or her?”

“You. It’s always going to be you.”

“Do you promise?”

“It’s just you!” he barked, surprising both himself and Iris. He’d never raised his tone with her before, yet there was no denying it – he was changing. Iris knew this, too, and Rintaro could tell by the wicked glint in her eye that she would use this against him.

Rintaro didn’t think twice before he slammed his lips to hers.

If she couldn’t be convinced with words, he would convince her with their bodies. It was how they communicated anyway – all arguments would always be resolved in the bedroom. They stumbled together back to his hotel room, lips only leaving one another’s for a brief moment to breathe, before they were clawing at each other’s clothes. She let out her rage on him by pushing him back to the bed, with her on top and ripping his shirt, uncaring of the remnants. When she kissed him, it was everything but sweet. He tasted nothing but hatred and pure anger as she shoved her tongue down his throat, and he choked, tightening his grip on her hips while she bounced.

They did not make love.

They simply shared their bodies for a lack of better things to say. He bruised her and fucked her hard enough the headboard slammed against the wall because he couldn’t say he missed you. She marked his skin with hickeys and claw marks down his back because she didn’t want to hear him say he missed you.

At talking, Rintaro and Iris lacked at.

But they spoke well enough with the violence of their bodies that by the end of the night, they both knew – Rintaro’s heart was no longer in the same room as them.

You took it with you from a thousand miles away.

Rintaro couldn’t sleep the entire night. Iris had passed out as soon as she’d satisfied herself, and after hogging the sheets all to herself, he’d given up on trying to sleep. It felt wrong to share the same bed with her, anyway. So he got up, showered, and scrolled on the latest news to look for you again. Still nothing – but apparently Itachiyama’s citizens were looking forward to you and Kiyoomi attending a movie’s premiere night.

He clutched his phone hard enough it shut off. Sighing, he leaned back against his seat on the couch, an arm draped around his arm. He’d gone past the borders of being pathetic. Now, he was just eager to see his wife again, but he had no way of communicating with you. So like the pathetic fool he was, he couldn’t stop himself from scrolling for hours when a rapid knocking banged down on his door. Frowning, he opened it, and was met with a shirtless Atsumu wrapped in nothing but a towel – his eyes bloodshot red, though he suspected, not from crying.

“‘Tsumu, what the fuck?” His brother reeked of alcohol and sex. Pinching his nose, he scanned the hallway for witnesses before opening his door wider. Atsumu scurried in without a word and plopped down on the seat, his knees bouncing repeatedly. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I… I fucked up.”

“Yeah? What’s new about that?”

“No, I mean, I really fucked up,” he groaned, his head falling to his hands. Rintaro immediately felt bad about him, Walking forwards, he crossed his arm against his chest, encouraging his brother to continue. “Listen, the party was going great, and Yuki just looked even better in person. And she was fucking funny and so perfect, man.  I couldn’t help myself. But she was flirting with ‘Samu more and I got jealous so–”

“What did you do?”

Atsumu’s Adam’s apple bounced as he swallowed. He couldn’t look Rintaro in the eye, and the latter was growing more nervous by the second. “I may have made her drink more than she can handle… and pretended to be Osamu. So she’d sleep with me.”

“You are screwed.”

“I know, I know, but she’s going to wake up soon, and I don’t know what to do. I left the room, and–”

“Okay, calm down. Where’s ‘Samu?”

“Downstairs, eating breakfast.”

“You stay right here.”

Iris chose the wrong time to wake up. She must’ve heard Atsumu’s frantic ramblings and sat up from the bed, clutching the blanket to her naked chest. Upon seeing an equally nude Atsumu, she screeched, throwing the nearest pillow at him. “‘Tsumu, get out!” Atsumu fought back by throwing a smaller pillow her way. They began bickering like small children, and it was too early for any of this. He could feel a pounding at the back of his head already.

Tired. He was just tired.

“Iris, please, just – just stay here, the both of you, okay? I’ll be back.”

At least Rintaro had Atsumu’s mess to thank. He finally had a good enough excuse to not spend another moment in that suffocating room with her – or any of them. He’d wanted to leave hours before, but Iris wouldn’t have taken it well if she woke up without him. For now, though, Rintaro had to take on the role of a responsible older brother; something he’d never done before. Taking quick strides, he swung the door open when Atsumu called out for him.

“Wait. Rin!” Rintaro paused, raising a brow at his brother, whose face had been drained of color. “I’m sorry… I just… I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll fix this.”

Rintaro himself wasn’t convinced by his words. Sure, it wasn’t unheard of before that the Princes got their sexual needs satisfied without having been married. Save for a few like Wakatoshi, Keiji, Kita, and Tobio who all wanted to wait for marriage, he was a hundred percent certain his brothers had been with women before. This normally wasn’t a cause for concern. But Hiroda Yuki wasn’t just anyone. She was a model currently rising to fame, and not only was she inebriated during the act, but she’d been led to believe the man she took to bed with someone else. If she were to found out the truth, and decided to turn to the media to ruin his brothers, it’d be another issue for the throne. It didn’t affect Rintaro directly, but times were changing – people were growing restless the longer the crown sat without its King.

It was high time they chose a King, but a very few number of Princes hardly seemed eligible.

As much as he hated to admit it, he knew Ushijima was the best choice to be King. He was fair, disciplined, and followed the rules to a tee. He also had a happy, stable marriage with a respectable noble woman, and they already have a healthy son. There weren’t any arguments that Rintaro paled in comparison to him.

But that didn’t mean he would give up so easily.

He wanted the throne. He wanted everything.

Shaking those thoughts out of his head, he headed for the lobby in search of the darker haired twin. He’d think about the Crown another time. Ducking his head to hide his face, he nodded at any passing staff and hid behind corners. It was only a matter of time before Yuki woke up. That presented another problem – should they hide the truth from her and keep Atsumu safe, or tell her what had really happened and risk having Atsumu be kicked out of the Palace?

Fuck. Rintaro didn’t know what to do, but maybe Osamu would.

His brother sat at the hotel’s dining area, happily digging into his meal without a care in the world. Oh, how lucky he was to be so ignorant. Out of the twins, Osamu was the more mild-mannered one and got into less trouble, but it didn’t change the fact Osamu was often the instigator, and Atsumu the willing victim who played into his hands. The situation felt more complicated now because Rintaro was unsure. Had Osamu planned this all along? Had he known that Atsumu wanted to sleep with Yuki and left them to themselves just when the both were drunk out of their asses?

Too many questions, and he struggled to form a coherent thought. But if he were Kita, he’d have this resolved within a second.

If he were Kita, but he wasn’t. He was just plain Rintaro, who wasn’t particularly great at anything, yet had unfortunately been branded with an extravagant title he never deserved.

Pulling out a seat before him, he narrowed his eyes at his brother. It was still early in the morning, so they had enough privacy with only very few people having breakfast. No one paid them any attention as Rintaro leaned forward, his voice low and hushed.

“Where were you last night?”

“Good morning to you, too, dear brother,” quipped Osamu through a mouthful of waffles, “Lovely set of breakfast they serve here. You should try some.”

“‘Samu, I’m serious. Did you stay at the party last night?”

Osamu, the little ass, took his sweet time chewing and swallowing before he spoke. “No, I went home after ‘Tsumu went out with the model. I just came back to pick him up. I figured he’d be too drunk to drive home.”

Rintaro wanted to ask for more details. There had to be more to the story. The twins were both cunning when they wanted to be, although he doubted Osamu would do anything to intentionally harm his twin. It seemed possible, but he couldn’t be too careful. None of them could afford any defamation lest the people decided for themselves how uncontrollable and unruly the Princes are. Their father had already broken the people’s trust by having multiple sons with different women. They treaded on eggshells, even more so when Rintaro opened his mouth to speak, and was cut off by the crowd whispering around them.

He and Osamu froze. They could barely make out the words from their mumbling at this distance, but they were no fools. They could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on them. With their phones pulled out, they whispered amongst themselves and sent looks of disbelief towards the Princes. Rintaro’s heart raced as he made eye contact with his brother.

They both pulled out their phones and checked the latest news.

An article published just a few hours ago trended worldwide at number one. A photograph of Rin and Iris making love could be seen through a window, with the headline implying that they were secretly lovers all along. His heart dropped. He scrolled down to the comments, his fist turning white at the knuckles as he read them.

That’s disgusting! Wasn’t Prince Rintaro recently married? It seems like being a cheater runs in the blood, after all. He’s just like his daddy To think they did this while their spouses were away for official duty… unbelievable. Disappointed, but not surprised. Princess Iris always seemed like a skank. Never liked her. She came to give aid when there was a storm in our village once, and she kept complaining she was tired. Now she’s going around sleeping with other people’s husbands *laughing sticker* lol she sounds like a bitch Is this real?????????? This has to be fake. The Crown Prince loves his wife! Delete this post now! You’re in trouble once the Palace sees this!

Rintaro pocketed his phone. “We need to leave.”

He dragged Osamu by the arm, ignoring his brother’s complaints that he hadn’t eaten his berries yet. One glare shut him up. They had bigger things to worry about than some stupid fucking berries.

“Call Shinsuke. We need help.”

All four of them hid in Rintaro’s room until Kita arrived. It hadn’t been long, maybe less than an hour, but the wait was nerve-wracking. Thankfully, he’d brought a security team with them. The Princes were escorted out through the back doors and into their cars, although it was too late. Reporters and journalists were already swarming outside the hotel. Kita had stayed back to tell the hotel staff they were not allowed to speak of what they saw or heard during last night’s party under no circumstances. The Princes’ safety were their utmost priority. Everything would be dealt with accordingly. Just as they pulled out of the hotel’s parking, Atsumu informed Kita about Yuki, and the situation he left her in.

Shinsuke’s lips thinned. Already, he looked bone tired. Waving a hand, he dismissed his brothers and promised he’d take care of her once she woke up. For now, they had to stay low and keep out of the public’s eye until the situation died down.

“You all best behave when you get back,” Shinsuke warned, “Her Majesty is furious.”

Of that, he had no doubt. Her Majesty had been eerily quiet since everyone’s return from the honeymoon. But Suna knew his mother better than anyone; she wasn’t letting things pass by, she was only watching from the sidelines, waiting to see who would drop the ball first. And to no one’s surprise, it would be Rintaro.

Her Majesty was right. He couldn’t keep this secret affair with Iris forever.

One way or another, the truth would be revealed, and the truth itself would be his damnation.

None of them uttered a word as they sat next to each other in the car. Atsumu’s still bouncing his leg, causing the seat to shake, but Osamu could care less. He simply gazed out the window. Iris, on the other hand, hadn’t stopped crying, her shoulders shaking silently. Mascara ran down her face in streaks, her lipstick smudged and her torn dress doing very little to hide the love marks on her skin. Gods. Rintaro’s headache worsened. If they got out of the car and the paparazzi took even one photo of Iris in her post-sex state, they were done for.

Rintaro could kiss his precious Crown goodbye.

Walking back to the Palace was akin to walking to your own death.

The lobby was torn upside down. Calling it a mess would be an understatement. The Queen stood in the middle of the furniture she’d flipped and thrown, shards of broken glass all around them as she heaved. The pure image of rage – and he had been the cause. “Fools! Idiotic fools, all of you!” she screamed, stomping through the glass as she reached up to fist Iris’ hair.

“Ow, Your Majesty–”

Her Majesty scrunched her nose at the scent of smoke and alcohol coming off from her, further fuelling her anger. “And you! By the Gods, I knew marrying you into this family was a grave mistake, but you just keep making me regret I ever laid eyes on you, don’t you? You lowly, good-for-nothing whore.”

“Mother!”

“You do not get to speak!” she turned to him and harshly let go of Iris, causing her to stumble and fall onto the broken glass. Panicked, Rintaro reached out for her, but the Queen had caught his arm, reared hers back and landed a slap on his cheek. Rintaro was stunned – she’d been harsh and cruel, but she never laid a hand on him. “Do you have any idea what you did? The throne is all in shambles because of you! The Cabinet hasn’t stopped bugging me ever since that article came out, and I have all our lines busy with people demanding for answers! And you dare raise your voice at me? I told you, multiple times, that you need to stop with your trysts. How will you be King now that you’ve lost the people’s trust?”

“He will not become King,” announced a deep voice they knew all too-well. Like a demon that only showed up in your worst nightmares, Ushijima strutted inside the room, an air of authority and finality surrounding him. “I should be the King. Help me have the throne, and I will resolve all of this,” he studied them all – Atsumu with his guilt, Osamu who was too scared of the Queen to move a single muscle, Iris clutching her bloodied arm, and Suna with disappointment written all over his features. “Clearly, he is not fit to lead this country. He is still but a foolish, young man.”

Foolish.

Stupid.

Reckless.

He’s just like his father.

He’d be a failure as King – just. Like. His. Father.

So that was who he was then. A failure. He’d become the one thing he swore not to be. How would you look at him now? You always gazed upon him with stars in your eyes, like he was the best thing to ever happen in your life. No one had ever looked at him that way before – not his mother, not even Iris. In Iris’ eyes, he was simply… a boy. A boy with no knowledge and experience in this world, a boy who she felt she had to teach because he knew so little. Only you looked at him with adoration, and even that had been taken away. Or, no, he ruined it. Just as he was the reason you used to smile, he’d also become your greatest pain. And maybe, once you’d returned him and seen how the entire country and his whole family had hated him, you would see him for who he is too – nothing but a failure.

The good for nothing Prince.

He should have known. The Palace was no place for the likes of him. He should have just stopped trying so hard to be King. He should have never used Iris as an excuse to quell his insecurity. But was it truly a crime to want to feel like he was needed?

He didn’t know anymore. The only thing he knows now was that he needed to leave, and without another word, stepped out of the room.

“Rintaro! Where are you going?!”

He ignored his mother calling for him. Perhaps he should stop calling her that, too. She’d barely been a mother. She was more of a Queen, bending and breaking her back to His Majesty’s will. She loved the crown and the power it gave her more than anything, that she willingly sacrificed her dignity to keep her position. For many nights, Rintaro watched his mother leave their quarters crying, battered and bruised. It was confusing for a young boy like him. Weren’t mommies and daddies supposed to love one another? But the Queen would scold him for being awake past midnight, and rush him back to bed while she limped on her way. She never loved the King, and because he was his son, she never loved him, too.

Rintaro was nothing but another tool for Her Majesty to stay in power.

She could never become King and hold the Kingdom for herself, but he could. Wasn’t that why she kept him locked away for years and groomed him to take in his Father’s steps?

I kind of did, he thought sarcastically, I’m a horrible husband just like him.

When you arrived in Inarizaki, the country was in chaos. People flocked you from left and right when you and Kiyoomi left the plane, causing the older Prince to break his silence and scold the nosy reporters. Flabbergasted at his sudden outburst that seemed out of character; they lowered their cameras and gave you enough breathing space. The peace, however, did not last long. Her Majesty was furious beyond what one can imagine – akin to a dragon breathing fire down to anyone who dared come near her tower. The twins, who apparently started this fire and caused Rintaro to be the fuel, had been shut away in their rooms in fear of angering her. Iris, from what little you heard about her, was being ruthlessly flamed by the media. They’d called her all sorts of unkind things you would’ve never dared say out loud.

But for some reason, seeing their downfall did not give you any satisfaction.

Because at the end of the day, they were the people you and Kiyoomi returned to. You may walk down the same hallways in the Palace, but he would always be in Belleview Manor to look for her. And you were well on your way to search for the Crown Prince who walked out on his mother.

The guards took some time to find his location, but once they did, they did not hesitate in informing you. Everyone believed you were the only person he’d want to speak to right now. So you drove up to the mountains, where it was barren and cold, and you had to use a truck to survive the rocky terrain. Seriously, out of all the places he could be, he chose to wallow in misery at the top of the world – in the pouring rain, no less.

Boots muddied from the storm, you hopped out of your truck and opened an umbrella, clutching your coat tighter as you watched your husband from afar.

This mountain served as a border between Inarizaki and Itachiyama. From where you stood, you could see the two countries – Itachiyama with its rich nature, and Inarizaki with its towering Castles and bustling cities. Once a united nation, now split into two – all because of love. A tragic story, yet a realistic one. It only goes to show how powerful, and dangerous, love could be. You knew better than anyone that whatever made you happiest could also be your greatest demise.

And there was the said demise – crouching as he picked up pebbles and threw it off the mountain wall. He wore the same shirt as from the photograph; wrinkled and stained with lipstick. Even from this distance, you could smell her on him, and you wanted to laugh. Perhaps Kiyoomi was right – maybe they never loved each other. Maybe they were just lonely.

Extending the umbrella until your husband was shielded from the rain, you softened. Rintaro visibly froze when the rain stopped pelting against him. His wet hair stuck to his face, his shirt plastered on his skin.

A myriad of emotions flickered through his devastatingly handsome face: relief, worry, surprise.

You broke the silence first and crouched down next to him. When Rintaro stiffened, you smiled, showing him you were not here to be his enemy. “My Prince. You are a difficult man to find.”

“Princess,” he breathed out, and you realized the poor Prince was shivering. His face broke into that of despair upon seeing you. “I didn’t know you would be home so early.”

“I had some matters to attend to.”

“You saw the article,” he guessed, and you nodded. Rintaro then stood to his full height, and you followed, causing his head to bump into the umbrella since he was taller. For a moment, he crouched to fit in under the small space. But it was uncomfortable, and soon, he was gently taking the umbrella and holding it for the both of you – more for you, though, since rain still trailed down his back. “I’m sorry.”

“It was bound to happen,” shrugging, you gestured for him to take a walk with you. It was far from being the most scenic place to have a peaceful walk in, but it would do.

You two were silent for a moment. Rintaro seemed to have a thousand thoughts running through his head when you finally spoke.

“How are you?”

“Tired. And you?”

“I’ve had better days.”

Rintaro stole a cautious glance. “Are you mad at me?”

You chuckled, and the sound of it stupefied him. His eyes widened as if afraid, but truly, there was no need to be. You weren’t in the mood to argue with him. “Not really. I feel like I was mad at you a long time ago, and now I’m just… Numb to it all, I suppose,” you said, absentmindedly spinning the wedding ring you both wore. Such a simple jewelry, yet it symbolized so much more. When you spoke again, the rain had calmed down a little bit, but the cold had already seeped into both of your bones. “Marriage is difficult. You have to stay true to your vows, even when the times are challenging. In sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse. ‘Till death do us part,” you glanced up at him, taking in those handsome features you fell in love with – his hazel eyes, his soft lips you loved to kiss, and his face you often cradled in your palms. Even right now, you wanted to kiss him, if only to give comfort, but you had to know first –

“Do you intend on keeping your marriage vows, Your Highness?”

He averted his gaze. “I doubt our marriage is valid anymore. The country thinks I am a horrible husband to you.”

“It’s not like I’ve been the best wife myself,” you admitted, your chest aching as you remembered the Second Prince – his gentle smiles directed only at you, the castle ruins, his large palms holding you tenderly, and the crestfallen look on his face when you told him you had to look for your husband. Such a great man, but the timing couldn’t be worse. And Gods, you couldn’t help it. You cried. You mourned the love you could have had.

You grieved for the life you could have had, the person you could’ve become.

If it had been Kiyoomi, it would be so much easier. He would love you in the way you wanted. He would you close to his arms all night long because he wouldn’t want to let go. He would chase away those stupid chickens for you. He would hide you away from the rest of the world and given you a life of solitude and peace – it would’ve been simple, and it would’ve been perfect.

But Kiyoomi was already married, and so were you.

And you felt horrible because he was great, but then you’d become a horrible wife. You would be exactly like Rintaro if you had given into your desire and kissed him. Kiyoomi wasn’t yours. But was Rintaro? Your heart was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Why couldn’t it all just work out?

Why couldn’t it be him?

Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you forced the thoughts of the curly-haired prince out of your head. “I wish I hated you, Rintaro. I wish… I wish I never met you. I wish you never danced with me at your brother’s ball. I wish you never courted me. I wish you never came into my life and changed everything. It would have been better to never have been loved, than to have loved and been betrayed.”

Rintaro stepped forward, his arm extending to wipe your tears for you but even he could tell you were refused. So he kept his distance, clutching the umbrella tighter as his voice broke. “I’m sorry. I really am. It just… I didn’t want for it happen. You were all I thought about. When you were gone and you didn’t call or texted once, I thought I was losing you. I wanted you back.”

You shook your head. “You cannot have everything you want. You know that.”

His face dropped.

“Are you going to make me choose, too?”

“No. I already know who you would choose,” and you did, yet your heart still ached for him, for your husband, the one thing you couldn’t have. Only you didn’t feel like laughing, not when Rintaro looked at you with just as much confliction. “Is it foolish of me that I still love you even after everything you’ve done?”

His lips curled the slightest bit. “A little, but I am the last man to judge you if you were foolish, which you aren’t.”

You laughed sardonically. “I love you, do you know that?”

“I know,” he mumbled.

Who knew two words alone could puncture one’s heart so much?

Looking away, you both remained silent until Rintaro dropped the question. “What will happen to us now? Divorce is unlikely, but I might be stripped off my titles. I don’t know. But I have a feeling I certainly won’t become King anymore.”

“Do you want to be?”

Rintaro thought about it. “I do. It’s all I’ve ever known to pursue.”

“Then stand tall, my Prince. A future King doesn’t bow down to anyone, not even his Queen, and most especially not when the world is against him. We can fix this. I can fix this. I can restore your glory, but I need you to place your full trust on me.”

The plan you formed in your head would be considered insane. Her Majesty would certainly be furious, but if this was the only way to leave Rintaro, you would do it. You would protect him. You would give him back his power, and once he’s had it all, you’ll remove yourself from his life. He cannot have everything that he wants – but if you could not have love, then you want power. Even for just a brief moment, you were determined.

You were going to ruin her.

The drive back to the Palace was silent. He’d agreed to whatever plan you had, regardless of what the outcome might be. He didn’t even know what you truly had in mind. He just trusted you wholeheartedly like you asked, and told you to do as you pleased. Right now, the Crown Prince was weak. His mind was far too disturbed to process anything correctly. You would take advantage of it, simply because his compliance would be the only thing to ensure your success.

He just needed to remain silent.

Claiming he was exhausted, Rintaro went ahead first. It’d be another night where you’d sleep separately, and you would both definitely be awake the whole time. Just as you rounded the corner, you saw a hunched figure resting against the wall. He looked like he’d been waiting for you for a while. Upon hearing your footsteps, Kiyoomi raised his head – his dark eyes vulnerable, almost if hoping you would be the same as you were yesterday.

You wanted to. Truly, you did.

But the person he’d been with in Itachiyama was someone else entirely. She was someone happier, someone who didn’t have a broken marriage to worry about. She was someone who could have loved him.

Now, you were the same Princess he’d always known – the one who could never choose him.

Kiyoomi nodded to himself. He must have realized everything by now. What happened in Itachiyama stayed in Itachiyama. Pushing his weight off the wall, he strode to you with a blank expression. His eyes had gone cold again.

“We will never speak again, will we?”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed out, “He needs me right now.”

“I know,” Kiyoomi had never sounded so defeated broke, and it broke your heart. It made you want to run into his arms, to tell him it could’ve been him if you met him first. But that would sound wrong, wouldn’t it? He had been first. He’d been the last dance; the destined lover. The fated one. But man’s willpower could be so strong it battled even destiny itself, and you were both nothing but a fragment of the could’ve been’s.

“Good luck, Princess, in all your endeavors,” and then, just when you thought he would kiss you as he leaned forward, you closed your eyes. Waited with bated breath.

But he never did.

Kiyoomi only kissed your cheek, and then his scent and his warmth disappeared sooner than you would like. When he walked away, you saw all the what if’s you had to let go of.

The dream life with Kiyoomi vanished into thin air.

Wiping the tears from your cheeks, you forced yourself to turn and never look back. Kiyoomi was surely doing the same. He’d come to peace with it eventually, the love he could’ve had, the marriage he should’ve had. Itachiyama was nothing but a fantasy anyway. He wasn’t a real farmer just as you weren’t someone he could call his. It was a story doomed from the beginning.

Numbness spread all throughout your body. You’d been too drained to cry further, too exhausted to regret what you’d just done. The voice in your mind, the one who craved Kiyoomi like man needed air, had been eerily silent, too. It was if she, too, knew there was no point chasing after something that didn’t want to be chased in the first place.

All you could do was close your eyes and push the image of Kiyoomi’s smile out of your head.

He wasn’t yours. He could never be yours.

After what seemed like hours, you finally arrived at your shared quarters. The same room you left your husband in, and quite possibly the same room he slept with his mistress while you were gone.

You sighed. Opening the door, you were met by the sight of Rintaro pouring himself a drink. He’d already changed clothes – ones free of Iris’ lipstick and perfume. He looked fresh, much more composed than when he was a mess hours ago, yet he seemed… distant. Usually, he’d already perk up at you entering the room. But his face was devoid of any emotion as he poured wine into a second glass, deftly picking it up before downing it in one go. Your gaze fixated on the bobbing of his throat. How Iris’ lips kissed the column of his neck, how she’d whispered praises into his skin, how Rintaro allowed it all.

He slammed his empty glass down on the table. Leaning forward, he rested his arms on the sides of it, his voice unnaturally low as he spoke. “You know, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“About what?”

“Why you weren’t mad after reading the article,” his knuckles turned white from when he tightened his grip. He took slow exhales as if to calm himself, his grip loosening before he snatched another glass.

Back straightened, Rintaro towered over you as he took slow, careful, deliberate steps – akin to a predator sneaking up on its prey. Your heart drummed in your chest, loud enough it could’ve echoed in the spacious chamber, but you stood your ground. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of seeing his effect on you. Then, he stood in front of you – close enough you saw the steady rise and fall of his chest, the tipping of his head to the side as he narrowed his gaze at you. Inquisitively, suspiciously, like peeling away the layers of your skin to reveal your dirtiest secrets.

“Strange, don’t you think? Any sane wife who found out their husband was cheating on them would’ve screamed and kicked already. You didn’t do any of that.”

“I told you already. I’m too tired for any of that.”

“It could be that,” he raised his glass to your face, a portentous smirk dancing on his lips. “Or you could also be directing your affections to someone else.”

“What are you trying to say?”

He rolled his eyes, but otherwise kept his gaze on you as he sipped his drink and taking his sweet sweet time. “I wouldn’t have slept with her if you didn’t leave. You know I despise Kiyoomi, yet you still went. You completely disregarded my feelings when I said I didn’t want you to go,” he grounded his teeth, jaw clenching from the effort of holding himself back. “Is it him, then? Are you choosing him over me?”

He sounded so serious in his accusations you almost believed it yourself. “Don’t be absurd, Rintaro.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I strike a chord?” he said in a sing-song manner, the smile dropping from his face when you kept your lips shut. “So the rumors were right. You went with him to get back at me.”

Your jaw dropped. Yes, you enjoyed the time with Kiyoomi. Yes, you wished you never left, and you were already regretting each minute you spent longer in this damned space with him. Yes, you thought about Kiyoomi in ways you shouldn’t have – and god forbid you nearly asked him to kiss you, but not once did you think about using his brother as a ploy.

You weren’t like him.

“That’s not true, and you know it.”

Rintaro fumed. He flung his empty glass across the room, the shattering sound muted by his yells. “Prove it to me, then!”

“Are you even hearing yourself? I’m not the one who cheated! Don’t you dare turn this around and make it seem like it was my fault.”

“But it was! If you didn’t go around fucking my brother behind my back, I would’ve stayed loyal to you! I would’ve waited until you returned! What, you thought I wouldn’t know what you were doing there with him? Doing fertility dances, sharing dinners with his mother like you’re his wife, lighting stupid fucking lanterns–” swinging your arm back, your palm connected with his cheek, a resounding slap rendering the Prince speechless. He stepped back, clutching his reddened cheeks as he stared at you in disbelief.

“That is enough. Utter one more word, and I will never speak to you again.”

“You aren’t even denying it,” he spat out, “Have you fallen for him?”

You were done. So done. You wouldn’t have any of this anymore. Sidestepping him, you walked past and away from your husband, heading for your bedroom where you planned on slamming the door in his face. You’d cry for hours there if you needed to – anything to have him leave you alone. But your husband was just as stubborn as he was determined, catching up to you with ease before catching your wrist. He spun you to face him, and you froze – he reeked of alcohol, his lips and cheeks painfully red, but his eyes.

You couldn’t tell if he wanted to kill you or keep you.

“Answer me!”

You fought against his grasp. He was stronger than you by all means; you struggled and kicked and pounded your fists on his chest, but Rintaro didn’t budge. He let you hit him however you pleased, demanding repeatedly to tell him he was wrong – how you wouldn’t choose his brother over him, how it’d be him – forever and always.

“I hate you!” you bellowed at his face, falling limp in his arms from all your fighting. “I wish I never married you – it should’ve been him! I should’ve married your brother!”

“That’s a lie!”

“Oh, don’t look so hurt now, Prince. You don’t even feel a sliver of what I do. Need I remind you that you constantly choose her over me, your wife? Why should I be loyal to you when you’re not even mine?”

“I am yours.”

“You’re hers, too,” you reminded him, your eyes glinting with mischief as you recalled Kiyoomi’s words. Just then, cruel laughter bubbled from your lips. Two could play this game, and you would be the winner. He wanted to hurt you? Fine. You could hurt him even more. “You know what’s laughable, Rin? The woman you’re fighting tooth and nail for doesn’t even want you.”

“Shut up!”

You laughed harder, practically shaking in his arms as you did. Taunting him, you nudged your nose with his, forcing him to look at you and feed on your wrath. “I’m right, aren’t I? She doesn’t like you. She’s merely using you for fame and pleasure because her husband isn’t attracted to her–” the breath was slammed out your throat. In mere seconds, Rintaro had shoved you against the wall, his lips crashing down on yours with such ferocity it burned you. Your eyes stung from your tears, the back of your skull beginning to throb. But Rintaro wasn’t done with you yet.

Pinning your wrists above your head, you gasped, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like scotch and smelled faintly of her perfume. It made your stomach churn, and soon, you were groaning into his mouth, desperately trying to win in this battle of dominance. He was angry as you were frustrated, your lips molding against each other’s like swords clashing in a battle. He struck first, his kisses passionately bitter, but his taste addictingly sweet. You fought back against his hold, your breasts sliding down across his chest and you moaned – he groaned – tugging your bottom lip between his teeth until you couldn’t tell who the enemy was anymore. You shouldn’t kiss him, you shouldn’t enjoy it, but his lips were as familiar as a sunny day and you were a woman in need of light in your life.

He’s repulsive, your mind argued.

But he’s mine, your heart decided. He was, and always will be, yours. He could have Iris for as long as he wanted, but it was you who’d taken his name. It was your ring on his finger, your face next to him in the royal portraits. You weren’t the shameful mistress – you were the rightful wife. You could have him as you pleased, ruin him to your delight. Break him into thousands of pieces only to pick him up again because he was yours, yours, yours.

Threading your fingers to his hair, you dragged him closer to you. Breathed him in, pawed at his shirt in a demand for him to take it off. He was more than willing to oblige, the two of you making quick work of his buttons in between messy, breathy kisses. Shirt discarded, he grabbed your ass and your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct – the next sequence of events like a movie you’d seen before.

Your clothes on the carpeted floor.

Rintaro on top of you, your fingers intertwined beside your head. His lips on your neck, bruises on your skin and the imprint of his hands on your hips. Your mewls right on his ear. The quivering of your thighs, the stain on the sheets – the day turning into night, from dusk until dawn. He thrusts deep, enough to have you inhaling sharply through your nose. And there it was – the unmistakable scent of a vanilla perfume you’ve never owned. It’s everywhere in the room now that your eyes opened, the hazy cloud of lust ebbing away. Iris’ perfume on your vanity area, a discarded pair of white lacy thongs that wasn’t yours peeking from under the closet, and her scent – her stupidly sweet, innocent scent – blanketing the silk of your sheets.

Slowly, your fingers detached from Suna as you turned to the sides, inhaling the sheets once more because it couldn’t be, right? Maybe you had it wrong. Rintaro wouldn’t do that, he couldn’t be so cruel. You never even shared this bed with him ever since you got married. You’ve never had him hold you close as you fall asleep, never had your head resting on his chest while you both waited for the next day. He was a cruel man, yes, but he wouldn’t dare do this to you. Not while you were gone, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t.

Yet there it was, the scent of a floral shampoo you couldn’t recognize on your pillows, and the faint smatters of vanilla and cinnamon lingered behind.

And when the damage is done, and your heart is more confused now than ever – Rintaro momentarily slumps before you, held up only by his arms, he realizes too late the tears stained on your cheeks.

“You brought her here.”

It wasn’t a question, not even an accusation. You spoke nothing but the truth, and Rintaro’s crestfallen face said it all. He’d brought her here, made love with her on your bed. Somehow, finding out that he’d fucked her in the one place you found solace in the Palace hurt more than knowing he fucked her everywhere else.

It was as if he’d stained you. Spat right at your face. Desecrated the one place you wished to hold him in, and rubbed it in your face that he couldn’t make love to you in your bed. But he could with her, because it was always going to be her, wasn’t it?

No matter how hard you tried, it was never going to be you.

Silence dawned on the room. There’s nothing but the rapid beating of your hearts, and the soft sniffles you muffle behind your first. He sees two things on your face that night: one of beauty, and one of regret. He dared himself to be brave, to wipe your tears with the pad of his thumb. The motion was oddly comforting, and for a moment – just a quick moment – you allowed yourself to be vulnerable. Leaning into the warmth of his palm, more tears dampened his skin. You were torn between asking him to stay, to hold you until it hurt less, and asking him to leave and give you a moment for yourself.

But Rintaro had already decided.

With a final kiss to your forehead, your husband crawled out of the bed. He glanced at you one last time before slipping his ring off, setting it on your bedside table, before quietly – and resolutely – leaving you behind.

[itsawritblr]

Holy shit, the New York Times is FINALLY interviewing and listening to detransistioners.

The tide is turning.

Opinion by Pamela Paul

As Kids, They Thought They Were Trans. They No Longer Do.

Feb. 2, 2024

Grace Powell was 12 or 13 when she discovered she could be a boy.

Growing up in a relatively conservative community in Grand Rapids, Mich., Powell, like many teenagers, didn’t feel comfortable in her own skin. She was unpopular and frequently bullied. Puberty made everything worse. She suffered from depression and was in and out of therapy.

“I felt so detached from my body, and the way it was developing felt hostile to me,” Powell told me. It was classic gender dysphoria, a feeling of discomfort with your sex.

Reading about transgender people online, Powell believed that the reason she didn’t feel comfortable in her body was that she was in the wrong body. Transitioning seemed like the obvious solution. The narrative she had heard and absorbed was that if you don’t transition, you’ll kill yourself.

At 17, desperate to begin hormone therapy, Powell broke the news to her parents. They sent her to a gender specialist to make sure she was serious. In the fall of her senior year of high school, she started cross-sex hormones. She had a double mastectomy the summer before college, then went off as a transgender man named Grayson to Sarah Lawrence College, where she was paired with a male roommate on a men’s floor. At 5-foot-3, she felt she came across as a very effeminate gay man.

At no point during her medical or surgical transition, Powell says, did anyone ask her about the reasons behind her gender dysphoria or her depression. At no point was she asked about her sexual orientation. And at no point was she asked about any previous trauma, and so neither the therapists nor the doctors ever learned that she’d been sexually abused as a child.

“I wish there had been more open conversations,” Powell, now 23 and detransitioned, told me. “But I was told there is one cure and one thing to do if this is your problem, and this will help you.”

Progressives often portray the heated debate over childhood transgender care as a clash between those who are trying to help growing numbers of children express what they believe their genders to be and conservative politicians who won’t let kids be themselves.

But right-wing demagogues are not the only ones who have inflamed this debate. Transgender activists have pushed their own ideological extremism, especially by pressing for a treatment orthodoxy that has faced increased scrutiny in recent years. Under that model of care, clinicians are expected to affirm a young person’s assertion of gender identity and even provide medical treatment before, or even without, exploring other possible sources of distress.

Many who think there needs to be a more cautious approach — including well-meaning liberal parents, doctors and people who have undergone gender transition and subsequently regretted their procedures — have been attacked as anti-trans and intimidated into silencing their concerns.

And while Donald Trump denounces “left-wing gender insanity” and many trans activists describe any opposition as transphobic, parents in America’s vast ideological middle can find little dispassionate discussion of the genuine risks or trade-offs involved in what proponents call gender-affirming care.

Powell’s story shows how easy it is for young people to get caught up by the pull of ideology in this atmosphere.

“What should be a medical and psychological issue has been morphed into a political one,” Powell lamented during our conversation. “It’s a mess.”

A New and Growing Group of Patients

Many transgender adults are happy with their transitions and, whether they began to transition as adults or adolescents, feel it was life changing, even lifesaving. The small but rapidly growing number of children who express gender dysphoria and who transition at an early age, according to clinicians, is a recent and more controversial phenomenon.

Laura Edwards-Leeper, the founding psychologist of the first pediatric gender clinic in the United States, said that when she started her practice in 2007, most of her patients had longstanding and deep-seated gender dysphoria. Transitioning clearly made sense for almost all of them, and any mental health issues they had were generally resolved through gender transition.

“But that is just not the case anymore,” she told me recently. While she doesn’t regret transitioning the earlier cohort of patients and opposes government bans on transgender medical care, she said, “As far as I can tell, there are no professional organizations who are stepping in to regulate what’s going on.”

Most of her patients now, she said, have no history of childhood gender dysphoria. Others refer to this phenomenon, with some controversy, as rapid onset gender dysphoria, in which adolescents, particularly tween and teenage girls, express gender dysphoria despite never having done so when they were younger. Frequently, they have mental health issues unrelated to gender. While professional associations say there is a lack of quality research on rapid onset gender dysphoria, several researchers have documented the phenomenon, and many health care providers have seen evidence of it in their practices.

“The population has changed drastically,” said Edwards-Leeper, a former head of the Child and Adolescent Committee for the World Professional Association for Transgender Health, the organization responsible for setting gender transition guidelines for medical professionals.

For these young people, she told me, “you have to take time to really assess what’s going on and hear the timeline and get the parents’ perspective in order to create an individualized treatment plan. Many providers are completely missing that step.”

Yet those health care professionals and scientists who do not think clinicians should automatically agree to a young person’s self-diagnosis are often afraid to speak out. A report commissioned by the National Health Service about Britain’s Tavistock gender clinic, which, until it was ordered to be shut down, was the country’s only health center dedicated to gender identity, noted that “primary and secondary care staff have told us that they feel under pressure to adopt an unquestioning affirmative approach and that this is at odds with the standard process of clinical assessment and diagnosis that they have been trained to undertake in all other clinical encounters.”

Of the dozens of students she’s trained as psychologists, Edwards-Leeper said, few still seem to be providing gender-related care. While her students have left the field for various reasons, “some have told me that they didn’t feel they could continue because of the pushback, the accusations of being transphobic, from being pro-assessment and wanting a more thorough process,” she said.

They have good reasons to be wary. Stephanie Winn, a licensed marriage and family therapist in Oregon, was trained in gender-affirming care and treated multiple transgender patients. But in 2020, after coming across detransition videos online, she began to doubt the gender-affirming model. In 2021 she spoke out in favor of approaching gender dysphoria in a more considered way, urging others in the field to pay attention to detransitioners, people who no longer consider themselves transgender after undergoing medical or surgical interventions. She has since been attacked by transgender activists. Some threatened to send complaints to her licensing board saying that she was trying to make trans kids change their minds through conversion therapy.

In April 2022, the Oregon Board of Licensed Professional Counselors and Therapists told Winn that she was under investigation. Her case was ultimately dismissed, but Winn no longer treats minors and practices only online, where many of her patients are worried parents of trans-identifying children.

“I don’t feel safe having a location where people can find me,” she said.

Detransitioners say that only conservative media outlets seem interested in telling their stories, which has left them open to attacks as hapless tools of the right, something that frustrated and dismayed every detransitioner I interviewed. These are people who were once the trans-identified kids that so many organizations say they’re trying to protect — but when they change their minds, they say, they feel abandoned.

Most parents and clinicians are simply trying to do what they think is best for the children involved. But parents with qualms about the current model of care are frustrated by what they see as a lack of options.

Parents told me it was a struggle to balance the desire to compassionately support a child with gender dysphoria while seeking the best psychological and medical care. Many believed their kids were gay or dealing with an array of complicated issues. But all said they felt compelled by gender clinicians, doctors, schools and social pressure to accede to their child’s declared gender identity even if they had serious doubts. They feared it would tear apart their family if they didn’t unquestioningly support social transition and medical treatment. All asked to speak anonymously, so desperate were they to maintain or repair any relationship with their children, some of whom were currently estranged.

Several of those who questioned their child’s self-diagnosis told me it had ruined their relationship. A few parents said simply, “I feel like I’ve lost my daughter.”

One mother described a meeting with 12 other parents in a support group for relatives of trans-identified youth where all of the participants described their children as autistic or otherwise neurodivergent. To all questions, the woman running the meeting replied, “Just let them transition.” The mother left in shock. How would hormones help a child with obsessive-compulsive disorder or depression? she wondered.

Some parents have found refuge in anonymous online support groups. There, people share tips on finding caregivers who will explore the causes of their children’s distress or tend to their overall emotional and developmental health and well-being without automatically acceding to their children’s self-diagnosis.

Many parents of kids who consider themselves trans say their children were introduced to transgender influencers on YouTube or TikTok, a phenomenon intensified for some by the isolation and online cocoon of Covid. Others say their kids learned these ideas in the classroom, as early as elementary school, often in child-friendly ways through curriculums supplied by trans rights organizations, with concepts like the gender unicorn or the Genderbread person.

‘Do You Want a Dead Son or a Live Daughter?’

After Kathleen’s 15-year-old son, whom she described as an obsessive child, abruptly told his parents he was trans, the doctor who was going to assess whether he had A.D.H.D. referred him instead to someone who specialized in both A.D.H.D. and gender. Kathleen, who asked to be identified only by her first name to protect her son’s privacy, assumed that the specialist would do some kind of evaluation or assessment. That was not the case.

The meeting was brief and began on a shocking note. “In front of my son, the therapist said, ‘Do you want a dead son or a live daughter?’” Kathleen recounted.

Parents are routinely warned that to pursue any path outside of agreeing with a child’s self-declared gender identity is to put a gender dysphoric youth at risk for suicide, which feels to many people like emotional blackmail. Proponents of the gender-affirming model have cited studies showing an association between that standard of care and a lower risk of suicide. But those studies were found to have methodological flaws or have been deemed not entirely conclusive. A survey of studies on the psychological effects of cross-sex hormones, published three years ago in The Journal of the Endocrine Society, the professional organization for hormone specialists, found it “could not draw any conclusions about death by suicide.” In a letter to The Wall Street Journal last year, 21 experts from nine countries said that survey was one reason they believed there was “no reliable evidence to suggest that hormonal transition is an effective suicide prevention measure.”

Moreover, the incidence of suicidal thoughts and attempts among gender dysphoric youth is complicated by the high incidence of accompanying conditions, such as autism spectrum disorder. As one systematic overview put it, “Children with gender dysphoria often experience a range of psychiatric comorbidities, with a high prevalence of mood and anxiety disorders, trauma, eating disorders and autism spectrum conditions, suicidality and self-harm.”

But rather than being treated as patients who deserve unbiased professional help, children with gender dysphoria often become political pawns.

Conservative lawmakers are working to ban access to gender care for minors and occasionally for adults as well. On the other side, however, many medical and mental health practitioners feel their hands have been tied by activist pressure and organizational capture. They say that it has become difficult to practice responsible mental health care or medicine for these young people.

Pediatricians, psychologists and other clinicians who dissent from this orthodoxy, believing that it is not based on reliable evidence, feel frustrated by their professional organizations. The American Psychological Association, American Psychiatric Association and the American Academy of Pediatrics have wholeheartedly backed the gender-affirming model.

In 2021, Aaron Kimberly, a 50-year-old trans man and registered nurse, left the clinic in British Columbia where his job focused on the intake and assessment of gender-dysphoric youth. Kimberly received a comprehensive screening when he embarked on his own successful transition at age 33, which resolved the gender dysphoria he experienced from an early age.

But when the gender-affirming model was introduced at his clinic, he was instructed to support the initiation of hormone treatment for incoming patients regardless of whether they had complex mental problems, experiences with trauma or were otherwise “severely unwell,” Kimberly said. When he referred patients for further mental health care rather than immediate hormone treatment, he said he was accused of what they called gatekeeping and had to change jobs.

“I realized something had gone totally off the rails,” Kimberly, who subsequently founded the Gender Dysphoria Alliance and the L.G.B.T. Courage Coalition to advocate better gender care, told me.

Gay men and women often told me they fear that same-sex-attracted kids, especially effeminate boys and tomboy girls who are gender nonconforming, will be transitioned during a normal phase of childhood and before sexual maturation — and that gender ideology can mask and even abet homophobia.

As one detransitioned man, now in a gay relationship, put it, “I was a gay man pumped up to look like a woman and dated a lesbian who was pumped up to look like a man. If that’s not conversion therapy, I don’t know what is.”

“I transitioned because I didn’t want to be gay,” Kasey Emerick, a 23-year-old woman and detransitioner from Pennsylvania, told me. Raised in a conservative Christian church, she said, “I believed homosexuality was a sin.”

When she was 15, Emerick confessed her homosexuality to her mother. Her mother attributed her sexual orientation to trauma — Emerick’s father was convicted of raping and assaulting her repeatedly when she was between the ages of 4 and 7 — but after catching Emerick texting with another girl at age 16, she took away her phone. When Emerick melted down, her mother admitted her to a psychiatric hospital. While there, Emerick told herself, “If I was a boy, none of this would have happened.”

In May 2017, Emerick began searching “gender” online and encountered trans advocacy websites. After realizing she could “pick the other side,” she told her mother, “I’m sick of being called a dyke and not a real girl.” If she were a man, she’d be free to pursue relationships with women.

That September, she and her mother met with a licensed professional counselor for the first of two 90-minute consultations. She told the counselor that she had wished to be a Boy Scout rather than a Girl Scout. She said she didn’t like being gay or a butch lesbian. She also told the counselor that she had suffered from anxiety, depression and suicidal ideation. The clinic recommended testosterone, which was prescribed by a nearby L.G.B.T.Q. health clinic. Shortly thereafter, she was also diagnosed with A.D.H.D. She developed panic attacks. At age 17, she was cleared for a double mastectomy.

“I’m thinking, ‘Oh my God, I’m having my breasts removed. I’m 17. I’m too young for this,’” she recalled. But she went ahead with the operation.

“Transition felt like a way to control something when I couldn’t control anything in my life,” Emerick explained. But after living as a trans man for five years, Emerick realized her mental health symptoms were only getting worse. In the fall of 2022, she came out as a detransitioner on Twitter and was immediately attacked. Transgender influencers told her she was bald and ugly. She received multiple threats.

“I thought my life was over,” she said. “I realized that I had lived a lie for over five years.”

Today Emerick’s voice, permanently altered by testosterone, is that of a man. When she tells people she’s a detransitioner, they ask when she plans to stop taking T and live as a woman. “I’ve been off it for a year,” she replies.

Once, after she recounted her story to a therapist, the therapist tried to reassure her. If it’s any consolation, the therapist remarked, “I would never have guessed that you were once a trans woman.” Emerick replied, “Wait, what sex do you think I am?”

To the trans activist dictum that children know their gender best, it is important to add something all parents know from experience: Children change their minds all the time. One mother told me that after her teenage son desisted — pulled back from a trans identity before any irreversible medical procedures — he explained, “I was just rebelling. I look at it like a subculture, like being goth.”

“The job of children and adolescents is to experiment and explore where they fit into the world, and a big part of that exploration, especially during adolescence, is around their sense of identity,” Sasha Ayad, a licensed professional counselor based in Phoenix, told me. “Children at that age often present with a great deal of certainty and urgency about who they believe they are at the time and things they would like to do in order to enact that sense of identity.”

Ayad, a co-author of “When Kids Say They’re Trans: A Guide for Thoughtful Parents,” advises parents to be wary of the gender affirmation model. “We’ve always known that adolescents are particularly malleable in relationship to their peers and their social context and that exploration is often an attempt to navigate difficulties of that stage, such as puberty, coming to terms with the responsibilities and complications of young adulthood, romance and solidifying their sexual orientation,” she told me. For providing this kind of exploratory approach in her own practice with gender dysphoric youth, Ayad has had her license challenged twice, both times by adults who were not her patients. Both times, the charges were dismissed.

Studies show that around eight in 10 cases of childhood gender dysphoria resolve themselves by puberty and 30 percent of people on hormone therapy discontinue its use within four years, though the effects, including infertility, are often irreversible.

Proponents of early social transition and medical interventions for gender dysphoric youth cite a 2022 study showing that 98 percent of children who took both puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones continued treatment for short periods, and another study that tracked 317 children who socially transitioned between the ages of 3 and 12, which found that 94 percent of them still identified as transgender five years later. But such early interventions may cement children’s self-conceptions without giving them time to think or sexually mature.

‘The Process of Transition Didn’t Make Me Feel Better’

At the end of her freshman year of college, Grace Powell, horrifically depressed, began dissociating, feeling detached from her body and from reality, which had never happened to her before. Ultimately, she said, “the process of transition didn’t make me feel better. It magnified what I found was wrong with myself.”

“I expected it to change everything, but I was just me, with a slightly deeper voice,” she added. “It took me two years to start detransitioning and living as Grace again.”

She tried in vain to find a therapist who would treat her underlying issues, but they kept asking her: How do you want to be seen? Do you want to be nonbinary? Powell wanted to talk about her trauma, not her identity or her gender presentation. She ended up getting online therapy from a former employee of the Tavistock clinic in Britain. This therapist, a woman who has broken from the gender-affirming model, talked Grace through what she sees as her failure to launch and her efforts to reset. The therapist asked questions like: Who is Grace? What do you want from your life? For the first time, Powell felt someone was seeing and helping her as a person, not simply looking to slot her into an identity category.

Many detransitioners say they face ostracism and silencing because of the toxic politics around transgender issues.

“It is extraordinarily frustrating to feel that something I am is inherently political,” Powell told me. “I’ve been accused multiple times that I’m some right-winger who’s making a fake narrative to discredit transgender people, which is just crazy.”

While she believes there are people who benefit from transitioning, “I wish more people would understand that there’s not a one-size-fits-all solution,” she said. “I wish we could have that conversation.”

In a recent study in The Archives of Sexual Behavior, about 40 young detransitioners out of 78 surveyed said they had suffered from rapid onset gender dysphoria. Trans activists have fought hard to suppress any discussion of rapid onset gender dysphoria, despite evidence that the condition is real. In its guide for journalists, the activist organization GLAAD warns the media against using the term, as it is not “a formal condition or diagnosis.” Human Rights Campaign, another activist group, calls it “a right-wing theory.” A group of professional organizations put out a statement urging clinicians to eliminate the term from use.

Nobody knows how many young people desist after social, medical or surgical transitions. Trans activists often cite low regret rates for gender transition, along with low figures for detransition. But those studies, which often rely on self-reported cases to gender clinics, likely understate the actual numbers. None of the seven detransitioners I interviewed, for instance, even considered reporting back to the gender clinics that prescribed them medication they now consider to have been a mistake. Nor did they know any other detransitioners who had done so.

As Americans furiously debate the basis of transgender care, a number of advances in understanding have taken place in Europe, where the early Dutch studies that became the underpinning of gender-affirming care have been broadly questioned and criticized. Unlike some of the current population of gender dysphoric youth, the Dutch study participants had no serious psychological conditions. Those studies were riddled with methodological flaws and weaknesses. There was no evidence that any intervention was lifesaving. There was no long-term follow-up with any of the study’s 55 participants or the 15 who dropped out. A British effort to replicate the study said that it “identified no changes in psychological function” and that more studies were needed.

In countries like Sweden, Norway, France, the Netherlands and Britain — long considered exemplars of gender progress — medical professionals have recognized that early research on medical interventions for childhood gender dysphoria was either faulty or incomplete. Last month, the World Health Organization, in explaining why it is developing “a guideline on the health of trans and gender diverse people,” said it will cover only adults because “the evidence base for children and adolescents is limited and variable regarding the longer-term outcomes of gender-affirming care for children and adolescents.”

But in America, and Canada, the results of those widely criticized Dutch studies are falsely presented to the public as settled science.

Other countries have recently halted or limited the medical and surgical treatment of gender dysphoric youth, pending further study. Britain’s Tavistock clinic was ordered to be shut down next month, after a National Health Service-commissioned investigation found deficiencies in service and “a lack of consensus and open discussion about the nature of gender dysphoria and therefore about the appropriate clinical response.”

Meanwhile, the American medical establishment has hunkered down, stuck in an outdated model of gender affirmation. The American Academy of Pediatrics only recently agreed to conduct more research in response to yearslong efforts by dissenting experts, including Dr. Julia Mason, a self-described “bleeding-heart liberal.”

The larger threat to transgender people comes from Republicans who wish to deny them rights and protections. But the doctrinal rigidity of the progressive wing of the Democratic Party is disappointing, frustrating and counterproductive.

“I was always a liberal Democrat,” one woman whose son desisted after social transition and hormone therapy told me. “Now I feel politically homeless.”

She noted that the Biden administration has “unequivocally” supported gender-affirming care for minors, in cases in which it deems it “medically appropriate and necessary.” Rachel Levine, the assistant secretary for health at the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, told NPR in 2022 that “there is no argument among medical professionals — pediatricians, pediatric endocrinologists, adolescent medicine physicians, adolescent psychiatrists, psychologists, et cetera — about the value and the importance of gender-affirming care.”

Of course, politics should not influence medical practice, whether the issue is birth control, abortion or gender medicine. But unfortunately, politics has gotten in the way of progress. Last year The Economist published a thorough investigation into America’s approach to gender medicine. Zanny Minton Beddoes, the editor, put the issue into political context. “If you look internationally at countries in Europe, the U.K. included, their medical establishments are much more concerned,” Beddoes told Vanity Fair. “But here — in part because this has become wrapped up in the culture wars where you have, you know, crazy extremes from the Republican right — if you want to be an upstanding liberal, you feel like you can’t say anything.”

Some people are trying to open up that dialogue, or at least provide outlets for kids and families to seek a more therapeutic approach to gender dysphoria.

Paul Garcia-Ryan is a psychotherapist in New York who cares for kids and families seeking holistic, exploratory care for gender dysphoria. He is also a detransitioner who from ages 15 to 30 fully believed he was a woman.

Garcia-Ryan is gay, but as a boy, he said, “it was much less threatening to my psyche to think that I was a straight girl born into the wrong body — that I had a medical condition that could be tended to.” When he visited a clinic at 15, the clinician immediately affirmed he was female, and rather than explore the reasons for his mental distress, simply confirmed Garcia-Ryan’s belief that he was not meant to be a man.

Once in college, he began medically transitioning and eventually had surgery on his genitals. Severe medical complications from both the surgery and hormone medication led him to reconsider what he had done, and to detransition. He also reconsidered the basis of gender affirmation, which, as a licensed clinical social worker at a gender clinic, he had been trained in and provided to clients.

“You’re made to believe these slogans,” he said. “Evidence-based, lifesaving care, safe and effective, medically necessary, the science is settled — and none of that is evidence based.”

Garcia-Ryan, 32, is now the board president of Therapy First, an organization that supports therapists who do not agree with the gender affirmation model. He thinks transition can help some people manage the symptoms of gender dysphoria but no longer believes anyone under 25 should socially, medically or surgically transition without exploratory psychotherapy first.

“When a professional affirms a gender identity for a younger person, what they are doing is implementing a psychological intervention that narrows a person’s sense of self and closes off their options for considering what’s possible for them,” Garcia-Ryan told me.

Instead of promoting unproven treatments for children, which surveys show many Americans are uncomfortable with, transgender activists would be more effective if they focused on a shared agenda. Most Americans across the political spectrum can agree on the need for legal protections for transgender adults. They would also probably support additional research on the needs of young people reporting gender dysphoria so that kids could get the best treatment possible.

A shift in this direction would model tolerance and acceptance. It would prioritize compassion over demonization. It would require rising above culture-war politics and returning to reason. It would be the most humane path forward. And it would be the right thing to do.

*~*~*~*~*~*

For those who want tor ead more by those fighting the cancellation forquestioning, read:

Graham Lineham, who's been fighting since the beginning and paid the price, but is not seeing things turn around.

The Glinner Update, Grahan Linehan's Substack.

Kellie-Jay Keen @ThePosieParker, who's been physically attacked for organizing events for women demanding women-only spaces.

REDUXX, Feminst news & opinion.

Gays Against Groomers @againstgrmrs, A nonprofit of gay people and others within the community against the sexualization, indoctrination and medicalization of children under the guise of "LGBTQIA+"

[x0llaz]

The Perfect Pair 𖦹 ⋆° ✮

Sungchan x fem!reader

WC: 7325

enemies to lovers, Sungchan is an asshole in the beginning whoops, stucco au, angst, fluff, conflict resolution, childhood bully Sungchan

Synopsis: Sungchan and YN have hated each other's guts since they were kids. Now, in their final year of high school, things have began to boil over...

ִ ࣪𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ִ ࣪𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ִ ࣪𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑

 It was a sunny day. The sky was clear, the birds were chirping through the wind. It was a perfect day for a perfect recess. YN sat on the ground, playing with a doll by herself while all the other kids played with their friends, taking turns on the swingset, going down the slides. There was a group of boys in her grade, huddled over a bit away, giggling about something. The boys soon pushed someone forward, egging him to do something. 

YN looked up as a boy with dark hair looked down at her, a grin plastered on her face. She would’ve had time to process how cute he was, if he hadn’t reached down and snatched her doll. Immediately she stood up, yelling at him to give it back. He just laughed in her face, avoiding her quick attempts to grab back her toy. 

He danced around her, teasing and taunting until she stepped closer to him and yelled in his face. In response, he pushed her back on the ground, she landed on her butt, with a little hiss from getting scraped. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes as he laughed before walking away, the lunch bell ending before she could yell for a teacher. 

She learned from her friends that his name was Sungchan, and seemed to enjoy picking on girls. They told her stories of his antics, how he got stuck eating with the teacher for a week because he pulled a girl’s hair. All her friends told her he was no good, that he was just a dumb boy. 

The worst part was, she never got her doll back. 

From that day forward, she hated sungchan. She hated his stupid face, and his stupid laugh. She hated his stupid jokes, and the way he’d pick on her. She hated the way he didn’t remember what he did, no matter how silly it was to hold a grudge. 

Yet as they grew up, they walked parallel paths. In later schools of primary school, they were in the same classes, leading into high school they took the same courses, matched in academic skill. When they saw each other in their first shared class, all the way back in third grade, it seemed like sungchan’s goal was to make things difficult for YN. Anything she could do, he could do better. 

And YN made it her goal to prove him wrong. Thus was born, the rivalry. 

Competing for better test scores, racing to have the correct answer, never missing a beat to show off how smart they were. They hardly spoke, unless to argue, and would often just shoot each other dirty looks across the room. 

Sungchan Liked ruffling YN’s feathers, always taking the chance to poke fun at her, call her a nerd, though he did similar things to her. He was the typical bully, YN thought he’d peak in high school for sure. 

To be fair, YN was never very nice to him either. If there was one thing she was good at, it was holding a grudge. Anytime she’d think of any redeeming quality for the boy, she’d always come back to that day in first grade. And with her copious vocabulary, she always knew the right words to hit him with. Though, she didn’t think Sungchan would be able to understand many of them. 

At some point, a classmate asked YN if she had a crush on sungchan, to which she almost threw up at the thought of. “Ew! Anyone but him!”  She explained her hatred for sungchan and his dreamy eyes, but only left the girl unconvinced. 

A boy who would become friends with sungchan asked him the same thing, and he just laughed at the thought. “Why would I have a crush on her, she’s annoying as shit!” He ignored how much he truly liked hearing her pretty voice argue back at him, just seeing her as a stuck up little princess. 

By their junior year, there was something new to campaign for. Something new for them to compete in, to prove how much better they were. Student council. After a year of campaigning, debating and promoting themselves, the results were announced at the Student council meeting. One of them would be The student body president. 

“Choi YN!” her name was called. 

Her eyes lit up, a smile emerging as she went to the podium. Her speech was about what you’d expect from a junior, but She hoped Sungchan would feel like the loser he was. A bit later he approached her, a lazy smirk across his lips as he talked to her.

“Congrats on the win, I'd say you had a good run against me,” He spoke condescendingly, but YN couldn’t help but relish in his defeat. 

“Oh, it wasn’t that difficult,” she smiled, trying to mask the sarcasm in her laugh. 

“You know, you should really fix your attitude if we’re going to be partners,” he pointed out. The smile faded from YN’s face.

“What do you mean?” she asked, confused. 

“Did you forget? I’m your vice president!” he said, faking his own joy.

One of them would be student body president. The runner up would be the Vice.

So much for an easy win. 

“YN, no offense, but this budget sucks,” Sungchan said, looking over her shoulder at the paper on her desk. 

“Thank you for your valued opinion, sungchan, but Mr. Lee said it was the best draft yet, so that’s what we’re sending in,” YN said, trying her best to ignore his figure hovering over her. “You know, maybe you could go do your job instead of trying to do mine,” 

“Just trying to help,” He smiled.

Sungchan always found a problem with YN. Whether it was a policy idea she came up with, or an event she came up with for fundraising, it was never good enough. YN had taken up a habit of ignoring Sungchan, confident her ideas could stand on their own. And fairly certain that Sungchan was stupid. 

But their disagreements were far too severe for two people who were supposed to be partners. Many meetings had turned into the two of them bickering back and forth, where their advisor would need to step in to make them pipe down. It was becoming unproductive for the two of them to work together, fighting more than they were working. 

It didn’t help that YN was beginning to feel the weight of all her courses piling up on her. It was that part of the year where school life balance practically didn’t exist, where most nights were spent doing homework or catching up on work. The stress of being in the top classes, and having to manage multiple jobs for her position was eating her alive. It was only a matter of time before something set her off. 

Sungchan always had exquisite timing. 

“You know, YN, maybe if you weren’t so behind on your assignments, you wouldn’t be so stressed,” Sungchan’s voice mocked her from across her desk. “I don’t think it’s a very good look if our president is always behind on what she needs to do. Stress isn’t good for the job.”

Something inside her snapped. All the anger she struggled to keep at bay was boiling up all over again. 

“Can you just shut the fuck up?” She snapped her head up at him, face turning red. “Like genuinely, let me do what I need to do, and leave me alone!”

“YN!” their advisor shouted from across the room. “That talk isn’t tolerated, apologize!”

“No! He’s done nothing but insult me and my work. Why should I apologize to him?” YN defended herself, Sungchan scoffing. 

“Because you two are a team. You can’t work well together if-”

“I can’t work well if he’s always breathing down my back insulting me!” 

“I was giving you advice, YN, learn the difference,” Sungchan laughed as he spoke, making YN’s anger rise more. 

“I told you to shut up!” YN shouted at him, her anger burning in her throat. 

“No! Both of you, out, now. Come back when you’ve figured out your problems.” Mr. Lee told them. 

YN groaned, stomping out of the room, as sungchan followed behind her lazily. They stood in an empty hallway, sungchan looked around the hall, seeming bored, as YN stared a hole in the ground. Neither one of them wanted to break the silence, neither wanted to acknowledge their part in their stupid rivalry. But YN had one burning question on her mind. 

“Why did you do it?” She asked, her voice quiet, not looking up at him. 

“Do what?” Sungchan scoffed, leaning against the wall. His arms folded across his chest as he looked down at her. 

“First Grade,” She spoke up a little. “It was recess, you stole my doll,” 

“Oh my god,” Sungchan audibly laughed, a wide grin of disbelief across his stupid face. “Is that why you’re such a bitch? You’re mad about a stupid toy?”

“No, I'm mad because you’ve treated me like shit ever since then. And I want to know why. What did I ever do to you to make you hate me? You took my doll, and then you never stopped hating me. You never stopped being a dick.” YN looked up at him finally. She still looked upset, but there was something Sungchan couldn’t decipher in her gaze. He hated it. 

He pushed off the wall, stepping closer towards her, causing her to take a step back. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a bit… insane?” he asked, leaning down to her eye level. “Honestly, has anyone?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a dickhead? Do you get off on being an asshole, or are you really just that stupid?” YN asked him, trying to fight back. 

“Ever since we were little, you were such a prick. You were such a prissy princess, and you still are now. You know why I don’t like you? Because you think you’re better than everyone, and someone needs to bring you off your high horse,” Sungchan had a condescending grin on his face. 

“No, I don’t,” YN mumbled, stumbling backwards. The words hit her harder than she would’ve expected.

“Bullshit,” Sungchan smiled, cornering her against a locker, his hand resting near her head. “You think you’re so special, that you’re the smartest girl in the world, but you’re not,”

“Sungchan, stop,” Her voice broke, though she tried to keep herself steady, trying to blink back the tears that welled in her eyes.

“Aw, you gonna cry?” He asked. “You know what I think? I think you’re pathetic. I think you’re a pathetic girl who’s never had a reality check. I think you’re pathetic for holding a grudge because I stole your toy. Boo Hoo. Welcome to the real world, there’s more than just your stupid dolls.” 

YN shoved at his chest, trying to push him away from her, but he stood firm. She fought back the tears that threatened to fall. 

“You know, YN, you really never changed,” He laughed. “You’re still the crybaby brat you were back when we were kids. Just a pathetic. useless. crybaby,” 

There was silence between the two of them. The sound that broke it was a painful sounding sob from YN, as she covered her mouth, tears racing down her cheeks as she began gasping for air. Sungchan took a step back as She slid down the locker and to the floor, wrapping her arms around her legs as if she was trying to protect herself. 

Sungchan was in shock. He’d never seen YN in such a position. He’d never seen her beyond the perfect image she always wore. The only time He saw her truly cry was when they were little. But this? Seeing her curled in on herself, sobbing into her legs, it made him rethink his actions. He thought she was immune to his words, that she’d spit something back that was just as mean, but here she was, broken down, sobs escaping her as her breathing picked up quickly. 

He knelt down a bit, feeling remorse build up in his chest, reaching a hand to her shoulder. “YN?” his voice was soft, a drastic shift from his venomous voice. When he touched her, she smacked him away. She smacked his hand away from her shoulder, looking up at him with hatred in her eyes.

“Fuck you!” she yelled at him as she stood up, fleeing before he could process.  

She ran to their homeroom, shoving her things into her bag as she wiped the tears from her eyes. She threw her bag over her shoulders, rushing out of the room as Mr. Lee questioned her. She didn’t respond, just storming away before anything worse could happen. Sungchan was still in the hallway, and when he saw her, he quickly approached, following behind her, calling her name. She heard him, but didn’t listen. 

When she got to the front doors, she saw it was storming outside. She heard as Sungchan called after her, telling her not to walk home, that the rain was too heavy, offering to drive her, but She ignored him. She didn’t care about the Rain, she just wanted to get away from him.

YN was gone for the rest of the week, supposedly having caught the flu. Sunfchan knew better. He knew it was likely because he went too far, that what he said was unforgivable. It made him feel even worse. 

He tried emailing her, texting her for the first time ever just trying to apologize for what he said, but she never responded. He didn’t really expect her to, he knew he was wrong. When he told his friends what happened, they all told him the same thing. 

“Chan, you’re a dick,”

He knew they were right, that he in fact was a dick. 

When she came back the next week, Sungchan made it his mission to talk to her. To get her to talk to him. When he saw her in homeroom, he approached her with a small smile, ready to genuinely apologize for what he said. But when she ignored him, looking up only to roll her eyes, he frowned. 

He assumed she was just playing hard-ball. That she’d eventually talk if he tried hard enough. 

In all their meetings, he’d try to be extra nice, complimenting her or bringing her coffee, but she always ignored him, a straight face plastered onto her like a mask. After a week of trying with no results, sungchan wanted to punch a wall. 

“I give up,” He said to his friends at lunch. “What can I do if she doesn’t even listen to me? She won’t even hear me out! What am I supposed to do to fix it if she won’t let me!”

“You’re really dumb, you know,” Shotaro laughed at the younger boy. 

“What?” sungchan furrowed his brows. 

“You think that she owes you forgiveness after what you did?” He asks. 

“No, but-”

“Then stop expecting it. Honestly, I don't blame her for ignoring you. You’ve been a bitch to her since you were in elementary school,” Shotaro sighed. “You’re not going to get anywhere like this. If you want things to be better, then you gotta stop being a dick. You can’t apologize and then go back to chastising her for stupid shit.”

Sungchan looked down. “I know,”

“Then stop being a dick!” eunseok said from across the table. 

“Well she’s just a bitch!” Sungchan tried to shift the blame. 

“No, she’s really not. She’s a bitch to you because you’ve never been nice to her. She’s actually a really sweet girl,” Eunseok defended her. 

“How would you know?”

“She’s in my math class. She helps me with like… everything,” Eunseok shrugged. 

“Why is this the first I'm hearing of that?” sungchan asked. 

“Because you’d make such a fuss about how bitchy she was and how much you hated her.” the older boy shrugged. “And if you took a moment to stop being such an asshole, you’d see she was way nicer than you thought. And you’d also find out there was more to her than just being a spoiled nerd, or whatever you call her,” 

When he went to the library that day, he heard something. While he was reading his assigned reading book, he heard a soft, muffled sound. He heard someone gasping a bit, little sniffles. He realized he heard someone crying. 

As he walked slowly toward the sound, he stepped on a creaky part of the floor, and suddenly the sound stopped. He approached the book shelf, trying to see who was on the other side, when he was met with a pair of eyes doing the same, now eye to eye with the other person. He quickly realized it was YN, and a moment later she was running out with her books in her arms. 

Another week went by, YN ignored and avoided sungchan like the plague. Sungchan felt hopeless in his attempts to talk to her. He missed when she’d bicker with him, even when she’d insult him or scold him. He wanted anything but silence. 

When he went to the library that Thursday, it was a little late. He had finished up his duties, and looked around for YN to try and talk again, but couldn’t find her. As he looked for a spot in the library, his music playing in his ears a little too loudly, he soon realized why he couldn’t find her. Because there she was, cheek resting against an open book, papers spread out on her table, hair sprawled across her forehead, sleeping peacefully in the quiet of the library. 

Sungchan couldn’t help but smile, looking at her so peacefully sleeping. He checked the time, and figured she would probably need to leave soon. He picked up her papers and slid them into her folder, and picked up the piles of books she stacked around her, and gently took the last one out from under her. He was lucky she was a heavy sleeper, or he’d probably get slapped. When everything was put away neatly, he turned back to her. 

He crouched down, looking at her sleep peacefully. He brushed some hair away from her forehead, smiling to himself at how cute she looked. 

How what she looked?

He shook himself out of his thoughts, and brought his hand to her shoulder, shaking her lightly. She didn;t budge, turning to rest her forehead on her arms, and he shook her again. And then again. When she woke up she sat up quickly, not processing her surroundings, or that sungchan was right next to her. 

When she looked at him, her eyes widened, looking around at the now clean table. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck!” She whispered to herself as Tears welled in her eyes, bringing her hands to her eyes. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Sungchan whispered, his hand resting on her shoulder as she cried. “You’re okay, just breathe,” he told her and she shoved his hand away. Deserved. “What’s wrong?”

YN looked at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “The fuck do you mean what’s wrong? I fell asleep and lost most of my work time, and now you’re here to rub it in!” 

“No, i’m not,” sungchan shook his head. “I’m just here to wake you up,” he shrugged. 

YN rolled her eyes and rested her forehead in her arms, facing down at the table. How could she have been so stupid? Letting herself fall asleep? And now Sungchan was here, the library, the place she went to avoid him. She sighed deeply, sniffling a bit, embarrassed by her tears, when she heard sungchan speak. 

“I’ll drive you home,” He told her quietly. 

“What?” 

“It’s late, soon it’ll be dark, and you have a lot to carry. So i can give you a ride,” he shrugged, hoping she wouldn’t reject the offer. 

“Why would I want a ride home from you?” she asked, looking up from the table, a frown etched onto her face. 

“Just an offer,” Sungchan sighed, shifting his weight to his other foot. “Take it or leave it,” 

YN had a choice. She could make a statement, stand up for herself and not give into sungchan’s offer. It’s what she should do. She didn’t want to spend anymore time with him after what he said to her. 

But YN was tired. And her bag was heavy. And she heard sungchan drove a pretty nice car. Maybe she could tell him off while they were in there. She knew he would be too guilty to defend himself. 

“Fine,” she said begrudgingly. 

“Good,” he smiled lightly, bending down and picking up her bag, carrying it like it was nothing. 

“What are you doing?” YN asked, trying to snatch her bag back. 

“Carrying your bag, let’s go,” he started walking away before she could protest. She ended up trailing behind him with a frown, arms folded across her chest. 

When they got tp his car, sungchan put her bag in the backseat while she got in the front. He got in after her and started the car without a word. He handed her his phone so she could type in her address, and pick the music. They got on the road, neither of them wanting to talk. 

He glanced at her from time to time. She rested her head against the window, watching the road pass by as the day faded into night. He noticed the tired look in her eyes that he realized had been there for a few weeks now, but never had stood out to him. He noticed how her lips stayed in a little pout, wondering what was going through her mind as she looked out into the darkening road. 

And then he spoke. 

“I’m really sorry,” She turned at the words. “For everything,” She didn’t speak. “You didn’t deserve how I treated you, ever. I shouldn’t have said what I said, and I’m so sorry.” Sungchan let out a sigh. “It’s been eating me up, i needed to say it to your face,” 

She looked down at her lap, picking at the skin on her fingers. “So why’d you do it?” 

“What part?” sungchan asked, a bit of humor in his voice. 

“All of it,” no humor in hers. Not the time for lightheartedness.

“I wish I knew, I was just acting on my impulse. WHen you asked me about why I did what I did in first grade, I didn’t know what to say, I just got angry. I didn’t think about all the times I was the one to start things with you, or pick on you, I only thought about that one thing. I just got mad, even though I didn’t have the right to be mad. You had all the right to ask, I reacted badly.” he tried piecing together his thoughts. “And I didn’t realize how badly, what I did, hurt you,” 

“You didn’t realize? Sungchan you made me miserable,” YN scoffed. 

“I know that now, and I’m sorry. I never knew how to fix things with you, I never was able to swallow my pride and admit I was wrong for how I treated you.” he apologized once more, knowing he could never undo all the hurt he had done to her. 

“Are you forgetting everything you said to me? You can’t just unsay all that to me. You can’t say you regret it so much and expect to move on,” 

“I know,” Sungchan nodded. “What I will say is that I never should have said those things to you. No matter how angry I was, you didn’t deserve that. I was disrespectful, and I crossed a line by saying that to you. And I don’t expect you to just move on, I don’t deserve that at all,” his voice felt genuine. 

“Then why are you driving me home right now?” she asked, still frowning. 

“Because I want you to get home safe, and I want to be better. I don’t want you to hate me, but I know that’s your own choice. I just want you to know that I’ll try,” Sungchan pulled up to her house, parking on the street. 

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes as she opened the car door. Sungchan got out to grab her bag from the backseat, crossing around the car. 

“For what it’s worth, I really am sorry,” he handed her the bag. 

“Let’s talk next week,” she mumbled. 

“What?” Sungchan furrowed his brow. 

“When I'm not so sleep deprived, when I have time to process, let’s talk about us going forward. Don’t bother me until then,” she told him before walking up to her house, not giving him time to respond. 

“Yes ma’am,” Sungchan muttered to himself, watching her get inside before he drove himself home.

Sungchan was nervous. He sat in the agreed upon cafe, waiting for YN to get there like he was waiting on a date. But he was never nervous for dates, Usually because dates actually liked him. But YN didn’t like him, and this certainly wasn’t a date. 

Thankfully, YN had seemed to be doing better that week. When she walked through the doors to the cafe, sungchan couldn’t help but think about how pretty she was, though at the moment he should be more concerned with whether or not she was going to murder him. She sat down in front of him, he had already ordered her drink. He was about to greet her when she spoke. 

“Against my better judgment, i’ve decided to forgive you,” YN told him. 

“Really?” that was not the statement he expected. “So, you’re not going to kill me?”

“I have some measures,” sungchan straightened up, ready to listen. “Going forward, we aren’t going to hate each others guts. Let’s just move on, no more childish insults, no more fights over nothing. From now on, we get along.”

“Alright,” sungchan nods. 

“And you have to actually tell me why you took my doll, why you did any of it,” YN adds. “I need closure,” 

Sungchan nodded. “I had some really bad friends, which sounds kind of stupid, but they kept telling me that if I did what they did, I would be cool. They were older than me, so I thought they were right. So I spent my first grade year picking on kids like a loser, trying to be cool. They told me to go take your doll, so I did. I thought I’d be the coolest boy in the first grade, but I just felt bad. They told me to keep picking on you and I did, i made the decision to keep going, to keep being a little shit until I realized there was more to life than picking on girls. By the time I realized it, it was too late.” he told her. “And i’m not trying to say I was blameless, I still continued longer than I should have, i’m just trying to give you an explanation,” 

“So you’ve always been kinda dumb?” She asked. 

“Basically,” sungchan laughed a little, and saw her smile a little bit. “We should study together,” 

“Why?” She asked, skeptical of his suggestion. 

“Well, we’re supposed to be partners. So we should start learning to work together,” he shrugged, a little less confident than when he initially asked. “Just an idea, you don’t have to agree,”

“Are you good at Calc?” YN asked. 

“Uh, yeah, i’m good at it,” Sungchan looked a little confused. 

“Well, i’m good at History,” she told him. “So we can help each other out,” 

Sungchan smiled. “Cool,” he nodded a little. “I can give you rides, if you need them,”

“Okay,” YN agreed. “Oh and you have to get me coffees before our meetings,” 

“Deal,” sungchan smiled. “So, you really don’t hate me?”

“I’m in the process of not hating you,” YN corrected him. “We have a little ways to go,” 

Surprisingly, it was easy to not hate sungchan. It seemed like he was making an effort to be a nice person, which YN appreciated. He always showed up to their student council meetings five minutes early with her coffee in hand. He stopped chastising her for her work, and she stopped calling him an idiot. Mr. Lee was surprised, but pleased to see the progress the two had made. 

Their study time was productive, spending time going through each subject with one another to make sure they both had a good idea of what they were learning. It was a lot more helpful than she expected. 

While the car rides were mostly quiet for a week or two, with only a little small talk filling the air, the two of them began talking to one another more. They’d rant about teachers, or classmates who got on their nerves, or talk about the show that they coincidentally both liked. Who would have thought that the two people who were already somewhat similar would have so much in common between each other. 

YN found herself enjoying her time with Sungchan. If you had told her that a month ago, she would’ve called you stupid. 

And Sungchan couldn’t deny that he thought YN was great. He struggled to hide his smile when he was around her. He couldn’t contain his thoughts of how cute she was, or how much he liked her laugh. 

When he asked her to hang out, outside of stucco meetings, or study sessions, or their drives back to YN’s house, it seemed normal, that this was a progression of their friendship. When she accepted, Sungchan felt his stomach churn with excitement, joy that he could spend more time with her. 

The first time, they just went to Sungchan’s house and watched a show on his couch, sharing a bag of popcorn and a bag of candy that was too big for one person. They spent most of the time talking, half of their attention on the show, half of it on each other. By midnight, they had ordered takeout and shared their food, switched spots on the couch, and YN accidentally kicked Sungchan in the jaw.

When people Noticed how much Sungchan and YN started hanging out, they thought it was some sort of joke. Almost everyone knew they hated each others guts, and now, here they were, walking down the halls together? And sungchan was carrying her backpack???? The hell happened?

When she walked through the halls, Sungchan was right behind her. There were times his arm would be slung around her shoulder, or she’d punch him in the arm. He’d ruffle her hair, she’d shove him lightly. Either this was a new form of torturing each other, or they actually got along. 

Their partnership as student leaders was strengthened by their newfound closeness, and through their growth they never lost the bickering. But instead of insulting each other’s character, they now just poked fun, made light hearted jokes. And they always seemed to enjoy it. 

It was weird. 

It was also obvious that Sungchan had a crush.

All his friends could tell by the way he brought her up so much. When she’d approach them, Sungchan’s demeanor would change, a big smile on his face that would linger as she walked away. He wasn’t very slick. Comments that flew over YN’s head that were too flirty for someone you just had platonic feelings for, lingering gazes on her, compliments galore, it was a miracle YN didn’t figure it out. 

He remembered what made her laugh, so he’d try to come up with jokes that she’d like because he loved hearing her laugh, watching her cover her grin and try to compose herself. He took note of her favorite snacks, and her usual coffee orders, not needing to ask after getting them for her so many times. He memorized the details of her face, the way her eyes sparkled when she wore certain makeup, how the apples of her cheeks got so big when she smiled, the way her lashed fanned over her cheeks, how she’d scrunch her nose a bit when she was thinking. He knew it all. He liked it all. 

He liked her. 

And damn, did he know it. He thought about her a lot, trying to come up with what would be their “perfect date”. He tried being obvious, but it was very difficult because somehow, this prodigy couldn’t tell when he was flirting with her. He texted her all the time, staying up late to have stupid conversations with her, wishing she was right there next to him and he could scoop her into his arms and talk to her in person. 

Now they sat in sungchan room, laying on his bed watching TikToks and eating ramen. Very romantic. YN sat up on the bed, stretching her back a little as sungchan just watched her. He looked up at her like she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. 

“Is this weird?” She asked. 

“Is what weird?” Sungchan sat up. 

“Us, hanging out, being normal and not hating each others guts?” She smiled, looking over at him as he smiled back at her. 

“Nah, I think it’s pretty cool,” he tells her. She didn’t notice the way his eyes trailed along her body before landing back on her lips.

“Okay, ‘cause sometimes I just randomly get the feeling that this is like… too out of character for us and we just-“

He pressed his lips against hers. 

She froze for a moment before sighing a bit and leaning in, feeling his hand rest on her waist, his other coming up to brush back her hair. Her hand pressed against his chest, grabbing at his shirt as she shifted slightly towards him. 

She was kissing him. 

He kissed her. 

Hello?

She pulled away with a gasp, eyes wide at what just happened. Sungchan looked apologetic, pushing his hair back. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“ he started, catching his breath. 

“No, no, it's… it’s okay, don't worry,” she told him, but was standing up from where she sat on his bed. “I uh, I need to go home,”

Sungchan didn’t say anything to her as she walked out. 

Sungchan kissed her. How many other girls had he kissed? What did that kiss mean? Why did he kiss her? Why was he such a good kisser? Why did she enjoy kissing him so much? Did she like sungchan? Did-

Channie: hey I wanna say I’m sorry again

Channie: I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable

YN: it’s ok dw

YN: I just need to think

And think she did. She barely got a wink of sleep that night, all that was in her mind was a replay of their kiss. Thinking about kissing him made her think more. She thought about if she liked him, or if she was just flustered. And then she thought about him, how close the two of them had gotten over the past weeks. She realized she noticed things about sungchan that she would’ve scoffed at before.

The next day at school was awkward, neither wanting to bring up the night before. They attended their classes like normal, but the chatter and playfulness between them was gone, both too scared to initiate anything. The student council meeting after was awkward, everyone in the room could tell, but they remained quiet. Sungchan still drove her home, what kind of guy would he be to let her go alone? But their drive was almost silent, the music only made the air more tense, as if they were both trying to drown out their own thoughts. 

It remained like that for a week. 

YN would sometimes catch sungchan staring over at her like he wanted to talk. When she’d lock eyes with him, he’d sit up taller and then turn his attention away from her. 

At night, the two wouldn’t text as much, sungchan’s goodnight texts stopped as YN had stopped responding to a lot of his texts. How was she supposed to continue as normal? How was she supposed to pretend that everything was the same? How was she supposed to pretend she didn’t like him?

Through their weeks together, YN always felt a little something in her chest. She thought it was just joy that finally the two could put the past behind them. But in her week (that now bled into the second week) of rethinking their last close interaction, she realized that it was a little more than just joy. She realized how much she liked being around sungchan, how she liked when his arm was wrapped around her, and she liked staying up late at night just to talk to him more. 

She especially liked kissing him.

Oh she was so screwed. 

The next student council meeting was about two weeks from when he kissed her. So two weeks of being extremely awkward around each other. By now, the tension was palpable, and Mr. Lee was getting nervous. 

“Are you two fighting again?” he asked as YN and sungchan sat an awkward distance apart, still next to each other. They both looked up, looked at each other and shook their heads. 

“No,” they both said at the same time. 

“Well you two aren’t as chatty as you were before. Don’t get me wrong, i like the quiet, but i’d prefer if you wouldn’t go back to trying to kill each other,” he told them. 

“Don’t worry, mr. lee, we’re just hard at work,” Sungchan told him with a reassuring smile. “Nothing’s wrong,” Lie. 

When mr. Lee walked away, he looked at YN. 

“We should probably talk,” He told her with an awkward smile. “You know,” 

YN sighed. “Not right now, okay,” 

“Okay… when?” he asked, wanting the tension gone from their relationship. 

“I don’t know, right now just isn’t the time to talk,” She told him, the cold tone Sungchan knew so well creeping back into her voice. 

“YN, it’s been two weeks, we have to talk about it if-”

“Sungchan, drop it!” she dropped her pencil, looking over at him with a look he knew all too well. Sungchan didn’t say anything before getting up, telling Mr. Lee he was going to the restroom. 

YN sighed, regretting snapping at Sungchan. The thought of talking about what happened scared her, she was afraid they wouldn’t be the same if they acknowledged the elephant in the room. But she knew she had to talk about it. She knew Sungchan deserved to have a talk about what happened. 

When he came back, YN looked up at him hopefully, hoping he’d take his seat next to her and they could resume, but he picked up his things and moved to his desk. YN frowned, going back to doing her work, looking up occasionally to watch what he was doing.

She got up from her spot and walked over to his desk to apologize. She leaned against the table and tapped his shoulder, giving him an apologetic smile. Sungchan didn’t return it, YN couldn’t read what he was thinking.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you-” she started but got cut off. 

“Let’s talk later,” he told her, his voice even as he spoke. 

YN frowned, but nodded as she turned away. It was what she deserved, she was the one to shut him out first, she shouldn’t be surprised he did the same. But it still hurt. She realized how Sungchan must have felt when she shut him down. 

The rest of the meeting passed with awkward silences and reminders of important dates that were coming up. YN could barely focus, but Sungchan seemed to be doing just fine. He seemed to work harder when he was a little frustrated. But at the end of their session he lingered behind, waiting for her to pack up. 

She approached him with a little smile, which he reciprocated before looking to the ground, and starting to walk towards the door. Once in the hallway, YN decided to speak. 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” she said, looking up at him. She watched as he turned to look at her, his face softening to a soft smile.  

“It’s okay,” he assured, looking down at her. 

The awkward silence turned comfortable, and the distance between the two seemed smaller. The elephant in the room was very much present, but at least they weren’t upset with each other. They walked to Sungchan’s car quietly, the drive to YN’s house was nearly silent if not for the occasional small talk sungchan would interject, trying to ease the tension. 

He pulled up to her driveway, looking over at her with a small smile. “Have a good night, YN,” he told her. 

YN smiled, pulling her bag into her lap, about to open the door when she hesitated. Something rushed her system, and she asked, “do you want to come inside for a bit?” 

Sungchan paused for a moment, considering her offer before nodding stiffly. He parked his car and got out, leaving his bags in his car. YN smiled and got out, waiting for him to cross around before leading him inside. “My parents are out of town for a couple nights, so we should be fine,” She didn’t want her parents there to question her motives for bringing a boy into the house. 

Sungchan nodded, and she opened the door for him. Her house was neat, everything in place, nice and neat. He looked around and saw all the achievements of the household, her father was a successful lawyer, and her mother a proud business woman. In the shadow, YN was their perfect little student. Sungchan began to understand why she was so serious about their rivalry. 

He absentmindedly followed her to her room, looking around the house like it was a museum. He’d never seen a cleaner house, even with his neat-freak mother. 

“We should talk,” YN’s voice broke him from his daze. She motioned her arms for sungchan to make himself comfortable. He took a spot on the foot of her bed, glancing around a bit before landing his eyes on her. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, feeling his nerves build up. 

Was she going to reject him? Tell him he misread their relationship? Call him ugly? No one could ever call him ugly… right?

“I’ve been thinking a lot about… a few weeks ago, when we-” she made random gestures that in no way implied kissing. 

“Kissed?”

“Yeah, that,” she sighed, an awkward laugh following. “Listen, I don't know what it meant to you, but I'm gonna be honest… I really liked it, and I really like you, and i don’t know how you feel, so if we’re not on the same page-”

Sungchan got to his feet the moment she said she liked him, and cut her off by kissing her once more, relief flooding his system, smiling when he felt her wrap her arm around his neck. His hand held her cheek lightly as they kissed, breaking away, smiling brightly. 

“So you-” YN started, gasping lightly, trying to catch her breath. 

“Yes, you idiot,” Sungchan grinned, brushing his thumb against her cheek. “And you call me dumb, i’ve been flirting with you for weeks!”

YN just smiled, bringing him back in for another kiss. 

Around school, most people had heard about YN and sungchan, most were in disbelief, some could see it coming from a mile away. Mr. Lee grew annoyed with their newfound affection, because now instead of constant bickering, he had to listen to sungchan constantly calling YN pretty, or flirting with her. 

But the bickering never stopped. If there was anything about them, they always found something to argue about. The two of them always had something to fight over, always in a friendly competition. 

This time, they just didn’t hate each other. 

taglist: @oftenjisung , @vhuteryh , @skzhoe4life , @cheederzchez

[hearts4chriss]

Under the table.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒.

Bad boy!Chris + good girl!Black fem shy nerd

Prompt: midway through ur English lecture Chris goes under ur desk while the teacher or nobody can see

Part 02

A/n- VERY REQUESTED!! Pt 3 is also done !! And not proof read

Contains: dirty talking, use of pet names, public sex, chris is munchin, creampie, suggestive touching, embarassed!reader.

ever since Chris and I had sex, things were, well obviously different.

It felt kinda nice having a guy as good looking as him giving me attention despite how wrong it was.

For some reason I felt safe with him, like he wouldn’t let anyone bully me or make fun of me anymore, it was kinda comforting.

Chris pov

Since we had sex, I felt so attached to her like a fucking idiot.

I don’t regret not one bit of it, but something inside me was- I couldn’t get enough of her.

I wanted to taste her, feel her. The way she looked up at me with those big eyes and swollen plump lips after I had ruined her made me yearn for more of her.

The way she felt around me, the way she moaned my name and how she screamed it when she would cum.

it wasn’t just that, she’s beautiful.

her cute little glasses that sit on her nose, her glossy lips and that sweet smile she always give me as she does now while I’m walking with her too our class

I kept her close to me, I wanted to keep her safe from all those things that could hurt her. She was precious I couldn’t bare the thought if someone tried to hurt her. I had to protect her.

we got top class and I held the door for her and gave her a small wink making her smile a bit letting her dimples peek through before my eyes wandered too her skirt.

she had on pink panties this time and I couldn’t resist myself. The way they were peeking through the bottom of her skirt made my dick pressing against my pants.

the way she sat down on the desk and i immediately followed quickly sitting next to her in the back so I could tease her some more.

soon enough class got started and I watched her pull out her pink notebook that said “𝐻𝒪𝒩𝒪𝒰𝑅𝒮 𝐸𝒩𝒢𝐿𝐼𝒮𝐻 ” in a darker pink and she opened it flipping through to find a clean page.

She saw me looking at her noticing I didn’t have a pencil or paper.

Do you need anything? I-I have extra..she said softly nearly making me melt but I tried to keep my composure from wanting to bury my head in between her thighs.

are you stuttering princess, I’m not THAT am I? I let out a small laugh rubbing my hand over her leg and her eyes widen.

No just- ugh here! She whines slightly embarrassed from my little pet name I’ve given her but I thought it was cute so she wasn’t gonna stop me, especially if I got reactions like this.

mhmm nice try tho. I kiss her cheek allowing a smile to curve on her lips.

then the lesson started and she began to take notes and I couldn’t take my eyes off her and how focused she was.

she would poke her tongue out, kinda how I would while she was concentrating, the way she’d push her glasses up occasionally just took me back to the night I fucked her so hard they came off her pretty face.

And her intelligence, the way she answered every question with such ease, then whenever I’d get called on she’d slide me a note with her tiny handwriting with the answer giving me a small smile squeezing my hand slightly.

she was so damn innocent but that only made me want her more.

I was snapped out my fantasies when she asked

May I use the bathroom! She raised her hand our teacher nodded and she got up and walked out the classroom and I was mesmerized by her thighs- fuck the way they look when she walks-

I sighed and peer at her seat next to me and realize, there’s a small wet spot and I smirked too myself.

I made her wet

the thought of that alone could make me cum, knowing I made this nerdy girl wet from only a few words and she tried too hide it was so adorable- never in life would I picture myself liking a girl like her but-

She came back 4 minutes later and sits down fixing her skirt.

you okay princess? I whisper against her neck and I watch her breath hitch.

What’s wrong? I say softly pretending to relax her nerves and dirty thoughts I knew she was having of me and I chuckled.

I slid one of my hands up her thigh resting it at the tip of where her skirt began.

Chris- w-were in class…she shudders shyly at my touch, as if she was begging me too touch her knowing how wrong it was and how fearful she was if she got caught.

and? why would that stop me from eating that pretty pussy of yours?

I Watch her squeeze her thighs together and adjust her glasses and I smirked knowing exactly what her little mind was thinking, though she’d never admit it

gonna be quiet for me? Let me eat you out in class? Make you cum all over my face baby hm? I whisper low enough because nobody was really paying attention too the teacher or us.

yes m’i’ll be quiet I promise- she whispers shaking her head.

Lower ur seat for me. I whisper crouching down under the desks enclosed by a small wall for backpack storage.

Her fingers attached too the lever and she does so moving towards the front of her chair giving me a perfect view of her panties.

I wasted no time knowing this already made her nervous enough, I thought it was cute how embarrassed she was. But she was needy. And I wasn’t gonna make her wait any longer.

I slid the panties down putting them into my pocket.

Her pussy was so fucking wet and it was all for me, I couldn’t wait to taste her.

It was right in front of me as she had positioned herself in the perfect angle, I left kisses on her thighs as a reminder she was my girl and nobody else was aloud to do this.

But her warmth was calling me, the same one I was just inside of only days ago.

I press my tongue to her wetness and she shrieks placing her hand over her mouth beginning to write with shaky hands

fuck- she tastes so good, that aroma id been craving was finally failing into my mouth, I slurped and sucked damn near the life out of this girl as she threw her legs around my head trying to maintain her volume.

her hand grasps my brunette hair slightly tugging on it and I look up seeing how she had one hand over he mouth whilst the other pulls my hair, knowing how flustered all of this made her I opt for sending her a wink before lapping up her wetness again.

I couldn’t get enough of it, she felt so good on my lips, it was so fucking perfect on my mouth, i couldn’t help myself from shaking my head in her pussy sticking my tongue out as her legs shook each time from overwhelming pleasure.

I spread her legs further apart making her groan but she quickly turned into a cough making me damn near burst out laughing.

I knew she was probably freaking out from this, and that made feel somewhat guilty but she was so hard to resist the way she sat in that chair her ass poking out a bit which I really fucking hated because I knew she did as well, but fuck it made me hard especially knowing it was only me who could make her feel so good.

It didn’t take long for her to release her warm cum all over my face, since this was the first she’d experienced this.

Fuck- I whisper to myself watch her juices drip onto the chair. I quickly stood up walking too a side table by the class door.

What’s on ur face Christopher? Look a little mess…the teacher questions and I chuckle and make up a lie quickly

Just ate something really good, and sweet and it had some cream inside so I got a little messy I apologize. I give the teacher a sly smile and she rolls her eyes at me and I wipe my face off and grab some extras for her.

I cleaned her up and saw how her legs shook a bit and how out of breath she was from this.

Her face looked a little embarrassed from my comment earlier but she had a small grin on her face one of enjoyment.

Are you okay princess? I wasn’t too much was I? I say slipping her panties back and she slowly slides them on as my hand rests on her back.

I’m- okay that was-wow-I don’t know I-i liked it a lot. She says shyly, lots of breath in between each word as she placed her head on the desk looking up at me with those big gorgeous eyes through her glasses and that’s when I realize something inside of me.

I couldn’t just have her for sex, or my own pleasure.

I wanted her to be my girl

@mattsleftnipple03 @bernardsleftbootycheek @sturniolopowers @gdsvhtwa @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @alexosllurr @worldlxvlys @chrisslut25 @princessbetsy123-blog @mattslolita @guccifrog @blahbel668 @mattsneezing @trickywritters @hearts4chris

@nonamegirlxsturniolo @luvmxtt @theyluv-meee @hoesformatt @luv4kozume @kikisturnioloo @itzdarling @pepsiimaxx @babyddolly @iiheartstef @junnniiieee07 @ast3ro1dzz @sturniolowhore @st7rnioioss @emma4eva @braindead4l @ihearttsyouu @kqyslyho3 @sturnsfav @sunsetsturniolos @stqrnstars @dlyansworld @chrisloyalgf @soimightlikeoldmen69 @abbie13sworld @lacysturniolo @sturniol0s @chrissgirlsstuff @leah-loves-lilies @luhsexcbihh @nicksmainbitch

[jade-jini]

yunjin is the only thing i can honestly think off 😭 also i’d love to see how y/n and loser g!p yunjin got together 🤭

(Look at this cute thing, I’m weak for her)

WELL OFC DEAR ANON lol. So continuing with how our loser g!p Yunjin and reader became all lovey dovey (sorry if it’s too long and if it took too long 😭) THIS IS ALL FLUFF.

As I mentioned, you guys are in the same program so you see her during class and often around campus, mostly just exchanging a few hi’s and comments about class stuff but it never became more than those short conversations. Yunjin can be a very outgoing loser, with her silly jokes and cute pickup lines and constant compliments. She was a sweet girl! Just didn’t feel brave enough to make a more bold move just yet:(. Sakura would always be like “NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT?!” And she’d be like “NEVER GIVE UP!” But then when she has the chance to turn her flirt into something else she panics and goes🧍🏻‍♀️

She was getting brave tho, she really was! Until that stupid jock mf had to ruin all the confidence she (and Sakura) has been working so hard to build. This guy was into you. At first he really thought Yunjin didn’t have a chance because how could a loser have one? but then he noticed how you’d giggle like an idiot with Yunjin and his brain went “danger 😐” so like a fvckin asshole the only thing he thought was to make Yunjin afraid to make any move at all, hurting her self esteem.

It was during a morning that she hadn’t see you around yet. She always looks forward to the classes you shared, and when she didn’t see you in your seat as always, she was so confused ‘cause you tended to be on time. She still had hopes that you’d eventually show up. However, her confusion turned into disappointment and sadness when half the class passed and you were nowhere to be found. Yunjin knew she was being dramatic but c’mon! Seeing you is her favorite part of the day :( she spent the rest of the class resting her chin on her books with a pout. Eunchae saw her friend and thought she looked like a sad puppy, she thought it was cute and funny but also had sympathy for her friend. During the little break they had before their next class that was in the same room, she tapped Sakura’s shoulder to get her attention.

“Yunjin unnie looks like a lost puppy when y/n is not around I swear” she told her while trying not to laugh. The eldest turned her head to her red hair friend and sighed with a smile as she shook her head.

“She kinda is if you think about it, I guess” she told the youngest, who couldn’t contain a laugh from escaping her lips. This caused Yunjin to look up to her friends with a frown.

“It’s not fair, why isn’t she here?!” Yunjin started, fixing her posture “Y/n doesn’t tend to miss class, and if she didn’t come to this one she might as well just miss the rest of the day and the classes we have together… ” she complained with a cute pout, but unfortunately somebody heard their conversation.

“Like you would know, wouldn’t you creep?” The guy said, while looking at the girl with a sarcastic smile (Idk bro picture a kpop boi here if you want ig-). “God you spy on her so much you know her schedule? AND you wanna talk like you’re close with her and know what she would do. You’re such a weirdo, that’s exactly why she wouldn’t look at you, you know?” He said with that disgusting mean tone, like he himself knew you any better.

Yunjin was surprised, she knew this guy and knew he wasn’t friendly specially with well, people who didn’t share his exact interest (aka if you’re a nerd), but she wasn’t expecting him to talk to her at all let alone insult her like that, I mean she has gotten kinda bullied before when she was younger but she has done her best to either ignore these people or to defend herself, to which her friends helped a lot.

“And who the fuck are you to talk to her like that?-” Eunchae started but Sakura stopped her grabbing her arm, making sure the girl didn’t start any trouble. The man just put his hands up and laughed.

“I’m just saying, y/n is way out of your league bro, you’re embarrassing yourself and most likely making her feel uncomfortable. Do you enjoy doing that?”

“I would never do that!” Yunjin was offended, she didn’t have any bad intentions with you. Did she cross any boundary? You would tell her though right? You looked like somebody who knew how to speak for yourself well enough, she’s seen it. “I’d never do that intentionally, and I’m sure she would tell me. So far she hasn’t shown any discomfort in any moment we’ve talked.” she said trying to sound a little more confident, mostly to also convince herself you actually didn’t dislike her.

“she’s just too nice to let you know!” He answered as if it was the most obvious fact in the world. “And who knows, maybe she laughs behind your back at your behavior and that’s why she keeps you close.” He finished before walking out of the room, not letting any of the girls talk back (Lord and Sakura know Eunchae was ready to curse Tf outta him) and leaving a mess in Yunjin’s head, filling it with a lot of insecurities and doubts. Girlie was gonna be overthinking about you all day and not in the sweet cheesy way she always does :(

“What. An. Asshole!” Eunchae exclaimed, getting a scold from kkura for the language “no I’m serious what’s wrong with him?? Who does he think he is?! Asshole…”

“Hong Eunchae!” Sakura said in a serious tone, making the girl simply huff and sit down with crossed arms and a pout (Manchae my kid). “Yunjini? Are you ok?” She asked in a softer tone while sitting in her chair next to her friend, who had such a sad and pensive expression “don’t pay no mind to that guy, he doesn’t know you and I seriously doubt he knows y/n.”

“Yeah exactly!” The youngest said “he’s probably just jealous that you always make y/n laugh.”

“Yeah but is it a ‘you’re so funny I’m enjoying this’ laugh or a ‘you’re pathetic and embarrassing’ laugh? Now I don’t know…”

“She’s not a bad person, unnie. You wouldn’t like her if she was, right? But if you’re feeling insecure, let’s see her behavior carefully and maybe we’ll be able to tell.”

the tall girl sighed, resting her head on her books again. Eunchae and Sakura just looked at each other (the oldest patting her friend’s head), not sure how else to comfort their friend, but hoping next time she sees you something good happens and you somehow get those thoughts out of her head.

——

Meanwhile, you decided to miss a class and went to this store you found online where they sell different types of merch about video games, animes, stuff like that, to buy some cool genshin impact photocards you saw online. You knew two things; 1. Yunjin liked that game a lot, and 2. She was probably not gonna make a move to get closer any time soon lol so you decided to give the game a try, and liked it a lot! And now you’re gonna buy some photocards for her as well as a way of making more conversation and getting closer.

Once you got them, you quickly put a Genshin Yunjin one on your phone case (some selfies for social media Ofc) and decided to finally go to class, excited to show this girl that you were basically crushing on the gift you got for her.

Your second class of the day was luckily one with Yunjin, so you were hoping to make it on time to talk with her a little bit before it started, and so you did! But weirdly, you caught the girl on her seat, very quiet while the friends of her who also shared this class seemed a little worried and empathetic with whatever was going on with the red hair girl. You took your seat close to them and waved hi to her friend, whose name if you remember well was Sakura. With a sign you asked her if Jen was ok, to which she replied with a “so-so” sign and a little smile. You nodded sympathetically and decided to maybe wait until later on the day to talk with her, now feeling slightly nervous yourself to make any move. However, while you were considering this option, kkura thought seeing you might cheer her friend up, so she elbowed Yunjin and let her know that you were in the room.

Once the girl looked at your direction, there was a sparkle in her eyes, the one that always appeared whenever she saw you or thought of you. However, once she remembered the mean words the idiot from earlier told her, her smile turned into a more shy, sad small one, and her eyes went to the floor.

“Yunjin? You’re not gonna say hi to her like always?” The Japanese girl asked her in a low voice, trying to motivate her dear friend.

“I don’t know, Kkura..” the sad girl said “What if I just make her feel uncomfortable? What if that’s what I’ve been doing? That’s not only embarrassing, but also not fair for her to feel like that, and not fair for me to keep my hopes high if I’m clearly out of her league. I don’t wanna get even more hurt and also I—”but your voice interrupted her sad rambling.

“Hey Yunjin, Look what I got!” You called, smiling that pretty smile of yours and showing her the back of your phone, hoping this somehow will help cheering her up. And it did! Yunjin’s expression went from sad, to surprised that you called, to excited.

“Oh. My. God. Is that a Genshin Impact special edition Yun Jin photocard ?!” She said in her peculiar loud voice and with a smile showing her perfect teeth. There. There it was. The excited and loud loser who caught your attention. “Omg, y/n! How did you get this? I didn’t even know you liked Genshin!”

“Well, constantly hearing you screaming about it made me curious!” You teased her while laughing, to which she blushed but didn’t stop smiling while listening to you “it was just a few days ago so I’m very new, I actually enjoyed it a lot so I decided to search info about the characters online, and went this morning to this cool store I found to buy some of these.”

“So that’s why you weren’t here earlier” Sakura commented, making you look at her a little surprised.

“Oh you noticed?”

“Yunjin did.” Eunchae answered while looking at her friend with a mischievous smile, to which Yunjin responded with a blush, a threat in her eyes and a promise for vendetta later. “She missed you and everything.”

“Eunchae!” She simply groaned, pouting at the embarrassment her friend made her go through. But to you it was actually really cute the fact that she noticed your absence.

“Well, please accept these as an apology then.” You said while getting the little bag that contained the other photocards and giving it to her. She was so surprised because a gift. For her? From you?! “I didn’t know who your favorite character was so I made sure to get as many as possible. Please take as many as you want, I mainly got them for you to be honest.” You admitted, feeling brave to confess your intentions, even with her friends around.

“Oh my~ this is so cute!” Eunchae squeaked while shaking Yunjin’s shoulder (visual representation), while the girl was just speechless holding the bag you gave her and switching from looking at it to looking at you, who couldn’t stop smiling, satisfied at her reaction while your hands were politely behind your back in a cute shy way. Of course, Sakura had to push her to get out of her shocked state. Yunjin shook her head to bring herself back before speaking.

“Omg y/n, I don’t know what to say, thank you so much!” She said, feeling touched by the detail. Yunjin was looking at you with such sweet eyes, you were making her fall deeper for you, and she didn’t know that’s exactly your plan.

“It’s ok. Just please make sure to leave some Yun Jin for me, she’s my favorite character you know?” You told her in a clearly flirty way and a wink, making sure the message was clear. This made the red hair girl’s eyes open wide as her face had no idea what to do, besides blushing and smiling like an idiot.

“Hehe, Yunjin unnie’s face is trying to match her hair.” Eunchae teased, making you and Sakura laugh at the taller girl.

“Hong Eunchae I swear to God.”

——

After that conversation, the professor entered the classroom, so you quickly agreed on hanging out after class to continue talking about your interest in common. Sakura had a class, and Eunchae went with her after mentioning she was grateful to be able to go ‘cause she didn’t want to third wheel you guys anymore, earning another groan and blush from her best friend. Talking with Yunjin was really nice, and she was really hyped and happy about sharing this topic, so much she decided to invite you to her place so you could continue there, watch some content and even play a little bit! She was excited of being able to teach none other than her crush how to play her favorite game.

Of course she didn’t realize the weight of her actions until you were actually in her room.

Oh god. Her crush was in her room. Alone with her.

Girlie went from excited to nervous once she saw you making yourself comfortable in her bed. Her bed was really soft and warm, and her room was cozy. It reflected her personality well. A nice combination of beige walls and white. Most of the room had warm colors, and the decoration was based on some posters, little shelves with albums and books, pictures and figures of video-games characters the girl was a fan of. She was very organized and clean, her desk having her computer and just a couple notebooks at the moment. You hoped you could spend more time there with her in the future (and no not only for the nasty 🤨).

“This is a really nice place Yun” you told her.

“Thanks, that’s one of the reasons I like spending so much time at home.” She said with a giggle doing her best to contain the blush in her cheeks because did you just call her by a nickname?😳 bro do it again.

“I get it, if my room was this nice and comfy I too would prefer to just stay and play all day.” You said as she lied down next to you.

“Well, you can always come and play with me!” She offered smiling innocently (aw my pookie wookie 🥺), but c’mon you had to tease her after saying that-

“You want me to come play with you, huh?” You said with an obvious teasing tone and a smirk moving your eyebrows up and down, now making it impossible for the red hair girl to not match her cheeks color with her hair.

“I mean! It’s always fun to play genshin with friends…” she said, trying to save herself from the embarrassment, but she felt it was too late so her hands went to her face as she groaned in a low voice. You laughed. She was so endearing, so cute. You couldn’t resist her and she wasn’t even trying to do anything at all. This is the girl you wanted. It just felt too right. It felt like home in your heart even before it did in your head.

“You remember I told you Yunjin is my favorite genshin impact character?” You asked her, taking her hands off her face but not letting go of them, to which she hummed in response. “And do you know why she is my favorite character?”

“Well, her playability in my opinion is really good. Her design and character description is also captivating, and since you mentioned you’re new to the game maybe that’s the reason you liked her. Although I must say I pr—” god this girl could talk. So what’s better than shutting up your crush with a kiss? Nothing bro. Nothing so that’s what you did. With a sweet kiss that she was doing her very best to correspond once the initial shock passed, as she’s been dreaming of doing since the moment her eyes fell on you. Your hand moved slowly from her own hands to her face, caressing it softly as her trembling hand went to your waist. As the seconds passed, her hands felt more comfortable, so she hugged you closer to her, to which you responded hugging her as well. Once you stopped kissing ( barely leaving any space in between your faces), you whispered in her lips “so again, do you know why Yunjin is my favorite character?”

And with her vision blurry and her mind clearly malfunctioning because of everything that was happening (but can you blame her tho?) she said:

“Who’s Yunjin?”

Bro are you serious.

[brokenmenswhore]

I’m utterly feral with how you write Aegon! Words cannot describe the utter cuteness aggression I get I with this pathetic man and how well you write his patheticness!

Fem!Reader is a Stark betrothed to Aegon but in being a love hate relationship with the idea because he’s so frustrating yet so lovable and she doesn’t understand how to feel about that, but instead of taking her anger out on Aegon (poor boy is already getting bullied enough by his own mother) she takes it out in training or fighting cause she’d rather die than hurt him. But perhaps the tension grows to be too much and she just storms in and kisses him passionately cause she couldn’t take it anymore.

thank you so much! i love my men broken, homicidal, and pathetic 🫶🏻 this is formatted as a drabble!

headsplit | aegon ii targaryen

pairing: aegon targaryen x fem!reader

warnings: none!

────── ☾ ──────

Your sword pierced the bale of hay, almost the entire blade disappearing into the flakes as you stopped for a brief moment to catch your breath.

If I wish to go to war, then we will go to war. You are not yet my wife, why must it matter to you?

You pulled the sword out of the hay, slicing a few stiff strands as you hit either side of the bale, using all your might to express your anger.

You very well may come to loathe this betrothal, Stark.

You let out an exasperated scream as you pierced the hay bales again.

What I do in the streets at night is of no concern to you.

You continually stabbed the bale of hay as several more frustrating sentences Aegon had spoken to you rang through your mind. You were confused and overwhelmed, your only outlet being your sword and the unlucky object that came to face it.

Your betrothal to Aegon came as a surprise to you both. Aegon was under the impression that he would one day marry his sister, Heleana, and you never anticipated the man you would marry would be of high standing, nevertheless the highest standing possible.

Aegon was a complete headsplit.

Oftentimes he drove you crazy, speaking without thinking first or taking drastic actions without any regard for others. He was impulsive, and believed that since he was in line for the throne, his opinion was automatically valued over your own. He did whatever he wanted under the guise of “but I’m the future king” and unintentionally refused to include you.

On the other hand, he was one of the easiest people to care for that you’d ever met. You could have him wrapped around your finger or melting in your arms from just a little bit of affection and care. When you shared an intimate, genuine moment, you could truly see yourself loving him and aiding him for the rest of your lives. You were beginning to care for him, and your attraction toward him was not something you could hide any longer.

Then he would drink too much and cause a scene and leave you frustrated and confused.

You wiped the sweat from your hairline, stabbing your blade into the top of the bale of hay and pausing your training for a moment.

Training was one of the only ways you could express your anger. Aegon made your brain ache, and sometimes you wanted to shake him or scream, but you knew your temperament, and you would rather die than hurt him. He had been hurt enough in his life.

You were constantly battling with yourself over how you felt toward your betrothal. You ultimately decided that you were unsure how to feel, but it would hopefully turn out alright.

The internal tension within yourself was presenting itself in the way you interacted with Aegon. Your tone of voice was becoming exasperated, and you had to force yourself to keep calm when speaking to him. Other times, your mutual disdain and desire was so thick that the air felt like it was weighing you down.

You left the sword in the hay, opting for your dagger. You gripped the hilt as tight as you could as you faced a tall block of wood.

You repeatedly stabbed the block of wood until one strike was hard enough to pierce through the wood, your dagger getting stuck deep enough that you couldn’t pull it out.

You groaned in frustration, giving up on your training for the day and retreating back to your chambers to bathe.

When you sunk into the warm water, you took a deep breath, recounting conversations you’d had with your betrothed in place of trying to relax like you intended.

“Where were you?” you asked.

“Out,” was all Aegon said.

You sighed, dropping your head briefly before speaking again. “As your future wife, I expect you should make yourself comfortable speaking of your whereabouts.”

“As your future husband, I expect you to refrain from questioning me on my whereabouts.”

“Aegon, our betrothal signals a partnership, not an ownership in which I simply just bark when you say to bark.”

Aegon stood and approached you. “And if I wish to hear you bark like the little bitch you are?”

You closed your eyes as you sank further into the tub, recounting more memories.

“Because it is stupid, Aegon, just plain stupid.”

“Do not call my ideas stupid!”

“You’ll get yourself hurt, Aegon!” you screamed.

Aegon bowed his head, running his hands over his eyes. One moment ago, he was screaming, and now, he was breaking down in tears.

“Shit, Aegon,” you nearly whispered, running toward him and taking him in your arms, “I’m sorry I raised my voice, that was not okay.”

He rested his head on your shoulder and attempted to catch his breathing.

“I never want to hurt you, Aegon, I’m sorry.”

Aegon lifted his head, his eyes puffy as he looked at you. “You don’t?”

“What?”

“You don’t ever want to hurt me? Really?” Aegon spoke, his voice weak.

“Never,” you assured him, “and I am so so sorry if I did. It won’t happen again.”

Aegon hugged you, something he had never done before. He embraced your body tightly, desperate to feel close to you.

You allowed the bath water to relax the tension in your muscles as you rested the back of your head against the metal. Your brain was almost sore from all the instances swirling around in your mind.

“I don’t understand why I need to tell you these things,” Aegon shrugged, nonchalant.

“Why wouldn’t I want to know?” you retorted.

“I just don’t get why it matters.”

“Because knowing you’re safe is important.”

“I don’t get why you would care so much.”

“Aegon,” you sighed, “we are to be married.”

“And?”

You sighed in frustration. “So, naturally, a wife cares about her husband and his safety.”

“I am not your husband yet.”

“Yes but-“ you cut yourself off before you said something you regret out of anger.

You sat up in the bathtub, an idea popping into your head, and your body began to follow through before you could stop it. You stepped out of the tub, drying yourself off briefly and tying your robe around your waist.

With a huff, you marched out of your chambers and through the hallways. When you reached Aegon’s chambers, you didn’t even bother to knock.

You pushed the door open to find him seated in front of the table model of King’s Landing. He tilted his head upward to look at you, and you continued to step toward him.

“What are you-“

With no regard for his words, you took Aegon’s face in your hands and kissed him, hard.

He immediately responded, kissing you back. After a few moments, the intensity wore off, and you were simply making out, gentleness and passion finally presenting itself to you both.

You pulled away, nearly out of breath as you said, “sorry, couldn’t take it anymore.”

Aegon smiled at you, pulling you back into a soft kiss.

[theprettynosferatu]

CW: covert hypno, misogyny, step-sibling stuff.

I

Claire was in a foul mood, stomping like a toddler through the hallway of her childhood home. Ah yes, coming back home from College was always a mixed bag. On the one hand, she loved spending time with (and being pampered by) her mom and Rick, her step-dad. But on the other hand, it meant dealing with The Asshole.

He hadn’t always been The Asshole, and that just hurt even more. Somewhere beneath his alpha male bullshit were the remains of her step-brother John. Surely that sweet, shy boy had to be inside this new, incredibly annoying person… but no matter how hard she tried, Claire couldn’t make the person she had loved as a brother emerge from the armor of pick-up artistry and right-wing bastardry John had built around himself. 

It had started during his senior year of high-school, her first one away in college. Maybe he got bullied too much, maybe he listened to too many podcasts and influencers… who knew? The point was that John started hitting the gym, spouting sexist bullshit, bragging about his sexual conquests. And little by little, in her mind, John started to disappear. Now, three years later, she could only think of him as The Asshole. And so, she tried to avoid him as much as humanly possible when she was back home.

It soured the experience for her. It seemed impossible that The Asshole was Rick’s son- after all, Rick was a good man. He had treated Claire like a daughter, with a respect and kindness her biological father had never shown; that was, when that deadbeat had even been around. Claire never called Rick “dad”, but she did feel him as a dad in her heart, and the memories of her “real” father were hazy and growing more and more faint with the years. With horror she realized her memories of John were fading as well, devoured by The Asshole. She fought to remember that The Asshole had once been a decent kid.

The Asshole, for his part, made that task incredibly hard. His off-hand comment that she’d be happier dropping out of college and being a “proper wife” had made her storm off the dinner table. Hence her stomping in that hallway, going to her room. She slammed the door. It would be a long summer. 

II

Pathetic. She couldn’t think of a better word for it. She should feel violated, perhaps- after all, she had caught The Asshole using her laptop- but she found it hard to even muster up anger. She felt disgusted, and also a bit sorry for him. His explanation was as ridiculous as she could have expected from him.

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t being a low value whore, chatting with a bunch of dudes.”

Sure, Asshole. That’s what I need: you as the guardian of my virtue, she thought. Still, it was an excuse, and she would hold on to it. The alternative explanation was worse and even contemplating it felt abominable. And yet a little part of her, a voice deep inside her head couldn’t help but feel relief.

I’m glad my nudes are on my phone.

No. Better to not go there. John was her step-brother. Even after becoming the prick he had turned into, he wouldn’t see her… like that.

Would he?

She knew he saw her friends like sex toys, given that two of them had confessed to being somehow persuaded by his alleged charms. Needless to say, those girls were now former friends- not so much because they slept with The Asshole and more because they had given him ammo: it made it harder to argue that his toxic manosphere crap was repulsive when he could throw such conquests in Claire’s face. But not even the world’s biggest douchebag would cross the line that separated family and attraction. And they had been family, once. God, it hurt to remember.

She had screamed at him like a fucking teenager, but what was she expected to do? And he had walked away like nothing had happened, like she didn’t catch him red handed. Claire took a deep breath. Fuck it. Let it go. Don’t let him ruin your break. She sat down for an evening of happy, mindless Youtube binging.

Huh. Was the screen acting up? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but every now and then something felt… off. Well, it was no big deal; certainly not annoying enough to warrant an expensive trip to get the laptop checked out.

Shit. She figured the fight had left her more upset than she had thought: she had watched a two hour video essay on feminism and media representation and she couldn’t remember a second of it. A wave of fear came over her. Spacing out for two hours wasn’t normal. Maybe she was just tired. Yeah, that seemed right. Dealing with The Asshole was exhausting. She needed to sleep.

III

Relaxing ended up being easier than she had expected. She spent long hours in front of her laptop, whiling the time away, floating in a blissful state of pure peace. So what if she couldn’t always remember what she had watched? The effect was soothing, like soaking her brain in a nice hot tub. And she had at long last found a way to deal with The Asshole.

The key was so simple she felt dumb as a rock for not figuring out sooner. The way to avoid a fight was, simply, to avoid the fight. Why spend precious energy fighting a man who was incapable of changing his mind? So she didn’t. Whatever inane bullshit came out of his mouth, she let slide. Maybe give him a polite smile and nod so he would think she was actually paying attention, and daydream about her next laptop session. This was exactly what she needed: a full vacation for her overworked brain.

Around the end of the first week the benefits of Claire’s new regiment became evident. She felt less irritable, giddier, somehow… lighter. And even her libido, long buried under a pile of stress was coming back with a vengeance. Why else would she emerge from her laptop dives soaking wet, needing to pleasure herself as intensely as she needed to breathe? And the way her body felt! Before, her… playing was quick, almost as if doing maintenance on some needed but almost forgotten piece of machinery. Now every time she played with herself was a celebration. She caressed her breasts, took her time, toyed with herself… it was no longer a race to orgasm. Her own body was the greatest show on Earth.

The effects of regular self-pleasuring, long documented in scientific literature, hit her like a train. She was relaxed, energetic- and hell, even The Asshole didn’t seem so annoying anymore. Just smile and nod at him and ignore his misogynistic ramblings. And, if she was being honest, even The Asshole was right, every now and then. Broken clocks and all that. 

You really should show off your legs more. Advertise your sexual value to high-status males.

Okay, so half of that was idiotic. But the legs thing? Right on the money. Claire twirled, letting her new, short sundress flutter and fly, and giggled. It felt light. She felt light. Radiant.

Every now and then her mind went back to the laptop. The screen was acting funny. Maybe she should do something about it, but it seemed like work, and she was home to relax. The laptop thing could wait.

Do you think men would be so nice to you if you didn’t have great tits?

Those words struck a chord inside her. She pondered them after a few hours of mindless laptop time. Sure, she knew she had large-ish breasts, and she wasn’t a complete idiot: men had been extremely fucking obvious about them since she had been a teen. But were tits -breasts- that important? Surely not. Her professors valued her for her intellect.

Didn’t they?

Then why had every professor that had mentored her and helped her out been a man? 

My big tits.

No, that was ridiculous. Silly. And yet, she barely noticed her hand sliding between her legs as she thought about it. My tits matter. My tits are what’s important.

She came almost instantly, and a wave of shame washed over her. She needed to escape it. Dodge it somehow. Laptop. Watch something on the laptop. Let it relax her.

Claire’s low-cut top didn’t go unnoticed at dinner. She wasn’t really sure why she had put it on. It just felt right. Rick obviously kept quiet, but The Asshole made no effort to hide his glances and his smug smile. She should be angry, something inside her told her; but it was a distant voice, faint and growing smaller. If anything she felt… valued. Desired. Worthy. Fuck it, even if it was The Asshole, she had to admit a bit of male attention now and then wasn’t so bad. She found herself blushing at first. Eventually, it was all too much. Claire excused herself and dashed to the bathroom. She fell on her knees, rubbing her pussy -vagina- with a desperation she had never felt before. She needed to cum. The Asshole’s eyes, and his sneer of superiority, and his hateful words… she had to bite her hand to stop herself from screaming.

Claire came back to the table, flustered but okay. Or so she thought.

“Pour me a Coke”, The Asshole said. It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t a request. He had just treated her like a fucking servant.

And yet, she walked to the kitchen and made sure she poured the most perfect glass of Coke possible. She leaned in a bit while she placed it by his plate, giving him a beautiful view of her big, dumb tits. Breasts! Her breasts! What the fuck was wrong with her?

“Thank you, cunt”, The Asshole whispered.

Claire froze. She should… what? Slap him? Scream at him? Lecture him? What would be the point? No, it was better to let it slide. Smile and nod.

Smile? Smile after that? What the fuck was she thinking? Claire was mortified. Turning in bed, she wished she could take that stupid smile back and… fucking punch The Asshole for calling her a…

Why? Why, why, why? Why was she so fucking wet? It was disgusting! He was disgusting! 

…She was disgusting, getting soaked at being called a…

It was too strong. She tried to fight it, she truly did, but her pussy, her traitorous fucking pussy refused to give up, driving her insane. A cunt. He had called her a cunt. Her fingers went into her body. She wasn’t gentle with herself. No, she fucked herself without mercy, like she imagined he would use her if he had a chance. Her mind was a vortex, a mess of words and images and shame and pleasure.

Cunt. Cunt. Big-titty cunt. I’m just a stupid cunt. My tits are all that matters. I’m just a cunt. I’m just holes and tits. I don’t need to make choices. I need to do as men tell me. Men know best. Men are superior. I’m just holes…

She woke up covered in sweat. Fuck. Had she passed out? What… what was wrong with her? She was an excellent college student…

She wanted to throw up. College. All that work. Thinking. And then what? A job? Stress? She couldn’t do it. No way. She was…

I’m too stupid and weak.

It felt so fucking good to think it. It was liberating. Relaxing. It felt like the universe was simple, and she was simple, and now her place in the world was simple. It was light and fresh and it made her want to burst out in giggles. 

A shower of images and words flooded her mind. Women on their knees. Women cooking in traditional aprons while wearing chokers. Women kissing, putting on shows for men. She had no idea when she had seen all that, and suddenly she couldn’t even care enough to fight the feeling. It all just felt… right. Sexy. Natural. It was her place. It was her purpose as a woman. As a cunt. As an inferior fleshlight. She moaned at the idea of sharing this new wonderful bliss with her stuck-up college friends, and making them see the light…

She didn’t even get mad when The Asshole got into her room without knocking. She didn’t even consider covering up. In fact, she felt happy when his eyes focused on her body.

I’m useful. My body makes me useful.

“What are you doing?”, He asked. Suddenly He wasn’t The Asshole anymore. He was a He, and He was always right, and she was meant to do as He said. Simple. Sexy. Fun.

“I just rubbed my dumb pussy until I passed out”, she blurted out before exploding in a symphony of delighted giggling. 

“You know, I know how you call me. Your cunt friends told me. So I’m The Asshole, huh?”

Claire looked at him with fuzzy, unfocused eyes. She’d never think that of a Man!

“What are you?” He asked.

“Holes!”, she replied excitedly. “And tits! And porn!”

“And what do you serve?”

She blanked for a moment. Serve? She did what Men told her, but that wasn’t serving, that was just… being herself. Being a good little cunt. It was natural. Then, as if to help her out, he let his trousers fall.

“Cock!” she yelped. “I serve cock!”

“Then serve”

Duh. Of course she served cock. How could she have forgotten? As she licked and wonderful, conquering cock in front of her, she realized how silly she had been. That was why Men did the thinking. She took in its smell, its smooth texture on her tongue, the way He looked down at her and she looked up at Him. It was just natural.

She was happy, she thought as she relaxed her throat and let that cock slide deeper and deeper inside her.

In the end, she never found out what, exactly, had happened with her laptop. 

Did you enjoy the story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu !

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

The Distance Between

Yandere Ex Bully x Caretaker Fem Reader

TW: Bullying (trauma mentioned), smut, dubcon (convincing you to have sex after breakup), baby trapping, power imbalance, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior, delusional behavior, gross, obsession, male masturbation (mentioned), etc.

When you were assigned a new patient, you had no idea it would be the Emiliano Villan, your childhood bully. The boy who tormented you from primary school up until your graduation. The boy who relented teased your looks and weight, the one who dumped cold water or bugs on you from the windows above, the one who sabotaged your lunch, and the one who made you cry yourself to sleep every night… yet you never showed him a reaction for all those years.

And now here he was in a wheelchair from getting into a head on collision after a night of partying. Perhaps karma had finally hit him? Emiliano looked so pathetic to you as he remained curled up on his bed. He was even more humiliated that someone like you had to care for him. The one who had gotten away… his dolly.

His temper was still as volatile as it was when you were younger. Emiliano often threw things at you and called you every insult known to man. His green eyes frequently checked your face for tears or anger, yet you never reacted much to him. It only angered him more. Yet there was a part of him that adored the way your eyes stayed on him.

Emiliano got a kick out of you. No matter what he did, you never reacted to his outbursts. You never cursed him out when he knocked over the meal you’d make him or when he dumped his drinks on you. It was just like the good old days of middle and high school!! When it was just you and him… you and your doll like face. Emiliano wanted to break you. Not physically like he was at the moment, but mentally. Taking out his anger on you made him feel better… and he didn’t realize just how awful he was until it was too late

“I don’t even know why you bother, I’m not going to eat any of the slop you make.” Emiliano chuckled as you swept up the meal off the floor. Your hour of cooking completely wasted. “You’re pathetic.”

It was a struggle everyday to wash him up and try to get him to take his medication. Emiliano would use his muscular arms to push against you and flail. It was when he landed a harsh punch to the side of your face that you gave up.

You quickly dropped him on his mattress as you clutched your swollen cheek. He gave you a smirk but it fell quickly when he noticed the tears gathered in your eyes. Why did it upset him to see you cry?

“You’re the same monster you’ve always been…” Hot tears streamed down your cheeks as you rose to stand up. Your eyes filled with hatred. “To think I sympathized with you.”

Emiliano could only watch you walk away and gently shut the door behind you. His hand still outstretched to you while fear sunk into him. You weren’t going to leave him, right?

You didn’t come to work the next day. Emiliano laid in his bed in hopes that you would come but you didn’t… he began to struggle for get himself up and into his wheelchair. The young man cursed when he nearly crashed to the floor, but he was able to pick himself back up to get into his mobility device and roll towards his window in hopes you’d come.

“She called off.” His butler informed him which made Emiliano frown. “You really need to be nicer to her. She’s the only one who accepted being your caretaker since you’re such an ill mannered man.”

Emiliano frowned and glanced at his lap in shame. His butler was right… he didn’t like the way she cried. It upset him to see her like that… she’d look so much prettier with a smile.

The next day you came back to work, except you didn’t try to make him anything to eat. Emiliano felt frustrated that you didn’t initiate any small talk with him or offer him any of your meals. He’d eat them this time! He would be better…

“I’m sorry.” Emiliano apologized to you, his head hung low. “I was cruel and I… I don’t deserve your pity.”

You gave him a nod of acknowledgment but you simply went about your day. It only made Emiliano feel even worse. He missed your voice already…

Emiliano began to study you more as you worked. He’d sit in his wheelchair and watch you clean up his room or prepare his medications. You had always been so pretty, but god you were breathtaking up close.

You noticed a shift in Emiliano, the young man now stared at you whenever he thought you weren’t looking. His eyes studied you like a scientists studied a specimen. Emiliano no longer insulted you, but now he complimented you for the smallest of tasks you’d complete. It was so strange… he even upped your pay .

He seemed enamored with you which only made your job more difficult since it’s been harder and harder to go home at a decent time to your boyfriend.

“Can you please stay a bit later? I have a hard time sleeping.” Emiliano softly asked you, his long lashes fluttered up at you.

“Okay, I can see if you can take anything for sleep.” Emiliano frowned when you began to check your bag for anything to give him. He didn’t want them… he wanted you to lay with him…

“Can’t you just sit beside me until I sleep?” Emiliano softly asked. “I won’t do anything, I promise.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. You obediently sat beside Emiliano who guided your hand to rest on top of his head. “This is nice… can you call me Milo?”

“Alright… Milo.” You quirked a brow at him. What was with this sudden burst of affection? Emiliano smiled brightly when you ran your fingers through his chocolate hair. Your fingers were like magic…

Once Emiliano was asleep, you left for the day. Unaware that ‘Milo’ dreamt about you for the entire night… of the beautiful life you could have together.

Emiliano took his therapy more seriously when he noticed you in a more chipper mood as of late (you were leaving at a decent time to see your boyfriend). Were you happy to finally be able to call him by his pet name? He remembered someone telling him in middle school that you had a crush on him… he liked you too. He had always liked you, but he didn’t want anyone else to… it’s why he bullied you relentlessly. Why he made sure no one else wanted to have you… so you could be his. So your mind would only ever think of him and your eyes would always look at him, Emiliano hadn’t realized how twisted that way of thinking was until he was older… he had only followed what his father had done for his mother.

“I was thinking we could have dinner together.” Emiliano smiled up at you as he fidgeted with his sleeves. “Won’t that be lovely?”

You tried not to show your distaste, but decided to politely let him down. “I’m sorry Emil- Milo.” You corrected yourself before you continued to speak, “But I have to leave at my usual time, my boyfriend will be worried sick-“

You gasped when Milo threw himself on the floor. You quickly rushed to him to help him up. “Oh my god! Are you okay?”

Emiliano pulled you down to the floor with him in a hug, his arms desperately clutched onto you as his body shook with rage. “Boyfriend? You don’t… you can’t…”

Emiliano felt his breathing become ragged at the thought of you with another man… a man that wasn’t in a wheelchair. A man that was completely functional. This entire ordeal filled him with a new determination. He would walk again… and he’d show you that he was a much more suitable man for you.

Emiliano just holds you close as you helped him back into his wheelchair. His promise rung in his head. He wouldn’t let you be with another man… and he was willing to go to the extreme to make it happen.

Emiliano offered you more money to be his live in caretaker, which you were hesitant to accept but your boyfriend said the money would be good for both of you… a huge mistake on both of your parts.

You were a bit shocked when Emiliano moved you into the room beside him. “I just want you to be close… in case I need you.”

You didn’t have too much of a problem with it until you’d hear the whimpers late in the night. Soft gasps and whispers of your name escaped Emiliano’s lips whenever he thought you were asleep. It made you sick.

It was even worse when you’d have to help him clean up in the morning and his boxers would be covered in remnants of his semen. Emiliano’s cheeks would be flushed whenever you’d give him a bed bath, his well endowed member fully erect and weeping with precum. He never failed to make the experience awful for you… but the money was too damn good to pass up.

It was another month when you received a message from your boyfriend wanting to breakup since you spent too much time away… you were distraught, a fact that Emiliano took advantage of.

Emiliano pulled you into his wheelchair with his as he presses hot kisses up and down your neck as you cry. His hands eagerly grasp at your hips in desperation.

“You can… you can stay in my room. I’ll keep you company.” And you’re whisked into Emiliano’s bed as he locked his wheel chair to climb in with you. His lips all over yours in hungry kisses. “Take off your clothes, I promise I’ll satisfy you.”

And you, not even in your right mind, obey him. Your bare end is practically dragged to his mouth as he suckled on your slit like a starved man. His tongue eagerly wriggled in and out of your hole until you’re a whimpering mess.

“I want to fuck you… please let me fuck you.” Emiliano pulled away from you to lay back in the bed. “I’m still working on my legs, but I can still thrust from below. Please?”

You give in and help him shove his waistband down to his thighs. His cock easily slides in as he gasped and moaned from under you.

“Ah! Fuck!” Emiliano cursed at you tight you were before he gave an experimental thrust. You whine at the feeling. You hated to admit it, but Emiliano was much bigger than your ex-boyfriend ever was.

Emiliano just smiled up at you before he began to slam his hips into yours like a madman. He didn’t care that you were gripping onto his shoulders as if your life depended on it or that your eyes filled with tears from pleasure. You were finally his woman and he’d be damned if he didn’t bruise your cervix up properly.

“Milo! Milo!” You chanted his name like a mantra as his cock bullied your poor, neglected pussy. How long has it been since you’ve been fucked? Months? Nearly a year? It didn’t matter because this was the best sex you’ve had in a long time.

Emiliano pressed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss when he felt your walls flutter around him. Did you like being fucked like a whore? How about he fill you up like one too?

It’s a few more rough thrusts that made you see stars until you felt something molten hot fill you.

You’re a sobbing, soaking wet mess by the time he’s done. Your pussy swollen and your womb filled with Emiliano’s semen, your ex bully holding you close to his body in an inescapable hold.

“You can just stay here with me…” Emiliano kissed away your tears before he scooped his cum back up with two fingers to shove back inside of you. There was no more waste in this house, especially when it came to you.

From now on, there would be no more distance between the two of you. You’d be his, just like you were always meant to be… even if he had to get you pregnant with his child to do that. You were never getting away again.

[justauthoring]

Shadow of Yourself [14/18]

Prompt: “You’ve changed, Eli. I barely even know who you are right now.”

A/N: we delve into the reader's past a little bit more the episode and eli is an absolute sweetheart about it <3

Based off of: Cobra Kai 05x05, 05x06, and 05x07 Warnings: some swear words (because tumblr apparently doesn’t like that), poorly written fight scenes (i swear, i struggle so much) Pairing: Eli Moskowitz x F!Reader

Tag List: @moonydrafts - @ashwhowrites - @traveleraroundsworld - @truly-abysmal - @likecherriesinthespring - @hollxe1 - @asonofpeter - @scarlett-verse - @musically-ambiguous - @kayda1 - @moon-zoons - @dwcode - @day-dreamsinthedark - @leilani788 - @silvermagnolias - @hawkinsavclub - @animewolflover278 - @gruffle1 - @b-tchymoon - @maggiecc - @beetea38 - @hawkinsavclub1983 - @crpytids - @embersparklz - @kimilight - @httpjiikook - @marauderssmut - @fyckcore - @multinci - @lqveabby - @oh-well-whatever-nevermind - @redskull199987 - @silvermagnolias - @shortneko - @okjaeminn - @thecyclonetragedy - @vamproq - @siriusfahey - @cobrakaigirlie - @kaylinfayezink - @oursuh - @aphroditelxver - @minl0u - @cherrywinepoison - @bath1lda - @fixalice - @fallsofserinity - @maisieibae - @ssrcsm​ - @notplutos - @kaitieskidmore1​ - @httpvomitello - @nichmeddar - @rafaelajonerr - @lazyneonrabbitt - @belleoftheball28 - @httpvomitello - @nichmeddar - @rafaeljonerr - @lazyneonrabbitt - @harrysnovia - @dopepersonacloudllama - @fluffybunnyu

THE FRIENDSHIP WE'VE BEEN WAITING FOR.

“I made a new friend today.”

“Did you?” Your uncle Elijah calls over the sound of the water running in the sink, his hands frothy and wet from washing the dishes. This was your regular routine after dinner; he’d wash and you’d dry and when your mother was home, she’d put the dishes away. There’s a glaring pile of dishes building to your right that both of you ignore that, as of recently, has been more common. “That’s great, what’s her name?”

Biting your lip, you take the offered dish from his hands; “it’s a boy.”

That gives your uncle pause. With a teasing grin, he turns to you, quirking a brow; “oh? Is that right?” You flush at his wiggling brows, shaking your head as he flicks some soapy water at you before caving. “So, what’s his name, then?”

“Eli,” you answer, grinning from ear to ear. “Eli Moskowitz.”

“What a name,” your uncle laughs, nudging you with his elbow lightly. “He nice?”

You nod instantly, “very.”

“Good. Because no boy will be disrespecting my daughter.”

You flush at your uncle’s words, rolling your eyes; “dad, he’s just a friend.”

Eyes distinctly focused on the pan he’s washing, your uncle hums knowingly; “mm-hmm. And how did you meet Mr. Just-A-Friend Moskowitz?”

You just snort, focusing back on your own task like your uncle and ignoring his teasing because it was nothing new. Your uncle was a funny man and he was the best at jokes, and he liked to tease you – but you didn’t really mind, because it always made you laugh in the end anyways.

“I stood up for him,” you say, with a certain air of pride and an eye on your uncle for his reaction. “From a bully.”

Setting down the pan, your uncle turns to face you; “is that right?”

You mimic his actions, nodding; “yup.”

In the next second, before you can even blink, your uncle is moving his wet, soapy hands to your sides and moving to tickle you relentlessly. A giggle bursts from your lips instantly, carrying on as you desperately swat your uncle’s torturing hands away from you, gasping as you try to catch your breath.

“Elijah!”

“That’s my girl!” Your uncle cheers, clasping you by the waist and hefting you over his shoulders as he moves to run around the dining room, your cackles the only thing that can be heard in the otherwise silent house. “My little niece, standing up to bullies just like I taught her!”

“Elijah!” You call, grinning wide, “put me down!”

He obliges, finishing one last race around the dinner table before setting you on your own two feet. A laugh bubbles from your throat as he does, breathless and quieter, before you meet his waiting gaze and watch as he moves to crouch in front of you, hands on your shoulders.

“I’m incredibly proud of you, Y/N,” your uncle smiles, all sincerity and love in his eyes. “You know that, right?”

Beaming, you hum; “of course, Elijah! You tell me all the time!”

Shaking his head, your uncle places his hand on the back of your head before leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

The moment is flooded with a gentle and comfortable silence as you lean into the kiss, heart racing and belly aching from your laughing but more happy than you could ever be.

It doesn’t last long.

The next day your uncle falls over at work and is rushed to the hospital.

Two months later, he passes away.

That is the last good memory you have of him.

-

You stare at the date that glares at you from the top of your phone screen.

July 14th.

July 14th.

The anniversary of your uncle’s death.

And you’re completely alone.

You frown when you see a message pop-up, the frown deepening further when you see who it’s from.

If you need to talk today, let me know. I can try and find some time to chat.

A second later, another text pops up.

Love you, honey.

With a sigh, you let your phone fall to your bed before collapsing against your pillow yourself.

You don’t have the energy to reply to your mother. Not after all that had happened and certainly not when today is… today. 

She couldn’t even be here—

Clenching your eyes shut, you roll over to your side, staring at the wall of your bedroom and ignore the buzzes that rumble from your hip where you’d left your phone. You have no doubt it’s your mother, probably irritated or worried that you weren’t replying to her messages.

It’s early-ish, sometime mid-morning, but you haven’t gotten out of bed yet.

Classes at the dojo were a little… well, nonexistent right now because of everything and it was the summer which meant that you didn’t have school. You knew Yasmine and Moon were doing something but pretending everything was fine and smiling with them didn’t seem like the solution to the pain in your heart either. Sam was too busy ‘finding’ herself, Miguel and Robby were spending the day with Johnny last you heard and you could only imagine how that was going. Demetri was maybe with Yasmine and Moon, maybe not, though honestly, you loved the guy, but you didn’t think being with him today would help any.

Honestly, the only person you did want to see was Eli but after your fight in the waterpark parking lot, you didn’t know where either of you stood and you were too scared to find out. Eli hadn’t tried to reach out to you and neither had you, afraid that if you did, he’d officially break it off with you.

Maybe you were being dramatic but this always seemed to happen when you two started dating. You loved Eli, you knew that, and you didn’t want to just be friends but maybe Eli didn’t feel that way anymore. You had been a tad bit cruel at the waterpark and hadn’t tried to see any of it from Eli’s point of view. Cobra Kai had been traumatic for Eli and even if you stood by your opinion that the students at Cobra Kai weren’t your enemies, it still stood to truth that some of them had done horrible things and hadn’t apologized for it.

Nor did it look like they planned to.

Letting out a dejected moan, you shove your face into your pillow.

This was awful.

All you wanted to do was see Eli but you were too afraid to make the first step in case it meant you losing him, permanently this time. Realistically, you knew you couldn’t avoid him forever but for now, you figured, you could at least try.

And all of this was ten times worst because… because—it hurt too much to think.

Your father would know what to do. He would have all the right answers, you knew he would. But he wasn’t here to tell you.

A knock echoes from the front door, startling you out of your thoughts as you jump, moving to sit up as you stare in the direction of your bedroom door and the stairs you can see through it. Who could possibly be at your front door right now?

When you don’t move, another knock follows and with a slight frown, you finally push yourself off of the bed and to your feet before making your way down the stairs. You stare at your front door for a moment longer, confused, before finally moving to unlock it, glancing over the edge of the door to see who it is.

Your eyes widen when you see it’s Eli, with a bouquet of flowers.

“Eli?”

“I know we’re fighting or… something, but I didn’t think you’d want to be alone today.”

Lips parting, there’s a flutter that resonates from your heart at Eli’s words; they’re said with a certain softness of hesitation, eyes flickering from meeting your own back to his own feet as he shuffles on your front porch. You feel your heart melt then and there, all anger or doubt you’d had previously disappearing in a single second.

Eli had been the one person you’d wanted to see and here he was.

“You remembered,” you mumbled, still stunned as you reached your hand out, taking the offered flowers that Eli eagerly gives to you. There's a beam of hope that floods his gaze as you take them, pressing them to your nose where you smell the sweet and natural scent of the assorted bouquet, before glancing up at Eli with warm cheeks.

“Of course,” Eli says with ease, without hesitation. “I wasn’t sure if I should come but I knew your mom still wasn’t home and it felt wrong not to come. I’d texted you but you, uh… weren’t answering them.”

Oh, you think guiltily, so he’d been the one texting. Biting your lip, you hug the flowers; “thank you, Eli.”

He smiles; “you’re welcome.”

There’s a moment more of silence before you snap out of your own thoughts, shuffling back to make room for Eli. “Here,” you offer, “come inside.”

Eli is quick to abide, shuffling into your house as you shut the door behind him. You smile at him, a little unsure, as you descend into the kitchen to grab a vase, filling it with water before delicately setting the flowers inside and leaving them to rest on the windowsill where a bit of sun shines on them.

“They’re beautiful,” you smile softly at Eli, “seriously, thank you.”

Eli shakes his head, brushing off your continued thanks; “it’s the least I could do… you know, as your boyfriend.” Then, his gaze shifts, standing an awkward distance away from you as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his joggers and glances at you warily. “If I still am?”

He asks it with a sense of doubt, obviously not sure where you both stand in regards to your relationship. Honestly, you know it’s a little wrong, but it’s a bit of a relief to you that Eli had been having similar concerns as you in regards to your relationship. It made you feel a little less silly knowing that Eli had also been unsure of whether the two of you were still dating or not.

And even more, it made you feel better that it seemed Eli still wanted to.

Letting the first real, genuine beaming smile curl onto your lips, you quickly cross the distance over to Eli, wrapping your arms around his shoulders eagerly. “Of course you are!”

Eli stumbles back at the sudden force, his hands quickly coming to grab you by the hips as he lets out a soft ‘oof’ at your sudden embrace. Still, there’s an eased grin that curls onto his lips all the same and he’s leaning into your hug with a certain fervour of passion.

When you pull back, just enough to meet his eyes, Eli’s laughing; “i’m glad,” he assures. “I felt bad after we fought and I wanted to turn back around instantly but I saw you with Robby and I wasn’t sure…”

“Oh,” you breathe, not having realized he’d seen that. “Robby… he, um… saw me crying after our… and was just making sure I was okay. He walked me home, but that was all.”

Something pained crosses Eli’s eyes but he doesn’t speak on it and the expression is gone as quickly as it came. You watch on in concern, but then he’s squeezing your hips and shaking his head, as if getting rid of the thought, before focusing back on you. “I really am sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” you exclaim, “I shouldn’t have made that comment about you and Cobra Kai…”

“Nah,” Eli brushes off with a shrug and a light chuckle. “You were right. I was a jerk, just like they are now. It’s not fair of me to act like I wasn’t.”

That wasn’t exactly the point you’d been trying to make, but, you figure, one step at a time. Besides, you were tired of fighting with Eli and you’d desperately missed him for the few days you hadn’t been speaking. You needed and wanted Eli, especially for today, so you decide to leave it for now.

“You know,” you speak up after a moment of silence, clasping your hands behind Eli’s neck as you pull him closer. “My uncle was the first person I told when we became friends.”

Eli blinks at you, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you nod eagerly, “he was the closest thing to a father I had and at the end, it was usually just the two of us… He’d said he was proud of me.” Then, frowning, you meet Eli’s eyes. “I really wish you got to meet him.”

Eli’s face softens. “I wish I'd met him too.”

Lowering your gaze, you hesitate for a moment. “You think he’d still be proud of me?” The question comes pouring from your lips before you can stop yourself, but Eli’s always been good at bringing that vulnerable side of you out that no one else really ever saw. And, truthfully, you didn’t really mind if it was Eli. “I feel like I never know what I’m doing and so much is happening all the time. I mean, we’ll be done with high school soon and I don’t even know where I want to go for college. Not to mention this whole karate thing…”

Eli raises his hand, softly brushing a strand of hair that had fallen in your face in the midst of everything and therefore, pulls your gaze back on him. His gaze is soft, adoring as he glances down at you and there isn’t an ounce of hesitation or doubt as he says; “of course he’d be proud of you.”

Smiling, enough that your cheeks hurt from how wide, you lightly nudge Eli; “I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t want to spend his anniversary alone.”

Eli grins, ear to ear, and there’s a shared understanding between the two of you as he nods;

“I’m glad to be here too.”

-

“So… back at Miyagi-do, huh?”

Laughing, Robby shakes his head as he makes his way over to you, having just walked into the dojo. You knew that most of the people there might not be happy to see him back, at least not at first, so you figured that you’d be there to greet him so he didn’t feel so isolated and singled out.

“Yeah,” Robby breathes, coming to a stop in front of you, winking teasingly at you. “The place you’ve never left.”

You snort; “what can I say? I’m loyal.”

Robby rolls his eyes but the smile on his face is undeniable. 

“How did… uh, everything with Miguel and your dad work out?” You ask after a moment, unable to help yourself. Ever since Robby had texted you letting you know, despite everything else, it’d been on your mind. There was a lot of bad history between Robby and Miguel, and you honestly had no idea if there ever wouldn’t be.

But… Robby was back in Miyagi-do and Miguel hadn’t seemed as angry about it as you’d expected.

So you hoped it went as well as it seemed it had.

“Went okay,” Robby shrugs, “as okay as it could’ve, I guess.”

“Seems better than okay,” you offer, hopeful. “I mean, you’re here and the two of you aren’t at each other’s throats. So… that’s a good step, right?”

Robby just snorts; “yeah.” And you beam, grin turning wider, until you notice Robby’s gaze over your shoulder and he adds; “but just because Miguel and I are okay, doesn’t mean others feel the same.”

Following his gaze, you freeze when you realize Robby is talking about Eli. He’s stood with Miguel and Demetri, but there’s a particularly nasty glare on Eli’s face as he glances your and Robby’s way. When he meets your eyes, the glare softens considerably, but there’s still an edge to his expression.

“No more deadly of a glare than Tory sends me,” you try to joke, turning back to Robby nervously. Robby just raises a brow, shaking his head as he crosses his arms over his chest and you sigh. “Look, don’t worry about Eli. He’s having a harder time seeing past what happened before the All Valley… you know, with his mohawk.”

Robby just lets his hands fall by his sides. “No worse than he’s done.”

“Robby.”

Robby’s eyes snap back to you at your sharp tone, wincing slightly at the look you send him.

“Okay, okay,” he huffs, “I’ll play nice.”

“Thank you,” you sigh, somewhat relieved. “We’re all on the same side now and Eli will calm down. I promise.”

“It might also help if he realizes I’m not trying to steal his girlfriend.”

Cheeks burning, you sputter, surprised by Robby’s comment as you turn to him with wide eyes. “B-But he knows you and Tory—I mean, you guys are dating. And we're friends. Just friends.”

Robby lets out a chuckle. “You said it yourself about Tory,” Robby shrugs. “Besides, I’m not so sure Hawk does know that.”

Your face falls in concern, mortified. “Robby—”

“Line up!”

-

A FEW MINUTES EARLIER:

-

“Look at them.” 

“Hawk—”

“—When did they get so friendly!”

“Who?” Demetri asks, looking up from the stretching he’d been doing.

Eli just huffs, meeting his friends eyes briefly before nodding in the direction of you and Robby. “Them,” he says sourly, ignoring the look Miguel sends him. It wasn’t his fault. He’d tried to ignore it but it was impossible – he knew that you’ve told him many times that you and Robby were just friends but he hadn’t known you guys were that close. Walking you home? After Eli had made you cry? He couldn’t get it out of his head, a constant numbing thought that was irritating him and making him see things in a different light than was true.

And yes, it was his fault because he’d gotten so defensive and made you upset. But Eli had turned around to apologize and make up, only to see that Robby had already swooped in before he could.

And now? The two of you? You’d left Eli’s side the second you’d seen Robby making his way in, eagerly rushing over to the boy and you were all smiles and giggles as the two of you talked.

What was that about?

“Oh,” Demetri calls, “Y/N and Robby?” He asks to which Eli sharply nods. 

“They’ve always been like that,” Demetri shrugs.

That catches Eli’s attention. His eyes finally leave you and Robby to turn and look at his friend, baffled; “what?”

Even Miguel looks a little surprised.

“Yeah,” Demetri nods, not seeing the problem. “Ever since she and I joined Miyagi-do. Or… I guess at first they hadn’t gotten along, but then suddenly, one day, something changed. I think it has to do with the whole parent thing… I know things are better between Robby and Sensei Lawrence now, but they get what it’s like to not really have a parent around.”

“Wait,” Miguel speaks up, before Eli can say anything. “Y/N lives on her own?”

Eli’s previous jealousy forgotten, he and Demetri glance at each other, unsure.

“Not completely,” Eli is the first to explain, voice hesitant with what to say and what not to say. Demetri didn’t even know everything either but Miguel even less it seemed, though Eli was sure you wouldn’t mind having Miguel know; even just a little. Like Demetri knew just a little. “Her dad… passed away when she was really young. And for a while her uncle helped raise her but then he passed away when we were in middle school. She still has her mom, but she leaves a lot for work. She’ll be gone for months at a time.”

“It was okay, you know, when her uncle was alive,” Demetri mumbles, glancing at you from across the dojo. “Because she had him. After he passed away, Y/N was home alone a lot. It’s been hard on her.”

“Oh,” Miguel mumbles, shoulders slumping. “I had no idea.”

“She doesn’t like talking about it,” Eli explains. “She doesn’t want people worrying about her.”

A somber air surrounds the three boys, neither of them sure what to say.

Demetri, as usual, is the first to break the ice. “I wouldn’t worry about Robby and Y/N, Eli.”

Eli turns to Demetri in surprise.

“They’re just friends,” he explains with a shrug, as if there was never any other explanation. “Besides, anyone who can see Y/N can see she only has eyes for you.”

Cheeks warming, Eli turns to Miguel, as if asking for his opinion; Miguel nods,

“Honestly bro,” Miguel laughs tentatively, trying to lighten the mood. “Y/N looks at you like you’re her whole world.”

Eli hesitates, doubting their words because of his own insecurity. Before he can help himself, his eyes naturally drift back towards you and Robby, only to pause when he sees you staring back at him. Eli freezes, panicking, as his eyes widen a fraction and he’s quick to soften his gaze, offering a nervous smile.

You just turn back to Robby, as if confused.

-

PRESENT TIME:

-

Jumping at Chozen’s suddenly booming voice, you don’t get to finish what he’d been about to say to Robby as Chozen calls everyone over to him. He shouts something in Japanese and you sigh, knowing that’s it, as you follow after Robby to make your way over. Eli quickly makes his way over to you, falling a stop next to you as he meets your eyes, sending a soft smile.

You’re quick to give him one in return, lightly nudging him with your elbow to assure him everything’s okay before turning your attention to Chozen.

“So,” Sam is the first to speak up, “where are my dad and Johnny?”

“Not here,” is all Chozen says in explanation. “Today, you train with me.” He follows by shouting something, again, in Japanese, that no one understands before sighing; “attention.” Instantly, everyone straightens out, your hands falling flat against your sides.

Again, he says something in Japanese and is met with confused gazes.

Huffing, Chozen shakes his head; “bow.”

Oh. Everyone quickly does.

“Cobra Kai gaining ground. We must prepare. Come.” Shuffling forward, Chozen moves to walk around the set up table with various things on it, and you meet Eli’s gaze curiously. “Now, we learn about Yanbaru Kuina.”

“What is that?” Chris asks, “like, some top-secret karate move? Like a throat rip?”

“No,” Chozen answers sharply, ignoring Chris’ poor imitation of having said throat ripped. “It is bird. In English called Okinawa rail. Endangered. Cannot fly.”

Demetri nods; “hence, endangered.”

Chozen grabs something off the ground, hidden behind a brown cloth, before peeling it away the second it’s set on the table. It’s eggs.

“So these are the real eggs?” Miguel asks, gesturing forward.

“No,” Chozen says, like it’s obvious. “Trader Joe’s. $3.29.” At the various looks he gets, Chozen just shakes his head, obviously annoyed; “take egg.”

Eli, Sam and Miguel step forward, grabbing a handful and passing them around; you smile when Eli hands you yours.

“So, what do we do with the eggs?”

“Yanbaru Kuina must protect egg,” Chozen answers. “From Kume Shima habu. Poison snake. You must do same.” He takes the hourglass off the table and turns it upside down. “Begin your preparation.”

“What are we protecting them from?” Robby asks.

“From me.”

-

You give yourself credit for lasting longer than Eli and Robby, but ultimately, your plan to protect your egg fails all the same.

You wince as Chozen cracks your egg, staring down at the broken yolk sadly before meeting his gaze. He simply just grunts at you before moving on, and with a sigh, you make your way over to the sparing deck where everyone else has lined up. You pause, however, when you notice Eli and Robby standing next to each other.

That cannot be good.

You finish making your way over with a certain hesitance, eyeing the both of them warily, before coming to a stop next to Eli. You smile at him warmly, before letting your eyes flicker from him to Robby and back.

“Everything okay?” You ask, tentatively.

Robby and Eli glance at each other, hesitating.

“These two?” Demetri calls out, answering you when neither Robby or Eli say anything. “Fighting like usual. Not focusing on the bigger picture,” he complains, “like, for example, the crazy guy taking us all out one by one!”

You ignore Demetri’s ramble, turning back to your boyfriend and friend; “oh.”

“No,” Eli is the first to speak up, sighing. “We’re fine. I guess.”

Your eyes widen, straightening out with hope.

“We’re good,” Robby assures, shrugging. Then he pauses, eyeing you and then Eli, before adding; “and just to be clear, Y/N and I are just friends. I don’t like her in that way. She’s great, of course,” he smiles at you, “but I like someone else.”

You freeze at that, eyeing Eli cautiously.

“Cool,” Eli says eventually, his voice even–cautious. “I knew that.”

Yeah, right, you think to yourself as you roll your eyes at Eli’s ‘cool-guy’ attitude, that’s why you spent the entire day glaring at Robby. It was endearing, though, and clearly nothing was meant from it.

Robby nods, holding back a chuckle; “just wanted to make sure.”

You watch as the two of them glance at each other one more time, just staring, before the corner of Robby’s lips twitch and then he’s grinning and to your surprise, Eli is mimicking his grin and suddenly all the tension just fizzles away.

“I will never understand boys,” you huff, bewildered by what had just happened.

Eli and Robby both look your way before bursting out into laughter, and your cheeks warm, slightly embarrassed, but still unable to fight the smile that curls onto your lips all the same.

“Now that that’s done, can we please focus on what’s happening?” Demetri calls, gesturing in front of himself wildly.

You blink, “who’s even left?”

- 

Frowning, you watch as Chozen cracks an egg and starts frying onto the portable heater and pan – right in front of you.

“You are not good Yanbaru Kuina.”

Dejected, you lower your gaze.

“Snakes will take you down,” Chozen sighs. “One by one. I have tried to tell you what you must do. But you do not listen. You must learn to adapt. Or soon, you will be extinct.” A little morbid, but you couldn’t argue against his point. “Take new eggs. Try again.”

Slowly, you all grab a new egg.

“Sensei Toguchi’s real cryptic, like Mr. Larusso,” Demetri thinks aloud, you and the rest circling around each other. “But aggressive like Sensei Lawrence.”

Chris nods; “it’s like the hardest part of both styles.”

“Definitely,” you huff, “it’s scary.”

Mitch just huffs, shuffling back; “can’t wait to get our asses kicked again.”

You turn too, following Eli, Robby and Miguel, before Anthony calls out, halting you; 

“Uh, no. No, um….” Curious, you glance back, watching as he tries to find the words. “G-Guys, uh, wait. He said that the snakes will take us down one by one. Right? Just like he took us down one by one, but… but what if we weren’t a bunch of ones? Like, what if we were…”

“Together,” Sam agrees.

“Exactly!” Anthony exclaims, nodding at his sister. “Like, um, a raiding party in Dungeon Lords.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Demetri calls, “even if you’re a level eighty-five, you can’t mount an attack on the grand realm alone.”

Eli nods at Demetri, “exactly. You need a team. And everybody has a special role.”

Grinning, you laugh in hurrah. “By working together!”

Anthony grins, nodding. 

“It’s the only way we win. As one.”

-

You walk home with a certain pep in your step, practically skipping.

The three boys walking with you watch with varying grins.

“This is amazing,” you gush, turning to the three of them and grinning from ear to ear. 

Miguel snorts; “you’re way too excited,” he brushes off but his words still come out fond. He meets your eyes with a gentle smile and gestures to Eli and Robby beside him. “We just became friends.”

You snort, shaking your head. Figures they wouldn’t understand.

“It’s much more than that,” you correct, “the three of you have been in some mini-war since this all began.”

At that, Miguel, Robby and Eli glance at each other.

“Miguel and I have always been friends,” Eli reminds, jutting his thumb at Miguel before pointing back at himself.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah but now Robby’s here!”

At the sudden attention pulled on him, Robby flushes, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.

“I have been waiting for this day for a long time,” you explain, sending them a look. They all just laugh, shaking their heads and you fall back into place beside Eli, slipping your hand into his.  “Now all that’s left to do is make Sam and Tory be friends and everything will be good.”

There’s a pause that follows that – you’re blissfully unaware.

“Y/N,” Robby calls, somewhat hesitantly. “I feel like that might be harder to do.”

“More like impossible,” Eli snorts, pulling your eyes on him in confusion. “Those two hate each other.”

“I feel like that’s somehow putting it lightly,” Miguel sighs, obviously distressed by his ex-girlfriend and… well, ex-girlfriends hatred for each other. “I don’t think they’ve ever been in the same room without fighting.”

Robby nods, solemnly, and Eli just shakes his head.

You stare at them.

“What?” Eli asks, confused.

“That was literally you two,” you point at Eli and Miguel, “with him,” you shift to Robby, “not a week ago. Especially you two,” you single out Miguel and Robby. “Unless you guys have forgotten,” you snort, raising a challenging brow their way. “I’m sure we can get Sam and Tory to see past their differences.”

It’s clear by the way all three of them look at each other, they’re doubtful.

“Well,” you brush their doubts away, “I'm determined to make them be friends.”

[just-jordie-things]

spin the bottle! - okkotsu yuuta

word count: 5.2k warnings: a lot of smooching, mentions of drinking summary: spin the bottle is an immature game for immature people... but yuuta's crossing his fingers that it lands on you just once. more info: aged up characters! a/n: y'all i bullied into writing this after my truth or dare megumi fic... but i ain't complaining teehee enjoy <3 ___

Spin the bottle was a game for insecure teenagers to use as a lame excuse for getting some.  It was immature, outdated, not to mention a bit boring….

And yet, here she was, sidling up between Maki and Yuuji, cheering along with the rest of the group as they chanted for the game to commence.  

What was a silly game among friends? It wasn’t like it had to mean anything.  They were just a little drunk after celebrating a weeknight where they could all hang out together, and it wasn’t a true party without party games, right? 

So despite the swell of embarrassment in her stomach, (y/n) put on a brave face in the form of a drunken smile, and leaned into Maki’s shoulder with a few cheesy pickup lines muttered in her ear.

“First of all, the bottle has to land on me first,” Maki shrugged her friend off semi-gently before turning to her with a small smirk.  “And I know it’s not me you wanna be kissing, anyways” 

(y/n) stuck her tongue out defiantly, before bursting into a fit of giggles as she leaned away from her sassy friend.  Apparently alcohol only made Maki more quick-witted than usual.

She leaned back on the palms of her hands, her laughter finally ceasing as Nobara explained the simple rules of the game.  She hadn’t meant to tune her out, but it’s not like spin the bottle had a difficult set of rules to follow, and anyways, her attention was pulled away by something else.

Or, someone else.

Yuuta also didn’t seem to pay any mind to Nobara’s strict explanations on the rules.  Whatever he was talking about with Toge seemed much more important.  So much so his hands were moving as he rushed through muttered words, panicked eyes shifting from the bottle on the floor to his mostly-mute friend.  (y/n) couldn’t help but find it a little cute.  

Was he nervous about the game? Or was this about something unrelated? 

He’d seemed fine the rest of the night.  She’d only got to hang out with him a little bit, Toge and Maki had a knack for pulling him away for something.  Toge needed a partner in beer pong.  Maki wanted to arm wrestle.  Yuuta either followed or was dragged along, giving her a quiet apology with a nervous laugh.  (y/n) knew it wasn’t personal, everyone was just excited to get to hang out together, but she couldn’t help but feel a little deflated every time they were interrupted.

“Okay everyone got it? Great!” Nobara clapped her hands as she plopped down in her spot on the other side of Yuuji, already reaching forward to grab hold of the bottle.  “Ladies first, of course” She grins as she gives it a solid spin.

Maki and (y/n) share a look, but don’t voice their complaint out loud.  If she wanted the first turn of the most embarrassing game ever created, they’d let her have it.

And to Nobara’s dismay, the empty bottle stopped spinning and landed on the boy at her side, and her eager expression fell as she turned to her pink haired friend.  Yuuji bore a giant grin, not out of excitement for kissing one of his closest friends, but simply because he knew that he was the last person she wanted it to land on.  If only it had stopped a few inches to his left… maybe she would’ve had her chance with the girl she’d really wanted it to land on.

“Oh, come on!” Nobara whines dramatically.

“You’re the one that wanted to play!” Yuuji argued.

“Yeah, rules are rules!” (y/n) chimed in from next to him.

With a roll of her eyes, Nobara leans forward and gives him the fastest peck of a kiss ever done.  The group is howling with laughter and excitement, and even though this wasn’t (y/n’s) first choice of entertainment, she finds herself giggling and cheering along, and urging Yuuji to take his turn next.

His spin is rougher than Nobara’s, the bottle is flying around and he’s chastised for dragging his turn out.  But the anticipation is worth it when it lands on Megumi, and Yuuji takes it upon himself to crawl on all fours to get to his best friend.  Megumi’s face is so red it looks hot to the touch, and he tries to swat at Yuuji when he practically crawls onto him, but everyone can see that when he finally plants his lips on his, it’s more of a kiss than Nobara’s turn had been.  Probably because it was reciprocated, just a little bit, until Megumi remembers they’re crowded by all of their peers, and he’s pushing Itadori by the shoulders with a laugh that borders between nervous and flirtatious.

“Okay okay! (y/n) take your damn turn already!” Megumi directs, and she puts her hands up in mock surrender at the order.

“Aye aye, captain” She hums, leaning forward to reach for the bottle.

Before she gives it a flick of her wrist, her eyes catch Yuuta’s.  He’s sitting directly across from her, making him the most perfect victim of her spin.  A tiny smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she spins the bottle, her eyes lingering on his a few moments longer before falling to watch her fate write itself.

Her spin is quicker than Yuuji’s, slowing down after just a few rotations, and lagging along the rug as it slowly passes the other players…

… and coming to a stop right to her left, where Maki was sitting.

The dark haired woman scoffs, giving (y/n) a raised brow and knowing smirk.  (y/n) masks her disappointment with amusement, throwing her head back in a short bark of a laugh before giving her kissing partner a wink.

“I told you, hot stuff,” She teases, leaning back into her place to cozy up closer to Maki, who rolls her eyes at the display.  “How do you feel about tongue?”

“Oh just can it and kiss me, (y/l/n)” Maki snaps.  

(y/n) giggles, before leaning in and giving her a swift peck on the lips.  It’s not nearly as fleeting as Nobara and Yuuji’s turn, but it at least lacked the element of disgust.

Maki took her turn almost wordlessly, eyes focused on the bottle as it spun and landed on Megumi once more.  The pair burst into laughter, and Maki jokingly settled on kissing the crown of his head.  Everyone agreed that was for the best, as no one wanted to see the cousins share a real kiss.

Next to Maki was Toge, who eagerly let out a string of rice ball ingredients as he spun the bottle and took his turn.

When it slowed and landed on (y/n) her eyes lit up in surprise, as though she’d forgotten she was even a player after her turn had been over.  The cursed speech user shyly looked over at her, and he must not have moved quick enough to finish his turn, because she slid forward in front of Maki, a grin splitting her lips as she neared him.  He’d already left his collar open in preparation for the game, but she grabbed the zipper anyways, tugging him forward, earning an echo of oohs from the more dramatic players in the circle.

Yuuji and Nobara, of course.

Toge’s eyes were unreasonably wide as (y/n) leaned in the rest of the way and planted her lips on his.

It wasn’t necessarily a steamy kiss, but it was longer than the kiss she’d given Maki, and it was noticeable.

Yuuta’s hand curled into the rough carpeting of the rug beneath him.  He hoped his face was neutral, even though his body language certainly wasn’t.  He knew it was just a game, and the pair pulled away in a matter of seconds.  But he couldn’t deny the pang of disappointment settling in his chest.  He’d agreed to play this dumb game on one silly little hope that he’d get to kiss the girl he’d been crushing on for over a year now, and it was strangely unsettling to see his best friend beat him to the chase.

Not that it was Toge’s fault.  Yuuta knew it wasn’t fair to feel any ounce of jealousy.  It was just a game.  It’s not like it meant anything to either of them.  And when it was over and Toge sent Yuuta an apologetic look as he nodded his head for him to take his turn, Yuuta tried to just forget it completely.

Besides, it’s his turn now, and with (y/n) sitting perfectly across from him on her knees with her hands tucked in her lap, he figured he had a pretty good chance of rigging it anyways.  How hard could it be to spin a bottle, anyways? 

After his turn was over and his kiss was wasted on Yuuji, Yuuta’s hopes began to plummet.  The group got a good laugh out of the obnoxiously loud smooch Yuuji had given him, but even though the vibe of the circle was one of laughter and joy, Yuuta felt like curling in on himself and pouting the rest of the night.

He barely paid any attention while Megumi took his turn, the last of the group to get to spin.  But at this point Yuuta had mentally checked out of the whole ordeal.  The carpet he was picking at seemed more appealing than a dumb kissing game anyways.

Why had he even agreed to this? As soon as the thought crossed his mind he felt like an idiot.  Hoping to kiss one girl in a group of seven seemed like a preposterous idea now.  He should have worked up the courage ages ago, yet here he was, hoping to use this immature party game as an excuse.  How was he supposed to talk himself up to doing it on his own now? After this failure of a night, Yuuta thinks maybe he was better off in the friendzone anyways.

It’s not until Maki is shoving at (y/n) and loudly declaring, “Again!?” That Yuuta snaps back into the present, and his head is whirling between the bottle Megumi had just spun, the neck pointing all-too perfectly at (y/n), and a shy amusement on both of their faces.

There’s a bubbly giggle that comes from her as she turns to Yuuji with a playful smirk.

“Try not to get jealous” She teases as she moves across the open space to meet Megumi in the middle of the circle.

With Yuuta being seated right next to the younger sorcerer, he has a front row seat to the way (y/n) gives him a sweet smile before her eyes flicker down to his mouth.  Yuuta really doesn’t want to watch her have her third kiss of the night, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the scene.  

It’s just a game.  It’s not like it means anything.

But on the surface it looks like it could mean something.  He wonders, as her eyes raise to meet Megumi’s again before she shuts them and leans in to plant her lips on his, if this is how she always kissed.  Was it always so premeditated? Did her eyes always sweep over the close up features of her lover before finally indulging? 

Yuuta fights the urge to shake his head when he finally tears his gaze away from the display.  He’s back to studying the scratchy grains of carpet when Megumi and (y/n) part, the former red in the face once more, the latter taking her spot between Maki and Yuuji again.

“That spot is cursed!” Nobara shouts what Yuuta had just been beginning to wonder about himself.

(y/n) chuckles, shrugging her shoulders.

“Oh really?” (y/n) muses, giving her a wiggle of her eyebrows as she narrowed her gaze on her thoughtfully.  “Or are you just saying that cause you’re getting jealous?” 

“Oh shut up and just move spots already” Nobara hissed back.  (y/n) grinned wide at her before clicking her tongue and eyeing the rest of the group.

“Fine,” She hums as she taps her chin.  “Who wants the good spot then?” 

“Salmon!” 

Before anyone could fight for her good-kissing-luck space, Toge is darting forward and practically yanking her from the spot to claim it for himself.  She laughs as she’s sent forward, almost directly into Yuuta, who’s hands shoot out to catch her if she really is thrown into the ground.  To her luck she catches herself on the ground, not without a wobble as she catches her balance.

In the back of his mind, where his hope still lingers, Yuuta thinks that this change in position could be good for him.  Now there had to be a chance for them to share a turn, right? Theoretically, if sitting across from each other wasn’t the right spacing, then sitting side by side had to be better.  All he had to do was essentially make the bottle come back to him, right? 

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” 

The whisper in his ear makes him startle, his eyes wide as he swivels his head to see (y/n) cozied up in the space next to him.  Her knees drawn to her chest, elbow propped atop them to keep her chin in her hand as she gazed at him.  She looked amused by the way he’d jumped at the sound of her voice, but thankfully she didn’t tease him for it.

“You look like you’re in your head,” She clarifies.  “You don’t like the game?”

He opens his mouth to tell her exactly how much he doesn’t like this game, but then the bottle spinning in front of them rolls to a stop, and (y/n’s) pulled away from what little and one-sided conversation she’d been having with Yuuta- for the umpteenth time tonight- and the group is in shambles from where it landed.

(y/n) can barely react as she looks down at the bottle perfectly pointed at her, yet again.

Half the group is whooping with their entertainment, amazed that for the fourth time (y/n) has been the lucky kisser.  The other half is groaning out of boredom of this repetitive game.  With only seven people playing it’s not like the odds were that random.  The game was bound to have some repeats soon.

And then there was Yuuta, who, if he was a cartoon character, would have a little storm cloud scribbled over his head.

(y/n) giggles as Nobara crawls forward, muttering under her breath about how unfair it was that (y/n) already had twice as many kisses as she did.  Once she’s close enough, (y/n) tilts forward, both of her hands cupping Nobara’s cheeks affectionately.

“Just close your eyes and pretend I’m her” She whispers quietly.  Nobara’s cheeks are pink, but before she can say anything, (y/n) shuts her eyes and completes the turn with a quick but sweet peck on her lips.

Yuuta watches as once again her eyes wander over Nobara’s face before she gives her the kiss she’s owed.  His stomach churns and he bites down on his cheek to keep from frowning.  He can’t make his annoyance obvious, not while everyone else is grinning and laughing.  So he gnaws on his cheek and keeps his sights set on his pinching fingers tugging and pulling at the carpet.

(y/n) bumps her shoulder into his when she settles back into her spot beside him again.  He glances over to see her giving him a sheepish little smile.  He could almost be convinced that she’s thinking the same thing he is- that it’s strange she’s gotten to kiss almost everyone in this room except for him.  

Key word being almost.  There was still one other person in the circle who hadn’t been gifted one of her precious kisses.

“I don’t really care for the game either” She resumes their previous topic in a quiet voice.  Yuuta can’t help but chuckle.

“Oh really? It appears you’re winning” He replies in a low voice.  Despite the twist of jealousy in his chest, there’s no malice in his words.  Only amusement.  (y/n) shrugs her shoulders, as if she could care less about the predicament she’d found herself in, which everyone else seemed to find hilarious.

“You don’t really win at spin the bottle, do you?” She muses, laying her arms atop her knees and resting her chin against them.  Her eyes never leave his, too allured by the deep blues that surround his dilated pupils.  An expression that Yuuta can’t really decipher flickers across her face.  “Unless of course you’re aiming to kiss somebody” She finishes the thought in an even softer volume.

Yuuta has to fight the urge to tug at the collar of his crewneck, suddenly feeling hot.  It must have been the drinking, and all the bodies piled into one room.  Surely it couldn’t have been the effect of one perfectly on the nose comment made by her, or the way she was looking at him now like she was waiting for him to confirm her thoughts.

He swallows the lump in his throat, Adam's apple bobbing as the dry swallow goes down roughly.  A small cough comes of this, and (y/n’s) laughing to herself and finally sparing him of her heavy eye contact.

Yuuji takes his turn with great excitement, spinning the bottle in front of him with more gentleness than his last turn.  This time it spins a normal amount before it starts to slow down.  When it drags along the carpet past Toge, and slows down even more as it passes Maki, the group begins to laugh before it even stops in front of (y/n), again.

Yuuta’s wide eyes hold a lethal amount of venom as they follow the path of the open end of the bottle.  Slowly but surely, it comes to a stop in front of (y/n).  Maki’s laughter is the loudest, sharp and almost cruel as she points at the girl, making sure she’s perfectly in the spotlight.

Yuuji almost looks apologetic as he meets her gaze, but a game is a game, and (y/n) drops her legs to fold them criss cross so that he can lean over the open circle to kiss her.

Yuuta can’t fight off his frown this time as he watches (y/n) kiss the last person that hadn’t gotten a turn with her yet.  His features fall into a state of utter heartbreak when her lashes flutter as her eyes sweep over Yuuji’s smiley face before she shuts her eyes and lets him plant a quick kiss on her lips.  

Surprisingly, Yuuji kisses her extremely fast.  Faster than he’d kissed both Megumi and Yuuta.  Even (y/n) seems surprised, her lips still slightly pursed when he’s already pulling away and going back to his spot in the circle.  Heer confusion is quickly washed away, replaced with what Yuuta hopes is relief.

“I think we’ve played this for long enough,” Yuuji rubs the back of his neck as he chuckles.  “No offense (y/n)”

She smiles brightly, shaking her head back at him.

“None taken, I’ve had my fair share.  No complaints here” 

The circle slowly disbands, Maki and Toge head for the kitchen to make more drinks, and shortly after Maki leaves the room Nobara is following behind.

Yuuji says something to Megumi that Yuuta barely catches which dives them both into conversation, sliding closer to one another on the floor in order to continue talking comfortably.

And that leaves (y/n) and Yuuta, both still seated on the rug that was starting to feel scratchy and uncomfortable after having sat there for so long.

“I’m getting warm,” (y/n) fills the silence first, standing and stretching her legs before nodding her head towards the door.  “I’m gonna step out for a bit, want to get some fresh air with me?” 

Yuuta thinks about it for a minute, even though his immediate answer is a resounding yes.  He pauses before standing and following her out of the room.

“Did you want to let Maki know you’re leaving?” He asks a little too late, once they’re already winding through the corridors on the way towards the doors.

“Nah,” (y/n) shakes her head.  “She’s about to be quite distracted by Nobara anyways,” She tells him quietly, her eyes meeting his with a devious glint in them.  “If anything, I’m doing them a favor.  They both owe me, anyways” 

He chuckles at that, having no clue what she meant by it at all.

“Are you making deals with all of our friends?” He asks, half curious, half teasing.

“Let’s just say they’re both jealous, jealous girls,” (y/n) smirks.

They reach the doors, and she turns around to walk backwards through it, using her elbows to push the heavy oak open for them to pass through.

“So a little game of spin the bottle was just what they needed.  Either they were going to finally get their chance, or I was gonna have to pucker up and spark a little romance myself” 

Yuuta laughs, and he can’t help but feel a little relieved to hear her admit at least some of those kisses were far from meaningful.  To her, anyways.

“I think you’re a little too good of a friend” He tells her, to which she laughs, eyes crinkling at their corners as she looks at him.  

They stay put at the front doors, the cool night breeze easing the leftover heat and nerves that they’d been trying to escape from.

“I’m a woman of few talents,” She teases.  “But kissing is one of them, so I may as well put it to good use, yeah?” 

Yuuta snorts, and before he can stop himself, he bluntly replies with, “Like I would know” 

He regrets the sarcastic remark as soon as it comes out of his mouth, and (y/n) watches him do so.  His eyes go wide and his mouth snaps shut, and she can practically see the apology forming in his mind.

She giggles, her smile stretching wide across her face as she gazes up at him.

“You’re right, touchy subject,” She muses.  “That’s not very fair, hm?” 

Yuuta laughs.  His cheeks flush with a rosy pink tint as he turns his head away, not taking her comment remotely serious.  His shoulders shake a bit as he continues to chuckle.  He thinks she must be messing with him, teasing him just like the others would have.  He’s so clouded by embarrassment- and obliviousness- that he misses the way she tilts her head at him.  She waits patiently for his nerves to settle, a curious smile on her face as she studies him.

Yuuta had always been interesting to her, in every sense of the word.  His status as a Special Grade Sorcerer was alluring enough, but she found his demeanor to be rather sheepish, and around her often anxious.  Sure, there were moments that he’d warm up and get comfortable around her, but (y/n) had grown used to his stuttering and nervous mannerisms.  In fact, it was something she’d come to find so cute about him.

They’d known each other for quite some time now, over a year.  And while they both would easily call the other a friend, Yuuta’s behavior hardly changed around her.  It was off at first, because she’d seen the way he’d gotten comfortable around their peers, no longer fearing Maki, or struggling to communicate with Toge.  Yet, whenever she approached him, he looked taken aback even by a simple hello.

Tonight had been a turning point for her, though.  Tonight she’d come up with a little theory as to why he was such a nervous wreck around her.  It only took a pair of crossed fingers behind her back to work up the courage to call him out on it.

Sure, compared to him she was the confident one, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t worried about embarrassing herself in front of him right now.

“Yuuta,” 

His attention is brought right back to her, his laughing ceased instantly upon hearing the soft and sweet way his name sounded when spoken by her so quietly.  Her lips tilt into a knowing smile, admiring how mesmerized he looked when his expression relaxes and his eyes are set on hers so steadily she could have mistaken him for being in a trance.

She’d wanted to say something, something flirty and light hearted about how she’d been hoping on their turns the bottle would’ve landed on each other just once, but despite the overpowering thought being what led the two of them out here, suddenly her mind is blank, thoughts replaced by the stronger, more overwhelming urge to just kiss him.

So she follows the instinct, and she shuffles forward.

Yuuta’s eyes grow wider with every inch of space she closes when she steps towards him.  His breath hitches and his throat bobs as her hands rest against his chest. Her touch is light, barely there, but he swears her palms burn right through to his skin, igniting his entire body.

Her eyes shift slowly from his, mentally tracing down the slope of his nose, lashes fluttering with the slow movement of her gaze.  He’s holding his breath, recognizing the way she glances over every feature, every dip curve and pigment in his face.  Being on the receiving end of this telltale sign of hers has the hair on the back of his neck standing up, and his heart is racing in his chest.

“Your heart is beating really fast,” 

If she’s teasing him, she certainly doesn’t sound like it.  Her smile brightens, eyes twinkling as they travel away from his sealed lips to his panicked eyes.  She presses her right hand a little harder against his chest, feeling his heart beat against it rapidly.  A tiny giggle escapes her, her cheeks warming up the longer she stares at him.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” She whispers, and his face goes from pink to red in a matter of seconds.  “If that’s alright?” 

Yuuta nods.

“Mhm, yeah- yeah that’s f-fine by me” He stammers back, and her little smile widens to a grin at his adorable response.

“Okay,” She hums, pushing onto the tips of her toes.  One of her hands, the one that isn’t counting the beats of his heart, slides over his collarbone, and around the side of his neck.  She can feel his pulse there, too.  “Close your eyes, Yuu” She giggles again at how intently he’s staring at her, mapping her every action.  He complies with the deman, his eyelashes fluttering as he shuts his eyes right away.

(y/n) only hesitates for a moment longer, unable to help herself from admiring how much more handsome he is up close.  Such a thing shouldn’t have been possible, but this was Okkotsu Yuuta we’re talking about.  Her fingers push into the hair hanging over the nape of his neck, gently pulling him towards her as her own eyes fall shut.

Yuuta’s frozen for a moment when their lips finally do meet, his nerves crawling up his spine and seizing his heart for just a second.  Her lips were so soft he was dying to know if everyone else tonight felt the same spark of warmth that he felt right now.

At that thought, he came back down to earth and realized he needed to seize this moment while he had the chance.  The others had gotten meaningless kisses, and he couldn’t accept that this would be the same.

His hands cradle her jaw as he pulls her in closer to deepen their kiss.  Yuuta hasn’t kissed a lot of people- he’s kissed one person actually, and he was eleven- but when her velvety lips mold into his and she reciprocates his eagerness, he thinks she might be the greatest kisser of all time, gifted with the world’s most perfect pair of pretty and sweet lips.

(y/n) curls her fingers more securely in his hair when she thinks he’s going to pull away.  He acknowledges the silent instruction, taking in a sharp inhale through his nose to accommodate his aching chest.  She might have been part of the blame for that ache, but he wouldn’t dare hold her accountable for it.  Oxygen be damned.

He tilts his head to have better access to the plush of her bottom lip, and his heart is racing again when he feels her smile against him.

No one else got this out of that stupid game, he thinks to himself as he feels a soft pant hit his hot mouth.  His thumb traces along her jaw, pausing at the junction where it meets her throat.  She tilts her head further towards him in a small movement, pushing impossibly closer.  Although her own heart rate is starting to skyrocket, dangerously close to meeting the pace of his, their kisses remain gentle.  Soft and slow, meaning in each one.

Yuuta’s head is spinning, and eventually the quick breaths of air through his nose isn’t enough, and he has to pull away, just enough to catch his breath in fast but deep pants.  He keeps his gentle hold on her face, and they’re still so close that their noses are touching, and the small space between them is their shared air.  His eyes are focused on her as soon as he parts from their kiss, with heavy lids and blown pupils, he’s memorizing every pretty feature.  From parted lips curling into a shy smile, to the deepening color in her cheeks, he takes it all in as though he’d lose his sense of sight tomorrow.

(y/n’s) slower to open her eyes, still lost in the moment, ten feet off the ground and not ready to float back down yet.  When Yuuta chuckles, she feels the deep vibration from his chest resonate against her palms.  He feels warmer, the kind of warmth she’d only felt from a comforting fireplace after a long brutal winter day.  The kind of warmth that comes in sun kissed cheeks and soft, hot sand under bare feet that hardly remembered just how good the sensation could be.  Her heart flutters in her chest before she finally opens her eyes to meet his.  She’d felt his stare before she’d actually seen it.  It was what brought the color to her cheeks.

The pad of Yuuta’s index finger grazes over her pulse point, and a tiny smile forms on his face.

“Your heart’s beating really fast” He says, and when she lets out a breathless laugh, his smile turns into a full on beam, proud of himself for repeating her words back to her. “Yeah, well,” She huffs out, still taking shallow breaths and not quite filling her lungs properly with air.  But it was hard when he was looking at her like that.  She pauses before confirming his own thoughts.  “I was waiting for that kiss all night” ___

tags of ppl who pressured me into writing this: @bai-kage @sugasquatchwrites

[sanguineterrain]

it's a feeling that's fine - s.h.

Summary: You accidentally climb the wrong fence on the hottest day of May. It turns out to be the best thing that's ever happened to you.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 10.6k

Warnings/tags: no use of y/n, no physical descriptions, etc. reader is in a toxic friendship; she's slightly bullied in that indirect mean girl way, but the toxic friendship ends. reader cuts her finger by accident. drinking and drug mentions. fluff, humor, strangers to friends to lovers, summer vibes, so many princess bride references. steve is super duper sweet!!! post s4 volume 2.

A/N: so if you wondered where i've been for the last two months.... it was in a cave writing this fic. i'm really proud of this one; the reader is a little different than how i usually write, but i hope you'll like her all the same :) if you enjoy this fic, please please let me know through comments/reblogs!

divider by firefly-graphics

Today is hot. 

Weatherman Dale had said this morning that today is a record high for May. It’s so hot, in fact, that Debbie Wellerman had called you this morning asking if you wanted to come swim in her pool. 

You’d asked if you could dig for worms in her yard. She’d sighed and hung up. You hope that means yes. Joan has been in need of some company. Worms would be good for her.

You go around Debbie’s house and stop at the back gate. The Wellermans are kind of mean and they don’t like it when you take too many cucumber sandwiches. To avoid them, you’ve taken to going through the back gate whenever Debbie invites you over. It works pretty well.

Except today, the gate is locked. Which is weird, because Debbie usually leaves it open. It’s how her boyfriend, Brett, sneaks in during the day, and how Brett’s brother, Chet, sneaks in at night. 

You’d asked once why the brothers come over separately. Debbie had gotten mad and kicked you out without giving you any ice cream. You don’t ask about Brett and Chet anymore.

The problem is that you’re wearing flip flops, which are not ideal for climbing fences. Or anything, really. You once climbed a jungle gym in flip flops and skinned both knees. 

You slip off your flip flops and fling them over the fence. They land a second later, clapping against the ground. The fence is covered in climbing ivy and tiny red flowers you’ve never seen before. You wonder how Debbie made them grow so fast.

The street is empty, which is nice. Sometimes people in Loch Nora like to yell at people who don’t also live in Loch Nora. 

The fence wood is hot but not so hot that you can’t touch it. You stick your feet in the little grooves and start to climb. It’s not too high of a fence, but it’s high enough to warn people who don’t belong here.

That’s never stopped you, though.

Getting over is trickier. You expect Debbie to see you by now, but there’s no sound. She must be inside, or maybe she’s out and forgot she’s invited you. She does that sometimes.

Wood dust clings to your fingers and the soles of your feet. When you’re a foot from the ground, you hop down. Then you turn.

There’s no sign of Debbie. There is, however, a boy.

He’s reclined on an inflatable blue ring floaty in the middle of the pool. He wears sunglasses and red board shorts with little white anchors on them. 

He has very pretty hair, both on his head and chest. He also has pretty lips. And arms. All of him is pretty, really. You wish you could see his face properly. He probably has a nice face too. Symmetrical and kind.

The area around the pool is paved just like at Debbie’s—only it’s a lot larger than you remember. There's a patch of dirt next to the gate. You go and crouch at the edge. You don't see any worms. Probably because it's so hot. You'd stay underground too if you were a worm.

You stand and turn to look at the boy again. He looks like he might be asleep. 

“Did Debbie invite you?” you ask.

The boy shoots up from the floaty. The shift in weight makes him lose his balance and he topples into the water a moment later. The floaty flips with him. 

He resurfaces almost immediately, spitting water and rubbing chlorine from his eyes. You squint.

Yes, you were right. He does have a very nice face.

The water comes up to his waist. He pushes his hair back in handfuls, blinking. Then he fishes his sunglasses out with his foot and sets them on his head. 

“Can you swim?” you ask.

He stares at you, blinking.

“What?” he says after a beat. 

“Can you swim?” you repeat.

“Uh, yeah? Yes, of course I can swim.”

"It would be bad luck if you couldn’t.”

His brows furrow.

“Because I can't swim,” you clarify.

“I wouldn’t be in the pool if I couldn’t swim,” he says.

“That’s good thinking.”

You sit at the edge of the pool and dip your calves in. He wades closer until he’s about three feet away.

“How did you get here?” he asks.

“I walked.”

“I mean, how did you get in my backyard?”

“Oh. I climbed the fence.” 

You peer closer. He looks familiar, but you can’t quite place him. 

“Are you Brett and Chet’s triplet?” you ask. “You’re a lot prettier than them. Did their mother feed you extra vitamins?"

His eyes go wide. “Uh… Brett and Chet Kingsley?”

“Uh-huh. Debbie invites both of them over, but never at the same time.”

“Who's—they don’t have a triplet.”

“That’s good. Three’s bad luck.”

“My house number has a three in it,” he says.

“Don’t step on any sidewalk cracks,” you warn.

He tilts his head, tongue poking out like he’s sizing you up. You let him, focusing on his face instead. He has dark, warm eyes the color of black tea. His shoulders are toned with lots of freckles on them. He looks like a boy who’d like Debbie, not you. 

“Is Debbie going to be back soon?” you ask. You don’t want to get attached to a boy who’ll just end up wanting Debbie instead. You've made that mistake before.

“Um… if you’re talking about Debbie Wellerman, she lives on the next block over. I’m Steve Harrington.”

“Oh. You’re the guy who fought the monsters.”

He eyes you warily. “Wh—how do you know about the monsters?”

"Who doesn't?" 

Steve opens his mouth, then closes it. 

“You can’t tell anyone," he finally says. 

You shrug and kick at the water gently.

“I have no one to tell. Debbie doesn’t believe in monsters.”

“She doesn’t believe in giving you a key either, huh?”

“She doesn’t usually lock her gate,” you say. 

“Well, this isn’t her gate.”

“Yeah. I like your shorts.”

Steve’s cheeks flush pink. 

“Are you getting sunstroke?” you ask. 

That turns his cheeks pinker. 

“No, no." He coughs. "I’m fine.”

“It’s a record high temperature for May,” you say. “That’s what Weatherman Dale said. The highest it's ever been since 1923." 

“Yeah, I heard." He nods. "I didn’t wanna run the AC the whole day so, here I am. My friend Robin was supposed to come over, but I guess she bailed.”

“Robin is a nice name. Is she a bird?”

Steve smiles. “No, she’s a girl.”

“Oh. I thought maybe she was a bird you’d made friends with while fighting monsters.”

“Well.” Steve shrugs. “I did sort of make friends with her while fighting monsters.”

“Robins are good omens. They bring luck."

“Huh.”

You swallow. You’re probably talking too much. That’s what Debbie would say. That’s why boys sneak into her yard and not yours. 

"So." Steve puts a hand over his forehead to block the sun. "Debbie Wellerman, huh? You don't seem like the type to be her friend."

"Friends can come from the most unusual places," you say. "Like under a tree or at the bottom of the ocean."

"Have you made many friends at the bottom of the ocean?" Steve asks with a smile. 

You hesitate. Is he making fun of you? Sometimes, you can't tell. The people in Loch Nora are good at making fun of you without you knowing. 

Steve’s hair has already begun to dry, a little crunchy from the chlorine. He doesn’t look like he’s making fun of you.

"Not many. But that's where I found Joan," you say.

"Joan was at the bottom of the ocean?"

"Kind of. I found her in a pond. Then I found her sister, but I lost her at sea and I couldn't swim out to rescue her. It was a sad day. Joan didn't handle it well."

Steve's brows rise. "Wow. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Joan has been on the incline. I think she's finally ready to get back out there. I wanted to find her company, but I didn't want to disturb your dirt." 

“My dirt?”

“Mmhm. I'm trying to make a social club for her."

"Out of dirt?"

"Out of worms."

"Huh."

Steve rests his chin on his arm that's perched on the ledge. 

"Your hair is wavy," you observe. 

"What? Oh, yeah. I didn't put anything in it."

"Like what? Secrets?"

"No, like, gel. Product."

You nod in realization. "Your hair was so big in school.”

Steve winces. "Yeah. Sorry, I wasn't the best guy back then."

"You were in your chrysalis. You needed time to grow. But then you turned into a butterfly. Or a moth, if you prefer."

"Moths are spooky," says Steve. "They look like they have eyes on their wings."

"Yes. But they're actually friendly. Unless you eat them. Some are poisonous." You lean in, deadly serious. "Don't eat moths."

"Will do."

"No, don't. And warn your Robin too. She might think one looks delicious and meet her doom."

A smile creeps onto Steve's face. 

"You're kind of strange," he says. "In the best way possible."

"Thank you."

"Do you want some lemonade?" 

"Is it poisoned?" 

"What?" Steve startles. "No, of course not."

"No, I suppose not," you say thoughtfully. "You hadn't expected me to climb over your gate, so you wouldn't have had time to poison the lemonade."

Steve stacks one arm atop his other, looking up at you. The ends of his hair have begun to curl. You like it so much. 

"What if I pour from the pitcher right in front of you? Will that make you feel better?" he asks. 

"You can still put something in my glass," you say. "Or you might have built a tolerance to the poison for this exact moment. Like in The Princess Bride."

"I'm only twenty-one. I would've had to start very young to build a tolerance. Besides, what would be my motivation to poison you?"

You shake your head. "There's no need for motivation. Violent delights. But you've fought monsters, and Lucas Sinclair says you're a good guy. So, yes, I will have some lemonade."

Steve pushes himself out of the pool with ease, dripping water all over the concrete. You stare at the rivulets that hurry down his legs and chest. He has a lot of hair everywhere. You like that too.

He offers his hand and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Your shoulder bumps his. Steve's skin is warm. He smells like chlorine and something sweeter. Pineapple, maybe. 

"You would do very well as a knight," you say. "If I were a princess, I'd want you to commit yourself to me."

Steve makes a weird noise in his throat. 

"Uh, th-thanks," he says. 

"You're welcome."

"So you, uh, know Lucas?"

"Yes. He lives on my block. His mom gives me rides sometimes."

You step in through the sliding glass door, which puts you directly in the kitchen. The house is at least twenty degrees cooler. You shiver at the sudden temperature change. 

"You don't have a car?" Steve asks. 

"No."

"You walked from your house to Loch Nora?"

"I took the bus part of the way. Then I walked."

Steve takes two glasses down from the shelf. Then he opens the refrigerator. You sit at the large kitchen island while he pours. 

"Debbie Wellerman has a car," Steve says. 

"Uh-huh. A Porsche."

A money car, she'd called it when she got it for her sixteenth birthday. Boys love girls with money cars. Maybe that's why boys don't love you. 

Steve hands you a glass. You take a long sip. Your mouth puckers and you scrunch your eyes shut as the acid coats your tongue.

"Shit. Not enough sugar?"

You swallow and open your eyes. 

"It's wonderful, Steve," you say earnestly. 

"You don't have to lie. I saw your mouth screw up."

"I'm not lying. It's the right amount of sour." 

Steve takes his own sip. His lips pucker, and he shakes his head.

"Nope. Definitely needs more sugar."

You cradle your glass in your hands. "Don't take mine. She's perfect."

Steve breathes a laugh, returning the pitcher to the fridge. He sits beside you on the island. He's already developing a slight tan. You wonder if more freckles appear the longer he's in the sun. 

"Why doesn't Debbie pick you up?" he asks. 

"Why would she pick me up?" 

"Because that's what nice friends do. And it's unfair to expect you to come all the way here when the buses don't go through Loch Nora."

"Debbie always expects me to come over," you say. "So I do. She doesn't like my house."

Steve frowns deeply. 

"I don't mind the walk," you offer, trying to make him smile again. 

It doesn't work. Steve takes another sip. His lips purse, red like cherry candy and shiny with lemonade. 

"She should meet you halfway more often," he says, dumping his lemonade into the sink. 

You trace shapes into the condensation of your glass. 

"I wanted to go rollerblading," you say. "But…"

"But what?" he prompts. 

"She didn't. Neither did Brett. They wanted to make out in the pool.”

Steve grimaces. “Sounds like a drag.”

“They make weird noises. Like goats at the zoo.”

Steve snorts. You smile and kick your legs, pleased.

“My friends go rollerblading,” he says. “The kids love to skate at the park. You could come with us one day.”

“You have kids?”

“No, I—” Steve shakes his head, chuckling. “Definitely not. No, they’re only a few years younger than me, but me and the other people our age call them kids. They’re part of our little monster-fighting group. Anyway, uh, y'know. Open invite. If you're ever tired of goat noises."

You stare at him for a minute. He seems nervous, and you can't make out why. Nobody's ever nervous around you.

"Okay," you say. "I'd like to meet your kids."

"Cool. Well, um, I can give you my number. We usually meet up on weekends, but once school ends, any day is game."

Your heart rate picks up. You know this part. Only from a distance, of course. But you know what it means when a boy gives a girl his number. 

“You want me to call you?” you ask.

“Yeah. I mean, if you want to. I feel like it’s a little forward for me to ask the girl who climbed my fence for her number. So, um, you can call me. Is that cool?”

Steve looks at you and waits. You chew your lip and nod.

“That’s okay.”

He smiles. “Great! I think I have a pen around here somewhere…”

Steve walks around the table to a stationary caddy on the counter and takes out a blue Sharpie. You stick out your arm, palm up. 

"Uh…" He looks at you. "I can find a notepad."

"This helps me memorize things better," you say and wiggle your fingers. 

"I don't wanna give you ink poisoning."

"You didn't poison me before. You're not very good at it."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

You shrug. "Depends on your aspirations."

Steve hesitates for another second. Then he takes the top of your forearm and begins to write on the soft underside. He writes slowly, which tickles, but you remain still. 

He's so close. You're reminded all over again of his hands and warmth and pineapple scent. 

Steve caps the marker. You inspect the writing. 

"Good penmanship," you say. 

"Think so? Robin says it's chicken scratch. But she can't talk—hers is ten times worse."

"It's neat," you say. "But not serial-killer neat. If I were a graphologist, I would give you the all clear."

"Graphologist?"

"A handwriting expert. I would write in my report, 'not a murderer.'"

"Well, that's a relief," Steve says. "I try to keep the murdering to a minimum."

You hum and finish your lemonade in one gulp.

“Thank you for not poisoning me."

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Steve replies through a smile. 

His smile makes you nervous. A good nervous, though, like you're about to sled down a big hill. 

You push yourself off the stool. Steve gets up with you and opens the sliding glass door for you.

“A very stalwart knight,” you say, and walk over to where your flip flops are.

You throw them back over the gate. They land with a clack on the sidewalk.

You find your footholds on the gate and turn to look at Steve.

“It was nice to meet you, Steve Harrington. Don’t fight any monsters by yourself.”

“Whoa, hang on!” He jogs over and lightly touches your arm. It sears your skin like you've been kissed by the sun himself. “I’ll unlock the gate. You don’t need to… climb again.”

Steve pulls the latch next to you. The gate creaks open. You hop off and walk through. 

Steve leans against the gate, elbow bent. His bicep bulges. You've never been this close to a shirtless boy. Your stomach flips. 

“Are you sure you know where Debbie lives?” he asks.

Your eyes dart from his chest to his face. 

“Yes.”

“Really? ‘Cause you didn’t exactly find it the first time.”

“Second time’s the charm,” you say.

“I thought it was the third time.”

“No. Three’s bad luck, remember?”

Steve runs his tongue under his molars, once again staring at you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. You slip into your sandals while he figures you out.

“Well, um. You can come back if you get lost. Or you need help. Or you wanna look for rocks."

You tilt your head. “You’d look for rocks with me?”

“I don’t know how helpful I’d be—all rocks look the same to me. My friends would probably be better at it than me. But, yeah, I would.”

“Okay. Thank you for your hospitality.”

He grins. “Sure thing.”

You take his hand and shake it. It’s warm and slightly calloused. You wonder if he holds girls’ hands often.

"I hope Robin finds your house," you say. "Goodbye, Steve Harrington."

Then you go.

You do find Debbie’s house on the second try. You hide your Sharpie'd arm behind your back when you enter. Debbie doesn’t ask why you’re late. Brett doesn’t acknowledge you, and you wonder how you mistook Steve for his brother. 

“There’s lemonade,” Debbie says as she heads in, Brett at her heels.

You don’t drink any. You know it won’t be the right amount of sour. 

Movies are better in the summer. This is a fact you've learned to accept. 

There's no dread of the cold after you finish a movie in the summer. The tape ends and you can go outside and still love the real world. 

Sorry, we're on a break! the sign on the store window reads in loopy script. You sit on the hot curb in front of Family Video, your yellow shorts bunched around your thighs. Sweat sticks to the back of your neck, and you drag a hand across, then wipe your fingers on your shirt. 

From here, you can just see the cement-filled cracks in the asphalt, where the earthquake split the main road two years ago. Because of the cracks, the bus stops three blocks from the plaza, so you'd walked three blocks in the heat. 

You hadn't been lying to Steve, though. You really don't mind the walk. 

Beads of sweat drip down your forehead. One slips into your eye and burns. You make a fist and press it into your eyelid.

Okay. Maybe you mind a little.

"Hey, neighbor!"

You look up, squinting through the sun. Lucas Sinclair waves at you. You wave back. A girl with two red braids is next to him. 

"Hi, Lucas," you say, standing as they approach you on the curb. 

"This is my girlfriend, Max," he introduces proudly. 

"My congratulations. Getting a girlfriend is no easy feat."

Max studies you for a moment. "I think I should get the credit, considering I said yes." 

"Undoubtedly," you say. 

"Are you his neighbor?" she asks. 

"Yes. Lucas is an outstanding neighbor. You should be very proud of him." 

"I believe it," says Max. 

"What are you doing?" Lucas asks. 

"Lots of things," you say. "Breathing, digesting. But presently, I'm waiting for the video store to reopen. I want to rent The Princess Bride.”

Max snorts. "Good luck with that. Those two take five hour lunch breaks now, ever since Keith moved away. It's barely a business anymore."

"There must be a lot of courses in their lunch," you muse. 

"Yeah… uh, we're going to get ice cream. Wanna join?" asks Lucas.

"Okay." You turn to Max. "Will my presence impede your special plans?"

Max squints. "Special plans? Like what?"

"I don't know. Perhaps you've written Lucas a series of sonnets to profess your love."

"A series of what?"

"Poems."

"Love poems are corny," she says. 

You wonder if Steve would agree. 

"Sometimes corny things are good. When they come from the right person," you say. 

Max acquiesces with a hum. 

"No love poems today," she says. "You should join us."

So you follow a couple steps behind them to the Baskin-Robbins down the block. 

The AC whooshes as you step inside, drying your sweat to your forehead. 

“Wow,” Max says with a scoff. “It’s like Starcourt all over again.”

You follow her gaze and spot Steve. 

Oh. Steve.

He's in a green Family Video vest. A girl sits across from him, wearing a matching vest. She has cropped hair and a bandaid on one knee. 

“Hey, losers!” Max calls. “This isn’t a lunch break.”

The girl flips her off. “The sign says we’re taking a break. It doesn’t specify how long of a break.”

Lucas orders a scoop of strawberry ice cream for himself and a scoop of cookies and cream for Max. 

“Yeah, plus, we’ve had a grand total of one customer today,” Steve adds.

“Well, you would’ve had two if you hadn’t been here on your seventeen hour break,” Max shoots back.

He scoffs. “Oh, really? Who?”

“Can I get one scoop of rocky road ice cream with oreo crumble and gummy worms in a cup?” you ask the cashier. 

She goes to scoop the ice cream. Max proudly points at you. 

“Her,” she says with a smirk. “She wanted to rent The Princess Bride, and now she’s not gonna be a paying customer ‘cause you two are lazy.”

“I would still be a paying customer,” you say.

Max shakes her head at you.

“I’m trying to make a point,” she whispers.

“Oh. You’re doing great."

“Your total is three twenty-four,” the cashier says, sticking a spoon into your cup. 

The sound of a chair being dragged across the floor draws your attention. Steve is up, trying to free his leg from under the table. He finally wiggles free and jogs to the counter, wallet in hand.

"Hi,” he says. "I can pay." 

“But I have money,” you say, brows knitting.

“No, I know. I—now you can save your money. Do you–do you mind if I pay for you?”

“Will I have to pay you back?” you ask.

“Oh my God,” the cashier mutters under her breath.

You shrink at her tone. You've missed something, evidently. You have no clue what. 

Steve glances at her, mouth pinching. 

“No,” he says gently, turning back to you. “You don’t have to pay me back. It’s a gesture. As a friend.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

Steve gives her the money. You take your ice cream. 

“Smooth,” you hear Max say to Steve. He bumps her arm with his elbow.

Steve pulls a chair from another table for you. You all sit down.

"This is, uh…" Steve trails off, turning to you. "I'm sorry, I never got your name."

"You kept calling her Buttercup," the girl says. 

Steve whips his head around to hiss at her. 

"Robin." 

"She's my neighbor," Lucas says. 

"We know," Max tells him. 

"I don't." Robin raises her hand briefly, shooing Steve away. "I'm Robin Buckley."

"Hi, Robin. Watch out for moths," you say. 

She tilts her head and smiles. You look at Steve, who's already looking at you. 

"Princess Buttercup?" you ask. 

"Well." He rubs the back of his neck. "Y-Yeah, kinda. You mentioned The Princess Bride and, uh, I don’t know your name, so…”

You mull that over. 

"If I'm Buttercup, you must be Westley." 

Steve's eyes widen. "Uh…" 

Robin snickers. Max smirks. 

"Interesting shade of red you're turning, Westley," Robin says. 

"Shut—"

He kicks her chair leg. She yelps and shoves him in retaliation. Max rolls her eyes. 

"Have some class, will you?" she says. 

"I'm classy!" Steve insists. 

"Not anymore," Lucas says gravely. "Now you're a glorified babysitter." 

"Childcare is dutiful work," you say. 

Steve grins at you. Your stomach flutters.

“Is that a mud pie?” he asks. 

You nod. 

“Gummy worms?” 

You tilt your head. “How did you know?”

Steve chuckles. “Lucky guess.”

Across the table, the others argue about the classiest ice cream flavors.

“It’s obviously mango sorbet.”

“Sorbet isn’t ice cream!”

“Are they your kids?” you ask.

Steve leans in so you can talk in his ear. His arm is on the back of your chair. If you shift the slightest inch, you’d feel him.

“Minus Robin. Though, sometimes…” He rolls his eyes playfully. “But, um, yeah. Two of them.”

“How many kids do you have?” you ask.

“Let’s see…” Steve counts on his fingers. “Six?”

“Wow. You must be some babysitter.”

“I’m alright.”

You lean in. Steve blinks.

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

“You have an eyelash.” 

You swipe the hair off his cheek and hold your finger in front of his mouth.

“You have to make a wish.”

Steve’s eyes slide to you. He gently holds your hand in place. Your heart beats faster.

“‘Kay.” He blows the eyelash away, but doesn't release your hand. “Let’s see if it comes true.”

The numbers stare at you. Taunt you, really.

You practically have them memorized. You’d written them thirty times on a piece of notebook paper. Then you’d shoved that under your bed. 

Now you have it taped to your dresser mirror. 

You wish you could talk to Joan about it, but she’s bathing in the sink after an unfortunate encounter with a paint can. 

The Sharpie is gone from your arm, has been gone for several days now. But if you concentrate, you can see its silhouette on your skin. 

You get up and peel the paper off the mirror. Then you go down the hall to your phone. 

Carefully, you dial, making sure not to press any wrong buttons. 

The phone rings. You rock on your toes.

“Hello?” Steve says.

You freeze. 

“Hellooo…?”

“Hi,” you finally say. “It’s Buttercup.”

“Oh!” He sounds so happy. “Hey! Hey, how are you?”

“Good.” You chew on a cuticle. “It’s Saturday.”

“Oh, right! Did you wanna go rollerblading?”

Relief floods you. He remembers.

“Yes. If you’re planning it.”

“I haven’t talked to the kids, but I’m sure they’d be down.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “I can pick you up in twenty?"

“I can walk.”

“C’mon, in the sun? You live on the same street as Lucas anyway, don’t worry about it.”

“Well.” You twirl the telephone cord around your finger so tightly, it threatens to cut off your circulation. “Okay… if it’s no trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” Steve promises. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

You hang up and run to your room to dig for your skates. They’re stuffed under your bed next to a mini gumball machine. You shove two green gumballs in your mouth and race to the bathroom to check on Joan, nearly slipping on the wood.

“I’m going out, Joan. I think he might… he might like me.” You crunch on the gumball shells and shudder. “What a terrifying thought.”

You pull out the drain stopper and set Joan on a washcloth to dry. Then you go down the hall to put on your sneakers. 

Steve arrives five minutes early. You only know that because you spend the whole time watching the road from your curtained window. You shake your hands out, overwhelmed with nerves. 

It’s just a boy. He’s only a boy. 

The two of you meet halfway. Steve jogs backwards, unusually skillful, and opens the passenger door for you.

“Hey. Does Joan want to come?” Steve asks. 

You shake your head. “She’s having a spa day. It’s just me.”

“Well, I’m happy to have you,” he says, sweet and earnest. 

You duck inside the car and shake your hands a little, trying to fend off the returning nerves. Just a boy.

“So, that’s El,” Steve says as he gets into the driver’s seat, pointing to a girl with short curls. “And you know Max and Lucas.”

Max nods at you with a smile. Lucas waves.

“Hi, El,” you say. “Cool hair.”

“Thank you,” she says, voice soft. “I like your skates.”

“I found them at a yard sale. You can find anything in a yard.”

"Okay," Steve says. "Everybody buckled?" 

“Yes, Mom,” Max mumbles. 

Steve catches your gaze and rolls his eyes. You smile.

Briefly, you worry you’ll have to fill the silence and talk about yourself, like people expect you to. But Steve and the kids hold conversation easily. They talk about anything and everything. 

They're more energetic than you're used to; Debbie always prefers it to be quiet. 

But you don't mind it. You don’t feel lonely like you do when you’re with Debbie.

“Alright, please stay within this area,” Steve says when he parks and everyone gets out. “Within—”

“Shouting distance!” Max yells. “Yeah, we know!”

The park isn't crowded. Most of the paths are clear, so skating will be no problem. 

Max gets out two skateboards from the trunk. 

“Max is going to teach me how to do an ollie,” El informs you. “Would you like to join us?”

“Maybe later,” you say. “I want to master my yard skates.”

She nods and follows the others to the small skate park on the other side of the trees. 

You bring your skates to a bench and sit, lacing them up your feet. Steve is a few feet away, swinging his arms slightly.

“Aren’t you going to join them?” you ask.

“Oh, uh, no. I brought my own skates… I thought maybe we could skate together, if that’s okay?”

“Yes, I would like that,” you say. 

Steve beams. “Alright, cool. I’ll go get mine.”

You stand, about to take a step forward—and immediately slip.

Steve reacts instantly, lunging to catch you. One hand grabs your elbow, the other on your stomach. You squeal and cling to his shirt. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, helping you stand upright.

“I’m okay,” you say, breath caught in your throat.

You take a step but your foot wobbles. Steve grabs you again. You don’t try to take another step.

“I thought skating would be intuitive,” you say, rolling one skate to test.

“What?” 

You look up. Steve’s face is inches from yours. His hair is golden in the sunshine. His eyes lock on your own; his focus sends a jolt of electricity down your spine.

“You know, like how babies are able to swim for the first six months of their lives?”

“Uh…” Steve tilts his head. “No?”

“Oh. Because they were in the womb, they have that ability. ‘Cause they float around in there for nine months, you know? But then they lose it. That’s why we have to learn how to swim.”

“Wow. That’s a cool fact.”

Nobody ever thinks your facts are cool. But Steve does.

“Well, I thought skating would be similar,” you say. “I’ve watched other people skate, so I thought I’d just… do it. I guess I lost that at six months too.”

Steve’s smiling. It’s a gentle smile, though. Not a teasing smile. 

“I see,” he says. “I’m sorry for your disappointment.”

“It’s alright. Life is far more than disappointment. No use getting hung up on it.”

“Do you want me to teach you how to skate?” he asks. “I promise I’m good at it. Coach Collins said I could’ve seriously pursued it.”

“So skating for you is like avoiding death for Westley,” you say.

“Actually, I’m pretty good at avoiding death too,” Steve says. “And making grilled cheeses.”

“Triple threat.”

He ducks his head with a laugh, and you feel the warmth of it flow through your own body.

“Sure. Can’t make lemonade for shit, though.”

“I think your lemonade is perfect, Steve Harrington.”

His cheeks are scarlet again. It’s quickly becoming your favorite color.

“I would like it if you taught me,” you say.

“Okay. I’ll get my skates after you get the hang of it. Put your hand on my arm, right here.”

Steve pats his forearm. Carefully, you do as he says. 

“I’m nervous,” you confess. 

“I got you,” Steve says, cheek brushing your head. “I won’t let you fall, Buttercup.”

Saint Aloysius’ parking lot has the best rocks. 

You've never told anybody as much because you imagine the lot would get busy, and you like it empty.

Today, you're searching for a brother for Joan. Ever since that tragic day at Macinaw Island, Joan's been very lonely. It‘s hard being a sisterless sister. 

Joan is smooth and round, so you look for an equally smooth and round brother. Commonality is important. 

Your knees hurt from squatting, so you sit. The rocks poke your butt. 

You hear a car rolling up the hill, engine a soft purr. You stop and turn. 

The car is maroon and shiny, with only a couple slight scratches you can't notice unless you look really hard. You don't recognize the license plate, although you have yet to start your record of Hawkins plates. 

It putters to a stop in front of Giovanni's Bakery across the street. The car doors open. 

"I'm losing my edge, Robs! I made a damn fool of myself. I can't even—"

"Okay, first of all, I feel like we're glossing over the fact that you don't even know this girl. And what she did was technically trespassing."

"Do you know her name?" another voice pipes up. 

"No, Dustin, I don't know her name. I don't even know if she lives in Hawkins!"

Their voices disappear as they go inside the bakery. You find Joan a brother, Jack, and Jack finds a wife named Gwen. Gwen isn't smooth and round; she's sharp-edged and will be harder to clean, but she's a muted salmon color and you think she's pretty. You hope Jack will find her pretty too.

As you dig through the pile of rocks, your finger catches on the edge of a broken bottle. It slices your finger. Blood swells immediately. 

You put your new rocks in your plastic red pail with your other hand. Then you stand, joints popping as you do so. You stick your ribs out and bend your spine in a stretch. 

You cross the street to the bakery, pail in hand. The bell jingles as you enter. You hum the ding-dong under your breath. 

"Can I help you?" the man behind the counter asks.

"Hello. Can I have five baci di dama and five of the raspberry sandwich cookies?"

He goes to the display case with a paper bag. You rest your elbows on the counter, pail handles over your arm. 

"Anything else?"

"Yes. Do you have a bandaid? I'm bleeding."

The man purses his lips. "No bandaid, sorry."

"That's okay. Just the cookies, then." 

"Buttercup?"

You turn. Steve stands before you, wearing his Family Video vest. Robin is beside him, her hair piled into a windblown bun on her head. Another boy, shorter than both, younger, is with them. He waves at you, curls bouncing. 

You wave back. Robin squeals.

"Oh my God, what happened to your finger?" she asks, horrified. 

"There was a broken bottle in the parking lot."

"Jesus," Steve says. He takes your hand and inspects it. He's so close and warm. All you can do is stare at the freckles on his neck. 

“Why were you in the parking lot?” he asks.

“I was looking for rocks. This is the best rock spot in all of Hawkins. Well, after Lover’s Lake. But the pH has been abnormally high there. Probably because of the monsters. So I came here.”

"Hi, I'm Dustin," the boy introduces. “Is your finger okay?”

"Hi, Dustin. I think I’ll survive,” you say. “Dustin means brave warrior in Norse.”

Dustin beams. “Yup. I was named after my grandfather. He served in World War Two.”

"Names are important,” you say. “Joan agonized for days deciding what I should call her. Eventually, I decided for her. A name says a lot about a person. Steve has a warrior and good luck at his side."

"Yep, Steve-o here is pretty blessed to have us. And," he gestures to you, "You are?"

"Hungry," you say, taking your bag of cookies with your free hand. 

The bag crinkles as you open it. You hold it out to Steve. 

"Do you want one? I promise they’re blood-free.”

"Uh…” He glances at your hand. “Are you sure your finger is okay?”

“She’s a trooper. Survived ink poisoning and everything.” You wave the bag again. “Cookie?” 

Steve takes a baci di dama out and pops it into his mouth. He hums as he chews, nodding. 

"'S good," he says after he swallows.

"Baci di dama means lady's kisses in Italian," you say. 

His cheeks turn pink again. 

"You should drink more water," you add. "You turn pink easily."

Robin snorts. Steve holds a hand to his cheek. 

"Uh, thanks."

“You’re welcome. Robin, would you like a cookie?" 

"No, thanks,” she says. “I'm picking up a tiramisu for my mom's birthday."

"I want a cookie!" Dustin says. 

"Dude," Steve hisses. 

You hold the bag open to Dustin. He takes a raspberry sandwich cookie. 

"So," Dustin says, mouth full. "Are you Steve’s girlfriend or something?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” you say.

“Du-ude!” Steve says too loudly, voice climbing in pitch.

“What? You talk about her all the freakin’ time. I needed to know.”

You look at Steve. He rubs the back of his neck and half-smiles.  

“Anyway,” continues Dustin. “How do you know Steve?”

"I climbed over his gate by accident on the hottest day of May,” you say.

"By accident?" 

"Yes. All the gates in Loch Nora look the same. Except Steve's gate has climbing ivy and little red flowers. It's much nicer than the other houses. It looks like a person lives there. I mistook it for Debbie's gate." 

Robin tilts her head at you. You don't care what Steve says; she's a one hundred percent bonafide bird. 

Dustin points to your pail, crumbs all over his chin. "Why do you have rocks?"

"They're for Joan," you say.

"Joan? Is she your friend?"

"She's more like my confidante. She doesn't talk much, so I think it'd be presumptuous of me to call her a friend when I have no idea where we stand." 

"Navigating friendships can be hard," Steve offers. 

"Yes," you say. "They can be."

"Being straightforward can help a lot," he continues. "It, uh, at least helped me. That way the other person knows what you mean. No room for miscommunication."

You nod. "That's good advice. I'll have to try that with Joan. Sometimes she can be kind of hard-headed."

You roll up your bag of cookies and reposition your pail on your arm so the metal doesn't dig into your skin. 

"It was nice to meet you, Dustin," you say. "Goodbye, Steve and Robin."

"Wait!"

Steve holds the door for you and follows you out. He still smells sweet, like pineapple, and also a little woody. He touches the small of your back, sending a bolt of electricity down your spine.

"I have a first aid kit in my car. Let me wrap your cut."

"Oh." You'd forgotten about it. "Okay."

You follow Steve to his car. He pops the trunk and rummages. You spot a bat with nails. 

"Very inventive," you say, pointing at the bat. 

Steve laughs shyly. "Yeah, uh, the monsters."

"I definitely wouldn't want to fight you if I were a multi-dimensional monster."

He smiles and takes out a small spray bottle of disinfectant. 

"This is gonna sting, okay? But we need to make sure nothing gets infected."

"An infection would be unfortunate," you say. "I'm quite attached to this finger." 

He sprays and cleans your finger. You wince and Steve squeezes your wrist in apology. Then he pulls out bandaids. 

"Any preference? I have rainbow, Star Wars, 'cause they're all a bunch of nerds, cats… oh, I have flowers! ‘Cause you’re, uh, Buttercup, you know?" 

"Flowers," you say, because Steve's so excited about it. 

He nods and opens the bandaid. You hold out your finger and Steve carefully wraps it. He rubs your knuckle. 

"Thank you," you say. 

"You're welcome. Be careful, okay?"

"I will."

He closes the trunk, swinging his keys on his finger. 

"Sorry if that was awkward, by the way," he says. "Dustin, I mean. He can be… blunt." 

"It wasn't awkward."

“It wasn’t?”

“No,” you say. “I’m happy you tell people about me. I tell Joan about you all the time.”

"Oh." He nods. "That—that’s good. So… we’re both… uh—”  

"Do you want another lady's kiss?"

"What? Oh—" Steve clears his throat. "N-no, that's okay. Thanks."

You take out a raspberry cookie and bite into it. 

"Your hair has product," you observe. 

"Yeah. No secrets, though."

"Everybody's hair has secrets."

"Even yours?" he asks. 

"Especially mine." 

Steve rubs the back of his neck. You open your bag and take out another cookie. He looks like he's trying to find the right words to say. You don't mind waiting. 

"Hey, do you like barbecue?" he asks. 

"I like it as well as anybody else."  

"Well, um, I'm having a barbecue this Saturday. Lucas won a big championship game and so we're celebrating his win."

"That's nice," you say. "Congratulations to Lucas."

"Yeah! So, um, did you maybe want to come too? It'll be at my house. You could bring a friend if you wanted. Like Joan."

"Joan is a vegetarian," you say. "But I'm sure she'd enjoy the company."

Steve smiles. He has such a pretty smile. 

"We're ordering pizza too, so Joan can have some of that."

"You're a very thoughtful host.”

Then you have a terrible thought. But you have to ask it because if you don't, you might be breaking some kind of invisible expectation. You do that a lot. 

"Does Debbie have to come?" you ask. 

Steve blinks. "Uh, no? It's not a requirement."

"Some people ask me to parties because they want Debbie to come." 

Steve frowns. "That's rude. I wouldn't do that."

"Okay. What time does the barbecue begin?"

"You can stop by anytime. But we'll probably start eating around six."

You nod. "Joan and I will be there at five thirty."

Steve's answering grin is blinding. He must be really excited to meet Joan. You get it; Joan's the life of any party she attends. 

"Great, that's great. I'll see you then."

"Bye, Steve," you say. 

"Bye," he answers like he's out of breath. 

Even the way he breathes is pretty.

Every month, Miles Stanwick throws a party. 

Miles is a celebrity in Hawkins, his father being a state senator, and Miles is, according to a drunk Debbie, “the Gatsby to her Daisy.”

You're pretty sure Debbie hasn't read the book. Or maybe she's a living tragedy. Either is possible. 

It had been just you two in her room, without the Other Debbie she pretends to be to impress the people of Loch Nora, when she'd told you what it meant to be in love. 

"You just know," she'd said, her breath reeking of tequila.

You'd turned your head. Tequila made your nose itch. 

"But you love Brett," you'd said. 

"Brett is who I'll marry," she'd corrected. She’d sounded so sad. "Miles is all I've got."

Then she'd thrown up all over her carpet. You'd helped her into bed and made a mental note to find her a friend like Joan to keep her company, for when you weren't around. 

You don't like parties. They're loud and smelly and usually filled with people you don't like or don't know. And at a party, people you don't like and people you don't know are one and the same. 

You would leave, but Debbie is your ride tonight. So you're stuck here until midnight, maybe even later. 

Someone plugs in a karaoke machine and that gets most of the party's attention. The music is horribly loud and is the kind that’s just a lot of synthesizer. 

A guy jumps onto the Stanwicks' coffee table and knocks over the potpourri dish. Dried petals and orange peels scatter across the carpet. 

Debbie appears in front of you, a red Solo cup in her hand. 

"What did I bring you here for?" she asks, mouth curled. "To slump on the couch?"

"No one here wants to talk," you say. 

Debbie rolls her eyes. "Parties aren't for talking. They're for drinking and making out. Someone's rolling a blunt in the den. Go suck on that, will you?"

The people in Loch Nora are so good at making you feel two inches tall. You wish you'd brought Joan. She'd know what to do. 

You've tried alcohol before. Champagne at a wedding. A sip of rum from the Wellermans' liquor cabinet, back when Debbie wasn't so caught up in being just like everyone else. 

Maybe it's your fault, too. Maybe you're too good at standing out. 

You go to the kitchen. It's already trashed. You step over a spill on the floor. Then you turn around and lay down some paper towels so no one will slip. 

There are various bottles of strong liquor strewn across the counters. You decide to try the punch and fill your cup to the top. You sniff it and your nose wrinkles at the whiff of alcohol. 

You so badly want to have fun. You want to know what makes all of this worth it. You want your friendship with Debbie to be worth it. 

You down the punch in one go. It makes you cough and you scramble for water at the sink. You wonder if the punch is poisoned. 

You wobble out of the kitchen a couple minutes later, head already woozy. A girl stands with a drink, one arm folded. 

"Where's Debbie?" you ask. The girl winces and steps away from you. 

"She went with Miles and some other people to the lake."

Your eyes widen. "No, they can't. There's monsters."

She looks at you like you might be an insect splattered on her dashboard. 

"You're Debbie's weird friend, aren't you?"

Weird doesn't make you feel good, like Steve calling you strange did. Weird makes you feel like when a boy in sixth grade stepped on your heels while going up the stairs because he thought it was funny. 

"Debbie would've told me," you say. 

The girl shrugs. "Guess she ditched you. She can't score with Miles if you're killing the vibe." 

Weird tastes like poison in your mouth. 

"Debbie was my ride," you say, but she’s already gone.

Your head aches. You try to think on what to do next. It's nearly midnight. No one is awake, and you have no idea how to call a cab. 

You find the Stanwicks' phone in the hall and dial the only number you know, besides your own, and the local pizzeria. 

"Hello?" 

You lean against the wall, phone in both hands. 

"Uh, hello? Who is this?" 

"H-hi, Westley." Your voice cracks. 

"Hey," Steve says, unbearably gentle. "My favorite rock girl. Jesus, it's… midnight."  

"I'm sorry," you say. 

"No, no, it's alright. I'm just—is everything okay? Are you okay?" 

"Debbie ditched me."

Silence. For a moment, you panic that the line's dropped.

"Steve?"

"Where are you?" 

"I'm, um, at Miles Stanwick's. The address is… well, I don't remember, but I'll go outside and look for the house number—"

"I know it," Steve says. "Stay right there. I'm coming to get you. Don't drink any more."

Your lip wobbles. "'Kay."

"It's okay," he soothes. "Drink some water. Don't take anything from anybody." 

"I just wanted to be fun," you blurt. 

"You are fun, Buttercup. Way more fun than anybody at that house, I guarantee it. I'll be there in ten minutes, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you, Steve," you say, no longer feeling so small. 

You hang up and go to the kitchen to get more water from the sink. Then you return to the hallway and sit, back against the wall, knees tucked into your chest. 

You doze, lids heavy from the alcohol. The next thing you know are two hands on your arms. 

You jolt awake. One hand cradles the back of your head so you don't thump it against the wall. 

"Hey, hey." Steve kneels in front of you. He brushes your cheek with a cool knuckle. "It's me, it's Steve. Are you okay?"

His hands are cool against your overheated skin. He smells like lemon shampoo. 

"My knight," you say. 

"I thought Westley was a pirate."

“He was only pretending." 

You let Steve ease you up. His car keys dig into your hip.

"Ow," you say dazedly. 

"What? What hurts?"

"Keys."

"Oh." Steve shifts you to his opposite side, hand on your back. "Sorry, honey." 

"Honey never spoils," you say. "Did you know that? You could dig up honey from a tomb that's thousands of years old and as long as it was stored in an airtight container, it's good to eat."

"I love that you know that." 

"Do you really?" 

"I really do," Steve says. "C’mon, let's get you home." 

Outside, the moon is a dot of cream in the purple sky. The neighborhood is quiet. Most of the houses are also dark. 

"I'm sorry for calling you so late," you say. 

"Don't be. I'm glad you called me. These parties can get out of hand."

"Debbie left. She went to Lover's Lake with Miles—"

The panic returns, flooding your body. You squirm and Steve tries to keep you steady. 

"Whoa, what's—"

"The monsters! There's monsters down there, Steve. I don't like Miles, but I don't want him to be eaten!"

"No, no, no more monsters," Steve assures you. "They can't come through there anymore."

You still. "Promise?"

"I promise."

He helps you into the passenger seat of his car. Steve leans in and pulls the seat belt over you.

"Comfy?" he asks. 

"I like you so much, Steve Harrington."

It's too dark to tell, but you suspect he's got another case of sunstroke. 

"I, um, like you too, Buttercup. You're really cool."

"Me?" You wave your hand. "No."

"Really," he insists. "You are. The coolest."

If you were Debbie, if you weren't weird in the wrong way, if you didn't go to parties to talk, and if you fit a million other criteria you never will, Steve would kiss you right now. Or maybe you'd kiss him. 

But you don't know how to go about that. You don't think it's your right to do such a thing. 

So Steve shuts the door and walks around to the driver's seat. You stare at your flower bandaid.

"Four three's," Steve says as he turns the ignition. 

You turn your head. "Hmm?"

"The house number. Four three's. That's gotta be, like, astronomically bad luck, right?"

"Without a doubt."

Except you're here with Steve Harrington, and he calls you honey and thinks you're cool. And that doesn't seem like bad luck at all. 

"I'm going to a barbecue," you call out. 

There's no reply. You close the door behind you.

Joan sits in your pocket. You've tied a purple ribbon around her head, right above her googly eyes. You don't know what the dress code is for a barbecue, but you hope she's not underdressed.

You haven’t spoken to Steve since Miles’ party. You’re not sure what you should say, and you can’t bear the thought of calling him to hear silence. 

Even if he doesn’t like you the way you like him, you hope he’ll still be friends with you. Steve and his kids have grown on you. You don’t know if you can go back to who you were before the hottest day of May. 

“Material Girl” plays from inside Steve's backyard. You mouth the words as you fling your flip flops over the gate. 

"What the fuck?" someone says from the other side. 

You climb the gate and shimmy down. It's a good thing you're wearing shorts under your dress.

A boy, lanky and tall but probably Lucas's age, holds one of your flip flops. He stares at you and shakes the shoe. 

"Is this yours?"

"Both of them are," you say. "Does Steve like Madonna?"

He grimaces. "Unfortunately."

"Cool."

You spot Steve sitting on one of the deck chairs with Robin and a boy your age with big, curly hair and a Led Zeppelin shirt with cropped sleeves. 

"Venus" plays next and you wobble in time with the music as you walk over to Steve. 

"Her weapons were her crystal eyes," you whisper. The pavement is warm under your toes. 

"Making every man mad." 

Steve turns just as you reach him. He stands so fast he shakes the chair. 

"Hey!" he says. He sounds out of breath again. "Hey, you came."

"You invited me," you say. 

"Yeah, yes." Steve nods. "I did. I'm glad you're here."

"You play good music."

"Ha!" Steve whips his head to look at the curly haired boy. "Suck it, Munson."

"She's obviously biased." 

"Munson," you say. "Eddie Munson?"

Eddie freezes under your gaze. Robin and Steve glance at you. 

"Yeah, uh, that's me." Eddie smiles weakly. "Look, you might've heard some stuff abou—"

"You helped fight the monsters," you interrupt. "You're very brave." 

Eddie's eyes widen. "I—"

"Most people just like to ignore monsters. It takes a really good person to fight them." You turn to Steve. "Do you have orange Fanta?" 

"Yeah, sure. I'll get you a can. Feel free to sit… where are your shoes?"

You point behind you. "Your bodyguard had to screen them after I climbed your gate. You have very tight security."

"After you climbed my… wait, Mike? God, I’m sorry about him. I'll get your shoes back."

"It's okay. Flip flops are dangerous weapons. It's only a matter of time before the airport bans them." 

Steve tilts his head, eyes warm. "Right. I'll be back. That's Eddie and Robin… you know them."

"I know their names, and that's about all you can know about anybody."

Eddie giggles. You look at him. He doesn't seem to be laughing at you, so you sit where Steve was sitting, across from Eddie's chair. You point at his shirt. 

"I like Kashmir."

"Thank God! Somebody with decent tastes."

"I'll listen to anything," you say. "It's important to be a good listener."

Eddie grins. "Words of the wise."

"Where's Joan?" Robin asks. 

"Right here." You take Joan out of your pocket and set her down on the edge of the pool chair. 

"Sick," Eddie says.

You nod. "The ribbon was my pick."

"I like it," Robin says. 

"Thank you."

Steve returns with an orange Fanta for you and a root beer for Robin. 

Robin points to Joan. "Steve, this is the famous Joan we've heard so much about."

"That's a rock," says Steve. 

"Yep."

"Oh." He nods in understanding. "Joan is your pet rock?"

"Confidante," you correct. "’Pet’ is demeaning."

"Got it. And was Joan's sister also your confidante?"

"No. Joan's sister didn't like me much. She thought I was a bad influence on Joan. But we shouldn't talk about it now. Joan gets very sad when I bring it up."

You open your can. The carbonation hisses. It's itchy and sweet on your tongue. 

"I like your hair," you say. "It's fluffy. Like it was on the hottest day of May."

Steve pushes a couple strands behind his ear.

"Thanks. The gel is too much on hot days like these. Weighs me down."

"At least you won't float away." You look at Eddie. "Is your hair full of secrets too?"

Eddie ruffles his hair. "Not as many as Steve's, but I've got a couple in here. 'S what gives my curls volume." 

"Hm. Just as I suspected," you say. 

"Ste-eve!" Dustin whines from across the yard. "You promised burgers!"

Steve rolls his eyes. "You'd think he's never been fed in his life."

Eddie pats his shoulder. "You've got this, Harrington."

"Oh, no. You wanna eat, you've gotta earn your keep. Come on."

Eddie groans, flinging himself off the chair. "Save me, Buckley!"

"Already did that," she says, pulling her sunglasses onto her eyes. "Never again." 

"You should tie up your hair so it doesn't catch fire," you suggest. 

"Well, at least somebody cares about me," Eddie declares, pulling his hair into a ponytail. 

Steve turns to you and smiles softly. 

"Are you hungry? You can have the first pick of the burgers."

"Won't Dustin be annoyed?"

Steve shrugs. "Kid could use some manners. Besides, pretty girls always get the first pick. It's the law." 

You follow Steve and Eddie to the grill, pretty girl echoing in your brain the whole time. 

Eddie's hair doesn't catch on fire and Steve makes you a perfect burger. The sun sparkles on the pool surface. The kids come out to eat and, predictably, Dustin complains about not getting the first burger.

"Not fair. Just 'cause she's your girlfriend," he mumbles as he goes off to search for the mustard. 

You check to see if Steve had heard the comment. He doesn't seem to have; you can't decide if you're relieved or not. 

The chairs are all taken by the time you finish fixing up your burger. Steve stands immediately as you approach.

“Here, take my seat,” he says.

“We can share,” you offer.

Steve lets you take the back of the chair, settling at the foot. “You Make My Dreams Come True” plays on the speakers. 

“Whoever made this mixtape is a genius,” you announce.

“You like it?” says Steve. “I actually made this one. Robin and Eddie think my taste sucks, but—”

“It’s spectacular.”

He hums, ducking his head shyly. “Well, speaking of spectacular: I made more lemonade, if you want to test it before I unleash it upon the masses.”

“I’ll happily drink your lemonade,” you say. “It’ll build my iocane tolerance.”

Steve grins. “I rented The Princess Bride, by the way. I know you meant to get it a few weeks ago. We can watch it tonight, if you want.”

“You remembered I wanted to watch it,” you say.

He nods. “Well, uh, yeah. Do you still want to? If you don’t, I can—”

“I do,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” Steve stands, hand outstretched so you’ll give him your empty plate. “I’m going inside. Anybody want anything?”

“Doritos!” Robin shouts.

“Napkins, please,” El says.

“Cherry Coke!” Mike calls.

“Beer!” Eddie whoops.

“Doritos, napkins, got it. The cooler is right there, Wheeler, and are you kidding, Eddie? No drinking by the pool. Have we not learned our lesson from the last four years?”

“Bold of you to assume I’ve learned anything, Steven.”

“Can you bring us popsicles?” Max asks. “Lemon and grape.”

“Ooh, popsicles sound good,” says Robin. “Bring me one too. Fruit punch.”

Steve sighs, lifting his arms.

“Two hands, guys. Only got two.”

“I can help,” you offer.

“Now that’s a great idea,” Robin says. “The two of you in the kitchen, alone. Really brilliant, don’t you think, Steve?”

Steve glares at her. Then he turns to you, expression softening.

“That’d be great, thank you.”

You follow him into the kitchen. It looks exactly like the last time you were here, except for the food. Steve opens the freezer and digs through the box of popsicles. Then he takes the pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge and sets it on the counter.

“Can you get the Doritos?” he asks. “They’re up there.”

You open a shelf over the stove. The chips are at the very top. You try jumping; all that does is bang your ribs into the counter.

"Whoa, whoa.”

Steve’s hand rests on your back. Your stomach swoops. 

"Easy, Buttercup. I’ll get it, sorry ‘bout that."

You frown. "The Doritos have eluded me."

"They’re a tricky bunch," he says, reaching and successfully grabbing the chips.

"I knew you’d best me and succeed."

"Best you?" 

"Yes," you say. "Like in a duel."

Steve tilts his head, a tiny crinkle forming in the center of his brows. 

"Are we going to duel? Like Inigo and Westley?"

"Not if I can help it," you say. "I'm terrible with a sword."

"I would never try to sword fight you." 

"I appreciate that."

His hand slips from your back. You watch it fall to his side.

“Feel free to help yourself to whatever you want,” Steve says as he takes a glass out of the cupboard. “You can also take food home.”

You exhale through your nose and wiggle your fingers a little, trying to stave off the nerves. You wish Joan was in your pocket right now, but you left her on the deck chair. 

“Buttercup?” 

You look up. Steve has a glass of lemonade in one hand. The top button of his polo shirt is undone. Was it always undone? You can’t remember. 

Anyway, he’s beautiful. And you’re so damn strange.

“Yes, Westley?”

Steve smiles. You don’t think anyone has ever smiled at you as much as Steve does. 

“Everything okay?” he asks.

He puts the glass in front of you. You glance at it, then back at him.

“Everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I won’t force you to drink my crappy lemonade if you don’t want to, y’know.”

“You called me strange,” you blurt. “When we first met.”

Steve’s eyes widen. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he says softly. “But I won’t call you that anymore if you don’t like it.”

“No, I–I know you didn’t mean it in a bad way. But…”

He nods, encouraging you to continue.

“I’m not like Debbie,” you say. 

“I know.”

“I’ll probably never be like Debbie.”

“I much prefer you as yourself,” he says.

“Oh.”

You sip your lemonade. Your lips pucker but you smile all the same.

“Damn,” Steve says with a chuckle. “I really can’t nail that lemonade, huh?”

“It’s wonderful,” you whisper. 

He takes a step forward. You set the glass on the counter.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“I would very much like that.”

Steve’s lips are slightly chapped. You taste like lemonade and he tastes like Coke and God, you like it so much.

You loop your arms around his neck like you’ve wanted to do for weeks. He returns in kind, both hands slipping to your waist. 

It’s not just a boy kissing you. It’s Steve.

The sliding glass door whooshes open and you jerk your head back in surprise. Max and Dustin trod in. 

Dustin shrieks. 

“Seriously? This is what was taking you so long?”

“If you were gonna do that, we would’ve gotten the popsicles ourselves,” Max says with a huff, grabbing the popsicles and chips from the counter. 

“Told ya they were making out!” comes Eddie’s voice from outside. “I warned you, kiddies!”

They clear out, with one last stink eye from Dustin. Steve shakes his head, nose pressed to your cheek.

“Again, very sorry about them.”

“They wanted to check in on their favorite babysitter,” you say.

Steve lifts his head and rolls his eyes. “I need a padlock or something.”

You hum and lean over to unwrap a popsicle. 

“Oh,” you say. “Three left.”

“Three popsicles?”

“Mmhm.”

“Well, that explains it. Astronomical bad luck, right?”

“Actually,” you say, leaning in for another kiss. “I think my theory was wrong.”