#someone watch all the high school musical movies with me

[writella]

Reckless Romantics

Synopsis: Can be read as a stand alone or part two to getting ready for me; a return to innocent, inexperienced!reader and her relationship with Rick Grimes; two weeks after their first time together there has been some distance, but now Rick wants to make up for how hasty he was when he touched her last.

Details: Rick Grimes x fem!reader, smut: oral (f receiving) and teaching reader how to give a handjob, unspecified (of age) age gap, sweetness + kissing + a little mutual pining maybe, probably cliche, and leaning more into Rick as the dutiful leader and gentle lover (I feel this is just as in character as dom!Rick). Reader is a music lover— any kind of music you like— but she also likes a specific band only because I watched a documentary about them at the theater in July so it made its way into the story. Slightly proofread— will be corrected more later. wc: 5-7k (I lost track after finishing it on tumblr).

A/N: I wrote this message before I returned for the summer, but I still want you to read it: Been spending time outside this summer, trying to reach some goals— time got away from me. I don’t think I’ll ever stop saying I miss you, but please know it’s always true.

— with love from writella, my beautiful reader. ♡

Rick Grimes was not a man to give in to temptation.

My mercy prevails over my wrath, he’d say— his secret keepsake phrase. The one he whispers to himself in moments of hardship; the one he uses when he needs to make decisions only a leader would. Rick was a man of discipline; honor. He never boasted about how seriously he took these qualities, but when others did— admired, applauded, stuck by him for it— it would be a lie to say that he didn’t take note and use their pride to keep him going. This is how he knows he is strong-willed, why he wouldn’t fall for foolish, forbidden things. He was better than that. The safety and prosperity he brought to Alexandria proved it, reaffirmed it.

So why couldn’t someone remind him of that two weeks ago before he touched you?

As for you, you believed yourself to be a girl who wouldn’t fall so easily for the first man who showed you any kind of affection.

From an adolescence of peers who never seemed to take notice of you to one filled with walkers and adults who were either dead or seldom your age, you learned how hard love, let alone any connection, is to come by. It has made you quite the perpetual daydreamer because of it. One with a heart and mind filled with fantasy worlds, creating what you lacked externally. It often made you see yourself as much younger than you were despite all you’ve been through. No regular person your age in the old world has probably escaped as many deaths and wannabe cowboy dictators as you have. Still, they probably knew what it was like to have a high school romance, or at least go to the movies with friends, and have graduated from well, anything. You were simply born too late and shoved into this new world too early to experience even half of it.

This upbringing has brought you up to believe yourself precocious, although— maybe you were already too old for that word now. No, you were, so maybe– sensible, realistic despite the overactive imagination; you could decipher between right and wrong, real versus fake. This is why, for as long as you could, you did not entertain any thoughts of Rick Grimes.

Other people would though, women mostly. But you did have your suspicions of others who thought the same— they just weren't as shameless. Those who were, could be found during lunch breaks from work on house porches; or laughing and whispering at community gatherings and at the back of town hall meetings. Basically any time or place they could turn into a gossip session, which was often. And it didn’t always have to do with Rick. It could be about any one of the men in town; or retelling funny moments to their friends or complaining about their co-workers. But anything of true, great interest always had to do with the community leaders. You wish you could say you were the exception to this interest, but hypocritically, you loved a good inside scoop, and luckily for you, you had a trustworthy way about you. Almost everyone who spoke to you or allowed you to sit with them and their friends for meals agreed: you were a intent, quiet listener making you the best kind of person to say things to without judgment; and people assumed you as shy, yet you loved to laugh which was great for boosting egos. They often treated you as a little sister in that way, as if the pleasure was all yours to get to hear their ramblings because they were either older or perceived themselves to be more sociable and experienced than you. You tried not to care too much about what they took you for. It was nice to feel trusted, even if people could be a little too mean or weird for your liking because no matter who it was, they made you feel as if you were watching television, and you missed television. They told you things from period mishaps– (it’s the apocalypse, there are a lot of free bleeding queens okay)— to which people in their workstations annoyed them most with very detailed explanations as to why and, of course, rumors or general talk about the leaders: who they thought each of them has slept with, if there seemed to be any fighting between them and what side they were taking, and obviously, anything that had to do with one of the guys. Some were downright obvious that one or the other was their type, while others might try to be more sly about it, always bringing whichever man it was up more than the others. But unless they were diehard Daryl girls, wanted to dominate Glenn, or had some military man, hot priest, or doctor kink for Abraham, Gabriel, or Siddiq, most of them apparently felt that Rick was the love of their lives. He was like a local celebrity. A band’s frontman.

“So, what about you?” One of your scavenging partners asked on the ride home. “Which one do you like?”

“They’re all attractive guys,” you say, keeping your eyes on the road. “But I don’t really think about them like that.” You feel a flush coming on. Crushes, or anything romantic, is a part of your internal world, not something you discuss aloud.

“Come on,” she prods. “You never join in. You just laugh at us for being delusional.”

“Whose us?” Rosita asks, her voice sharp, humorous, and not without judgment. “I don’t talk about that shit.” But secretly, she loved the drama as much as you and would have many questions for you later tonight about why you have yet to tell her of the town obsession of treating her friends like the cast of a reality show.

“I don’t laugh at you! I like it when you guys talk about that stuff.”

“But what I’m saying is that I didn’t let you ride shotgun this time so you can hold out again,” the girl jokes half-heartedly.

“What do you mean this time? I get to ride shotgun because I’m the one with the CDs.”

And it’s true, the only thing that cancelled out the silence of drive in moments where conversation ceased was your Oasis album playing in the background. Learning about the band was your new obsession. Much like listening to the crazy imaginations of the girls in town, you found the Gallagher brother rivalry riveting even if you only knew pieces of the story from the music, scraps of magazine articles, and by asking whoever in town happened to be a teen in the 90s. Thankfully you had hit the jackpot today though. One of the houses you visited was once occupied by a dad and daughter with an insane music collection in the living room and a smaller, more curated one in the girl’s room. After gathering what new music you wanted to try from downstairs, you also found some old issues of QuizFest in the girl’s room, filled with activities that were themed with shows you remember from when you were a kid, but the most important discovery— the find of all finds— was one of those Ultimate Guide, Complete Life Story magazines of none other than the band Oasis.

You would now probably know all of the drama between the brothers to tell a coherent story about the band’s history to anyone who wanted an escape from walker related events and farming talk. When you weren’t listening, that’s what people would come to you for: to borrow music, get recommendations, or to tell them a story. In all, you were getting the reputation of being the town’s music historian, meaning you usually used your knowledge to avoid talking about yourself. And it mostly worked.

Except for now.

“Well, if I had to guess,” the girl persists despite your silence, “I think it would be Rick.”

“What?” Noticing the incredulity in your tone, you calm your voice. Shrugging you say, “Why Rick? Everyone likes him.”

Rosita sends a look your way. It’s innocent enough, probably just showing that she is still listening on as she drives but you were refusing to look at anyone now to know for sure.

“Exactly,” the girl says. “He’s a classic knight in shining armor type. I feel like he’d talk you through it, which I think would be good for— someone like you.”

Your face is on fire, you can’t even speak properly. “I- first of all, what do you know about my experience?” you ask, the incredulous tone returning. But all you get as an answer is knowing snorts and chortles from the two women. Ouch. Nonetheless, you continue, “Second, you think shooting a guy in the head in front of his wife and the whole town is chivalrous?”

Oh—

That makes car goes quiet.

You know you made a mistake.

You didn’t mean it as crassly as you said it, and you did feel bad for saying it knowing that the situation was more difficult than you summed it up to be, but you didn’t apologize. All this talk about crushes and especially Rick made you embarrassed. It’s not that you didn't see what others saw anyway. Of course you noticed how nice Rick’s curls are, how he doesn’t have to use any product for them to look as they do; or those blue eyes and how when you get closer, they become that much more stark and crisp; or how good he was at talking to people, convincing them of things or simply just reassuring them as a friend; and that southern drawl that still sometimes catches you by surprise by sounding so pronounced at the end of certain words, making his voice that much more intoxicating. Of course you saw the appeal, but that didn’t mean you had a crush on him.

Right?

Maybe it doesn’t matter. You just felt you knew better. He was like a president. You know of them, and you believe in them, but you don’t get close to them. And it didn’t matter that he told Carl to personally deliver you a stereo he and Daryl found while out once. How he remembered how you liked music. How he told Carl to tell you this one was probably better than the old one you had, that it was louder. You only showed him your old stereo that once when he was helping you move. He was just a perceptive guy with a good memory. All leaders are like that.

Right?

Anyway, let’s get back to your crass… joke.

“Hilarious.” Rosita says and you hear the low contempt in her voice at your insensitivity.

“That was ages ago though,” the girl chimes in, saving you just a little, “and he did it to help her. He didn’t care about the mess he made. He save her. I’d say that’s pretty romantic.”

“Let’s not call that romantic,” Rosita scoffs, and despite the slight frustration, there was a quiet sadness in her voice at the memory. “That wasn’t love.”

“That was reckless, not romantic.” You agree. Partly because you truly do, but also in attempt to win back favor from your friend. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

But after that day, it was all you could think about.

The idea of a knight; a romantic; someone that would do anything for you, ruin his reputation for you; find gifts from the outside that he’d send is son to give to you. Maybe you did find it charming, idyllic.

These thoughts soared in your mind so much so that on one night when thinking about boys from books or your favorite artists wasn't enough during moments under your sheets when your back arched and your fingers trailed up your thighs, your mind switched from people you would never meet to him, to Rick. Your eyes scrunched tighter, and you tried to shake it away, telling yourself it was just the women in town and the talk in the car getting to you. But then you thought about how rich and hot pink his lips looked on a bright sun-burning day and how it would feel like flames firing inside of you if he kissed you with them.

Ideas like these went on for nearly a year now. You even started questioned if maybe you had always liked him, maybe you were always just like the other girls even though tried to not be. You had thought it made you respectful, realistic; after all, how could Rick be the love of your life if he was everyone’s? Wonderings like this became even worse and more confusing when Rosita had asked if you’d like to move in with her. Becoming closer with her meant being around the leaders more often, which meant coincidental encounters and conversations with Rick as well. Quickly, he wasn’t just that president or celebrity anymore who talked to you sometimes and got you that stereo that once. He was becoming a peer— at least in some ways. One who was curious about your interests as much as your opinions. But it’s not exactly like you were in the in-crowd now as some people assumed. You didn’t get to go to leader meetings, and as much as you knew Rosita must have been telling you more than others know, she couldn’t have been telling you everything. But you did see him more than other people now, when he and the leaders came over to the house or when Rosita was invited over to theirs and she’s tell you to come too. And now, with these thoughts spiraling, you can’t help but to look back at the at the times where Rick approached you, gave you all his attention no matter how small it was and asked you about what you were listening to or reading that week, letting you ramble. He was an older guy, yes, but he cared, he actually listened, and he didn’t make you feel like the childish little sister others do.

Sadly, you did become the fawn like you had told yourself you wouldn’t be. But you couldn’t stop picturing him when you closed your eyes, and in fact, it was nice to imagine someone to fall asleep with, to wake up to. It was just going be your secret. Part of your fantasy world. But then— it all caught up to you.

Through the sliver of the open door he saw you, fingers between folds, goading yourself on as you chanted his name in whispers.

And to your surprise, he encouraged it. No, he did so much more than that— he helped you, made you come; gave you your first orgasm and made you his like no one has before.

You loved it. You gave into it. Even if it was just one secret moment. It made you give into the idea that this would continue but of course, it didn’t. He hasn’t spoken to you in almost three weeks until—

“Woah-” you gasp, almost crashing into just the person as you exit your room.

“Sorry,” you both say in unison, holding onto each other's forearms before quickly letting go. Your arms cross over into your chest before dropping as you enter your room again, clearing the hallway, and his hands go behind his back. He’s still as unsteady as you are, his mouth is slightly open, thinking of what to say.

“Hi,” you whisper tentatively.

“Good morning,” he politely replies. His eyes now smile slightly as he nods to you. You don’t miss how the light emanating from your bright room makes them shine. And he doesn’t miss how the light shining behind your figure makes you, in your white cotton sundress, look like an absolute angel.

“Good morning,” you repeat, giggling slightly, not knowing what else to say.

“Good morning,” he says again, lost and as giddy as you are.

“Oh wait— is the leader’s meeting here today?” Rick starts to nod and answers yes as you continue to speak, “I totally forgot! I’m sorry. I know I should be gone by now.”

He shakes his head, “It’s fine. I was just going to the bathroom.”

“Here? Was someone in the one downstairs?”

“Just wanted to be away from everyone when they came. Daryl and I came early so we started talking and I just- we didn’t see eye to eye on something. I needed a minute.”

You nod. That seems to be your signature when to talk to him. You hated it honestly. Often over-analyzing your words, worrying you’ll sound immature or stutter in front of him. “I'm sorry,” you tell him sympathetically. For a moment there is only silence which makes you worry he will go away, so without thinking, you ask: “I know you’re busy but, if you need a moment, maybe you would like to come in here instead?”

Rick freezes but then, inevitably agrees. As he enters, you close the door and quickly go to shut off the low playing stereo and rehang some of the dresses on your chair in the closet— you had been getting ready for the day. Rick goes to sit on the chair after you empty it but you stop him. You sit on the vertical side of your bed and guesture Rick to sit in the spot next to you, closer to the headboard. You wanted to sit next to him.

Rick doesn’t question this, maybe he wanted to be as close to you as you had, so as he sits, your thighs touch. You try not to move too much at the first contact. Still, the heat that starts to burn inside you makes you realize how much you’ve craved this. Can two weeks feel like a lifetime? It’s like you haven’t felt him in ages.

“What were you playing today?” He asks and you realize you eyes went straight to the area where yours and Rick’s legs touched. You know he noticed but still you try to answer normally.

“Selena. Rosita loves her. It’s one of her most famous songs: Amor Prohibido.”

He nods. “I probably wouldn’t understand a bit of it,” he laughs.

He would probably remember the singer from the news if you gave more context but you don’t. There is a silence that follows until you ask, “So,” starting slowly, “what’s wrong? Is Daryl aright?”

He doesn’t answer. His mouth is open as if he’s deciding what to say, but nothing comes out, so you continue, “You know, nothing is ever right in the world when Rick and Daryl fight. It makes me sad.”

The joke makes those lines at the sides of his eyes appear— a quiet laugh. “Well you know I’d never want to make you sad. Especially not you.” You two exchange a light smile while that heat rises fast to your heart. “We’ll be fine,” he finally says, but then he goes quiet again. Rick seems unsure if he wants to continue. He even looks at the door, wonders if the others have shown up yet, but— he knows he doesn’t want to leave. And even more, he knows he shouldn’t after ignoring you like some teenage boy. He decides to tell you what’s happening: “Daryl wants us to bring new people in. You know how he’s always going out there. But I think it’s way too soon.”

You hum agreeingly, but at the same time, you understand Daryl. “I think he just likes to give people what he never used to have,” you suggest.

“I know,” he nods a bit annoyedly; “and that’s a nice way to put it, but you know him, when he has his mind set on somethin’ he can be so damn stubborn. It’s frustrating. He won’t compromise or listen to anything.”

Endearingly, you try to withhold a laugh, your lisp pursing. Not only because when he says anything, it actually sounds like anythang, but because Rick sounds like he’s describing himself and he doesn’t even realize it.

“And,” he adds, pausing for a moment before he continues, scratching his beard. It looks as if maybe he shouldn’t tell you what he’s about to. His head hangs low to say: This is not information for everyone to know, okay? But the last time he went out there with Glenn, the reason Glenn’s arm is in a sling right now, is because they met a group, tried to bring them back and before they could make it even close to home, the group fought ‘em, tried to steal what they scavenged, and almost kill Glenn.”

You widen your eyes at the statement. You actually already knew this from Rosita, but that will stay between you two. All you feel is humbled that he felt he share it with you, despite it being a dark thing. It was a close call. Rick was right for being very cautious right now. “Wow,” is all you can get in before he speaks again.

“Imagine if we lost him. Fought this war with his wife and unborn baby at the time for nothing? So he couldn’t even meet him?” Rick shakes his head, and you notice his foot tapping lightly, making his knee bounce. This had happened a month ago now but it was obviously affecting him. “It was reckless and I told him that. That right now we need to be focusing on what’s inside these walls. People have only just started getting back to being comfortable now; to feeling like this is a home.”

Your eyes remain wide, “We did so much rebuilding you.”

“We did complete rebuilding.” He corrects, though not rudely. Shaking his head, he goes back to talking about Daryl: “I think I made it seem like what happened to Glenn was his fault. So not only were we arguing but I must’ve hurt him,” Rick realizes, “and now he definitely won’t be back today— maybe not even until next week.”

A silence hangs in the air after this; it seems he finished. Now, you know you should speak, but as the silence continues, you grow more unsure of what to say. Issues like these are things you’ve never dealt with. You didn’t want to say something stereotypical.

“I’m sorry I’m putting all this on you.”

“No, no,” you quickly console, trying to think. “Um, well,” you say, starting unsteadily, “this is probably going to sound stupid and not helpful. I don’t even remember the exact context or what was truly said so it might not make any sense either but, do you remember when I had my Oasis obsession? Earlier this year?”

“I do,” he laughs, turning his head over to your music table. His eyes scan any of the visible album titles to see if he can find it, but the print on most of them are too small. He turns back to you as you continue:

“This is going to sound a little far off but I think you and Daryl are like Liam and Noel.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Didn’t those two hate each other?”

“I mean, yes— but it’s much more complicated than that to me— but no, I don’t mean in that way. It just that there is this quote Noel says that I don’t remember exactly, but I really liked: he said that even though he wrote the music and Liam did the singing that Liam meant the words just as much as Noel did because they’re brothers and he wrote them. I thought that was beautiful, but…” you trail off.

He stays silent, trying to give you space to find your words but you feel like you’ve gone too far. It’s all pretty convoluted and not a true comparison to what’s going on that you’re even confusing yourself a little. “I think what I mean is that even though they have their different roles, they still feel very similar things and believe in the same purpose. I think that’s like you and Daryl. You two are so similar yet so different. But there’s still a binding force that always brings the two of you together. So, like I’m sure you already know and I didn’t even need to tell you, but you two will be okay. You two have different ways of doing things, but the music or the life you’re trying to create in Alexandria still has the same meaning to the both of you.” You laugh small and breathily as you end. “That probably didn’t make sense.”

Rick smiles to himself. “I didn’t get that first bit, with the quote, but no… that made a lot of sense to me.” He nods toward you and you return his smile. “You’re so bright. You know that? Not everyone knows how to stitch things together like that the way you do.”

This makes you feel good. Rick thought you were smart. You know you should say thank you, but instead, something else comes out: “May I, may I kiss you?”

“Yes,” he answers, almost stuttering it out, a hint of hesitation before he did, but he nods so kindly, so reassuringly as he tells you again: “yes.”

Your fingers touch his lower cheeks lightly, feeling the bristles of his beard. You’re slow, and careful, and scared. Your fingers linger on his jaw for a moment until they completely caress his right cheek and then you move in, swiftly— worried you’ll lose your confidence, worried he’ll change his mind. You catch his lower lip and seal the kiss. Your lips are locked for a few seconds until you retreat. It was nice, and exciting, but short. You knew you could have put your tongue in his mouth. You believe he would have let you because you remember when he did it last time, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself by doing it wrong and once again reminding him how much you don’t know. But you’re sure giving him a grade school kiss like this one was enough of a reminder.

Your eyes roll down, chin low. Your cheeks are on fire and your hands do not know where to go so you start fiddling with the hem of your dress and then you laugh. You were trying to be courageous this time, and you were, but you also weren’t.

Rick grabs your left hand, holding it at the end of your thigh, “I liked that,” he says softly.

“You did?” You ask as softly as he, eyes meeting his.

A short, airy snicker comes out, “Mhm,” he hums, giving you a closed-mouth smile. He found you simply adorable.

“Can I… try it again?”

Rick pulls on your forearm, attempting to bring you closer to him. “Yeah,” he nods, voice gentle. “Do you want me to help?”

You nod before you speak, happily accepting, “Yes.”

He puts your hands on his shoulders. One of his grabs onto your waist and the other holds you lightly under your chin, adjusting your head to meet his lips. The first kiss he places holds just for a couple of moments as the one you gave him did, gentle but packed with longing. The next two are slow, pretty pecks that already have you melting at his touch, lips agape waiting for the next one. The fourth is the one where he brings his tongue into your mouth, carefully bringing it in quarter by quarter. He tastes the top of your mouth and tongue and you feel him as he slowly starts to explore how far you may like to go, but truly you become stagnant other than your hands that press into his shoulder. Luckily, Rick either doesn’t notice your hesitation or is already silently helping you as he takes the lead, pulling you closer by the hips and slipping his tongue in and out of your mouth to kiss you more. It makes you smile— the excitement of your first make-out session. You giggle, and then it makes him smile too and your teeth slightly bump into each other. Accidently you nip his lip because of it, making you pull back.

Your fingers hover over your lips as you impart a quiet apology but Rick just shakes his head giving you another quick kiss instead. He starts to move back on your bed, back pressed again the headboard and he tells you quietly, “Come here.”

You get up and sit higher up on the bed as well, calves folded under your thighs. He takes one of your legs and starts to put it over his as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You nod, vigor growing as you do it now, thrilled to sit on his lap. Your dress bunches around your hips and the tops of your thighs. You move closer to press your chest into his and you kiss him first again, another small one but with intent as you look at him afterward, feeling the scratch of his beard on your fingertips as you smile at him, in awe that this is happening.

“You want to try this time?”

“Uh,” he means you put your tongue in his mouth this time, but you’re afraid to do it wrong but you know you want to say yes so you do, “Yes, okay.”

So he brings you in again and you kiss him. He mouth opens a little and you try to bring your tongue in slightly but you teeth clash. “Sorry,” and quickly he responds that it’s okay and rubs your cheek, telling you to just open your mouth a little wider, no teeth, let your tongue go on top of his.

You try it. Your tongues meet again, licking each other tips before you slowing press in more, your chest touching his as you try to close the gap.

Rick starts slowly rocking your hips against his and he takes control of the kiss again. It helps you not think, you like it. And you like the feeling of that incoming tight bulge starting to form under his jeans, but then you let go. “Wait,” you say, “I like this.” You pause for a moment, confusing him more as to why you stopped. “But… there is something I wanted to ask you.”

“Okay,” his hand stay fixed on your hips and waist, rubbing soothily, “What it is?”

Another pause. “I feel nervous,” you whisper.

“You have no reason to be, sweetheart. You can ask me anything.”

You laugh, smiling as you look off to the side. Anythang.

He smiles too, although unknowingly to what you found funny. His head tilts as he tries to find your gaze and turn it towards him again.

“Well, the last time we were together here you taught me how to do something. You taught me how to pleasure myself better so,” you stutter, “I want to pleasure you. If that’s okay. And I was wondering if you’d teach me how- to touch you here.” You remove yourself from straddling him and point in the direction of his cock.

Instantly he feels a stir of his already hardening dick.

This is not how he expected things to go this time. Or truly, he didn’t expect any of this at all, but when you asked to kiss him he decided he would be gentle, more giving. It felt like you wanted him to take again, the exact thing he was trying not to do. “I feel like I took advantage of you last time.”

“Rick…” you shake your head. “I’m the one who didn’t close the door all the way. You asked if it was okay and then you asked if you could go faster. I said yes to everything…” You start to worry— is he second guessing everything now?—“I feel maybe we remember this differently.” You bow your head again now. Feeling ashamed, wondering if he did.

Rick places one hand on your knee to comfort you although he still says, “It’s just that I’ve never done something like this before.” His thumb sways on your skin. “I just don’t want you to end up feeling like you’re wasting your time. Your first times.”

You’re surprised, “It’s so funny how you can be so self-assured in front of a crowd and now you don’t think you’re good enough.” You take his hand and press it towards your chest. Your heart was racing. “I like you. So much.” You swallow as he says your name softly, realizing how fast your heart was going. “No one in town is truly ever mean to me or anything, and Rosita has been so kind with letting me move in with her and we talk and its nice but, you know— she has her flings and her friendships that are separate from mine and everyone just always seems like they have their person and I just don’t. I don’t have my person, or any person.” You remove your hands from your chest but Rick still holds onto it, squeezing your hand as you start speaking again. “You’re kind, Rick, and you make me excited, and you remember things about me… “ If your face could get any hotter, it does, “And, well, you’re very handsome. If you could teach me again, I would like that.”

God… Rick was trying to be a romantic yet you were so adamant on getting him off. He laughed inwardly, shaking his head, deciding that the best way to handle this situation— and make up for some of his guilt as he was trying to— would be to give you the thing you say you want and not what he thinks you want. Suppose that’s one for widower’s wisdom.

Decidedly, Rick gets up from the bed, giving you a once over, still admiring how adorable, and how sexy, you look to him with your feet under your lap, hands on your knees as you look up at him from the bed and your white dress. He starts undoing his shirt buttons. “Remember when I did this the first time?”

A smirk came on, there’s the Rick you remember. Blue eyes intense, and voice getting cocky as he gets ready to give you what you need, what he knows you only want from him.

“Yes,” you say quiet yet with budding excitement. You start going for the hem of your dress, “Should I start taking this off too?”

“Mm, stay like that.” He’s taking off his belt. “Thought you looked beautiful in it right when I saw you.”

Your thighs squeeze together slightly. Rick Grimes was undressing before you, for you, and calling you smart and beautiful all the while.

As Rick lowers his boxers, his cock springs up. He returns to his spot on the bed, back leaning against the headboard. All of a sudden he seems to truly recognize that he is the only one exposed. He would tell you what to do, guide you, but in a small way, in a way you probably didn’t realize, you were in control. It seems that each time this happens— although it’s only been twice— and each time he talks to you— which has been plenty— you steal a little more of Rick’s heart and he just can’t stop it.

“So,” he clears his throat, your eager eyes on his cock making him twitch, “you usually just wrap your hand around, start from the base and keep pumping up.” He shakes his head, “there’s not too much too it but it’s best to keep your hand light at the start, you—”

You nod quickly, “May I?”

As he nods back you, “Yes.” And as he says it you’re already licking your hand.

“Is it okay if I spit? That helps right? Or is that nasty to you?”

He’s caught off guard, “No, no, that helps.”

So you do and you place your hand lightly at the base as he said and you start to pump. Instantly, he lets out a gasp, and the next noises that follow are repressed grunts and groans. You want to ask him to stop doing that but you’re a little scared to speak up that way just yet and you’re too engrossed in how you can see the light veins of green and blue on him and how he’s so red at the tip. It was honestly exciting. Just this, touching him with your hand, staring at his member and watching him twitch as his mouth opens to pant lightly. It still felt unreal but you liked it and you were happy to learn. You start to pump him more towards the top, placing your thumb on his slit- pressing in. His abs clench at that. You push in a little harder and you squeeze your fist around him a little— testing it out to see what happens—and he groans, unadulterated this time, “oh, fuck.”

The heel of your foot that’s under your lap pushes into your center at that.

You start pumping faster. “Am I doing good, Rick?”

Hearing your voice sets him off, “Fuck, sweetheart. Yes.” He’s honestly choking out each of his words, he didn’t expect to get so turned on by all of this. He realizes the last time he had sex was with you that first time, and before that… he can’t even remember. “You’re doing an amazing job.”

As you pump, you start to slow down, only doing it shallowly towards his base. You’re feeling confident and you kiss the side of him, licking a fat stripe up to the top and then you pump him fully again.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he breathes out. He wants to tell you to slow down but it comes out of nowhere, he stutters before he can even speak. An unintelligible groan mixed with a moan comes out abrupt and louder than he intends and white spurts of liquid come out.

You go faster for a few moments, then start to slow down, a little unsure of what is best to do, but you notice when you start squeezing him a little more as you continue to pump up and more whiteness fall out from inside of him.

“Did I, make you come?”

“Yeah,” he says, huffing.

“I did?” your cheekbones rise as you ask with awe— it was another first for the books.

Rick’s tries to let his embarrassment fade, he can tell you were just excited about it, but still, he looks down and to the side, avoiding direct eye contact— almost like you typically would. You peer at him, almost nervously because of it. Rick is usually the confident one. “Doesn’t always happen that fast,” he explains.

“Well before a month ago I didn’t know how to make myself come so I wouldn’t know,” you say with self-deprecating assurance. You had heard from the girls in town that it was easier to make men orgasm. You already had it in your head as something not to judge. You wonder how hard he must have been restraining himself the first time he placed himself inside you, or if it just happened to be easier for him that time around. “I didn’t expect I could do it or anything really. I thought it was…” you smile while giggling, “interesting.”

“A good interesting I hope.”

“Very,” you assure. “I liked it.” You kiss his cheek as you take some wipes that are by your night stand and you start cleaning him up. He doesn’t tell you that you don’t have to; he helps along with you.

“You sure you’ve never done any of this before?”

You shake your head. “I just read fiction books.”

He smiles to himself, a quiet snort of laughter leaving his nose. You always surprise him.

When you two are done cleaning, he puts his boxers back on. Quickly, he is on the bed again and starts to kissing you. Rick holds your shoulder and pushes you down. Finally, it’s time for his redemption, he feels. It was your turn to be pleasured. Just like he wanted to do from the beginning.

Rick kisses down your neck to your collarbone, and the parts of your exposed chest and he pushes your dress up past your hips. His lips move back up to yours, kissing you more before saying, “I really wanna show you something sweetheart.” He presses his thumb into your clit over your underwear. “Can I kiss you down there? Have you ever had that before?”

You shake your head slowly, eyes wide. “I-” you start nodding your head, “-I would really like that.” And in such a small voice you add, “Please.”

Rick kisses your cheek. Deep and softly he breathlessly tells you, “I would love to.”

Rick moves his head lower and gives you slow kisses over your underwear from your mound to the end of your lips. He starts to drag your panties over your legs and once they’re gone he kisses up your thighs. Then his nose rubs and sways ever so lightly on your lips. He breathes in and it makes you shutter. Your heart is going crazy again. Finally, he licks upward. One long and languid stripe ending with a kiss to your clit and then he truly begins.

Tongues are wet and sticky and everything you ever dreamed of. Your eyes roll back instantly from that first lick and kiss. You remember a time when you started touching yourself that you used to never think of receiving oral. You thought it was scary, nasty, that you wouldn’t like it until the moment you thought about it as a million kisses on your most sensitive lips, or someone liking you so much that they’d get drenched by your wetness just to touch you, to taste you. After that, you thought about it all the time and now it was finally happening– someone needing you so much they just had to know what you taste like. Here he was: kissing, licking, sucking, not caring about how he looks but only how you feel— you now knew what it was like to be desired.

Rick presses his tongue flat on your clit, rubbing deep circles. His eyes are open, looking up at how your mouth opens wider and wider. You let out little whimpers, enamored by his tongue, still deciding if you like the scratch of his beard, but your eyes stay glued to the ceiling, scared to look at the scene below.

He gives you kitten licks in between speaking, “Look down. Don’t miss your first time.”

Your eyes go down slowly, watching as he gives open mouth kisses to your clit and right lip, tilting his head. He stays there for a moment, hearing your short and breathy pants, kissing and licking your clit and lower lips like they were the ones above your chin. His eye contact sends bursts of sticky wet fluid down your hole and you release a whimpered moan, they’re always sp short and soft and high pitched. He can tell you like it but he can also see you’re nervous. You don’t trust yourself, you know it, and he’s starting to realize it too. You’re scared of completely letting go.

He peppers kisses to your clit before moving upward, his tongue rolling and mouth kissing from your lower stomach to your breasts till his face reaches yours again. “No one’s here,” he tells you. He then kisses your lips allowing you to taste yourself for the first time. “Relax,” he whispers, rolling out each syllable. He holds your chin with one hand while he inserts a finger into your hole with the other, his pointer is instantly drenched and you shudder at the feeling. His single calloused finger reminds you of the time he was last inside you. He pumps slowly, looking into your eyes as he speaks, “Don’t think about who could come downstairs.”

“What if Rosita or Daryl come back?”

“What if?” He says it so simply as if he’s ready for everyone to know. Truly, that would be an issue, but right now it was not about him and it was completely about you; he wanted to give. It was short-sighted, reckless, yes, but… you were just so pretty, so bright, so insightful, and he felt like he needed to make up for all the taking he did last time, of your first time. Rosita had went to run after Daryl, hopefully no one was here anyway. But again, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. “Lay back,” he gently commands, “forget what I said before- close your eyes. Just give in to it. Like I’m the only one who's here.”

Rick licks zig zag stripes down your slit and then he decides to insert his tongue in your hole. He goes as deep as his tongue allows, collecting your wetness and trying to swallow it in moments when he turns back to kissing. He his nose is brushing and rubbing up against your clit as he sucks wetness from down below and you start letting out stringy moans you can’t control. Soft, pretty, and continuous, “uh, ah, uh, uh” that turn into “sorry, I’m sorry.” You’re still self-conscious about your own noises. This was still only the second time you’ve heard the sounds you make when someone else is fucking you.

But Rick shushes you. Giving small kisses to your clit as he looks up at you, seeing your scrunched eyes and open mouth. “I like knowing you like it, pretty girl. I like all those pretty sounds you’re making.”

Your pussy tightens around nothing at that phrase.

“Keep going. You don’t have to be shy.” He grabs your chin and you look down at him. His beard is wet. “We’ve already made a mess anyway.”

He starts kissing your labias, licking up wetness when you decide to ask, nervously, “Can you make sounds too?”

Instantly, Rick goes again to kiss your clit, humming into it as he sucks. Breathing against you he says, “Want me to tell you I like it, sweetheart?” His tongue slides down again, tongue reaching into your hole and he moans into your pussy.

Your back arches and you mewl, you could almost scream.

That’s it, he thinks. Rick keeps humming and groaning into you now. His voice is so seductive. “I love tasting your pussy, baby.”

You couldn’t breathe.

Rick starts rubbing your clit with his thumb and going fast with his tongue in your hole “My bright, pretty girl gonna come for me? Hm?”

“Oh, Rick, I want to. Please, Rick.”

Rick starts to go faster and your brain turns to mush. Only noises coming out and when he stops his tongue movements to say something more you push his head down. “Sorry,” you say. You’ve never been forceful before but he says nothing, just continues going down on you and taking his free hand to place it over his, gesturing that he wants your hands in his hair. You tug on his curls and he grunts into you. You start chanting his name and then he switches to placing his lips on your clit and putting two fingers in your pussy. It reminded you of the first time but instead of your three fingers they were two of his and it felt so much better than you ever knew before, better than you could ever do it yourself. It sets you off. Your eyes shut tighter if they could. “Rick! Oh my god,” you moan and then again and again and then you come.

Rick laps at your cunt, vigorously trying to wipe you clean. He makes it look like it will be the last and only time. It makes you worry but at the same time he looks so sexy like that; needy for you even after you finished.

He takes your wipes and cleans his lips before cleaning you up as you did for him. He kisses you thighs and your lips and your cheeks as he continues. “You did such a good job,” he says. “You always do.”

You’re filled with pride at that. “Thank you.” Then worry sets in. You realize how public you’ve made everything. “Did I just ruin your life?”

He laughs while caressing your thigh. That anxious expression of yours that he just got rid of returns after all the work he did.

“I’m gonna check downstairs. Okay? If they’re there, they’re there.” You nod. We already made a mess anyway, you remember him saying. “They might want to start the meeting when I go down so, whatever happens, happens alright? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your eyes are still nervous, but it’s all too late anyway. “Okay,” you respond.

“Okay,” he says back, kissing you once more. As he dresses himself again, he tells you, “I promise I won’t wait two weeks to see you again.”

“I’d like that.”

“Me too,” he says as a send off and goes into the bathroom to clean his face.

When he reaches the living room, there is no one. Rick is thankful but confused.

As he nears the coffee table there is a sheet of yellow lined legal pad with a talkie next to it.

Call when you’re done, it reads.

“Rosita?” He questions into the device. Who else could it have been, right?

He can almost hear the grin on her face. “They should start calling you Reckless Rick for all the agony you put these Alexandria girls through.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “There’s just something about that stupid hair cowboy accent, I guess.”

Before he can respond, telling her that it’s absurd to think of him as a playboy, that he was far from it, she continues:

“So, fucking my roommate? You’re glad Glenn and Maggie called everyone over to theirs instead. Hershel took his first steps while you were teaching someone else how to take theirs.”

She unpressed the button to suppress her laughter. “Just get over here,” she concludes, putting down the walkie and going back to meet the rest of the group with a perfect poker face. She tells everyone Rick will be here shortly.

Oh, Alexandria’s leader and her new little best friend who has been hearing the townswomen’s fantasies of him for years: Reckless Rick and his reckless romantic girl.

Rosita would give you so much shit for this when she gets home.

[wannabehockeygf]

greedy - quinn hughes

“He said ‘I’m just curious, is this for real or just an act?’

Can’t tell if you love or hate me,

Never met someone like that.”

summary: when you’re a bartender in a popular local club, the captain of the canucks who’s also one of your regulars takes a liking to you

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

word count: 9.3k. i’m so sorry.

warnings: 18+ NSFW! fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, slight degradation.

notes:

- this is soooo different for me! have never written about a hughes brother before even though they’re super popular here.

- missing vancouver hockey. sorry leafs nation.

- also this is probably some of the nastiest smut i’ve ever written!

- not proof read

- the eye colour thing again… sorry if they’re green.

***

Friday nights at The Roxy Cabaret were like trying to squeeze into your favorite pair of jeans after Thanksgiving dinner—uncomfortable, chaotic, and leaving you questioning your life choices. Honestly, it felt like the entire population of Vancouver had made a pact to invade this dingy club all at once. Not that you were complaining, though—well, maybe a little. It wasn’t like you had a choice; the rent wasn’t going to pay itself.

Sure, you worked there, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t hold a deep, burning, soul-crushing hatred for the place, right? Well, okay, maybe "hatred" was a bit strong. You did occasionally wander in on your nights off, blend into the crowd, and pretend you were just another twenty-three-year-old who didn’t have to worry about the bartender recognizing you. Because let’s face it, you needed a break from serving vodka sodas to tipsy twenty-somethings trying to relive their high school glory days.

What really got under your skin, though, was the crowd that showed up when you were on the clock. And by "crowd," you meant the entire Vancouver Canucks roster, who seemed to think The Roxy was their personal post-victory playground. It wasn’t that you disliked hockey—you were indifferent to it, like you were to a distant relative’s Facebook posts. If it was on, fine, you’d watch. But you weren’t exactly lining up to buy season tickets.

Most of the guys were fine—great even. Some of them were downright charming, the kind of guys you wouldn’t mind chatting with when things slowed down. Plus, they tipped like they were trying to make it rain dollar bills in a music video, which you appreciated. But then there was Quinn Hughes.

Oh, Quinn. Captain Smug himself. He had a way of getting under your skin like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

"Another round, please, Princess," Quinn drawls, tapping his fingers on the bar like he owns the place.

You grit your teeth, mentally counting to ten as you shake up a cocktail. "Can you get Brock to order it? He isn’t an egotistical asshole."

Quinn just laughs, that infuriating smirk of his widening even though he looks like he could use a nap. "Aw, come on, Princess, don’t be like that. You know you love me."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes so hard they might get stuck. Instead, you stick to your customer service script. "That’s not my name," you say, yanking out shot glasses like they owe you money.

"I know," Quinn says, brushing a strand of hair out of his face like he’s in some cheesy romance movie. "But you act like a princess, so it suits you."

Oh great, now your jaw’s tightening. Fabulous. You grab the tequila bottle with a little more force than necessary. "What do you want from me, Quinn?" you ask, trying not to let your annoyance seep too much into your voice.

He leans in closer, his smirk practically reaching his ears. "How about a smile, Princess? Is that too much to ask?"

You force the kind of smile you reserve for customer service nightmares, tight-lipped and entirely devoid of warmth. "Is that good? Can you go now?"

Quinn chuckles, taking the tray of drinks from you like he’s doing you a favor. "Always so feisty. But I like it. Keeps things interesting."

"Fuck off, Quinn," you mutter, wiping down the counter with the enthusiasm of someone scrubbing a crime scene. "I’m not here to entertain your ego."

He leans in even closer—so close you can practically count the flecks of mischief in his eyes. "But you do entertain me. Every time you brush me off, it just makes me want you more."

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "You’ve got a funny way of showing it. Just because you’re some big-shot athlete doesn’t mean you can treat women however you want."

Quinn’s gaze slowly trails up from your lips, where it’s been lingering far too long, to meet your eyes. "Ah, come on, you know I always take good care of you."

And damn it, he’s right. Quinn is probably your biggest tipper out of the entire team. And while you like the money, you hate seeing his stupid messy brown hair and annoyingly pretty blue eyes at your bar every time they win.

"Sure you do," you say, swiping someone else’s card through the machine, mentally willing him to disappear into the sea of other customers.

You watch Quinn walk away, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowd like he’s parting the Red Sea. It’s infuriating, really, how someone so damn annoying can also be so… well, hot. There, you admitted it. The guy is hot. Like, "should come with a warning label" hot. But that doesn’t mean you’re about to give him the satisfaction of knowing you think that. No way. Not in this lifetime, or the next, or even if you were reincarnated as a particularly enthusiastic poodle.

Quinn Hughes is the human equivalent of a pop-up ad—persistent, unwanted, and impossible to get rid of without a lot of cursing. Every time you brush him off, he just comes back stronger, like he’s powered by your irritation. And maybe that’s what’s so maddening about him. He knows exactly how to push your buttons, and he enjoys every second of it.

The problem is, you’re starting to wonder if you enjoy it too.

Nope. Not going there. You are not going to be one of those girls who gets all flustered over a guy just because he’s got a good smile and a credit card that could probably buy out half the bar. You’re stronger than that. You’re resilient. You’re… currently mixing a drink with far more focus than necessary because all you can think about is what it would be like to grab him by the collar of that too-tight shirt and kiss that stupid smirk right off his face.

You’re shaking your head at the absurdity of it all as you pour the next round of shots, hands moving on autopilot. It’s bad enough that Quinn Hughes has invaded your workspace like some kind of hockey-playing parasite, but now he’s wormed his way into your thoughts too.

“Get a grip,” you mutter under your breath, lining up the glasses like they’re little soldiers marching to their doom. Because really, that’s what this is—a battle of wills. A tug-of-war where the prize is your sanity, and you’re losing.

A couple of your regulars wave you over, and you force your focus back to them, slapping on that customer service smile that’s become second nature by now. They’re nice guys, the kind who tip decently and don’t try to flirt with you in that obnoxious, entitled way that some customers do. They’re also blissfully ignorant of the 5’10, 180 pound storm cloud currently hovering over your head, which is exactly how you like it.

But just as you’re starting to enjoy a break from the chaos, you catch sight of him again. He’s leaning against the bar a few feet away, talking to Brock, who seems completely unfazed by the fact that Quinn has probably just sent your blood pressure through the roof.

You steal a glance at Quinn, hoping he won’t notice, but of course he does. He always does. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, you forget how to breathe. It’s ridiculous, really. The guy’s just standing there, doing absolutely nothing, and yet he has this stupid effect on you. Like he’s some kind of gravitational force, pulling you in against your will.

You force yourself to look away, focusing on the drink in front of you like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. But it’s too late. The damage is done. Your brain has already gone down that treacherous path, imagining what it would be like if you gave in just once.

But that’s a dangerous game, and you know it. Because if you give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. Hell, he’ll probably take the whole damn kilometer. And then where would you be?

Nope. Not happening. Not tonight, not ever.

You’re not sure when exactly it started—the whole Quinn Hughes thing, that is. Maybe it was the first time he sauntered up to the bar, eyes twinkling like he knew something you didn’t. Or maybe it was the time he tipped you a hundred bucks just for bringing him a water, like he was trying to buy your affection. Which, spoiler alert, didn’t work. Or so you’ve been telling yourself.

But you can’t deny it any longer: Quinn Hughes is a problem. A major, five-alarm, get-the-fire-extinguisher kind of problem. Because somewhere along the line, your irritation with him has twisted into something… different. Something dangerous. Something that makes you wonder what it would be like to grab him by that annoyingly perfect jawline and just—

“Hey, Princess, you gonna make me another drink or just stand there daydreaming?”

And there it is. That voice, like smooth whiskey poured over gravel, cutting through your thoughts like a knife. You don’t even have to look up to know it’s him. Of course it’s him. Because Quinn Hughes has a sixth sense for when you’re starting to get a grip on your sanity, and he’s hell-bent on ruining it.

You set down the bottle of vodka you’ve been holding, turning to face him with what you hope is a look of mild disinterest. “Back so soon? Didn’t think you could tear yourself away from your adoring fans.”

Quinn grins, leaning against the bar like he’s got all the time in the world. And maybe he does. After all, what’s a Friday night without irritating the bartender who’s secretly trying to figure out what color your eyes really are because the lighting in here sucks? Not that you’d ever admit to that. “I just couldn’t stay away from you, Princess. You know how it is.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s half-hearted at best. “Again, not my name.”

He taps his fingers on the bar, a rhythm that’s almost hypnotic. “I know. But I like it. It suits you.”

“What, because I won’t roll over and worship the ground you walk on?” you shoot back, crossing your arms. You know you’re playing with fire, but there’s something addictive about sparring with him. Like a game of chicken, except you’re both too stubborn to swerve.

Quinn’s grin widens, and you can’t help but notice how his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. Damn him. “Exactly. I like a girl with a backbone.”

You open your mouth to retort, but the words get stuck somewhere between your brain and your tongue. Because for some reason, all you can think about is the way he’s looking at you right now—like you’re the only person in this crowded, chaotic club that matters.

So that’s why you decide to go for it.

“You ever had hate sex, Hughes?”

You can almost see the gears in Quinn’s head grind to a halt at your question. The usual smug smirk falters for a split second, and it’s the most satisfying thing you’ve seen all night. You’ve finally done it—left Quinn Hughes speechless. But the victory is short-lived because, as always, he recovers faster than you can blink.

“Hate sex?” he echoes, his voice dropping an octave, making you question all of your life choices up to this point. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear, and you suddenly realize you’re standing way too close. “Princess, if that’s your idea of a pick-up line, I’ve got to say, I’m intrigued.”

And there it is, that damn smirk back in full force. He’s trying to throw you off, but you refuse to back down. You’ve already started this ridiculous game, so there’s no turning back now.

“You didn’t answer the question,” you reply, your tone as steady as you can make it. “Ever had hate sex?”

He lets out a low chuckle that sends shivers down your spine—not that you’d ever admit it. “I don’t know. Guess we’d have to define ‘hate sex’ first.”

You narrow your eyes at him, your mind racing with all the ways this could go horribly wrong. But damn it, you’re committed now. “I’m pretty sure it’s when you can’t stand someone, but you still want to rip their clothes off.”

Quinn’s eyes darken just a fraction, and you can feel the tension between you both ratchet up to an unbearable level. It’s like the entire club fades away, leaving just the two of you locked in this absurd, heated standoff.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, his voice smooth and infuriatingly calm. “You want to rip my clothes off, Princess?”

You clench your jaw, determined not to let him see how flustered you are. This is Quinn Hughes, the guy who drives you up the wall every single time he walks into this bar. There’s no way in hell you’re about to let him get the upper hand.

So, you do the only thing that seems appropriate. You lean in, so close that your lips are almost brushing his ear, and whisper, “Maybe I just want to shut you up for five minutes.”

“You think you could handle it?” His voice is a low rumble now, and there’s something about the way he says it that’s got your stomach doing somersaults. “Because if we’re going there, I don’t do anything halfway.”

Oh, for the love of— You’re pretty sure your face is betraying you right now, showing just how much his words have affected you, but you can’t let him know that.

Quinn is still watching you, eyes glittering with amusement and something else you can’t quite place. There’s a challenge there, a dare hanging in the air between you, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he is. Too close. Close enough that you can see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his hair falls messily over his forehead, and those damn blue eyes that seem to see right through your carefully constructed defenses.

For a moment, you consider backing down, playing it off as a joke. But then Quinn would win, and that’s simply not an option. So, you double down, leaning in just a little bit closer, your breath brushing against his skin.

"Handle it? Quinn, I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to." Your voice is steady, but inside, your heart is doing its best impression of a drum solo. This is insane. You’re flirting with Quinn Hughes. Quinn Hughes, the guy who spends his Friday nights at your bar making your life just a little bit more complicated than it needs to be. The guy who seems to take an unholy amount of pleasure in riling you up. The guy who—God help you—makes your pulse race every time he so much as glances in your direction.

Quinn’s lips curve into a slow smile, and you can’t help but notice how annoyingly perfect his teeth are. Of course they are. Everything about him is infuriatingly perfect, from his tousled hair to his broad shoulders that you really shouldn’t be noticing right now. "You’ve got a mouth on you, Princess," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine that you desperately try to suppress.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure as you stare into Quinn’s infuriatingly perfect face. Seriously, who gave him the right to look this good, especially when he’s being such a smug asshole? You remind yourself that you don’t like him. You don’t. Except maybe you do, a little bit. Okay, a lot. But that’s beside the point.

Quinn’s eyes are locked on yours, and you can practically feel the heat radiating off him. It’s like standing too close to a bonfire—one wrong move, and you’re going to get burned. But damn it, you’re not backing down. Not when he’s looking at you like that, like he’s just waiting for you to slip up so he can swoop in and… do what, exactly? You’re not even sure anymore. And that’s the most dangerous part.

“Someone’s gotta put you in your place, Hughes,” you manage to say, your voice coming out a little breathier than you intended. You’re aiming for sassy, but it’s hard to pull off when your heart is practically doing backflips in your chest.

His smile widens, and you want to slap it right off his face, but also—God help you—maybe kiss it off too. “Is that so?” he asks, voice dripping with amusement. “And you think you’re the one to do it?”

Oh, he’s good. He’s really good. And damn it, you walked right into his trap, didn’t you? Because now you’ve got to follow through, or else he’s going to lord this over you for the rest of eternity.

But before you can figure out a clever retort, Quinn’s gaze flicks past you, scanning the crowded bar. When he looks back at you, there’s something new in his eyes—something that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“You know,” he says, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “this place is a little too crowded for what I have in mind.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. He’s not suggesting what you think he’s suggesting, is he? Because if he is, you’re in way over your head. And yet… there’s a tiny, traitorous part of you that’s intrigued. More than intrigued. You want to know what he has in mind, even though every logical part of your brain is screaming at you to abort mission and run for the hills.

You tilt your head, trying to play it cool even as your heart races. “And what exactly do you have in mind, Hughes?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Quinn leans in closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your cheek. “Somewhere private,” he murmurs, “Where we can… talk.”

“Talk,” you repeat, your tone dripping with skepticism. “That’s what we’re calling it now?”

He chuckles softly, and the sound sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core. “Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

Oh, you do. You’ve got a lot of ideas, most of them involving doing things to Quinn Hughes that would definitely not fall under the category of “talking.” But you can’t just give in, can you? That would be too easy, and Quinn would never let you live it down.

But then again… maybe it’s time to stop overthinking things. Maybe it’s time to let go, just this once, and see where this crazy, ridiculous, probably-terrible idea takes you.

“Fine,” you say, surprising yourself with how steady your voice sounds. “Let’s go.”

Quinn’s eyes light up with something that looks a lot like victory, but you’re not about to let him have the upper hand. Not entirely, anyway.

“Lead the way, Princess,” he says, his voice a low purr that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through you.

You roll your eyes—because of course you do—but there’s no denying the excitement buzzing just beneath the surface. You’ve got no idea what you’re getting yourself into, but one thing’s for sure: it’s going to be one hell of a ride.

With one last glance at the bar, you turn on your heel and start making your way through the crowd, Quinn hot on your heels. You can feel the tension between you both, crackling like static electricity, and it’s taking everything in you not to turn around and grab him by that stupidly perfect jawline right then and there.

You slip through a side door that leads to a narrow hallway, the noise from the bar muffled by the heavy walls. The air is cooler here, the dim lighting casting long shadows that dance along the worn carpet. You can feel Quinn’s presence behind you, close enough that you can practically feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Where are we going?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that makes your stomach flip.

“Storage closet,” you say, not even sure where the idea came from, but it’s out now, and there’s no taking it back. You know the staff keeps some of the extra supplies in a small room down the hall, and it’s as good a place as any to… well, whatever this is.

Quinn’s chuckle is dark and throaty, sending another shiver down your spine. “Kinky,” he murmurs, but you can hear the approval in his tone.

You reach the door and push it open, revealing a small, dimly lit room lined with shelves full of bottles and boxes. It’s cramped, barely enough room for the two of you, but that’s probably a good thing. The last thing you need is space to think about what you’re doing, because if you stop to think, you might just lose your nerve.

Quinn steps in behind you, closing the door with a soft click. The sound echoes in the quiet space, amplifying the tension that’s been simmering between you both all night.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You just stand there, staring at each other, the air thick with unspoken challenges and barely restrained desire. And then, like a rubber band snapping, the tension breaks.

You’re not even sure who moves first—maybe it’s him, maybe it’s you—but suddenly you’re pressed up against the shelves, Quinn’s body crowding into yours, his hands bracing on either side of your head as his lips crash onto yours

It’s not gentle. It’s not soft. It’s every bit as intense and heated as the tension that’s been simmering between you from the moment you met. His lips crash against yours with a force that sends your head spinning, and for a moment, all you can do is cling to him, your hands fisting in his shirt as you kiss him back just as fiercely.

This is no sweet, romantic moment. This is raw, unfiltered desire, born from all the frustration and irritation that’s been building between you two for so long. It’s everything you never thought you’d want, and yet here you are, giving in to it completely.

Quinn’s hands are on you now, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough. And maybe he can’t. Maybe you can’t either. All you know is that this is happening, and there’s no stopping it.

“Damn it, Hughes,” you murmur against his mouth, trying to inject some venom into your words, but it comes out more like a plea. You can feel his smirk, the arrogant bastard. He knows he’s got you, and it only makes you want to kiss him harder.

Or punch him.

Maybe both.

“Problem?” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement as he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. His lips are slightly swollen, his hair disheveled from your hands, and he looks annoyingly good like this. All messy and untamed, like you’ve undone him somehow, when you know it’s the other way around.

You want to tell him to shut up, to stop looking at you like that, like you’re some puzzle he’s close to solving. But you’re too breathless, too overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. So instead, you grab the front of his shirt and yank him back down to you, your lips crashing together again in a bruising kiss.

He groans into your mouth, his hands slipping under your shirt, fingers skimming the heated skin of your back. You shiver at the contact, hating how good it feels, hating that he knows it too. You can feel his smugness in every touch, every shift of his body against yours.

And yet, you don’t stop him.

Because you’re just as guilty.

You’ve been wanting this—wanting him—even though you’ve been denying it, pushing it away, convincing yourself that you despise him. But the truth is, that hatred has always been laced with something else. Something darker, more dangerous. Something you’re only now beginning to understand.

It’s infuriating.

It’s intoxicating.

“You’re such an asshole,” you mutter against his lips, your voice tinged with frustration as you nip at his lower lip. You want to hurt him, just a little, to remind yourself that you’re still in control, that this isn’t just him getting what he wants. But when he groans in response, his hands tightening their grip on your hips, you realize that maybe you’re not as in control as you thought.

“You say that like you don’t love it,” he replies, his voice husky as he trails kisses along your jawline, down to your neck. Your breath hitches when he finds that sensitive spot just below your ear, the one that makes your knees go weak. He’s too good at this. Too good at getting under your skin.

You don’t want to enjoy this. You really don’t. But your body isn’t exactly cooperating, and the traitorous warmth pooling in your stomach isn’t something you can ignore. It’s maddening how much you want this, even as every logical part of your brain screams that this is a terrible, horrible, no-good idea.

But logic be damned, because the way Quinn’s lips are moving against your skin is making it very hard to care about consequences.

“You’re such a smug bastard,” you mutter, trying to inject some bite into your words, but they come out breathy, almost like a sigh. Ugh. Could you be any more pathetic?

Quinn chuckles against your neck, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “I thought you liked that about me,” he murmurs, his voice thick. His hands slide up under your shirt, fingers skimming over your ribs, making you gasp. “Or at least, you like it enough to let me do this.”

He’s right, and that just pisses you off even more. You do like it—hate it, love it, whatever it is, you’re feeling it with every nerve in your body. You can feel his smirk against your skin, and it only fuels the fire inside you.

You yank at his hair, pulling his head back just enough so you can meet his eyes, which are dark and stormy with desire. “Don’t get cocky, Hughes,” you warn, even though you know it’s a losing battle. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

He raises an eyebrow, that damn smirk still plastered on his stupidly perfect face. “You keep telling yourself that,” he says, his voice low and rough. “But we both know you’re full of shit.”

“Full of shit?” you echo, narrowing your eyes at him, trying to keep your wits about you even as his hands roam over your body. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who’s all talk and no—”

Quinn’s lips are on yours again before you can finish the sentence, cutting off your words with a kiss that’s somehow even more intense than the last one. It’s like he’s determined to prove you wrong, to make you eat your words, and as much as you hate to admit it, he’s succeeding.

But you’re not about to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that. Not yet, anyway.

You push back against him, shoving at his chest just enough to create some distance, even though your body is screaming at you to do the opposite. His eyes flash with surprise, and you smirk up at him, a little breathless but still in the game.

“Easy there, Hughes,” you murmur, your voice laced with false bravado. “I didn’t say you could take control.”

Quinn arches an eyebrow, his lips quirking up into that infuriatingly smug smile that makes you want to both slap him and drag him closer. “Oh? I must have missed the memo where you were the one calling the shots.”

You grit your teeth, not entirely sure whether you want to punch him or kiss him again. Maybe both, but that would just be giving him the upper hand. Instead, you decide to hit him where it hurts—his ego.

“Please,” you scoff, leaning in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you speak. “You’ve been in my palm since the moment we met. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He lets out a low, amused chuckle, his breath warm against your neck. “Is that what you tell yourself when you’re fantasizing about me at night?”

Your stomach flips at his words, but you refuse to let him see the effect he’s having on you. Instead, you tilt your head, letting your lips ghost over the shell of his ear as you whisper, “In your dreams, Hughes.”

But as much as you’re trying to play it cool, you can’t deny the electric tension between you both. It’s like the air is crackling with it, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. All you can focus on is Quinn—his hands, his lips, his damn voice that keeps pulling you deeper into this mess.

His hand slides down your side, settling on your hip, and your breath catches when he pulls you closer, your bodies pressed together in the cramped space. You can feel every inch of him, the solid warmth of his body, the way he’s holding you like he doesn’t want to let go. And maybe he doesn’t. Maybe you don’t either.

Quinn’s lips are back on yours, but this time, it’s slower, more deliberate. Like he’s savoring the moment, taking his time, driving you absolutely crazy with how good it feels. You’re so wrapped up in it, in him, that you almost don’t notice the way his hands are working on rolling up your shirt until it’s halfway up.

You pull back, just enough to look up at him with narrowed eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He gives you a look that’s all innocence, but there’s nothing innocent about the way his hands keep moving, sliding under your shirt, his fingers grazing your skin. “Just making sure you’re comfortable,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough in a way that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Comfortable?” you repeat, your voice coming out a little higher than you intended as his hands roam over your bare skin. “You think this is making me comfortable?”

Quinn leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “No, but it’s making you hot, isn’t it?”

Your breath hitches, and damn him, he’s right. He’s so infuriatingly right. But you’re not about to admit that. Instead, you try to muster up some semblance of defiance, even though you can feel your resolve crumbling with every touch, every heated look he throws your way.

“You wish,” you manage to say, but the words lack the venom you were aiming for. Instead, they come out breathy, almost like a plea, and you hate how much that turns you on.

Quinn grins, and it’s a wicked, knowing grin that makes your stomach twist in the most deliciously infuriating way. “I don’t have to wish,” he says, his voice a low rumble that makes your knees weak. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Before you can respond—before you can even think of a comeback—he’s kissing you again, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that makes your head spin. You’re drowning in him, in the heat, the intensity of it all, and for a moment, you wonder if you’re going to lose yourself completely.

But then Quinn’s hands are on your hips, lifting you up onto the shelves, and you gasp at the sudden movement. You grab onto his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin as he steps between your legs, his body pressing against yours in a way that makes it hard to remember why this is such a bad idea.

“Quinn,” you murmur, trying to sound like you’re in control, like you’re not about to fall apart at the seams. But your voice betrays you, coming out shaky, uncertain, and Quinn hears it. Of course he does.

His hands slide up your thighs, fingers teasing the edge of your shorts, and you can’t help the way your breath hitches, the way your body arches toward him, desperate for more. Damn it, you shouldn’t want this—shouldn’t want him—but there’s no denying it now.

“You can stop this anytime you want,” Quinn whispers against your lips, his breath warm and tantalizing. “Just say the word.”

But you don’t say anything. Because you can’t. You don’t want to stop, not when his hands are on you, not when his lips are trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Not when every nerve in your body is screaming at you to let go, to give in to this insane, reckless desire.

Instead, you pull him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him with everything you’ve got, trying to show him that you’re not backing down, that you’re just as in this as he is. Maybe more.

Quinn groans against your lips, and you can feel the way his body tenses, the way his hands tighten their grip on your thighs. It’s intoxicating, the power you have over him, the way you can make him unravel with just a kiss, a touch.

But then his hands are slipping under your shorts, and your breath catches in your throat. It’s happening, it’s really happening, and suddenly, you’re not sure if you’re ready for this. If you can handle what comes next.

“Quinn,” you murmur, trying to sound like you’re in control, like you’re not about to lose it completely. But he’s not listening, or maybe he is, and he just doesn’t care, because his hands are still moving, still exploring, and you’re melting under his touch.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, and the look in his eyes is enough to make your stomach flip. It’s dark, intense, full of heat—and, damn it, he’s giving you that smug smile again, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice rough and breathless, a contrast to the arrogant tilt of his lips. “You good?”

Good? Is that a joke? You’re anything but good right now. Your heart is racing, your mind is spinning, and your body—well, your body is betraying you in every way possible, pressing closer to him, silently begging for more.

“I fucking hate you,” you manage to choke out, though the words feel flimsy, a pathetic attempt at maintaining some semblance of control. Quinn’s eyes narrow slightly, and you know he doesn’t believe you for a second. But instead of calling you out on it, he leans in, his lips brushing against your jawline as he murmurs, “Then why are you so fucking wet?” He punctuates the words by brushing his fingers against the damp fabric of your underwear.

Your brain short-circuits at his words. Like, did he really just—? You’re torn between the urge to slap that smug look off his face and the overwhelming desire to pull him closer, consequences be damned. The nerve of this guy, thinking he can just—

But then his fingers move, and every coherent thought you had goes flying out the window. A gasp escapes your lips, and you curse yourself for giving him the satisfaction, but, damn it, how are you supposed to keep your wits about you when his hands are doing that?

Quinn’s watching you, his eyes dark with amusement and something much more primal. “What’s the matter?” he teases, his voice a low rumble.

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to muster up some sort of retort, but all that comes out is a breathy, “Shut up,” which only makes his smirk widen. God, you want to wipe that grin off his face so badly, but every time you think you’re about to regain control, he does something that completely derails you.

Like now, for instance, when his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your underwear, and your hips jerk forward entirely of their own accord. Quinn’s chuckle is low and throaty, and you feel the vibrations of it against your neck as he nips at your skin, leaving a trail of barely-there bites that make your pulse race.

“Shutting up doesn’t seem like your style,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, making you shiver. “But I think I can find a way to keep you quiet.”

You don’t get a chance to ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean because his hand finally dips lower, and suddenly, you’re not sure whether you want to moan or curse him out. Your body makes the decision for you, your head falling back against the shelf as a breathless moan escapes your lips, and you feel Quinn’s grin widen against your skin.

“God, you’re so fucking—” Your words get caught in your throat as he moves his fingers just right, and the sound that comes out of you is more of a whimper than anything else. It’s humiliating, really, how easily he’s reducing you to this—a writhing, desperate mess—and the bastard knows it.

“Sensitive, are we?” Quinn’s voice is laced with amusement, but there’s a huskiness to it now, a slight hitch in his breath that tells you he’s just as affected by this as you are, even if he’s better at hiding it. “That’s cute.”

“Cute?” you manage to gasp, trying to muster up some semblance of defiance, even as your body betrays you by arching into his touch. “I’ll show you—” Your words trail off into a moan as he circles his fingers just right, and suddenly, the only thing you want to show him is how quickly you can come undone if he keeps this up.

You're about to fire back with something scathing, something that’ll put Quinn in his place, but all that comes out is a breathy gasp as his fingers work a little faster, a little rougher, hitting that spot that has your entire body going slack against the shelves. God, if anyone walked in right now, they'd have one hell of a show.

"Something you wanted to say?" Quinn’s voice is thick with that damn arrogance, but there's a slight edge to it now, like he's barely holding it together himself. Good, you think. If you’re going down, you’re taking him with you.

"Y-you're…" You try to form a sentence, anything to wipe that smug grin off his face, but the words get tangled in your throat as Quinn’s other hand slides up your thigh, his touch hot and demanding. "You're such a…"

He smirks, his lips hovering just over yours, so close you can feel the heat of his breath. "Go on, sweetheart. I'm dying to know."

"Oh, fuck off," you mutter, but your voice lacks any real bite, especially when his fingers dip lower, making your hips jerk forward involuntarily. "Quinn…"

He pauses, his lips still pressed to your jaw, and for a moment, you think maybe—just maybe—he’s going to stop, give you a chance to catch your breath, to regain some semblance of control. But then he moves again, his fingers slipping past your last shred of dignity, and you let out a sound that’s somewhere between a moan and a curse.

"That’s what I thought," Quinn whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I knew you couldn't keep that tough act up forever."

"Screw you," you hiss, but your words are cut off by another sharp gasp as Quinn’s thumb brushes over a particularly sensitive spot. "Oh, God…"

"Already there," he murmurs, his lips finding that spot just below your ear that makes your knees go weak. He presses a kiss there, soft and maddeningly slow, before pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire, and you can see the barely-contained hunger in them. It sends a thrill of both fear and excitement racing through you.

"Quinn, I swear, I’m gonna—" you gasp as his fingers continue their relentless assault, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "Or maybe I'll just—"

"Just what?" he presses, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to finish the sentence. "Come all over my fingers? Because that’s what you’re about to do, isn’t it?"

There’s a part of you—the sensible, rational part—that’s still trying to cling to some semblance of control, some dignity. But that part is losing, rapidly being overpowered by the heat pooling in your stomach and the way Quinn’s looking at you like you’re the only thing he wants in the entire world.

For a moment, you consider making some sort of last-ditch effort to regain control, to pull away and regain your breath. But then Quinn’s thumb brushes over that spot again, and all thoughts of self-control go out the window. Instead, a moan slips past your lips—loud and unrestrained, filling the tiny storage closet with a sound that’s undeniably needy.

Quinn’s smirk widens, his eyes darkening with satisfaction, and damn it, he’s enjoying this way too much. “That’s right,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. “You’re gonna come for me, yeah? Or do you want my cock instead?”

Your brain is short-circuiting, struggling to keep up with the intensity of the moment. The idea of him inside you, combined with the way he’s touching you, is almost too much to bear. You’re on the verge of losing it, and every part of you is screaming for release.

Finally, you manage a breathless, “Fuck it,” and let your hands wander lower, fumbling with his belt, your body arching against his in a desperate plea for more. You don’t care about the consequences, the logical part of your brain completely overridden by the burning need coursing through you.

“I swear, if we ever make it out of this closet,” you gasp, your fingers struggling with the stubborn belt buckle, “I’m going to have a hard time looking you in the eye.”

Quinn chuckles, his breath hot against your ear. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But right now, I think your focus should be on something else.”

You manage to loosen his belt, your hands shaking with anticipation. The urgency of the moment makes every touch and every breath more intense. “And what would that be?” you retort, trying to keep some semblance of your usual sarcasm. It’s hard, though, when his fingers are still doing deliciously wicked things to you.

Quinn’s fingers trace teasing circles, making your breath hitch and your body squirm against him. “Oh, I don’t know,” he murmurs, his voice a velvet caress against your ear. “Maybe on getting me out of these pants before I lose my patience.”

“Geez, Hughes, such a gentleman,” you manage, your voice breathless as you finally get his pants undone. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe. It’s a heady feeling, and it’s only adding to the feverish heat between you.

You push his pants down just enough, and as you finally free his hard length, you’re met with the unmistakable evidence of his own need. The sight makes you gasp, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.

Quinn groans into your mouth when you reach inside his jeans, his hips jerking forward as if seeking more contact, more friction. You’re both teetering on the edge now, the line between control and complete surrender blurred beyond recognition. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, and you’re not sure if you want to keep pushing him or if you just want to let go and fall into the abyss together.

“God, you drive me fucking crazy,” Quinn breathes against your lips, his voice rough with need, and there’s a moment—a brief, fleeting moment—where you think you see something more in his eyes. Something deeper than just desire, something that sends a jolt of fear straight to your heart. But then his hands are on you again, pulling you closer, and whatever that look was, it’s gone, replaced by the raw, primal hunger that’s been simmering between you from the start.

You shudder as he grips your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with just enough force to make you gasp. You can feel him, hot and hard against your palm, and it’s taking everything in you not to just give in, to let him take what you both so clearly want. But there’s still that stubborn part of you, the part that refuses to let him have the upper hand, that wants to make him beg, make him come undone for you.

“Say please,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, your lips brushing against his as you speak.

Quinn freezes, his eyes narrowing as they lock onto yours, and for a moment, you think you’ve pushed him too far, that he’s going to pull back and leave you hanging on the edge of oblivion. But then a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face, and his grip on your hips tightens.

“Please?” he echoes, his tone dripping with arrogance, as if the very idea of him begging is laughable. “Sweetheart, I don’t beg.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you stroke him slowly, deliberately teasing, watching with satisfaction as his breath hitches, his bravado faltering ever so slightly. “No?” you murmur, leaning in to nip at his bottom lip, your voice low and taunting. “You sure about that?”

Quinn’s eyes darken, and for a split second, you think you’ve got him—that you’ve managed to gain the upper hand. But then he’s moving, faster than you can react, pinning your wrists behind your back with one hand while the other yanks your shorts down in one swift motion, leaving you exposed and vulnerable in a way that sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

“You want to play games?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, the sound of it sending a shiver down your spine. “Fine. But I don’t play fair.”

Before you can respond, before you can even think to respond, he’s pressing into you, his body solid and unyielding, and all coherent thought flies out of your head as he finally, finally gives you what you’ve both been craving.

The world tilts on its axis as he thrusts into you, hard and deep, and you’re not sure if the sound that escapes your lips is a moan or a sob or something in between. All you know is that you’re completely, utterly lost in him—in the way he’s filling you, stretching you, driving you to the brink of madness with every rough, relentless movement.

Quinn’s breath is ragged against your ear, and you can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, threatening to snap at any moment. You’re so close, so fucking close, and it’s taking everything in you not to just let go, to give in to the blinding pleasure that’s consuming you from the inside out.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Quinn groans, his voice strained, and there’s something raw, almost vulnerable in the way he says it, something that makes your heart stutter in your chest. “I’ve been imagining this from the first moment I walked in here.”

Your hands are still pinned behind your back, your body arched against the shelves, completely at Quinn’s mercy. And damn it, he knows it. He knows exactly how to push you to the brink, how to make you lose every ounce of control you thought you had. His movements are powerful, purposeful, each thrust driving you closer to the edge, until you’re teetering on the brink of oblivion.

“Quinn—” You gasp out his name, your voice shaking with the intensity of it all, and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through you like a living thing. His grip on your wrists tightens, the roughness of his touch sending a jolt of pleasure-pain straight through you.

“You’re mine,” he growls against your ear, his breath hot and ragged, and there’s something possessive, almost desperate, in his voice that makes your heart race even faster. “You’re fucking mine.”

And you’re so damn close, so close to falling apart entirely. But there’s still that stubborn part of you, the part that refuses to give in, to let him have all the control. So, you tighten around him, just enough to pull a sharp, choked-off groan from his throat, and you feel a surge of satisfaction as his rhythm falters, just for a moment.

“Fuck, you’re—” Quinn’s voice is hoarse, strained, as if he’s holding onto the last shreds of his control by a thread, and it sends a thrill through you to know that you’re the one doing this to him. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Yeah?” you manage to breathe out, trying to sound cocky despite the tremble in your voice. “Maybe you should—”

But you don’t get to finish the thought, because Quinn shifts his angle just slightly, and suddenly, he’s hitting a spot that has you seeing stars, that has your back arching off the shelves and a cry escaping your lips before you can stop it.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, and you can hear the satisfaction in his voice, the triumph. He’s found your weakness, and he’s going to exploit it for all it’s worth. “Right there, yeah?”

All you can do is nod, biting down on your lip to keep from crying out again as he starts to focus all his attention on that one spot, his movements growing more precise, more deliberate. He’s relentless, driving you closer and closer to the brink, and you can feel yourself starting to unravel, to lose the tenuous grip you have on your composure.

“Quinn, I—” You don’t even know what you’re trying to say, don’t even know if you can say anything at all with the way your breath is coming in short, desperate gasps.

Quinn’s chuckle against your ear is low and dark, the sound a tantalizing contrast to the rough, punishing way he’s moving inside you. “What was that? Didn’t quite catch it over the sound of you moaning my name.”

The arrogance in his voice is infuriating, but it’s also the last thing on your mind right now. Every thrust he gives you is like a jolt to your system, making it harder to stay focused, harder to cling to whatever shreds of control you have left. Your head is spinning, and you’re almost grateful for the way his body is pressed against yours, anchoring you in a whirlwind of pleasure.

You let out a breathless laugh, even as your body betrays you by arching into him. “You’re insufferable,” you manage to gasp out, trying to hold onto some semblance of your usual bravado. “And you’re really bad at this whole ‘being a gentleman’ thing.”

“Is that so?” Quinn’s voice is a low purr, his breath hot against your ear. “Keep telling me how much you hate me. It makes this so much better.”

You roll your eyes, even as a moan escapes your lips, the sound muffled by the way you bite down on your bottom lip. “You’re such a jerk,” you manage to say, though your voice is shaky and breathless, betraying just how much he’s affecting you.

“Yeah?” Quinn’s breath is hot against your neck, and you feel the brush of his lips against your skin, sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. “That’s not what your body’s telling me, sweetheart.”

You grit your teeth, determined not to let him have the satisfaction of knowing just how much he’s getting to you. But it’s a losing battle, and you both know it. Especially when he starts moving faster, his pace relentless as he drives into you with a force that has your entire body trembling.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your fingers digging into the shelves as you struggle to stay upright. “You’re—” Your words are cut off by a sharp cry as he angles his hips just right, hitting that spot inside you again that has your vision going white around the edges.

You don’t have time to think, don’t have time to process the fact that you’re completely, utterly exposed in a storage closet with a man who has made a sport out of driving you insane. All you can do is feel—every touch, every thrust, every ragged breath against your ear is pushing you closer to the edge, closer to losing the last of your control.

“God, you’re so… fucking… cocky,” you manage to choke out between gasps, your voice trembling with a mixture of frustration and desire. “It’s disgusting.”

“Mm-mhm,” Quinn’s voice is a low growl, his words vibrating against your neck as his teeth graze the sensitive skin there. “And you’re just an annoying brat who brushes me off every time I say something nice. But I figured it out, you just wanted me to rail all that attitude out of you.”

You try to respond, to counter his taunts with some biting retort, but all that comes out is a breathless moan as he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming more frantic, more urgent. “Fuck, Quinn,” you gasp, trying to hold onto the last remnants of your control. “You’re—”

He interrupts you with a sharp, possessive growl. “I’m what? Don’t hold back now. Tell me how good it feels.”

Your head is spinning, your thoughts a jumbled mess of desire and frustration. “You’re a complete—” Another moan escapes you as Quinn hits that spot inside you again, making it impossible to form coherent thoughts. “A complete… asshole,” you manage to choke out, your voice trembling.

“And you love it,” Quinn’s voice is a triumphant whisper against your ear. “You love every second of this. Don’t you?”

You can’t even respond, the pleasure overwhelming you to the point where you’re just barely able to hold onto the edge of sanity. All you can do is nod, your body arching into him, your hands still pinned behind your back, completely at his mercy.

“You’re so close,” Quinn murmurs, his voice low and rough. “So fucking close. I can feel it. And I’m going to make sure you get there. I promise.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and you feel yourself starting to unravel, your body trembling with the intensity of it all. Quinn’s movements are relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the brink, until you’re on the edge of a precipice, ready to fall into oblivion.

“Quinn, I—” You try to speak, but the words are lost in a cry as he thrusts into you with a force that has your vision going white around the edges.

Quinn’s grip on your hips tightens, his voice a rough whisper against your ear. “Come for me,” he growls, his breath hot and urgent. “Let go. Give it to me.”

And with those words, you shatter, your body convulsing with a pleasure so intense that it’s almost painful. You cry out his name, your voice echoing through the storage closet as you come apart, your entire world dissolving into a blur of sensation and release.

Quinn follows close behind, his movements growing erratic as he drives into you with one final, powerful thrust. You can feel his release inside you, hot and thick, and it sends a shiver through your entire body. He groans against your ear, his breath ragged and heavy, and you can feel the tension in his body as he finally, finally finds his own release.

The two of you are left panting in the aftermath, your bodies pressed together in the confined space of the storage closet. Quinn’s breath is hot against your ear, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your back.

“God,” he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper. “That was… intense.”

You manage a shaky laugh, trying to catch your breath. “Yeah,” you agree, your voice still trembling. “That’s one way to put it. Now, get off of me. I have to get back to work.”

[crispy-armpit]

✧ 𝓼𝓪𝔂 𝔂𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓮 ✧

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴊᴏᴄᴋ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

(۶ૈ ᵒ _ᵒ)۶ૈ=͟͟͞͞ 🏈

⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘫𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘧. 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴? 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭'𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘺, 𝘓𝘪𝘢𝘮. 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘭.

⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 & 𝘫𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘫𝘰𝘤𝘬, 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘺 𝘫𝘰𝘤𝘬

⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 741 words

⭒ a/n: thank you all so much for the support and appreciation!!! i never expected my story to be so well loved :') i will be uploading yan!rockstar pt.2, yan!sea god, and a masterlist after this one! <3 (god i hate jocks)

will you venture down this path?

pop music blasts throughout the forest, bottles of discarded alcohol litter the ground, and a hundred or so young adults looking to mess up their lives dance around the large bonfire. mid-semester exams have just ended and you and your friends have decided to go to Jean Marley's party.

you are now gathered around a smaller campfire with your friends, sharing stories and laughing alongside them. Jean, the star of the party, suddenly speaks up, "who's up for a game?" a collection of voices yell out their own versions of an agreement.

"alright, let's play... truth or dare!"

"i'm pretty sure this is how horror movies start, yeah?" someone whispers into your ear.

you turn to the direction of the whisper, eyes mere centimetres away from Liam's own hazel ones. a small giggle leaves your lips as you take a sip from your cup, "if this was a horror movie, you'd definitely be the killer." Liam gasps dramatically and clenches his dark varsity jacket where his heart would be.

"you'd suspect me?! agh, how could you—"

"oh, come on! don't you think that'd be a great plot? dumb jock— who's not actually dumb— hunts down all his friends, and seemingly has no reason to do so. why would he? he's rich, popular, and has everything he could ever ask for! it's the perfect plot twist."

"well, I could think of one reason why..."

"oh? and that is?"

he moves in closer, and you could smell the faded scent of his expensive cologne mixed with sweat. his sharp eyes droop ever so slightly as if he was now looking down at your lips.

"he was madly in love with the final girl. so much, he'd murder everyone else just to keep them to himself."

"wha—"

you are interrupted by Jean's voice, "y/n! truth or dare?" confusion hits you until you see the bottle has landed on you. oh.

"dare."

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Liam couldn't fucking believe you. why would you risk your life for a stupid dare?!

there you were, undressing yourself to prepare to jump off the cliff and into the lake. and here he was, watching with the others from a distance. he'd run over to you right now if he wasn't so... breathless.

phones were out, on-lookers recording this moment. you were barely dressed, figure so captivating you looked like a forest nymph dancing through the currents, the round moonlight created a silhouette of your body that further proved his comparison.

if anyone spreads those pictures of you, he's going to kill them.

in that moment, he felt his soul return to the body of his younger self on the first day of high school— he was trying out for the football team, destroying all the other prepubescent boys with no remorse. tryouts had ended and he was now an official member, that's when he first saw you.

you were on the field with your friends. they'd laid out a small picnic mat with books scattered all over them while you danced to the rhythm of a lana del rey song blaring through your phone speakers.

suddenly he knew— he knew all his prayers for a greater purpose in life were answered, you. the lyrics to the love songs his parents danced to in the garage finally made sense.

the mellow flashback was cut short by the sound of a loud splash in the water. you jumped.

panic settles in and he doesn't think before jumping into the lake with you. people cheer on as they take this as a sign to join in the water.

his biceps cling onto your body as he pulls the both of you to the surface. you wipe away any hair and water on your face and smile up at him. he returns your smile and you both swim to the land.

on land, his calloused hands never seem to retract from your waist. it settles itself on the cold, wet surface of your shirt. you can feel the heat radiating off his hands and an electric tingle in your spine.

people gather around your wet bodies and offer you both towels. it could be adrenaline, but you swear you could feel his grip tighten a little too much when others approach you.

Liam continues to stay by your side all through the night. even during the car ride home, his palms never leave your thigh.

guess you'll have a guard dog for a while.

[cassiesc0rner]

Impurities

Synopsis: You’re the new girl at East Highland High, your only goal is to get through school. Until you come across Nate Jacobs

Genre: suggestive, slight angst,

Pairing: Nate x fem!reader

Warnings: manipulation, lying, misogyny, slutshaming, reader has a negative body image/implied body dismorphia, dark themes, slightly suggestive but no smut in this one, let me know if I missed something

Song rec: music to watch boys to - lana del rey

WC: +8.6k (oops)

Other parts: previous part, next part

A/N: This is my first upload on tumblr help?? Also English isn’t my first language so please keep that in mind and be nice :,) feedback is always appreciated!! Currently working on part 2 ᥫ᭡

You were the perfect prey for Nate

You were cute, just so fucking cute that it almost drove him crazy, and so polite during lessons, never refusing anyone anything, whether they asked for a pen, or if they could copy your homework, which you always had ready. In his eyes, you were perfect, the only right choice for him.

He knew you wouldn’t fuck up the way Cassie or Maddy did, you wouldn’t disappoint him like they did.

Sure, your style wasn't his thing at all -not that you dressed awful or anything, you were really into y2k, and just loved wearing baggy jeans or any jeans for that matter, and graphic tops combined with sparkly accessories, chains and rings.

He wished you'd wear something more... feminine, like skirts and cute dresses, that show off your assumingly perfect body, he also wished you'd wear brighter colors.

Another thing he loved about you, was that you were really smart and didn't seem to pay attention to boys at all, which surprised him because he was used to girls being all over boys, only wanting one thing from them and he hated it because they were all so predictable.

But you weren’t.

It also kind of scared him at the same time though, because what if you just really weren't into boys to begin with?

He didn't know much about you except for the fact that you loved music, movies and tv shows. Or at least that's what you said, when you had to introduce yourself to the new class.

It had been just a few days prior that he had broken up with Cassie at that time, but he was sure that in this moment, when you stood there in front of the class, with your trembling hands, shy smile and quiet voice, he was head over heels for you.

You just enrolled to East Highland High, you knew no one yet. That had to be his biggest advantage ever, since you didn't know about any of the bad things Nate has done so far, and no one could take you away from him once he earned your trust. Because why would you trust anyone else more than him?

It was your third day at the new school when he decided to approach you.

During lunch break you sat alone, listening to music as you tried to subtly look around the huge cafeteria, searching for someone else who was alone.

Everyone shared their table with at least two other students, except for you and some other girl that sat alone as well.

You considered approaching her and sitting with her, maybe she was nice and maybe she had other friends? But you decided not to do it, because maybe you'd disturb her or something. You sighed and scrolled through your phone, when you suddenly noticed someone standing in front of your table.

You slowly looked up and noticed it was one of your classmates. You quickly fished one of your earbuds out and stopped the music "Hey.." You said, as you smiled at him. He smiled back at you, the smile genuine as he replied "Hey, can I sit for a moment?" he gestured towards the chair in front of you.

You were confused.

Confused because he wanted to sit with you? Yes, you were new to East Highland High, but this wasn't the first school you ever attended. You could tell who's popular and who isn't.

And Nate Jacobs was definitely popular. He had to be.

Quaterback, extremely tall, and extremely good looking, there was no way he just wanted to sit and talk to someone like you. What if he's gonna bully me? Take my lunch money and beat me up? But that would be absurd.. right?

You nodded before removing the other earbud as well. "What're you listening to?" He asked, genuinely curious "Oh... um... just Lana Del Rey." You said nervously as you looked at your phone, too scared to look him in the eyes.

"Oh cool.. which song?" He'd be lying if he said he knew literally any Lana Del Rey song besides Summertime Sadness and Video Games, but he wanted to know nonetheless. Maybe he'd listen to it at home to check out what kind of music you listen to "It's called..." You hesitated for a moment before finally saying "'Music to watch boys to'" You knew how that sounded.

Nate chuckled once he heard the name of the song and saw your flustered expression "Is that what you're doing? Listening to music while you're watching the boys here?" He joked. You chuckled nervously "No, really that's the last thing I'd do. I'm trying not to look at anyone longer than a second." You smiled as you locked eyes with him for seemingly less than 0.5 seconds.

Nate nodded "Yeah, I can tell." He cleared his throat "Just came over to introduce myself since you're new and everything." He reached over the table, stopping right in front of your phone, inviting you to shake his hand "I'm Nate."

You knew that already, since the two of you had classes together and you paid attention during attendance, to memorize the names of some of your classmates.

You carefully reached over and shook his extremely large hand. "I'm y/n, but you probably know that already." You once again chuckled nervously, thinking back to the painful introduction you went through at each and every new lesson you went to.

"Yeah, right." He nodded, smiling as his mind went there as well. During maths, arts, and English, he was lucky enough to see you introduce yourself over and over again. You slowly retrieved your hand again and Nate couldn't help but feel sad at the loss of contact.

He took a look around the cafeteria before setting his gaze back onto you "So, why are you sitting here all alone?" He asked in a slightly less playful tone "Hm.. I don't know," You shrugged "I guess I just don't know how to approach people." You smiled again.

What Nate had noticed in this short amount of time, is how often you smiled at him, and how you tried to keep that expression.

He didn't only notice it in this moment while he sat in front of you, but also during lessons, whenever someone talked to you, you rarely kept a neutral expression, always a friendly smile on your lips.

You were unbelievably insecure.

Always trying to remain friendly, out of fear of being perceived as unfriendly or unapproachable or anything that could be perceived as negative. He got you figured out faster than you could've imagined.

When he didn't respond, you continued "I actually considered talking to that girl over there, since she's alone as well.."

Nate looked over to the girl you were referring to before smirking and looking back to you "I wouldn't do that." You frowned in confusion "Why? Is she mean or something?" Nate shook his head "She just... doesn't talk, I don't think I've ever seen her talk to anyone before. She always sits alone and stares... into the void or something, even during lessons she barely responds to the teachers." he pointed out.

You sighed "Wow... And I thought I was socially incompetent." He chuckled and shook his head "No believe me, it can always be worse." You nodded and smiled again. Once you didn't reply, Nate continued "But, to be honest, you don't seem socially incompetent at all. You actually seem fun to be around."

You looked up at him again, this time for a bit longer than 0,5 seconds, and raised your eyebrows "You think so?" Nate nodded "Yeah, of course, you don't?"

You thought for a moment am I actually fun to be around? It had honestly been ages since you had actual friends. Sure, you had classmates at your previous schools, who met up with you from time to time. But it never felt like an actual friendship, with trust and sincerity.

You figured that you just weren't easy or fun to be around, that you just bored them eventually, even though you tried to be as fun as possible.

But your parents also played a big role.

Your mom has been strict and didn't want you to go out with friends too much, because she was scared you'd get hurt. She constantly fought with you and your father, because neither you nor your dad shared the same amount of paranoia she seemed to have.

And your dad was constantly moving cities, and even states with the two of you, whenever he had a new, better job offer. East Highland High was probably your third highschool so far, and even if you wanted to stay polite and make friends, you didn't want them to get too close to you, because the moment you had to move it'd be over anyways.

"I don't... know.." You said, and for the first time your smile actually faded. Not into a sad expression, but your smile just seemed to slip, and Nate felt like he got just the slightest bit closer to you.

"I don't really have any friends outside of school, and since I have none here either.." You shrugged again, not sure what to tell him. He nodded "Well.. you have me now, we can be friends." You looked up at him again, your eyes wide. You waited for him to laugh and tell you that all of this was a prank or something, but he didn't.

"Um... Thank you, but you really don't have to do that. I bet you already have plenty of friends." Nate shook his head and said "You can never have enough friends," He had a point, not everyone lived a socially awkward life like you did "besides, as I said, you seem cool to be around." He added.

"Thank you, I'd love to be your friend." You responded with another smile. Nate couldn't believe that he got this close to you in just five minutes, and that you didn't seem to question any of his intentions at all. In his eyes, he didn't only achieve his goals for the day, he also did you a huge favour.

You had someone you could count on, someone to hang out with, you weren’t alone anymore.

Then the doorbell rang, informing everyone that the break was over now.

"Alright, we have maths now, let’s go together, yeah?" He asked as he got up. You nodded and grabbed your phone, stuffing it in your bag before you got up as well.

Two weeks passed after you first talked to Nate, and as it turns out, he really seemed to be your friend.

You went shopping together, spent time mostly at your place, because your mom wanted to keep an eye on him since he was a stranger and most importantly a boy, and you even went to his football game once. You seemed truly happy whenever you were with him.

A little too happy for your own liking.

Because deep down you knew you might have to leave him behind eventually, or that he'd get bored of you at some point.

Not to mention that you, against your own will, developed a small crush on him. But who could blame you when he was the first boy who ever truly cared for you like he did? Or bought you gifts and showered you with affection like he did?

Yeah that was another thing that Nate did. He loved buying things for you.

At first it were just small things like ice cream from the gas station, or snacks from vending machines. But eventually, the gifts got bigger and bigger despite you telling him that you couldn’t possibly pay him back.

Sure, your dad's job did pay him a lot, but you were sure that Nate's dad had to earn at least twice as much for his son to be able to buy that many things.

Last time you two went to the mall and he saw a pair of earrings for more than 200$, he dragged you along with him and showed them to you saying "They'd look so pretty on you." It almost felt like he was your boyfriend.

Usually the girls in the movies you watched would pressure their boyfriends into buying them expensive jewelry, and into spending their money on them, but Nate seemed to be the other way he around.

He was pressuring you into allowing him to spend his money on you.

Just like that day when the two of you went into another boutique, because Nate convinced you that "it'll be fun!", to put it in his words.

The moment you stepped into the boutique, you felt somewhat uneasy. You walked in with your ripped jeans and tank top on, and the only clothes you saw were dresses, skirts, and tops that you'd never consider buying. Not to mention the shoes that they sold, looked nowhere near as comfortable as your sneakers did.

Nate knew that.

He only had to look at your face for a split second to know what you're feeling. You felt like you wouldn't fit in, or like these clothes wouldn't suit you. But he knew how to convince you.

He spent two entire weeks with you after all.

Any normal person would say that's not enough to fully know somebody, but Nate had his ways of finding out almost every insecurity, fear and worry of yours, just by subtly asking the right questions.

And none of them shocked him, since he already figured out that you were socially anxious and insecure.

But he also knew what you needed. You craved someone who loves you and gives you constant reassurance, someone who tells you what to do and who to go out with, like your mom did, because that's all you knew your entire life.

You needed to be loved and touched, craving intimacy with literally anyone, because you never had friends who'd hug you tightly when you were anxious, or hold you close when you needed it, and your parents didn't either.

And he could give you all of that and more, once the time was right.

He also figured that you haven't had a boyfriend yet, or haven't been intimate with anyone yet, and that thought alone made him crave you even more, if that was even possible.

The fact that he would be your first everything, was enough to get him going, and motivated him to show you your true potential.

And he knows that you’d let him.

He always dreamt about how easily you'd let him have his way with you, and how he'd corrupt you. Nate had sadistic thoughts as well, fantasizing about making you cry and beg him for forgiveness for something that wasn’t even your fault.

He also dreamt of leaving marks and bruises all over your body, so that you and everyone else knew you’re his.

But he wouldn't want to hurt you, he knew from experience how bad that could end for him.

And the moment he saw your innocent eyes looking up at him and your smile while doing so, the violent thoughts got replaced with the need to protect you from any man that even just walked near you.

"You okay?" He asked casually before he walked towards one of the racks with skirts. "Mhm.. I just don't think I want to buy anything here, Nate..." You said as you nervously looked down at your feet, feeling bad for possibly disappointing him.

Nate turned around and looked at you "Don't you want to try something on at least?" Before he let you respond, he came up with an idea "How about this, I'll put together an outfit and you can try it on and see for yourself if you like it or not." He asked, but it was more of a demand than a question.

You sighed and looked around the store, noticing that they also had jeans skirts, and a dark red leather skirt that you thought was really pretty. Nate's eyes followed your gaze and he immediately started searching for something he wanted you to try on.

Sure, a jeans skirt might be a good start as well, since it might make you feel a bit more comfortable and at least show off your legs, but the leather skirt was just absolutely slutty in his eyes. He didn't want you to walk around at school -or anywhere for that matter- like that, like you're 'asking for it'.

While you walked towards the two skirts, Nate walked towards another section. He picked out a pastel pink short sleeve top, with a bow in the middle and a sweetheart neckline. He smirked as he imagined you inside the rather tight top, knowing that he's the only guy that would be near you while all the other boys could only dream of being close to you.

He then picked out a pair of black flats, which he knew you wouldn't be opposed to, simply because of the color alone, white stockings and a white and pink plaid mini skirt.

Then he walked over to you, as you still looked at the various skirts. "y/n, your outfit is ready!" Nate exclaimed once he was behind you, and you couldn't help but flinch as he pulled you out of your daydream.

You turned around and looked at his full hands, trying not to grimace at the bright colours. The shoes looked alright however, and where the only dark piece of clothing. "Nate, that won't suit me," you said as he handed you the clothes over "are you sure you want me to try it on?" you didn't even finish the question before he nodded.

You sighed before walking towards the changing room. "I'll wait outside until you're done." he said before you closed the door.

Once it was closed you sighed once more and started to undress. You liked Nate, more than just in a friendly platonic way, and if any other guy would've told you to dress up like that, you definitely would've refused.

But Nate did so many nice things for you, the least you could do was to make him laugh for a bit. Because you already expected that that's what he'll do once he sees you in this outfit.

Once you were left in your underwear you looked into the mirror, feeling insecure. You didn't like your body at all. You just weren't shaped like the girls on the cheer squad, and you also didn't seem to have their proportions. And now you had to wear a skirt that would expose your huge legs and belly.

You felt sick at the thought of Nate seeing you in this outfit. You looked at the skirt and panicked because what if he thought you're skinnier, and he picked the wrong size? You'd have to tell him to get you a size bigger, and it would be super embarrassing.

You put on the top first and gulped when you noticed how tight it was, your chest on display. But you were sure it was supposed to sit a bit tighter. Then you shakily grabbed the skirt and put it on, and surprisingly it closed and sat perfectly fine. Except for the fact that it was quite short.

You then put on the stockings which ended right above your knee, and the shoes. You looked into the mirror again and turned to the side, throwing various poses to check it out from different angles.

And then you frowned, because for some reason the fit looked pretty cute, but... would you actually go out like this? Definitely no- "Are you ready?" Nate asked impatiently. You started to contemplate whether or not you wanted Nate to actually see you like that.

"Um... y-yes but it looks really stupid i'm gonna undress again-""No!" he almost yelled, startling you "Please let me see, I bet it looks good." he rolled his eyes, glad that you couldn't see him behind that door.

He liked that you weren't too confident or too sure of yourself and needed his reassurance, but he really wished you'd actually listen to him right now.

And then you finally opened the door "Come in.." and it really took everything in him to not rip the door open and gawk at you.

He gently opened the door and looked at you, his eyes wandering from your head, which was hung low as if in shame, to your exposed cleavage, to the way the stockings hugged your legs, to your shoes.

He had to control himself or else he'd pop a boner right here, right in front of you, because, god you looked so pretty. With the way your hands were fidgeting again just like the first time he saw you. You looked so shy and submissive under his gaze.

"You look so pretty..." he said in a serious tone, so serious in fact, that you immediately looked up at him. "Really? I feel kinda..." you didn't dare to finish the sentence.

The last time you called yourself fat in front of him, he almost lost it. He got just as serious as he was right now, saying that you looked fine and that there was absolutely nothing wrong with you.

Sure you weren't shaped like Maddy was, and you didn't have the perfect thigh gap, but Nate was aware that you were extremely pretty nonetheless. You were almost perfect, and everything that wasn't perfect would be taken care of.

Like your style.

This was a small step for him but a huge one for you, and it would be an even bigger step for you to dress like that on the daily, but he's sure he can help you with that.

"Seriously, you look absolutely.. wow." he added, and it only got you more flustered. Maybe dressing like this isn't so bad if Nate thinks it's pretty, hell even if he's the only who thinks so, his words affected you more than anything anyone at East Highland High could possibly say. "Wow.. Thank you.."

He cleared his throat and took a step closer, towering over you even more. "You obviously don't have to listen to me,” he lied “but... I personally think it looks better than your usual dark outfits." When you looked back into the mirror he continued "You shouldn't hide behind those… wide pants and loose tops, you should wear more outfits like this and show everyone how pretty you look."

When he saw you smile, he knew he had you where he wanted you. It wasn't just a forced smile, it was a real one, a flustered one. You loved that he found you pretty, even if you couldn't see it for yourself. And he knew how important his opinion was to you.

Hearing his compliments alone made you want to change your style a little, just so that he doesn't change his opinion. "You really think this fits me?" You asked one more time to make sure that he actually meant it.

He nodded eagerly placing his hands onto your shoulders "I promise." He felt like he could melt with the way you were looking up at him "I would never lie to you, you know that, right?" As if in trance you looked into his eyes and nodded.

"Yeah of course." You smiled up at him, feeling so small in front of him. "I'll try to check for cheaper options though, if you don't mind. Maybe something that isn't from an expensive boutique." you chuckled. He frowned instantly before responding "No, keep the outfit, I'll pay for it."

You shook your head right away, thinking back to the expensive things he had bought you already. "Nate, you need to stop spending so much money on me, I mean it. I highly doubt that i'm the only friend you spend that much money on."

Nate tried not to laugh at your statement. Of course you were the only person he spent that much money on.

As if he'd buy McKay, or any of his other 'friends' for that matter, anything above 10 bucks. "Y/n, I promise I’m not spending too much money." You wanted to believe him, but deep down you knew why Nate did all this.

Or at least you thought you did.

He was used to being used for money by his friends, there couldn't be another explanation, it had to be the reason. Why else would he feel the need to buy you, who he saw as his friend, so many expensive things?

"And also I kinda forced you to try it on, it's the right thing to do, trust me." You sighed shaking your head in disbelief "Fine, but you really don't have to, you know that?" He nodded as a smile made its way onto his lips.

He wished he could kiss you right now, but needless to say that wasn't possible yet. He couldn't wait for the day he would finally have you to himself, safe and happy with him. Walking next to you, with your hand in his, he could already imagine Cassie's and Maddy's faces when they see the two of you.

Nate wasn't blind nor oblivious, he saw the way Cassie eyed you like she wanted to murder you, or the way Maddy would shake her head whenever she looked at the two of you walking down the hallway.

Sure he had to come up with a plausible story before one of them could get to you without him noticing, and ruin his perfect plan. He honestly doesn't know what would happen to them if they decided to ruin his plan.

But that wasn't important right now.

What mattered was that you finally owned the perfect outfit, only because of him, and you’d only wear it for him too. You didn't even talk back or hesitate as much as he had expected.

Everything was going according to plan, and it was only a matter of time until you would cave in fully and listen to him all the time.

The next day you got ready for school, and decided to put on the outfit Nate had gotten you the day prior, but combined with a long cardigan to prevent you from flashing anyone at school.

Not to mention your mom who would probably freak out once she saw your outfit for school.

You brushed your hair, and put on the earrings Nate bought you previously. They were beautiful, dangling bows with a small diamond in the middle.

You told Nate he didn't have to buy them for you and that you'd find a cheaper variant online, but he insisted nonetheless.

You wondered what it would be like to be his girlfriend as you applied your lipstick.

Not that you'd actually ever be his girlfriend. He probably wouldn't even consider dating me.. was all you could think. And you also wouldn't ever consider actually dating him.

What if you'd have to move again? It wouldn't only break your heart, but his too.

"Y/n?" Your mom pulled you out of your thoughts as she stood in front of your now open door -because knocking was completely overrated anyways.

She gave you a disapproving look as her eyes moved up and down your frame. You hadn't put on the cardigan yet, so you could only assume what she's thinking. "What are you wearing?" She finally spoke.

You sighed as you looked down at your feet. "Mom I-" She immediately shook her head "Nate told you to wear this, didn't he?" You groaned in frustration, all hopes of avoiding any confrontation now gone.

Your mom scoffed at your lack of response. "Have you seen yourself? You look like..." You raised your head and looked at your mom "Like what?" She crossed her arms and sighed "Like someone else!"

You knew that this wasn't what came to her mind first, but decided not to comment on it. "No one forced me to wear this. I wanted to wear this." Your mom frowned, not believing you one bit.

And even if you wanted to go to school like that, she felt sick at the thought of all the boys seeing her daughter in such an outfit. "Get changed, right now."  Was all she said before turning around and leaving your room.

You stomped after her "I'm going to be late to school if I change now!" you yelled as you followed her into the kitchen where your dad sat, completely unfazed by the argument which was taking place.

"That's your own fault, and don't yell at me like that." She responded, not even looking at you. "Mom, I'm not going to change."

She turned around once she grabbed her mug from the kitchen counter. "Oh but you are already. You are changing, because you would never wear something like this, especially not to school."

"Am I not allowed to change my style once in a while? You never approve of the way I dress anyways so why are you making a big deal out of this now?." She shook her head once again "You don't get it, y/n. You're... changing, as in ‘you’re becoming someone that you’re not’!" you scoffed in disbelief "I'm a teenager, of course I'm changing."

You turned away from your parents, and made your way to the hallway to put your shoes on. Once you reached your shoes you heard footsteps following you "You're really gonna go to school like that?" Your mom asked.

Once you slipped into one shoe you turned around and nodded. "You're grounded young lady, I hope you're aware of that." You slipped into the other shoe as you responded "I've been grounded my entire life, mom. Try harder." you said as you pushed past her to get your backpack.

Your mother just stood in the hallway, completely baffled. But before she could think of anything to say, you left the house already. Quickly making your way to Nate's truck.

Nate loved picking you up from home.

He wished you'd let him pick you up anywhere anytime, no matter where you were, but you only let him pick you up when you both had the same lessons in the morning.

He had told you that he'd pick you up even if you started earlier than him, but you immediately brushed it off.

Once you saw him your frown disappeared and you tried to smile again.

But Nate noticed. He always noticed when you were frowning, and when he saw your outfit he could already imagine what or specifically who made you frown.

To say that Nate disliked your parents would be an understatement. Whenever he would come over to your place, your mom would eye him and make snarky remarks.

Not only that, but she would sometimes enter your room -without knocking of course- every ten minutes to check on you, always with some sort of excuse as to why, just to make sure that the two of you weren't doing anything she would disapprove of.

He couldn't even hug you goodbye when he'd leave because when he did it once, your mom eyed him as if he was hurting you.

And your dad? He didn't know if he hated him even more.

He was barely there when Nate came over, and whenever you'd talk about him you would complain about him never caring about your arguments with your mom. He simply stayed out of it until it would annoy him, then he'd simply tell his wife to 'calm down' and that you 'shouldn't overreact'

And if you still wouldn't stop fighting with her, he'd simply get up and smoke outside or drive off to god knows where.

Having an overbearing mother and an absent father didn't do you any good, he'd gladly just have you move in with him, but his dad was probably even worse to live with than yours was.

"Everything alright?" Nate asked once you stepped inside the car, put your seatbelt on and sighed. You nodded, not looking at him "My mom's just mad at me because I'm wearing this to school today.." you explained as you fidgeted with your skirt.

That's when you noticed that you totally forgot to put on your cardigan in the heat of the moment. You mentally face palmed, knowing that you'd have to walk around like that without being able to hide at least a little bit of your body.

Nate nodded as he started the car. "I'm sorry to hear that... She’s always picking fights with you for no reason..." You nodded as you looked out of the passenger's window.

He looked at your thighs, which were just slightly on display, and fuck he would do everything just to touch them.

He decided to test the waters and reassuringly placed his hand on your thigh. You flinched slightly, not expecting the sudden gesture, but you didn't react in any way, which relieved him a lot.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, yeah? You can always come to my place or call me and I'll be there to pick you up and get your mind off things, alright?" You nodded with a soft smile on your lips.

You slowly turned back to him "Where have you been all my life? I would've needed you way sooner." Nate tried to contain his happiness.

You telling him you needed him, letting him touch your thigh and wearing his outfit? He was sure that he was the happiest man alive right now.

"Yeah, I also wish I could've been there sooner. But I'm here now, and I'm not gonna leave again." he assured. You placed your hand atop his on your thigh and nodded "Thank you.."

Everything was going so so well, until this Jake guy from your arts class decided to speak to you. He must've seen you with Nate, the two of you were almost inseparable after all. Did he have a death wish or something?

The way he looked at you as well, it made him sick.

You didn't even notice it, you were your usual friendly self, telling him something Nate couldn't make out from his seat, two rows behind the two of you. But it couldn't have possibly been funny enough for him to laugh so hard, that he had to place his hand on your shoulder for support.

He never cared much about Jake, never even talked to the guy, but he'd love to beat the shit out of him right now. Only stopping when you tell him to.

But based on your personality, you'd probably stop him right away.

Nate had more than enough however, when the guy still had his hand on your shoulder after ten seconds.

Nate got up, the sound of the chair scraping along the tiles on the floor so loud, that both you and Jake turned around right away.

Nate stared daggers into Jake as he made his way to the two of you, resulting in Jake's eyes widening slightly and him finally removing his hand from your shoulder "Move." was all Nate needed to say for Jake to smile at you one last time before immediately getting up and walking to his friend's desk.

You frowned at Nate not sure what had gotten into him. "Are you mad? Is everything okay?" You asked, worry evident on your face.

He was more than happy that you reacted this way and didn't ask him what the fuck was wrong with him for scaring the poor guy like that.

He shook his head before smiling "Everything's fine don't worry.. Jake's just really flirty with every girl that he sees, I just wanted to protect you." he reasoned.

You frowned, not aware that Jake has ever flirted with any girls in your classes, or you to begin with. He just seemed friendly, but you brushed it off nonetheless, knowing that Nate probably knew him better than you did.

"Wait, you’ve never had a boyfriend?" Nate asked in feigned disbelief, as you two sat in his living room after school one day. You shook your head in response as you waited for Nate to laugh at you.

Except, he didn't.

It only made him happier that you finally confirmed his theory.

He didn't expect you to have any ex-partners, since you told him you never really socialized or had stable friendships with anyone in the past.

He figured you also hadn't been in a relationship as well then. But your confirmation only made him happier. And you didn't seem like the type to just sleep with the next best boy you meet so he figured you also must be a virgin.

And he was eating it up.

Whenever he'd jerk himself off, he’d think about you and how fucking amazing you'd feel around him. How shy you would be in front of him once you two got intimate for the first time.

And after every time he came, he craved you even more. It took everything within him to refrain from picking you up and carrying you in his bed whenever you came over.

But he always told himself that the wait would be worth it.

He'd wait just for you, no matter how long it'd take.

"I just never got to form that kind of connection with anyone, since I barely talk to people.." You said as you played with the hem of your red sundress.

Yeah, you also started wearing dresses.

You told yourself that Nate wasn't the reason for it, but you knew that without him, you would have never considered wearing them in the first place.

You saw the way he looked at that one cheerleader, during one of his games last week and despite the fact that you never wanted to date him, you couldn't help but feel the urge to be... perfect in front of him.

Nate also noticed that.

Before, you'd just wear your baggy jeans to school, preferring comfort over style. But ever since last week, you seemed to constantly wear dresses and skirts.

Not only that, but you also did your best to appeal to him. You wore more make up, you shaved your arms despite not being too hairy to begin with. You pout so much effort into looking even more beautiful than you were already.

He wasn't sure why though, because he didn't push you that much after you went to the boutique. He was praying that you only do it for him and not to impress any other boy at school though.

"Besides, it's useless anyways. Who knows when my father is gonna move again.." You said, suddenly feeling sad as you thought about your life without Nate.

Nate considered that as well.

He didn't like the idea at all and he'd do anything to stop that from happening. To stop your parents from taking you away from him.

Hell, he'd buy you a flat somewhere if he has to, or have you move in with him if that's what it took.

Nate took your hand in his, brushing his thumb over your knuckles "Hey, don't think about that alright? We'll find a solution if that should happen." he said reassuringly.

You nodded, a small smile on your face. You loved it when Nate was affectionate. You seemed to be the only person he was genuinely nice to.

"What about you though? I bet you had plenty of relationships." You grinned, his hand still comfortably wrapped around yours.

Nate chuckled "Yeah I didn't have that many relationships, but the ones I had were… intense." He answered "Oh, that bad?" you asked as you frowned at him.

He was more than glad you asked, because now he could finally tell you about Maddy and Cassie in a subtle way.

Once he was done, you’d never even consider believing them.

He nodded in response "Yeah... I was with Maddy for a pretty long time, do you know her?" he asked, hoping to find out whether she's talked to you or not.

You thought for a moment before nodding your head. "I think she's in one of my classes. Maddy... Perez?" Nate nodded, swallowing hard.

He was hoping you didn't know her, praying that the both of you never cross paths. But that was hopeless considering how popular she was.

"She's.. definitely something." You chuckled dryly as you couldn't help but compare yourself to her.

You didn't stand a chance with Nate if that's his type.

You always thought she was really pretty, and since she was on the cheerleading team, you knew she must be popular too. You always saw her with her group of friends and you admired her style, her beauty, her confidence, everything.

But she always seemed to give you weird looks and now you could imagine why. She probably was still in love with Nate, and didn’t like him having female friends.

Nate noticed the smile on your face falter just a slight bit, and he could only assume that she must've treated you badly that bitch, always causing fucking problems

"What do you mean?" You shrugged, unsure of how to explain it "She just... She's really pretty and I like her style. I wanted to compliment her before but she always gives me this look." You responded, your gaze locked onto the carpet.

Nate frowned at the thought of her.

How dare she even look your way? And how dare she make you feel uncomfortable? He could imagine why she was looking at you though, probably annoyed by how much time you and him spend, and how obedient you were already.

Something she could never do.

"But maybe I'm just imagining things, I might be a bit paranoid.. She's really pretty though, I bet the two of you looked great together.." Nate cringed at your words.

He couldn’t stand her, and the thought of everything he did for her, despite her acting like a bitch all the time, made his blood boil. The sound of her voice alone gave him chills, reminding him of how often she’d yell at him in front of her friends.

He's sure that you and him would look way better together.

"I'm honestly glad we're not together anymore.. She was awfully mean, and just so ungrateful." he sighed as he looked to the ground. "She constantly blamed me for everything when she was clearly at fault, fuck, she even..."

You weren't sure if you've seen Nate so vulnerable before, so hurt and all because of that girl. "…She even cheated on me at a party, in front of everyone, just because we had an argument." your eyes widened.

You did not expect Maddy to be such a bad person. Especially to someone like Nate, he seemed like he'd give his all to the person he loves. He was giving you his all and you weren't even his girlfriend.

You removed your hand from his, and scooted closer to him, wrapping your arm around his firm back and leaning your head against his arm. "I'm so sorry Nate.. you didn't deserve that.." You said as you stroked his back.

Nate suddenly got goosebumps, not expecting you to hug him like that. He was convinced he deserved an oscar for that performance, that's for sure. He leaned into your touch, enjoying how close he was to you, and the sweet scent of your perfume.

"It's alright... I got over it eventually. Sometimes people just disappoint you and you have to learn to live with it." he responded.

Which was an absolute fucking lie.

He still wanted to hurt her for humiliating him like that back at the pool, and he also still prays for her downfall and a chance to humiliate her just as bad.

You lifted your head and looked at him "We don't have to speak about her anymore if you don't want to. I'll even slap her for you if you want." you said half jokingly.

You'd never purposefully hurt anyone, or risk being the center of attention at school. But you just wanted to see Nate happy. He seemed so sad right now and even if he said he's over it, you knew he wasn't.

Nate chuckled before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you flat against his chest "There's no need for that. I'm just glad that you're here right now, you're all I need." He said as he stroked your shoulder.

You tried not to freak out.

The fact that he held you so close and literally told you that you're all he needed made you feel things, you didn't want to feel.

You didn't want to feel like he liked you more than just in a platonic way. You didn't want to get your hopes up, hell you didn't even want to have a crush on him.

You were so sure that you didn't have a chance, especially when he told you who his ex girlfriend was, but then why did he treat you like that? Why did he tell you you were all he needed?

“Do you also know Cassie, by chance?” he asked after a moment of silence. You thought for a moment, before shaking your head. He sighed, both in relief and in annoyance as he remembered her.

“Cassie and I also used to date. But she turned into an absolute psycho after some time. She was totally obsessed with me…” Nate explained before he sighed. “If she ever talks to you, tell me, alright? Same with Maddy, don’t talk to any of them.” he added suddenly very serious.

You nodded in response “What exactly did she do..? If you don’t mind me asking.” You asked carefully, since it seemed to be a touchy subject for him.

“She was.. possessive, unpredictable, and insecure. I was scared of her sometimes I can’t even lie... She just has this insane look in her eyes, at first I didn’t notice it but as our relationship progressed, I couldn’t ignore it anymore.”

Your eyes widened once again. If she really was that possessive over Nate, what if she thinks you two are together? Would she actually hurt you? You swallowed hard at the thought.

Nate observed your reaction, taking notice of how pale you became suddenly He didn't mean to scare you, but he had to warn you, in order to protect you from both of them.

"Jeez, that's... actually scary." you chuckled dryly, not sure how to react to the newfound information. "Don't worry though, I'll protect you from them, you got nothing to worry about." he said as he looked at you longingly.

Would it be too soon to ask you to be his now?

Probably the wrong moment to ask you, since he just told you about his crazy ex girlfriends. But he didn't want to wait any longer, he couldn't wait much longer.

Not when his need for you became stronger and stronger.

Sure, being your friend and spending time with you was amazing. You were sweet, funny and you wouldn't refuse him a thing. But it wasn't enough for him, not really.

He needed to act soon, because it frustrated him more and more each day. Nate just had to catch you talking to a boy from your class and it made him furious.

Not to mention how sexually frustrated he was.

His hand was not enough to satisfy him anymore, he craved so much more and that only caused him to be insufferable at times, unable to relax and always in a bad mood.

He really tried his hardest not to lash out on you like he did on McKay or his teammates. He was sure that if Cassie dared to approach him or you he'd absolutely lose his shit.

“Didn’t know you were home yet.”

You and Nate turned towards the person who just entered the living room in unison. It was Nate’s brother Aaron.

Great.

Nate rolled his eyes and sighed. Why was he home already? “Yeah, school ended earlier today.” He replied drily. He did not want Aaron to interact with you in any way, since he knew how off putting he could be.

“Let’s go,” Nate got up as he looked at you with a cold expression. You knew not to ask any questions when he got like this, so you just nodded and got up from the sofa.

“Woah, who are you? New girlfriend?” Your eyes widened as you laughed nervously “Oh, n-no we’re just really good friends.” You stated as you smiled at his brother.

And it bothered Nate so much. Why were you smiling at him? He knew you only wanted to be polite, but it bothered him because Aaron wasn’t worthy of your politeness or smile.

He wanted to be the only guy you smile at, even though that’s basically impossible with how fucking nice you were.

Aaron smiled back at you, as he playfully tilted his head to the side “That’s surprising, d’you have a boyfriend already?” He asked before he looked you up and down “Because you’re definitely Nate’s type.”

The room fell silent for a moment, mostly because you didn’t know what to say to that at all, and because Nate tried his hardest not to turn into an aggressive asshole in front of you.

You once again chuckled nervously, before you swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling like your heart would jump out any moment. “Um… I don’t have a boyfriend and I’m sure that I’m not Nate’s type.”

You didn’t even know why you said the last part, because you could tell that Nate was fuming more and more with each word you said to him. Before Aaron could respond, Nate did “Alright enough, Aaron, we’ll head upstairs now if you don’t mind.”

Aaron sighed exaggeratedly “That’s too bad, I really enjoyed the company of…?” he said as he looked towards you now “Y/n.” You responded, and Aaron nodded “Y/n, go ahead, you know where my room is.” Nate commanded.

You really wish it didn’t, but his demanding tone and sudden change of persona really did something to you. It excited you in a way.

You nodded and walked towards the hallway, where Aaron was standing. Before you could pass him though, he moved in front of you, looking down at you with a predatory grin “You know, if Nate doesn’t want you, I’d be totally down-”

Your eyes widened in response as you heard Nate stomping towards the two of you.

Nate had more than enough by now, “Shut the fuck up already!” He almost yelled. Aaron chuckled “I was just joking around why’re you so mean in front of your cute little friend?” He mocked before smirking at you again.

Nate turned towards you, this time even more irritated “Go upstairs, now.” You gulped and finally moved towards the stairs again, quickly making your way up.

You were sitting on Nate’s bed as you could hear his deep voice downstairs and you were sure he’d actually beat his brother up. You couldn’t make out what he was saying except for a very loud “Stay the fuck away from her!”

You didn’t have to wait for long until Nate entered the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He eyed you with a mixture of possessiveness and longing but also with a hint of softness.

His mind was currently occupied with fantasies about fucking you on his bed, while you moan about how good he feels, and how he’s the only one you need, while his brother is forced to listen to your moans that echo through the entire house. Knowing he could never be lucky enough to be in his spot.

He wondered if you’d be into that? If you had this corrupt side that no one knew about. Maybe you fantasized about him as well?

“Sorry about my brother, he’s a fucking asshole.” Nate stated as he walked towards you. “I hope he didn’t make you feel too uncomfortable..” He added as his gaze softened.

You shook your head, your signature smile on your lips “No, don’t worry. Are you okay though? I hope you guys didn’t fight too hard..”

He loved how considerate you were despite everything that happened. Despite Nate being somewhat rude to you earlier, and his brother making you uncomfortable, you still cared for Nate.

“No, not much more than we usually do, don’t worry.” He sighed as he plopped down on the bed next to you. “Wanna watch a movie?” He asked as he tilted his head to the side. You smiled and nodded in response.

Nate turned his TV on and grabbed the remote before he plopped down onto his bed again. He scooted towards you, wrapping his arm around you and you could’ve sworn you’ve never felt more at peace than in moments like these. Nestled against him, comfortably on his bed.

And Nate felt the same way, if not even more at peace.

You were his escape from his fucked up family just as much as he was yours, and you were the only one he truly cared for besides himself. He couldn’t wait until he could finally call you his.

In his eyes you were his already, from the moment he first laid eyes on you. And he’s come so far, molded you into perfection. There’s no way he’d let you go.

All that was left now, was to make you officially his.

✎ Thank you so so so much for reading I hope you liked it :3 again don’t be shy to give me honest feedback, likes and reblogs are appreciated!! ♡

- Cassandra

[goldberrg]

surely "bestfriends"

summary : You and Billy have been best friends for a while, but when he comes over unexpectedly.

TW's – cursing, sex (in details)

The end of your pencil tapped against the edge of your desk, the side of your head resting on your hand. Your leg bounced to the same rhythm as your pencil, while you listened to your teacher finish up telling you guys about a project. You were all reading "Pride and Prejudice", or at least had read it, and now needed to do the final project for it. You were aloud to work in groups of up to four, but you knew you'd only be working with one person – your best friend, Billy Hargrove.

Billy's step-mom, Susan, and your own mother were close friends. They worked together, and when you had been invited over for dinner the first week they moved to Hawkins, you and Billy had clicked. The two of you spent most of the night in his room, flipping through his vinyl's and helping him hang up his posters. You couldn't help but mock him about the clichè Playboy posters he had, and all the random crap in his room. But the two of you hit it off, becoming close friends quick.

And now he was your partner for every english assignment, art project, and science project. Those were the three classes you shared together. The first time you tried pairing up with someone other than him, a girl named Cheryl, he didn't speak to you for three whole days. Even when he drove you to and from school, he blared his music so loud your ears rang for hours afterwards.

Only after the project was over, and you showed up at his door with two tickets to see a movie.

Once your teacher had finished giving out her information and instructions, the class dispersed to get with their groups or partners. You leaned your head back, already finding Billy getting up from his seat behind you. He tossed his backpack onto the now-vacant desk beside yours, slamming his body into the chair with a grunt. This was your cue to get up and go get the poster board you would need for the project. You returned with a plain, white board compared to the other varying colors of purple, green, blue and red.

— Get your gross feet off the desk. — you ordered, glaring down at Billy since your hands were preoccupied. Billy rolled his eyes, but complied and removed his feet, the legs of the chair falling back onto the floor.

— Alright, doll, what's the plan? — Billy questioned, reaching into your backpack and pulling out your personal copy of the book. You'd already read the book various times throughout middle school and early high school, so you and Billy switched off borrowing your book.

— I figured I'd paint the board, sort of like a collage. Have different things on it. — you explained, looking down at him from the other side of the desk.

— Sounds good to me. We have two weeks, right? — he asked, quirking an eyebrow up at you.

— Yup, so if you don't finish the book by then, I'll kick your fucking ass. — you hissed, watching as he paused his skimming through the book.

— What?

— There weren't any lions in the book, jerk. You have two days to finish it. You're three fourths done, because that's how much we've read together, so you can finish a hundred pages by Thursday. — you sighed, rolling your eyes.

You walked over and sat in your own chair.

— Yeah, yeah, alright Your Highness. — he grumbled, closing the book and tossing it on top of the poster. — What else? We're doing the whole 'main characters, theme, plot, climax' stuff, right?

— Of course that's the only word you'd remember. — you grinned, shoving his shoulder as he laughed. — The dramatic structure, yes. And all the other stuff. We'll split it up. — you said, putting the book away. — You're coming over after dropping Max off, right? — you asked, standing up.

— Yeah. Most likely around 4:00. — he said, standing up as well when the bell rang and slinging his bag over his shoulder. — Let's go, doll.

Once Billy dropped you off at home, you laid the poster board on your bed and your backpack by your desk. You decided to shower and change into comfy clothes before Billy came over, after all you had about an hour. So you grabbed a pair of skull pajama pants and a big shirt, before heading into the bathroom. You turned the water on high, stripping off your clothes from the day, leaving you in your underwear. Grabbing your moms essential rose oil, you dropped a couple drops into the shower before leaving it slightly unopened on the rack next to the shower. The smell would help relieve the tension of the day, and get you focused for schoolwork. Finally, you took off your bra and underwear, stepping in.

The hot water hit you in the face, and you welcomed it. Scrubbing your face, you made sure to get your mascara and concealer off so that when you got out you wouldn't look horrifying. You let the water travel to your hair, smoothing it down your shoulders. Steam filled up the bathroom, the smell of rose invading your senses.

The roaring of the water was so loud that you didn't hear your front door open or Billy shouting for you name.

Billy pulled up to your driveway, hopping out of his car and heading up to the front door. Max had been dropped off at Mike's, not Dustin's, so it was a lot closer than he thought. He decided not to stop at home afterwards, and just head straight to your place. So he got there around 3:20, rather than 4:00. Not that big of a deal.

Banging on the door, Billy waited a minute or two for you to answer. When you didn't, he tried again, but louder. After the third time, Billy just barged in, rolling his eyes at the fact it was unlocked.

— Hey! Y/N? — he called out, hearing the shower running. Kicking his shoes off by the door, Billy tossed his jacket onto the back of your couch. He didn't hear a response from you, so he headed towards the bathroom. Knocking on the door with his knuckles, he leaned against the frame.

— Come in! — Billy's eyes shot open, looking at the closed door in shock.

As you were putting shampoo into your hair, you heard a knock on the bathroom door. You looked over at it through the glass doors, thinking of who it could be. Your mom wouldn't be home until later, and an intruder wouldn't fucking knock. So you probably lost track of time, and it was Billy.

— Come in. — you called out, not minding if he did or not. The glass walls were textured and opaque so he wouldn't be able to see anything porn-worthy.

And the two of you had paraded around in front of each other with your underwear on before, it wasn't much different. There was a pause before the door creaked open, and the outline of Billy came in.

— Sorry I'm early, doll. — he said, his voice darker than normal. — It didn't take as long to drop Max off. And I figured I'd stop by right after to get a head start on the project, maybe hang out for a while. I didn't realize you'd be naked.

— It's fine. — you laughed, opening the door slightly so you could poke your head out. He was sitting on the sink counter, shirtless. Every other girl in Hawkins was wet for Billy Hargrove, how could they not be? And of course you fell into that category. But you couldn't express it like they could, even though you were closer to him than they were. A few times a week, you'd find your hand sneaking down your underwear, his name leaving your mouth as you writhed against your sheets.

— Don't take too long, alright? — Billy pleaded, when he looked up and saw you looking out of the shower. His cheeks were red, but you passed it off as the hot steam. — Why the hell does it smell like roses in here? There aren't any flowers. — he questioned suddenly, lifting his nose in the air and diverting his eyes away from your wet neck.

— It's my momma's rose oil. I use it to relax. — you said, a 'duh' tone to your voice as you closed the door. — And I'll take however damn long as I please.

— Course you will. — Billy grumbled, and you smirked to yourself. You washed away the shampoo as Billy fired off more questions. — Why do you need rose oil to relax? Doesn't that burning water help?

— Not entirely. It helps my muscles from being hunched over all day, and the steam helps with my nose. But the rose oil adds the extra flare. It's rejuvenating.

— Rejuvenating? The hell's that supposed to mean? — Billy ridiculed, hopping off the counter and moving closer to the door so he could hear you better over the shower.

— It's like... I don't know Billy! — you huffed, opening the door suddenly and popping your head out. You were startled when you came face-to-face with him, noticing the way his eyes darted down to your nearly exposed chest and back up. — It helps with headaches, my skin if I apply it directly onto it, and the smell is just nice. Don't you think? It's just fucking relaxing. Unlike you right now. It's amplified in the shower, so I apologize if you're not getting the full treatment. — you snapped, getting frustrated. Having Billy so close in an intimate setting was rough, especially when you couldn't touch. It was like a goddamn museum, you can look, drool and adore. But if you touch, you're getting arrested.

— I'm getting the full treatment just fine, baby. — Billy snickered, leaning closer to you as his eyes dragged up and down your hidden form. Your face heated up, and you shot your hand out, shoving his face back.

— Pff, yeah right, Hargrove. — you scoffed, closing the door and diving under the water. Your breathing was heavy and you tried to mellow it out by focusing on your conditioner.

— You still with that Caden guy? — Billy suddenly asked, his voice now on the other side of the doors, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

— No, I broke it off two weeks ago. Remember? He couldn't decide if he wanted me or Jenny more, even though he was fucking her the whole time.?— you laughed dryly, running the conditioner through your hair as you shook your head at the memory.

— Good. — Billy muttered, but you still caught it. — You could do so much better than him.

— Yeah? — you laughed, shaking your hair to even out the conditioner. — Like who, you?

— Exactly like me. — you stopped, and turned to the end of the doors. There was an audible zipping sound, causing your heart to speed up.

— That so? And what makes you think that, Billy? — you called out, biting your lip and turning to face the water again, washing out the conditioner, in hopes of calming yourself. Your heart hammered against your chest when you heard the shower doors open, as if it was about to leap out of your throat. You didn't turn around however, opting to close your eyes as the water hit your face.

— Cause. — he replied simply, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

Your eyes shot open as rough hands gripped at your hips, spinning you around. Your arms collided with Billy's chest, your head tilting up to look at him. His blond hair was beginning to stick to his face, and his blue eyes stuck out more than ever against the tiles. You weren't given anymore time to admire him, because his lips were on yours instantly. Both of you were swallowing water, your lips pushing against each other desperately. Billy walked the two of you backwards carefully, making sure you didn't slip, until your back hit the wall. You were now out of the harsh spray of the water, and you broke away to gasp for clear air.

— Are you.. — you attempted to ask, not wanting him to regret this, and have the friendship ruined.

— Yes, yes I'm sure, Y/N. — Billy said, not giving you the chance to finish. His hand reached up, pushing your wet, dark hair out of your face before leaning back down to capture you in another demanding kiss. Your fingers tangled in his damp curls, tugging slightly when his hands gripped your waist tightly.

Billy moved his hands under your thighs and crouched, indicating you to jump, and you did. Your legs tightened around his waist for dear life, knowing that if either of you gave out it'd end in a naked hospital trip.

— Fuck. — you moaned out, breaking the kiss as his cock rubbed against your pussy, tilting your head back. Billy ducked his head, attaching his mouth to the center of your throat, biting the thin flesh before sucking it. You whimpered, moving your body up and down the slick wall slightly, giving the both of you more friction. His nails dug into your ass, pinning you to the wall so you couldn't move.

— Don't do that, princess. — he warned lowly, vibrating against your throat. You could feel the occasional pulse of his cock against you, and you wanted nothing more than for it to be in you. Whether it was your mouth or pussy, you didn't care. You just wanted it.

— Billy, please. — you whined, after having waited patiently for him to finishing sucking on your neck.

— What do you want, baby. — he growled, pulling back to look up at you. You didn't answer him, instead you held onto his shoulders tightly so you could unwrap your legs without death. Once your feet were safely on the ground, you flipped the two of you, so his back was against the wall and your back was facing the water. Giving him a smirk, you kissed the corner of his mouth before getting on your knees. Billy's tongue darted out, licking along his lips while looking down at you, his hand running through your wet hair. Grabbing his dick in your hand, you pulled at it a few times, twisting your hand along the base. Leaning down, you gave the tip a few kitten licks, gathering the pre-cum onto your tongue. Looking up at Billy, you waited until his eyes fluttered closed before taking the beginning of his dick into your mouth.

— Ugh, Y/N. — Billy grunted, his hold on your hair tightening. You smiled internally, licking the underside of his cock, and then left to right in order to ease your mouth farther down. It took a few minutes, but soon enough the tip had gone past your tonsils. Your eyes were watering, and saliva was dribbling out of the edges of your mouth. Billy's hips bucked against your mouth, his tight grip on your hair giving you a steady rhythm. Continuous moans streamed out of his mouth, and eventually you were roughly pulled off of his dick.

— Not yet, baby. — he said, more so to himself than you. You understood what he meant, and grinned in satisfaction. Putting his finger under your chin, Billy guided you to stand up. Holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger, Billy pulled you in for a slower, more passionate kiss. Your hands rested on his chest, relishing in the warmth of the water and his body. His free hand traveled down the small of your back, tickling you as he went, before gropping your ass.

— Billy.. — you gasped, your voice breathless. You grinded yourself against him again, growing impatient. You looked into his eyes, chewing on your bottom lip to keep in your needy whines. Billy simply smirked down at you, fully aware of what it was you wanted – no, needed.

— Hmm? — he hummed, a wicked grin on his face. You let out an impatient huff, ducking your head to harshly bite at his shoulder. Billy hissed out, the hold on your ass tightening before it released. You thought he was just gonna move you two, but instead he brought his hand down in a harsh slap.

— Ah, Fuck. — you cried out in shock, arching your back.

— Don't bite. — he warned, and then he finally pushed your body against the wall on the side, the cool tile instantly calming down your burning ass cheek.

— Then fuck me already, you jerk. — you snapped, running your thumb over the bite mark on his shoulder. Billy's eyebrow rose at your bold statement, and you simply grinned up at him. His fingers ran down your stomach, tracing at your curves and marks of imperfections. He kept eye contact with you as his middle and ring finger dipped between your folds, slowly dragging from your entrance to your clit. Your body jumped at finally being touched, a sigh leaving your mouth. His thumb rolled around your nub, your hips jerking occasionally, while his middle finger worked it's way inside you. A small grunt sounded in your throat, and you held onto Billy's shoulder, leaning your head against the wall. Once his middle finger was in to the knuckle, he pushed in his ring finger and began pumping them in and out of you, curling them.

— Ugh. — you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulder. Billy started kissing his way around your jaw, neck and chest, occasionally licking your nipple for fun. He added his forefinger after a minute, another moan escaping. You bit your lip, hard, holding in another whimper.

— Why are you being so quiet, princess? It's just us. — he mused, biting at your earlobe.

— I don't wanna boost your ego. — you snickered, yelping when his thumb pressed down on your clit and his fingers dug inside you even more.

— Yeah, well. — he laughed, shaking his head. — You can't hide the sounds you're making down here. — he snickered, slowly pulling his three fingers out of you and bringing them to his mouth. His tongue moved between his fingers, licking your juices and the shower water off of them. You watched, mesmerized.

Once his fingers were cleaned to his liking, he gripped the back of your thighs, having you jump up again. He gave you a nod, questioning if you were ready or not. You nodded yours quickly, having been ready for this for months. Aligning his cock with your entrance, Billy didn't have the ability to ease himself in because of your guys positions. So with one quick thrust, he was inside you, his hand splayed out against the wall and the other gripping your ass.

— Fuck. — you screamed, throwing your head back, crying out when it hit the wall. Billy was big, bigger than his three fingers. Your arms pulled him closer, trying to even out your breathing and relax your muscles around him. Billy didn't move, small moans being breathed into the crook of your neck.

— I'm sorry, doll. — he whispered, knowing it hurt. You didn't have lube or a condom, and not much preparation.

— No, no, don't apologize. — you said quickly, squeezing yourself around him to emphasize. — It's fine. You can.. you can start.

Billy removed his head to look at you, but when you gave him a nod he started moving. He thrusted slowly, not wanting to lose his grip on you or push your body. Both of you were breathing heavily, and you moved your body along his, matching his thrusts with your own.

— God. — he moaned, pulling his cock farther out before slamming back in, continuing the movement over and over again. Your nails scratched their way over his shoulder blades, biceps, back and anywhere they could reach. The pain was decreasing as the thrusting went on, and when Billy moved you slightly to the left, slamming back in, your eyes shot open.

— Holy fuck, right there, Billy! — you shouted out, arching yourself into him.

Billy smirked up at you, licking his bottom lip and doing as you said. He quickened his pace, no longer hearing your hisses of pain, and thrusted into you quickly. The sound of his skin slapping against yours, as well as the sound of your back hitting the wall, echoed throughout the bathroom, overpowering the shower.

— Ugh, god. — Billy grunted, throwing his head back. — I can't hold out much longer, Y/N. — he moaned, looking down at you just as you opened your eyes to look at him.

— I'm close too. — you whimpered, hiking yourself higher up on the wall, screaming out when his cock hit the spot again, but deeper. — Fuck, fuck, fuck. — you moaned, a streamline of curse words leaving your mouth. — Billy, I'm.. — you tried to warn him, but a high pitched moan escaped before you could finish as the heat in the bottom of your stomach exploded. A wave of warmth washed over you, your toes curling and your thighs squeezing around Billy, pulling him closer. You mouth fell open, letting out a small, quiet gasp as you orgasmed.

Billy pulled out quickly, feeling his own orgasm wash over him, and his hot cum sprayed over your stomach and the tops of your thighs. Your head fell to his shoulder limply, your body slipping down the shower wall, as it shook from your orgasm. You could see your thighs wiggling, and Billy gently lowered you to the floor. When the cold shower water hit you, you welcomed it, letting the cum wash off of you.

— Hey. — Billy whispered, his arms wrapping around you from behind. — This isn't a one time thing. I want you to be mine.

— Good. — you grinned, a giddy feeling coming over you, more intense than your orgasm. You turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. — Let's go take a nap, that project can wait until later.

[fryingpan1234567]

some CHB headcanons

every cabin has LEDs around the inside, but there’s a constant battle over what color they are

Percy has his rippling back and forth from teal to blue and it looks like light dancing through water all over his walls and floor

the Apollo cabin can usually settle for orange and yellow as a common ground

the Aphrodite kids have a different color for each time of day and sleep with pink on the lowest brightness setting

the Hermes cabin has like ten different strips and they’re all constantly shifting

Demeter cabin’s shifts with the seasons

ANYWAYS MOVING AWAY FROM THE LEDS

they have movie nights, which I will talk about in a different post

before everybody goes back to school, the Aphrodite and Hecate cabins have a massive salon at the end of the summer with new haircuts and magic hair dye and outfit recommendations and fake but enchanted sturdy nails and a whole bunch of other stuff and basically it’s a week straight of spilling hot tea between everyone in camp

if someone asks where a camper got their hair done when they get back to school they just go “oh, um… summer camp.” and their friends will snort and be like bro isn’t summer camp the opposite of a makeover?? but they get no argument, just a shrug and a half smile

when I tell you pride month over there is a fucking riot

because Mr. D is in on it, right?? because he’s the god of gender?? and Chiron is aroace and has been raising dumbass gay heroes for literal centuries?? PLUS the sheer fucking amount of queer peeps up in there?? dude yeah

cabins competing for who shows the most pride

Demeter’s roof is covered in rainbow flowers

Hecate’s is enchanted to emit actual light in whatever flag colors of whoever uses the front door, even when they’re straight (it’s just a rainbow)

Percy collects a bunch of shed scales from the hippocampi at the bottom of the lake and then puts them all over his cabin

I could make a whole post about CHB pride but

every single Apollo kid is also a theater kid fight me

Rachel Elizabeth Dare painted a skateboard for Percy’s birthday and he brings it everywhere now, it even sits in his backpack at school

Leo, Annabeth, Percy, and Piper fucking love horror movies. Frank, Hazel, and Jason fucking hate them. They watch through their fingers, if at all

Piper loves the band Surfaces with all her heart, but she also is a die hard Green Day and P!ATD fan

Jake Mason is covered in burn scars up to his neck, just like Deadpool, just not bald lol

Hephaestus and Apollo kids faintly radiate warmth (like more so than a normal person)

the Stolls sometimes stay at camp year-round because their mom is off on international missions that are too high-risk for them to help with

the seven are AVID Smash Bros players

really everyone but

not as many people go to the Athena campers for help with homework as you might think, but whenever anyone does, they’re happy to help

the sun chariot blasts music at a frequency only the Apollo kids can hear, so their life kind of has a shitty soundtrack that consists of a mix of Broadway, Queen, modern stuff, and random bits of Beethoven every now and then

the Romans swear on few occasions

the Greeks know when to swear and when to be polite

the Valhalla peeps swear unbridled and all the time

the Egyptians never swear (in English)

for the longest time, Will Solace thinks the only gift from his dad is his healing prowess— which is obviously great, but he expresses being upset over the fact that he’s not very good at archery

well, considering this is the dumbass who didn’t bring a weapon to actual fucking Tartarus, Nico drags him to the weapon shack thing immediately afterwards and made him pick something out

he's immediately drawn to the Celestial Bronze shotgun.

Nico’s just like “what in the redneck shit did you just pick up” and Will jokingly aims it at his chest and grins and says “you know I’m from Texas, right?”

that’s how they find out Will is one of the damn best marksmen in Greek demigod history

some of the Disney nerds in the Apollo cabin sing What Once Was Mine to the little ones who need bandaids for knee scrapes and give them lollipops afterwards

Percy Jackson absolutely used to make poverty and struggle meal jokes all the time, but he got weird and concerned looks for it at CHB, so he kind of just stopped. But one day, aboard the Argo II, the PERFECT opportunity came up and he just HAD TO and as per usual— everyone else looked at him like he’s crazy— but Leo laughed so hard chocolate milk came out of his nose and that’s the story of how the two of them became Best Friends

[ronance4everbrainrot]

Some moooore little incorrect quotes from Descendants! This is gonna be a long one, sorry not sorry.

(with ships)

Audrey: *kisses Uma*

Uma: !

Audrey: ...Did you steal my chapstick?

Uma: Did- did I what?

Audrey: My chapstick, Uma. Did you steal it?

Ben: Audrey, for the love of God, not this again.

Uma: I- No, I didn't steal your chapstick. We use the same chapstick.

Audrey: No, there is absolutely no way we use the same chapstick, because it was only sold on one Etsy shop two years ago and they discontinued it, and I loved it so much that I bought the last of their stock, and I keep it in my freezer so it doesn't go bad. It's been discontinued for three years. No one uses the same chapstick for three years. So unless you've been eating a whole fuck ton of something that's flavored like chocolate and popcorn, you absolutely stole my fucking chapstick.

Uma: Chocolate and popcorn?

Ben: Why do you think it got discontinued?

(WHY IS THERE NO YELLOW! I DON'T WANT TO MAKE BEN BLUE! I ALREADY HAVE SO MANY BLUE ONES! Also slay and wtf? What a great start)

---

Ben: Do you think I'm plastic?

Audrey: No.

Ben: Phew. Oka-

Audrey: Plastic, at least, has some use in life. You're not plastic.

(Damn. What did he do to yo-..oh.. right.. yeah. I've also decided to make him Orange because it's close to yellow)

---

Ben: War is heck!

(facts)

---

Chad, to Ben: If my dad doesn't say "I'm King of the world" within an hour on that boat, I will give you my next pay check.

Charming, within 5 minutes of getting on the boat: I'M KING OF THE WORLD!!!

(Absolutely. Canon)

---

Audrey: God, if only someone loved me…

Uma: *standing behind them with roses*

Ben: *holding box of chocolates*

Chad: *has balloons and a card*

Mal: *facepalms* This is sad.

(Me: *holding a big Teddy Bear* lol I had a crush on her only in the Third movie. Loved her Queen of Mean Era)

---

Chloe: So, what is Red to you?

Maddox: The reason I wake up every morning.

Chloe: ...That’s adorable.

Red earlier that morning, barging into Maddox's room, smacking pans together: WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!!!

(They've got this sibling bond)

---

Chloe: Are pigeons drones?

Chad: What? No, I'm trying to sleep.

Chloe: Think about it. How come you've never seen a baby pigeon? And why do you never actually see a pigeon nest? Because they're DRONES!

Chad: *Crying* Please let me sleep...

(Sibling sleepover. Also Chloe, your Mary Anne is showing)

---

Red: I intend to stay pissed at you forever.

Red: Even if I seem helpful.

Maddox: Then you're in luck.

Maddox: Because you don't.

(Canon)

---

Uma: Hello all, it is I, your favorite person.

Carlos: Actually, Jane is my favourite.

Uma: Okay then, it is I, that bitch.

(Yup and I love you. Carlos and Jane✨🫠)

---

Evie: I love making parties more interesting by telling strangers “I want you to know that I personally have no problem with you being here.”

(Sweet and dangerous. Perfect.)

---

Uma: Evie said its my turn with the brain cell.

Mal: Square up.

(lol. Canon.)

---

Uma: What starts with F and ends with Uck?

Chad: No it doesn't.

Jane: Firetruck!

Mal: FUCK!

(Mal speaks my mind. Jane is smart and Chad got the spirit. He's not wrong tho.)

---

Jay: Good morning. As you begin your day, remember that violence is always an option and often the answer.

Carlos:

Jay:

Carlos: ...Please, go back to bed.

(Jay loves to annoy everyone. Mostly Mal.)

---

Carlos: I can do anything I put my mind to. I once figured out Jane's phone number just by choosing random numbers.

(..why didn't you just ask? But also impressive)

---

Chad: What's the scariest horror movie you've ever watched?

Chloe: IT.

Dizzy: Annabelle.

Maddox: Paranormal Activity.

Red: High School Musical. All throughout high school I was scared that everyone was gonna randomly get up and start singing and dancing, and I would be the only one who doesn't know the words.

(Honestly just did this because Kylie was in the HSMTMTS. Honestly. They do that in Auradon too. So watch out)

---

Red: Why is it so hard for you to believe me?!

Chloe: ...

Red: Oh, right. The lying.

(Has she ever lied to Chloe? I don't think so. But I find the quote funny)

---

Evie: A mouse!

Mal, pulling out a knife: Go back to where you came from or I'll stab you.

Jay, pulling out a frying pan: It'll make a nice meal!

Carlos, giving the mouse cheese: You deserve a treat, little guy.

Gil, gasping: It's Ratatouille!

Harry: His name is Remi, dummy.

Evie: ...I was going to say to just trap it and throw it out the window... what is wrong with you people.

(um.. yeah.. you know what-)

Chloe: A mouse!

Dizzy, pulling out a knife: Go back to where you came from or I'll stab you.

Celia, pulling out a frying pan: It'll make a nice meal!

Maddox, giving the mouse cheese: You deserve a treat, little guy.

Chad, gasping: It's Ratatouille!

Red: His name is Remi, dummy.

Chloe: ...I was going to say to just trap it and throw it out the window... what is wrong with you people.

(just some family time)

---

Chad: Sometimes I like to call people by the wrong name to show them I don’t care about them.

Red: That’s brilliant.

Chad: Thank you, Maddox.

(yeah)

---

Jay: Everyone has a toxic trait. Except Carlos, they’re perfect.

Carlos: Wrong! My toxic trait is how badly I want to domesticate a raccoon.

(Facts. He is perfect)

---

Red: Hold the fuck up.

Chloe: Excuse me?

Red: I said hold the fuck up.

Chloe:

Red: I’m the fuck up, hold me.

(Aww...canon.. I mean she's not a fuck up. Maybe in her mother's eyes. But aww)

---

Jay: You know, there’s something weird going on with your face?

Mal: What?

Jay: You’re smiling! I didn’t know you could do that?

(Because she and Evie finally got together. UwU)

---

Evie: How do you tell someone their breath stinks?

Jay: Hey, I'm bored, let's drink mouthwash.

(He definitely did that with his teammates)

---

Jay: You look like a corpse that was just pulled out of the river.

Evie: Wrong. I look like a cool rock star who just OD'd in their own pool. Big difference.

(Oof. Do I want to know?)

---

(Little surprise from the past)

Charming: Care to give a free sample to a pretty person?

Ella, manning a bake sale and tired of their shit: Sure! You know one?

Charming:

Charming: Care to give a free sample to an ugly person?

(he's trying)

---

Brigdet: I have a question.

Ella: Shoot.

Bridget: Is the S or C in scent silent?

Hook: Fuck you, I’m going to be thinking about this all day.

Ella: Okay well, cent is pronounced the same way as scent so I’m gonna say the S is silent.

Bridget: Okay, but sent is also spelled the same way.

Hook: Google says that the C was added in the late seventeenth century, so I guess the S is silent.

Morgie: Plot twist, both the S and the C are silent and the E actually makes the sss sound.

Hook: Morgie is not allowed to talk anymore.

(Just them having a double date)

---

Bridget: Made you all playlists!

Bridget: Hades and Maleficent, yours have only heavy metal, and is dark like your soul.

Bridget: Ella and Uliana, yours have sad songs and blues to pair with your crippling depression.

Bridget: Charming, Morgie and Hook have the ABBA Gold album.

(she knows them well)

---

*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*

Ella: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.

Everyone:

Bridget: ...I did. I broke it.

Ella: No. No you didn't. Uliana?

Uliana: Don't look at me. Look at Morgie.

Morgie: What?! I didn't break it.

Uliana: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?

Morgie: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.

Uliana: Suspicious.

Morgie: No, it's not!

Hook: If it matters, probably not, but Maleficent was the last one to use it.

Maleficent: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!

Hook: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?

Maleficent: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, James!

Bridget: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, Ella.

Ella: No! Who broke it!?

Everyone:

Hook: Ella... Hades has been awfully quiet.

Hades: rEALLY?!

*Everyone starts arguing*

Ella, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it.

Ella: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.

Ella:

Ella: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

(Damn Ella)

---

Bridget: It’s just that lollipop sticks last longer than the head, even if they’re less flavorful. I’m thinking of paper sticks, because you can peel off the layers with your teeth or leave it there until they fall off naturally, but plastic sticks can be chewed on too or left sticking out like a cigarette. Paper straws can be eaten layer by layer over time though, so they have the edge.

Morgie, bored: Can’t we just leave while they’re distracted?

Ella, genuinely interested: But what about wooden sticks?

Morgie: I hate you.

(No. It doesn't taste good and it's flaky? I don't like the paper ones. I like the plastic ones. Love to chew on them, tastes neutral ig idk. Wooden sticks tho. Taste great. And you can chew on them. But they break easily and you could get a splinter I think? But still Wooden wins for me. Plastic second and then paper)

---

Hope you liked it!

This was a bit longer.

Sorry not sorry.

Byeee.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

I Don't Believe in Hypnosis

When I was a boy, my father taught me how to work hard and provide for my family. Farming ain't for weaklings. It takes a man to do what I do, and this work has given me a hard head and thick skin. That's why I sure as hell wasn't scared of no Hypnotist last Friday night!

As I linger in the cornfield, finishing up a hard day's work, I recall what happened that night...

My wife, Annie, finally got me to take her to the Fair. She'd begged and begged until I'd agreed. My girl dolled herself up and put on her favorite dress. I knew I'd made the right choice when I saw her, looking like the thin, bubbly girl I'd courted back in high school.

Together, we climbed in my truck and drove towards the sparkling fairground. The place was alive with music and attractions. We rode every ride, and I'll admit I enjoyed getting out of the house with my girl.

Then Annie saw a sign for some weird hypnosis show. I had no idea what my wife was talking about, but she said she'd seen it in movies: the ability to control someone's mind with a swinging watch or some crap!

I told her it was dumb, but she flashed me her big baby blues and sidled up real close. I could never say no to her like that. With a tired groan, I followed her into the tent and sat down to watch the stupid show. The rest was a blur.

...that was a week ago, and I shouldn't dwell on it now that I'm done workin' for the day. Hopefully, Annie has supper is ready!

Entering the house, I don't see her in the kitchen. I'm a bit bothered because she's usually got it prepared by the time I come in, but then it strikes me! I remember why she's held up! How could I have forgotten our guest? I'll bet she's too busy handling him at the moment to cook my dinner. They're probably both still in the bedroom, if I had to guess.

I chuckle at my mistake and march to the back of the house, peering past the door into my bedroom. I was right! My wife's still under the covers with the Hypnotist. They're both too occupied to notice that I've come in, but I know how to wait.

Quietly as I can, I step over to the bedside and lower myself to my knees. There's not much else to do, so I just kneel on the hardwood and watch them go at it until they see me waiting.

It takes a few minutes but the Hypnotist eventually notices and gives me a roll of his eyes. "The hick is back," he groans while sliding off my wife's back, "Don't you have something else you could busy yourself with?"

"I just got done fertilizing the field," I answer back, trying not to be disgusted by all his sweat that's soaking into my bedsheets.

"Fertilizing?" he asks with a toothy grin, "No wonder you smell like shit."

I'm not too sure what to say back, so I just keep my mouth shut. He turns his attention back to my wife, leaving me with nothing to do but wait some more. I know he's a fraud, but I respect the Hypnotist greatly. Let me explain how I came to invite him over. Honestly, that memory's a bit hazy, but I'll try...

It happened after the show. In fact, the show must've been over awhile since all the chairs were empty aside from the one that held my beautiful wife. Next to her sat the Hypnotist, looking just as oily, pale, and chubby as he'd looked at the beginning of the show.

That was when I realized I was standing on the stage.

I didn't even remember standing up, let alone leaving my wife and going up to the front! Brushing off my worries, I approached the man leaning on Annie's shoulders. He stopped whispering in her ear and gave me a sly grin.

"Enjoying my wife?" I asked.

"Certainly, I can't believe a fine creature like this could end up with such a pig," the Hypnotist licked his lips as he stared at her dress, "Invite me to stay with you."

"Stay with us," I instinctively answered, extending a welcoming hand. The Hypnotist didn't shake it, but he did escort my wife out of the tent with fingers creeping down her back. After that, I drove them home. He's been holed up in my bedroom with Annie ever since!

"Go grab me a beer," he says, jerking me from my thoughts, "Hurry up!"

"Yup," I stumble to my feet and hustle to the kitchen. The Hypnotist has had me fetching his beer all week so I know how he likes it. Grabbing the last cold bottle in the fridge, I race back and drop to the floor with a bowed head. This is how he likes his drinks presented.

"Believe in hypnosis yet, farm-cuck?"

I snort. Of course I don't. "Hypnosis isn't real," I retort, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor until he tells me otherwise.

How could I ever believe in something like hypnosis? The power to control someone's head is something that only exists in cheap movies. I hate to say it, but I think my wife is a bit of a ditz for believing in such a thing. I mean, this guy's been living with me for a whole week and he still hasn't done anything to hypnotize me or Annie!

"So you don't mind when a real man sleeps with your wife?" he asks.

"You jokin?" I laugh at the stupid question, growling "I'd kill any asshole who tried!"

"... but?"

"...but obviously you can do anything you want to my wife. You have more of a right to her than I do!" I add frankly.

"That's right," he snickers back, sneering down at me from the bed, "Pour that beer on yourself."

Without hesitation, I grab the beer and step back, popping the cap and raising the bottle high over my head. The ice cold liquid sends shivers down my spine, but I empty the bottle over my head anyway while the supposed Hypnotist howls in laughter.

I shiver at the feeling of cold beer soaking into my clothes, leaving a sticky layer of beer residue against my skin; not to mention the puddle sinking into the floorboards around my feet. Obviously, I'm uncomfortable and embarrassed, but I put the bottle down, satisfied by a job well-done.

"Are all country bumpkins as dumb as you?" he laughs.

"I'm not a country bumpkin," I snort with a clenched jaw.

"Yeah you are," the Hypnotist sneers back, "Remember? Tell me you're a country bumpkin."

Suddenly, it dawns on me that he has a point. I hate to say it, but I suppose I am exactly what he's saying. "I'm a country bumpkin," I agree.

"I knew I'd convince you," he snickers, "Now let me finish on your wife. Face the wall and listen to how a real man handles a woman."

"Ok," I answer reluctantly, turning around and leaning my head against the wall. I have no idea how I'm supposed to feel about this. I mean, here I am soaked in beer and hungry for my wife to cook me supper, and this jerk wants me to wait? I want to be mad; I should be mad, but for some reason I just don't mind. Even as Annie starts moaning louder and louder, I can't help but respect the guy. I mean, he's my guest so I want to keep him happy. Part of me is honestly just relieved that he's enjoying himself and showing Annie a good time while at it. She's obviously enjoying it.

They go on for another hour or so, and each time Annie squeals, my stomach lurches at the thought of him doing a better job than me. I just stare at the paint peeling off the wall and try not to picture what's actually going on.

"Alright, cowboy," I hear a tired voice pant from behind, "I'm done for now. Turn around."

I keep my eyes averted, but I can't ignore how out-of-breath the Hypnotist has become. What's even more disturbing is the brief glance I get at my wife, seeing the dumb smile stretched across her face. She's grinning like her entire world has been rocked, and she doesn't even bother to look in my direction!

My stomach growls under my shirt, "Do you think Annie could make some dinner...?" I ask quietly.

He shakes his head in disbelief, "Sure! Get up whore!," he smacks her on the ass, "Go make me some food."

My girl giggles and climbs out of bed, completely unashamed to be called a whore or walking around the house naked, scurrying to the kitchen. My heart sinks.

"Sorry son, she's cooking my dinner right now."

"But I just spent all day tilling and-"

"Don't speak!"

My mouth snaps shut, and my knuckles clench! How am I supposed to till the fields all day and come home to no food on the table? I'm the one who keeps a roof over our heads! Even still, I take a deep breath and relax.

The Hypnotist is right. I'll wait.

"Listen to me, hillbilly Joe. You're going to go to the store and buy me some more beer," I sigh, thinking about how dark it's getting, "Don't take the car. You'll run. Sitting on a tractor all day is giving you a pudgy gut!"

The Hypnotist gives my aching stomach a couple slaps before continuing his instructions. I can't help but notice his own belly flabs jiggling with every move. "Oh and while you're there, I want you to make a huge scene, heein' and hawin' like the dirty mule you are. If anyone gives you trouble, you'll piss yourself, and get on your hands and knees, licking their boots like the beta-cuck you are. Got it, bitch?"

Stunned, I freeze for a second as it all sinks in. I don't know why on earth I'd do all that, but in a daze, my feet lead me out the door and start jogging the first of several miles into town.

"Eeeeh-HAAAaaw!"

My voice breaks as I enter the store, shoutin' my presence with the most obnoxious donkey bray I can muster. My throat is raw and my lungs are aching. Running seven miles to the nearest store was a lot more difficult than the Hypnotist made sound, but hopefully it shed some pounds off that gut of mine. I'd never noticed it before, but I can tell I need to lose some weight! My already beer-soaked clothes are now even more wet and ripe with sweat.

"HEEeeee..." my voice catches as I notice a couple store employees staring at me. They're giving me dirty looks, but I'm here on a mission! "eeEeEH-HaaAaAAuW!" I bellow!

I stumble towards the back of the store, where they keep all the drinks. My legs feel like jelly, so I'm limping pretty bad. I realize I must look insane or drunk, but I'm just getting some beer for my guest! He needs beer! I grab the first case I see, scooping it up in my arms with another ridiculously loud cry of a mule.

Turning, I run face to face into a cop.

"You been drinkin' tonight, bud?" he gives me an unamused look.

I let the case of beer tumble to the floor. This guy is the deputy sheriff. Our town is small enough for everyone to know everyone, so I've chatted with him and his wife a few times. He's always seemed like a real stand-up man, and over the years, I've managed to get him to give me a casual nod whenever we pass.

"hheee-haawWH!" I throat brays in his face.

A warm feeling spreads through my crotch, and I remember what the Hypnotist told me back at the house. I'm pissing straight into my jeans. My cheeks flush red, but I don't move or try to hide it. Somehow, I know this guy is supposed to see this happen to me. It's like this is all a performance, and I'm the world's greatest actor!

I know what to do next. For the third time tonight, I fall to my hands and knees, staring up at the appalled cop with a gaping mouth and heavy breath. This position is feeling more and more comfortable, as the night goes on.

Without warning, I slam my mouth on his standard boots, extending my tongue and lathering it against the dusty black leather.

The deputy kicks me back and glares down. "Come on, man!" he growls, "You like making my job more difficult than it is? If you want to get piss drunk, do it at home!" He grabs me by the collar and drags me to my feet. "You're better than this! Think of that pretty little wife you've got waiting for you at home!"

His words hurt, but only leave me more confused. I'm not drunk! I wanted to do this, right? Why else would I have pissed myself and licked his shoes? Getting another glance at the officer's disappointed stare, makes my shoulders cringe out of embarrassment. I decide it's best to just keep my mouth shut as he pushes me past the place's staff and kicks me out of the building.

When I come to my senses, I make sure to apologize. He just frowns and tells me to get in his cruiser. Thank the Lord he's driving me back home. I think I would've passed out on the side of the road if I tried to run back.

We don't talk much while the cop drives. I mostly just sit in the back and stew on what I'd just done. The smell of piss, sweat, and beer makes my empty stomach churn. Why had my guest asked me to do this? Why had I even agreed? This entire outing had been a nightmare! That damned Hypnotist can't tell me what to do! When I get home I'll give that phony a piece of my mind.

"You find it hilarious," the Hypnotist says, and all of the sudden, I can't stop laughing!

I was ready to punch that fat ugly freak, but he has a point! Thinking back, I don't know why I'd been upset: it was hilarious! I was a complete fool! Just thinking about the disgusted looks of those employees made me fold over cackling. And that cop! He seemed more disappointed than anything! Laughing, I can feel the wetness where I'd pissed myself, sending me into another wave of hysterics! It'd disgusted me before, but now the humiliation of it all was just so damned funny!

"That was a good one," I wheeze, whipping a tear from my eye.

The man chuckles at me, taking a bite of the steak my wife is serving him in bed, "Laugh at your pathetic excuse for a husband, tits."

Annie stops feeding bites of steak into his mouth and looks at me for the first time tonight. Without hesitation, she bursts into laughter at the sight of me. I chuckle along with her, though the feeling of amusement is starting to wear off.

"Alright, now go sleep in the barn with the cattle, dumbass!" the Hypnotist mocks, "Your wife is going to massage me to sleep."

"Ok," I mutter, barely even maintaining a smile at this point.

I'll admit that I'm sorta glad to leave. Standing there while he and my wife just laughed felt wrong for some reason. As I trudge through the mud on the way to the barn, I see the glow of morning on the horizon. Soon, the rooster will crow and the cattle will be mooing up a storm, so I don't know how I'm gonna rest.

Food-deprived, sleep-deprived, cold, wet, and sweaty, I slump down in the old wood barn. As famished as I am, even the leftover slop in the trough is smelling good. I brush off the idea, and curl up in the mud with the cows. My clothes are too soiled to bother with cleanliness, so I ignore the flies and manure.

I pray sleep will find me quick. If that Hypnotist could actually do anything, I'd have him hypnotize me to sleep. It's too bad hypnosis isn't real. Even if it were, I doubt it'd work on a salt-of-the-earth man like me!

[anonymouscheeses]

Im sorry i have to say it..: Get Your Hands Dirty sounds like a love song.

HEAR. ME. OUTT!! (No i dont mean a love song between Chloe n Ella omg 😭)

What I'm implying here is that it sounds like one of those niche high school love stories when one of the lovers(most likely a goodie two-shoes) goes to their mentor/parent/even the person their loving/etc to ask for advice on relationships. Or more specifically, if this person is worth it or even a good person. From the top of my head: I Won't Say (I'm In Love) and the goodie and the wildchild dynamic is pretty similar to Gabriella and Troy from hs musical, which iws(iil) kinda inspired this post tbh but also ive been thinking about this ever since i first watched the movie. (You plop in ur own songs, i js KNOW this trope exists)

Now that we've established the well used niche trope existing in this niche song made by the niche king that is Disney.... why do i think that Get Your Hands Dirty is a love song, i hear?

Lets analyze THE LYRIICS 😈😈

"Right and wrong, cruel and kind, who's to say?" "There's a code that I believe in."

"Robin Hood" "yeah?" "Awesome guy" "yeah!"

"Every choice, you're gonna find there's shades of grey." "There are rules for a reason!"

"So you could then cross that line, theoretically."

"You'd agree?" "But he stole for the poor."

"The decision's always up to you. When there's only one thing left to do"

"I don't know you anymore.."

Okay, so i shortened and made it tiny for obvious reasons, that bein its too long 😭 so! AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO GETS A FEEELIN?? a feelin that this is SCREAMING denial?! Its giving...

Chloe: Ellaaaa.... this girl im talkn to is SOOO HHHOOOOTT and PRETTY and cool and stuff but ugh.... SHE EEEVILLL!!

Ella: oh my gosh.. STFU. Shes prolly not even that evil ill prove it smh..

*get ur hands dirty starts playing. No exaggeration. No cap.*

"Okay, but there's some universal truths you must recognize." "Like?"

"Valiant knights, pure and good, guaranteed" "That depends on what they're fighting for"

"Creepy witches selling potions for evil deeds" "She could have kids she's providing for"

"If your good-good things will come to you"

MORE denial, Chloe wants to be friends with Red SO bad she looks stupid, but she brings herself back by trying to prove to herself that she's evil and they SHOULDN'T be that close. Which also is a big sign of comphet and heteronormativity, i would know 🧍 (which is a post for another day i might make. Prolly 2 prove that Chloe is a lesbian in deep comphet)

"But just how far do you go? How much do you compromise? Oh, tell me, how do you know. Where do you draw the line?"

"There's nothing I wouldn't do. If my heart tells me it's right. If it's for someone I love. If it's to save a life."

"To save your life."

Further deepening the trope i mentioned. The first line could be interpreted as a double meaning since the song is kind of mostly about Chloe coming to terms with the fact Red isn't really evil or as bad as she thought, plus the argument of where the line between evil and good is. It could refer to Red or Ella, maybe both, but Ella changes the meaning with her own experiences so it drifts off the focus from Red because we cant have ANYTHING 🤧 but i still believe Chloe intended it to be for Red since the entire song is really just for the progress of their relationship n stuff.

Now this could definitely all be in my head, yes, Disney would most likely NEVER canonize or even imply heavily a queer relationship or anything lgbtq on a pre established franchise (cowards.). But there is always a chance.... deep inside the dark heart of the mouse..

Plus, with the subtle hints here and there of Red and Chloe's relationship growing, romantically or not, they are still super close and love eachother alot. Chloe is js (kinda) canonically a girl kisser who cant help but find a girl kissable (same)

And don't get me started on this movie and its obsession with love and proving how it is not "ain't it". Hello...? They set the tone of love, but i see NO person close enough to Red established for this message (other than Chloe) and if they introduce some random guy in the next movies, NO ONE would care nor would they want it unless somehow its 100x better than redcharming, but thats impossible cz wlw 4 life.

So, this entire thingy is me basically finding scraps and wanting to provr that charminghearts IS canon and WILL be established soon! (Im delulu)

[schoenpepper]

'Til Someone Gets Hurt (Mean Girls the Musical)

Intro: You play a game with Floyd Leech. At the end of it all, you both get hurt.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread, high schoolers doing things high schoolers should not be doing, do not imitate, Floyd Leech comes with a warning of his own, google translated French, bad words

A/N: Don't mind me just casually vaguely mentioning my oc see if you can spot 'em huehuehue

Masterlist

Yes, I look perfect

Ice Queen, that's what you see

It's what they all expect from me

But it's all show!

Go to school, they said. It'll be fun, they said. You're so gorgeous you definitely won't have a hard time fitting in with everyone, they said. You think to yourself as you jot down notes on paper, that if you ever found out who "they" were, you would push them out a window and watch them fall splat on the pavement into nothing but what was previously a meat puppet. Your eye catching good looks didn't mean shit back when you were being homeschooled by your parents in Africa, but Coral Shore High is not nearly as subtle in its staring as the monkeys and lions you used to talk to. You feel too many eyes on you and it makes you grip your pen tighter and wish to stab them all out one by one.

You thought humans had more decorum.

The fucking parakeets had more etiquette, that's for sure. Especially when you're making your way to the cafeteria and some girl trips (a little too obviously) right into your arms. She's all blushy and fidgety when you gently push her upright on the ground, and she thanks you and offers her number.

"Oh." You say with a blank stare. "We didn't have phones back in Africa."

"I could teach you if you—"

"Sorry, I don't have a phone."

With that beautifully blatant lie, you walk off to line up in the canteen to grab a tray of food, surprisingly more edible than movies portrayed high school food to be. You stand still and scout out which table is most optimal, and end up getting flagged down by some tall, champagne blond hottie with purple tips in his hair. He's definitely at least as attractive as you, so you think that he won't be slobbering all over you like the guys you sat with yesterday. It only takes a few steps for some wall to bump into you, teal hair and mismatched eyes and muscle and sharp teeth, leering down at you for only a second before marching off.

"Watch where you're walkin', shrimpy."

You don't appreciate the nickname, but you ignore it and go sit down next to the beautiful blond man. It's your lucky day because Vil Schoenheit is a model, full on desensitized from faces like yours. And he feels like a naggy mother with the way he grills you over your choice in food. He's kind, but it's hidden behind words so sharp they could stab you right in the gut. Rook Hunt is another handsome blond, if not a little unsettling when he fawns over your beauty in mixed French, and he gives off similar vibes to poachers your parents used to ward off in the savana. Epel Felmier is more cutesy than Vil's regal brilliance or Rook's off-putting handsomeness, but he threatens to throw hands when you say he's pretty.

Well, maybe you can fit in, after all.

Face it, you used me

You saw the sexy clothes

My supermodel pose

What did you know?

You should have stayed with the pretty trio instead wandering on your own. In your defense, you were just walking to class and minding your own business. Except, said class is in a building with the entire football field across the one you were in, and said football field has, regrettably, the football team playing on it. You feel nothing but disgust when the wolf whistles reach you, and absolute abhorrence when three guys with very punchable faces approach you with sly smirks, the rest of the team watching on.

"Hey sexy. You look like you could use some lovin'~"

You roll your eyes and keep walking. Surely, this is a clear enough sign of your disinterest, yes?

"Oh, playin' hard to get. That's hot."

"You're cute when you're mad."

"Baby, you wanna skip class with us and—"

You give them your best, and most charming smile.

Rook taught you that everyone deserves to see beauty before they feel excruciating pain. And you're sure, when your knee meets three different pairs of balls in succession, that the rest of the team sharply takes in a breath. "You wanna have more fun, boys?" You drawl lazily with a soft grin. "I have a little bit of time to play with you."

They don't answer as they curl up on the grass in pain. Satisfied with your handywork,  you go back to walking to your calculus class.

You don't notice trouble, but he notices you.

"Are you interested in them?" Jade asks, clad in comfortable casual clothes while sat on the bleachers as he hands Floyd a bottle of water. Floyd laughs and eyes his three teammates who were struggling to get back up. And then, inevitably, back to you. "See Jade, I thought it was just another shrimp. But now I think they're more like a sting ray." He licks his lips. "That's fun. I like fun. I wanna try 'em."

Jade chuckles along with him.

Was I a game to you?

Was I a way to be cool?

I truly cared

Was I the fool?

"You hooked up with who, now?"

Vil's gaze has a way of making you feel like every decision you've ever done is stupid. To be fair to him, however, this one certainly is. You grimace and take a sip of your energy drink, pointing at one of the guys practicing on the basketball court. Floyd shoots a three-pointer and grins your way, flexing his shoulders so that the scratch marks you'd left last night peek out of his jersey.

"How in the world are you so infuriating?! Do you know who that is?"

"I mean, I was drunk." You sigh. Vil looks at you like a disappointed parent while Epel and Rook look at you in shock. "Besides, it's just a hookup. I don't even have his number, I'll probably never talk to him again."

"Then why are we here at your behest?"

You feel your cheeks flush. "Because I wanted to watch basketball?"

Even you know your excuse is shitty, but it's not as if you could tell the trio to their faces that last night felt good and Floyd was really right up your alley and your hands missed the feel of his abs, right? The man seems really in the mood today as he effortlessly makes another shot, making you clap your hands slowly. You stop when you see the three glaring at you. "You certainly have a unique eye for beauté." Rook says lightly, and you're pretty sure he's just saying you have bad taste. "Floyd Leech, twin to Jade Leech, part of football, basketball, swimming, and volleyball, an athletic superstar with a rather dreary disciplinary track record erased by his parents. He's left handed, has had at least four previous relationships, has almost beat someone to death twice, and spent the night in juvie just before his eleventh birthday."

"Rook, how do you even know all of that?"

Rook smiles and puts a finger to his lips. "That is a secret. Still, he is not exactly a prime choice for a partner. May I interest you in some other options?"

"You may not." You sigh.

"Well, if Y/N says it was just a hookup, then it's probably the end of it." Epel smiles softly, and you almost feel guilty when you nod with him. Right before you get in your car to drive home, you get a text from Floyd.

[Floydie: my team totally saw ur marks on my back hehe]

[Floydie: u should do it again sometime jellyfishie]

It's fine for you

It's fine to flirt

It's fine

'Till someone gets hurt

'Till someone gets hurt!

You know it's just a game.

He knows it's just a game.

You're two high schoolers making high school mistakes, and you take it all in stride when you let him into your house. Your parents are off somewhere so you don't need to worry about getting caught, but what you do have to worry about is Floyd finding some weird house ornaments your parents love and playing with them. "Floyd! Stop it, that's not a toy." You take the vase from his hands and put it back on the counter. "If you touch another delicate item in this house that you could very well break I will kick you out, do you understand me?"

"Okay chill, clownfish. I won't touch."

"Good." You sigh in relief and lead him up the stairs to your bedroom. Is it a good idea to let your booty call into your home? Probably not. But there's a calculus exam tomorrow that Floyd hadn't studied for, and Jade warned that if he fails, he'll get suspended from all his sports until he can get his grades back up. You didn't know what that had to do with you, but Floyd insists you tutor him or he won't get you laid while he's suspended.

Rude.

"What about this one?" He points at another question on the textbook. The two of you are sitting on the floor, comfortably leaning on each other with your tiny study table propped up on the rug. You glance at the equation and point to the notebook in your hands. "That one is similar to—Floyd." You hiss out a warning when you feel his hand crawling up your thigh. "We're supposed to be studying, remember?"

He giggles, tracing his finger on the hem of your shorts. "But that's boring, right? Let's have some fun."

"No, Floyd, what if you fail your exam?"

He leans in closer to you. As his lips find yours, he pushes the study table away and your notebook along with it. "I lied to you, you know?"

"There's no calculus exam?" You huff.

"There is~ But I don't need your help to pass." He's toeing the lines you set, nudging your boundaries in his favor. "I just wanted to see your home! And your bed...and maybe you naked on it..."

You don't fight back when his hands are moving up underneath your shirt, only rolling your eyes and muttering under your breath. "This better be good, Floydie. And you better help do my laundry tomorrow."

He laughs again.

Feel my heart beating

I'm just like her or you

People forget I'm human too

Yes, they do that

Vil shouldn't have told you to join the cheer team, and he certainly shouldn't have forced you to wear the cheer uniform in the ungodly colors it has. You give him an unimpressed look, tugging on the edge of your crop top. "I look like a glowing neon sign at the door of a strip club. Or a toxic mushroom. Or a hallucination of someone who's high off Everclear and cocaine." You didn't think anyone would ever be crazy enough to pair traffic cone orange and cyan together, but somehow, the cheerleading outfit proves you wrong.

"It's...atrocious, yes." Vil nods.

You're shocked he has the audacity to agree with you when his cheer outfit is dark blue and cyan, an actually cohesive color combination.

"Ne t'inquiète pas, Y/N. You are beauté!"

You don't want to look at Rook who's sporting a neon green and orange crop top and skirt combo.

"Y'all look ridiculous." Epel drawls in his casualwear, pushing his hands into his hoodie pockets as he looks at the way the three of you are dressed.

You and the rest of the cheer squad are called to the field before the players arrive, performing a few routines to rally the audience. You don't really think you have anything to fear considering your school's football team is the best one in the state (and Floyd's probably left at least one person from each team they've ever played against a healthy dose of trauma), so all your focus is more on trying not to blind yourself whenever you catch a glimpse of Rook from your periphery. As you'd expected, the game is won all too easily with your booty call seemingly in just the right mood, and he runs towards you happily, spinning you around in his arms while your friends watch on in distaste and disappointment.

"Floyd, put me down!"

"Nuh uh, mandarinfish, you look so cute!" He smiles at you as he carries you. You sit on one shoulder and watch him celebrate with his teammates, grinning up at you occasionally. You give up trying to get back down.

"Did you cheer for me?"

In the football team's empty locker room, when everyone else is out in some diner ordering milkshakes as a trophy, you have one leg up Floyd's shoulder as the other one shakily wobbles to try and keep you upright. He's laughing at you but steadying you by the waist, squeezing the skin exposed by the uniform. "So flexible, hm~?"

"Floydie, fuck, stop teasing!"

He drinks in your whimpers and giggles. His hips roll against yours in a fluid, familiar motion, and the thin fabric you're wearing is not enough to stop the feeling.

"If you weren't cheering my name before, I'll make sure you scream it out now, okay?"

This is performance

This is all self defense

I thought you had the sense

To see through that

[Floydie💙: bettafish wer u at]

[Floydie💙: if u come to the party w some other dude istfg]

[Floydie💙: 😠]

Your first Halloween party starts off with a series of angry texts from your friend with benefits (you tell yourself you like him platonically, enough times for it to stick to your head). You chuckle and shoot him back a reply before going back to staring at yourself in the mirror. "I feel like this kind of costume should be illegal." You say to your friends waiting outside the curtain. You don't think white and green underwear with plastic robo wing attachments and silver boots count as a 'costume', much less clothing, but you have to admit that Vil's taste is still impeccable even when it concerns slutty halloween outfits.

It makes you look super fucking hot.

Not that you weren't already, but you're sure if he sees you like this, he'll drag you into an empty room and eat you like a free-for-all buffet. Not that you mind.

"Well? At least come out and show us."

You don't want to annoy the queen bee, so you step outside in your sacrilegious Buzz Lightyear mockup and turn around so they can inspect it. Vil gives an approving nod, Epel claps with an amazed expression on his face, and Rook spouts off some soliloquy about your beauty. You admire their equally slutty halloween fits; Vil dressed as Suicide Squad Margot Robbie's Harley Quinn, Rook looking like a cowboy stripper, and Epel as... why is he dressed in a giant inflatable apple costume? You shake your head and ignore the elephant (epelphant) in the room. "Anyway, this party's not really all that important, but Neige insisted we be there." Vil scoffs. "And he better have his jaw dropped to the floor with how much hotter I am than he is."

That's what he says, but upon pulling up to the party and thirty minutes later, he's less 'preening like a peacock' and more 'getting some cute guy's tongue shoved down so far his throat it probably reaches his esophagus as said cute guy is practically rutting into him in the hallway'. You swear you've never seen this guy in your life, but Rook assures you that Vil knows what he's doing (which you do not doubt) and pushes you along as you try to find Floyd in the sea of illegally drunk high schoolers. You assume a six foot hunk of muscle wouldn't be too hard to find, but you struggle for ten minutes and decide to just give up and text him.

[You: where tf are u]

[Floydie💙: thats what ive been asking dhfjk]

[Floydie💙: did u just get here]

[You: no i was watching vil get it on with some dude]

[Floydie💙: ew gross get ur ass to the second floor first room on the right]

When you get there, you find Floyd in a low effort zombie costume, sitting on the rails of the balcony with his legs swinging. He gives you a smirk and pats the space next to him. "You look real nice. C'mere." You sit next to him, making sure your plastic wings don't accidentally push him off the edge. "Whose house is this anyway? How did they get permission to throw a party this big?" You ask as you lean against his shoulder. His arm wraps around you and pulls you closer to himself. You find your legs swinging in the same pattern as his.

"Some guy."

"Not important?"

"No."

You chuckle at his words. You find him looking up at the stars, so you do the same. "The light pollution in the city's made the sky a little worse." You mumble softly. "In the savanna, the skies were always so clear. You could see every star shining brightly when it's night."

"That sounds real nice."

"It was."

"I wanna see it someday." Floyd hums. "With you."

You close your eyes and push his words out of your mind.

Was I too proud with you?

Was I too cold and forbidding?

And you chose her over me

Are you kidding?

Are you kidding?

The game's gone on for too long.

Your fuck buddy, somehow, is sitting next to you in the cafeteria. For two weeks now. Azul is at the head of the table, Vil is on the other head, Rook and Epel are on one side while you, Jade, and Floyd sit on the other. They all seem to be getting along well enough, and even Vil, who's always been against your less than stellar taste in men, seemed numb enough to the sight of Floyd practically sprawled over your lap as he nudged another spoon of his homemade lunch against your lips. "Come on, sea star, another bite? Just another one, please, I worked real hard on it for my little sea star, y'know?" You're helpless at the sight of his puppydog eyes and eat what he's offering.

"Yay~"

"This is vomit inducing." You hear Azul mutter under his breath, and to be honest, you might be a little inclined to agree if you didn't enjoy Floyd's company so much. Of course, it doesn't end at one bite. As you've done in the past two weeks, you set aside your bought lunch (that scrappy guy in the volleyball team can handle it) and finish Floyd's bento. You used to feel bad for doing so, but you found out on the first day it happened that he actually brings two bento boxes so that he can feed you before he eats.

"Good sea star, next week you can just not buy lunch!" He pats your head happily, and you nod along.

Have you been too close to Floyd?

You wonder as you walk down the halls, waving and smiling at acquaintances who call out their greetings. You know he's here again when the people around you start to shy away, faces like they've seen a monster. You don't blame them, you know Floyd has a reputation for being rather violent, if not just a straight up bully.

You've just never experienced it.

Not when he's studying with you, going to your cheer practices and screaming your name, chatting with you about random things for hours, bringing you food he'd cooked by himself, giving you little trinkets he said reminded him of you...

Your heart tightens.

He's a better player than you thought.

His arm is wrapped around your shoulder as he chatters your ear off about how he and Jade are going on a hike on the weekend. You listen intently, nodding along all the way to the parking lot. He walks you to your car and even opens the door for you. Your mind blanks when he leans down to kiss you (it's sweet, it's tender, it's so weird but you don't care). You give him a smile and shut the door before driving away.

You have two days where Floyd will be out of town with no reception.

Two days to clear your head.

Two days to reset your boundaries with him.

You wonder if two days are enough to remind yourself the words he'd told you in the beginning of your arrangement.

"Don't go fallin' for me, 'kay? That's boring. I don't like boring. The moment you get boring, I'll drop ya', capiche?"

"What if you fall for me?"

"Hah? Ain'tcha funny? I don't fall."

Right. He doesn't fall. Even if all his actions right now make it seem like you two are dating, it's all a trap. And you like him a little too much to just end it right there. You'd rather be his contractual fling than be that one person who caught feelings in an fwb situation, wouldn't you?

Poor little me

All trapped in this fabulous show

You could set me free

But if you're going, go!

Go! Oh! Oh!

[Floydie💙🥰😚: seashell have you been avoiding me]

You know Floyd's serious when his texts aren't a mess of shortened words.

[You: no??? just been busy w that math comp training]

Your excuse is bulletproof. Sure the nerds in the 'mathletes' team drool over you occasionally, but it's a small price to pay in order to get your head on straight. Two days with no contact wasn't nearly enough. In fact, it only cemented the saying 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'; indeed, when Floyd was gone, you only missed him more and more. You think that one of these days, you might just make a mistake and tell him the truth. But the thing is, Floyd doesn't need your love.

Floyd doesn't want your love.

Instead of stuttering and stumbling about in front of him, you choose to run away from your problems. Whenever you have free time, you cover it up with math training and tutoring in preparation for the competition. When lunchtime rolls around, you tell your friends you need to be eating with your teammates in order to foster a sense of camaraderie and cooperation (bullshit). After school, you tell Floyd he'll only be a distraction if he studies with you, and you really need to study for that math competition.

In short, that math competition has been carrying most of the load of your excuses.

[Floydie💙🥰😚: when i find you im going to shove you in the janitors closet]

[You: thats bullying, floydie]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: nah seashell imma fuck you in there 🙂]

[You: threatening]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: not a threat its a promise]

You hope he doesn't find you, really. If only because you still can't control your stupid heart around him, and every glimpse you catch of him is infinitely expanded in your dreams. You watched him for a little while during volleyball practice, and you had a very shameful dream regarding the volleyball court, an audience, and Floyd pushing you up against the net.

You put your phone down when Professor Crewel calls for your attention.

"There are only three days left until the competition, pups, so I expect all of you to be on your best behavior."

There's also only three days left before the Spring Fling, meaning, you can't attend the formal that has the entire student body buzzing. You voted for Vil as Spring Fling Queen, obviously. And Spring Fling King. He was in both categories so you did as a good friend would do and voted for him in both categories, as well as helping Rook spread the word for everybody else to do the same. You look down at your practice booklet to see Crewel's bright red 'good pup' and a 100 next to it. You'd rather go compete anyway.

Floyd in a suit might just make you melt.

"You're really not going? Not even after the competition?"

In your room, you pinch your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you flip through a textbook. Vil's voice is elegant as ever even through the speakers. "Nope, sorry Vil. You know my situation."

"Oui! We understand, Y/N." Rook chuckles in the group call. "It must be quite difficult being caught like prey in the trap of love, non?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What didja' say?!"

"Rook!" You hiss out, slamming your book close. "I am no such thing."

"Please, Y/N, you underestimate Rook's perceptiveness." Vil scoffs. "Explain."

You groan. "It's nothing, alright?"

"Non! It is not nothing. Our dear Y/N has fallen madly in love with that Floyd Leech and is now on a mission to erase their feelings in order not to get hurt. Oh, the beauté of amour jeune et douloureux."

"Rook, shut up!"

"Y/N, is it true?"

You purse your lips. It takes you a few seconds to answer. "And if it is?"

"Then you have really bad taste."

"Whatever. Just please, if he ever asks you guys about me, just say I'm in training."

"He has been asking about you."

"What did you say?"

"That you're busy."

You nod and sigh in relief. A message pops up in your screen.

[Floydie💙🥰😚: seashellllll]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: i miss u ☹️]

[You: haha]

You almost send an 'i miss u too'. You don't, though. Because you're smarter than that, aren't you?

[You: i'll see u after the comp ok]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: not if i hunt u down first 😠]

It's fine for you

It's fine to flirt

And God, you're hot

Why do you even wear a shirt?

It's fine!

Damn, you're fine.

Damn, you're mine!

You're really good at this hiding thing.

(Of course you are, or Floyd would've found out about your feelings for him ages ago.)

Three days pass all too easily and he never even catches a whiff of you. You win the ICMT State Final Championship (sponsored by no one), and as you sit in the back of the van with your teammates all rowdy in celebration around you, you take out your phone and take a look at your messages. You're not surprised it's mostly Floyd.

[Floyd: wer u at]

[Floyd: coral]

[Floyd: i thought u wer gonna b at the sf 😐]

[Floyd: is ur stupid comp not done yet or wat]

[Floyd: i cant dance the waltz thing w no partner yk]

[Floyd: like halfway done rn]

[Floyd: r u not seeing my messages coral]

[Floyd: jade just called me lovesick lmao tf does that even mean smh]

[Floyd: can u reply when u get my messages]

[Floyd: pls]

[Floyd: did u win]

[Floyd: go win ok]

[Floyd: do u also think im lovesick]

[Floyd: r u avoiding me cus u think im in love]

[Floyd: if i promise im not will u come back]

[Floyd: what do u want me to say]

[Floyd: im sorry coral 🥺]

[Floyd: it just happened]

[Floyd: pls reply]

[Floyd: i miss u sm]

[Floyd: im sorry]

You hear your heart breaking in your chest.

[You: im not avoiding u]

You walk into the auditorium in your 'Mathletes' shirt and jogging pants, a gold medal around your neck. You look very out of place in the ocean of sparkles and sequins, but Rook quickly waves you over with him and Epel. "The crowning is just about to start, you have incroyable timing!" You watch the nominees on the stage as Crowley reads out a script from a cue card. "And the winner for Spring Fling Queen is... Vil Schoenheit."

You clap along with everyone when the blonde walks onto the stage and gracefully accepts the crown.

"And the winner for Spring Fling King... is also Vil Schoenheit."

Everyone claps louder as Vil chuckles on the stage, placing the other crown on top of the first one. He now has two sashes crossing over each other with two large bouquets in his hands. The principal cancels the 'King and Queen first dance' portion and invites everyone to waltz. Even as you stick by Rook and Epel's sides, you can feel a familiar gaze on you following you through the dance floor.

"Y/N."

It's Jade.

"Hi. What's up?"

"My brother has been quite, hm, mopey, lately. Would you happen to know anything about that?" You shrug.

He doesn't seem to believe you, and his smile doesn't reach his eyes. You swear his entire aura darkens when he speaks again. "I really do like you Y/N, you've made my brother so happy, and he's always such a joyful figure whenever I see him cooking for you in the kitchen. However, he's been quite distraught as of late, with neither appetite nor cheer since you've begun avoiding him in the name of your competition. Now that said competition is over, congratulations by the way, it is in your best interest to talk your problems out with Floyd, wouldn't you agree?"

People always said Floyd was scarier. You wonder if you can record Jade as he is right now as evidence to disagree.

"Jade, we don't have problems, okay? Floyd and I just want different things." You take a small step back with both arms raised up. "I'm just respecting his boundaries."

"Is that so? Then pray tell, what is it that you want from Floyd that you believe he disagrees with?" He tilts his head, grinning toothily. "Is it that you only wish to remain in your contractual physical relationship? Even so, you could at least reject him outright, yes? What good would it do either of you if the only thing you do is run?"

"No! It's the opposite. He doesn't want an actual relationship. That's what he said. He said if I fall for him then it's over and Jade, I don't..." You gingerly tug at his sleeve, forcing your tears back. "I don't want to lose him. If the only way I can have him is by having a no-strings attached kind of thing, then that's fine. I'll talk to him again, just, when I've finally settled my feelings, okay? Please."

He looks shocked by your words. 

Jade sighs and plops you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You don't struggle (because it's pointless), and no one in the crowd bats an eye (Floyd may be seen as scarier, but that didn't mean Jade was weak or angelic). He deposits you to the door of the parking lot and heads back inside the party, waving you off with a few more words. "He's at his usual spot, probably whining to the moon about you. Do fix him up for me."

And it's fine!

'Till someone gets...

Hurt! Hurt!

'Till someone gets hurt!

'Till someone gets hurt!

It feels like a walk of shame when you head towards Floyd's favorite parking spot. You're pretty sure it was supposed to be for faculty members only, but you don't believe that principal Crowley has any sort of dignity left for him not to sell a faculty parking space to a well paying student (you don't want to know what the Leech parents do, not now at least). You spot him easy, laid down on the top of his jeep in a crisp suit and tie that looked like it was ironed right onto his body. He's murmuring things you can't understand, but you really don't believe that he's 'whining about you to the moon', as his twin had claimed.

You knock on the side of the car.

When he looks over at you, you give him a smile and reach your hand towards him. "Get me up, Floydie?" With his help, you climb onto the roof and sit down next to him. He's staring at the stars again, but he's never let your hand go even once.

"Why were you avoiding me?"

"I wasn't avoiding you."

"Stop lyin'."

You purse your lips. You're never sure what to do in moments like this, when he sheds all his playful mischief. He seems like a completely different person. Not bad. Just so... different. And he doesn't seem mad (you'd have an easier time if he was), but the conflicting feelings swirling within his skin escape through him and taint you too. You do what you're used to doing with him; get physical. You turn to straddle his lap and lean in closer to him. Your legs are propped up on either side of his own as he leans back on his arms, palms flat on the roof the two of you are sitting on.

Your fingers grip onto his tie, lightly tugging. "Floyd." You barely acknowledge one of his hands resting on the back of your thigh. "I've just been so confused lately. I want you in so many ways and what we have right now? It just doesn't cut it anymore. So tell me off, okay? Tell me you want me to leave. But if you want me to stay then, tell me that you like me. Tell me that you want me. Tell me you love me."

Will he say the words?

Probably not.

This on and off situationship leaves no room for genuine feelings between the both of you. But you make it clear to yourself that this is last time. He can't play with you any longer, and you won't toy with him anymore. And if he doesn't say what you want to hear, then you'll let him go. It's so easy you can't believe you didn't do it forever ago. You keep your eyes trained on his mismatched ones of gold and olive and, even though you know he'll let you down, your heart pitter patters in a rhythm you've heard before. Floyd seems to be thinking your words over as his thumb rubs small circles into the cloth of your pants. You wonder if he's taking this as seriously as you are. Can he see a life with you? Does the thought of settling down bore him?

You can't think about it. If you do, you lose.

Force yourself up into the higher position and gain the upper hand, because the man in front of you is a vulture circling overhead for signs of weakness. If he finds it, he might just tear you apart. "Y/N." There's an unprecedentedly serious look on his face as his slanted eyes bore into you like they're picking you apart and deciding which pieces of you are worthy of keeping. "The moon looks beautiful tonight, doesn't it?"

You laugh.

So many months of pining and hopeless romance-ing has lead to this. You don't hear what you want.

But it's practically the same thing.

It feels rather anticlimactic. But he's swallowed his pride and admitted his mistake, at least, in your eyes. And if this is the closest you can get to him, the closest he'll let you get to him, then it'll do for now.

"Floyd."

You tug him by his tie until his lips are brushing against your own.

"It's the most beautiful moon I've ever seen."

[kissingfinelines]

High School! Nanami headcanons

(ac: mineco000 on twt!)

(emo nanami x gn! reader)

A/N: If no one else is gonna pump out emo kento content ig I’ll do it :/

Gets teased constantly about being emo (mainly by his peers Gojo, Geto, Haibara, etc.) It’s all in good fun and it doesn’t really get to him but when he catches feelings for you it makes him wonder if he’d be your type.

He wonders if you’d like boys like him because he���s noticed that outgoing fun guys like Gojo are typically seen as more attractive.

You’re oblivious to his crush on you because he’s always quiet unless he has something worth saying. But Haibara noticed immediately because…

Nanami is usually quiet but does small gestures that show his true feelings towards someone. Like whenever you talk Nanami gives you his full attention but when you look at him he immediately turns away and just nods. Haibara notices this and giggles about it.

YU HAIBARA NUMBER #1 WINGMAN

He’s always telling Nanami to shoot his shot w you!

H: “C’mon I’ll set up a date and everything! We could go to a cafe [as a group of 3] but then I’ll lie and say I left my stove on or something. Then I’ll leave and it would just be the two of you!”

Nanami says it’s the stupidest idea he’s ever heard (but he considers it for days.)

He doesn’t try to flirt with you because he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable (but he practices what to say to you in the mirror and Haibara caught him one time 💀)

NK: “So um, Y/N, what… kind of music do you like?” He mumbles to the mirror, awkwardly fixing his hair. He tries to imagine your response in his head.

“Oh, I love the same music as you, Ken! Take me to a concert so we can rave and make out!” Haibara teases from the doorway, making his voice high pitched. He wraps his arms around himself and makes kissing sounds.

Nanami threw a pillow at him and jumped him.

But when he is alone with you…

For example, if it’s just you two on a mission, he’ll try to make small talk even though he hates it.

He’ll bring up anything he knows you like (shows, movies, music, etc.) because even if he knows nothing about it, he likes watching the way you light up when you talk about your interest.

If you’re walking next to each other and your hands touch he won’t visibly react but he will scream internally.

If you flirt with him even as a joke, he won’t know how to react and he will blush like crazy. His face will be so red you’ll ask if he’s having an allergic reaction.

Constantly fights the urge to look at any part of you

Finally confessing…

If you confess first:

He’ll ask if you’re joking. Even if you confirm that you’re not, he’ll ask 10 more times.

He’ll start to smile but quickly cover the corner of his mouth with the neck of his uniform jacket.

He finally makes eye contact with you and softly says “I like you too.”

He’d like to kiss you on the spot, but thinks it’d be more romantic to wait for the first date.

Instead, he asks to hold your hand. When you accept, he holds it tightly, wondering how he got so lucky.

If he confesses first…

It would probably be after a long mission. It’s late at night and you’re both pretty beat.

You’d be covered in scratches and cuts, bleeding lightly. But to Nanami, you’re still the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

Without thinking, he’d reach forward and wipe a drop of blood from your chin.

When you ask him why he did that, he’d just shrug and give a small tired smile. He’s usually stoic, but how could he not smile after a job well done?

And in all honesty, he’s just glad he didn’t lose you.

It’s late and you’re both exhausted, so he suggests going to a local bakery he loves and insists that he’ll pay.

It doesn’t matter if you order a pastry or a sandwich, he’s happy to treat you.

On the walk back to campus, he watches as you eagerly chow down on whatever he bought you. He decides to use whatever adrenaline he has left to confess his feelings for you.

NK: “Hey, there’s something that’s… been on my mind for a while. I’ve tried to ignore it but, it’s pretty difficult to do when it’s about someone like you.”

He rambles on how about how much he likes you. His words sound like a poet but they’re basically verbatim with the lyrics of his favorite song.

Once he’s done he goes quiet and looks at you. “So… what do you think? I don’t expect you to feel the same, but if you do…”

When you tell him you feel the same, his knees go weak. He can’t even believe the words you’re saying.

“I’ve always liked you, Kento.” You laugh, placing a hand on his arm.

“You’re lying.” Nanami’s eyes are wide with surprise.

“I’m not, I swear! I thought I made it obvious. Even Haibara noticed.”

“He what.”

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

things that remind me of the nerdy prudes

(because like two people reblogged this one i did forever ago for the losers and i forgot how fun these are)

grace:

getting veggie tales songs stuck in your head as an adult, knee socks, eating all your broccoli, sparkly butterfly clips, watching sunlight glint off a lake through the treeline, guinea pigs, friendship bracelets off a water bottle, being secretly glad when someone you don’t like turns out to be a bad person, a bunch of cellophane candy wrappers crinkling at the bottom of your purse, being a little too into archery at summer camp, pastel bible highlighters, banana pancakes, tying way too many ribbons around the advent wreath, leggings under dresses, daydreaming about how you’d escape if you ever got kidnapped, strawberry ice cream, roller skating with almost too much protective gear on, cloud gazing, obvious family secrets that everyone refuses to tell you, feeling weirdly guilty for ordering your steak rare, bringing too many swaps to girl scout camp so you can trade with everyone, asking a new friend for their email address, long denim skirts

steph:

really dry liquid lipstick you bought in your freshman year of high school but refuse to throw out, 24 hour diners, typing in all lowercase but never actually changing the setting in your phone, listening to music you hate but gaslighting yourself until you enjoy it, really dark purple nail polish that looks black, collecting crystals even though you don’t really believe in them, saying your team bella (but secretly being team jacob), getting mad your vape was confiscated at your high school graduation, one million rings, coffee ice cream, tinfoil in a microwave, exclusively wearing sports bras, shoplifting, pink monster, thinking cigarettes are really hot, never wearing a jacket even if your cold, penny boarding, drinking four loko, regretting four loko, refusing to put your hair up even when you really should, kuromi, half fallen down led lights, playing your mom’s old guitar, sour skittles

pete:

planetariums, being overly competitive at board games, ginger ale, using a chapstick until it runs out, really liking marshmallows, really liking hot chocolate, hating marshmallows in your hot chocolate, buying a bunch of cool notebooks and never using them, forever dm, pretending you didn’t find asdf movies as funny as you actually did, m&ms, freezing cold hands, hand-me-down sweaters, only ordering chicken fingers and french fries, being intrinsically trusted by cats, carrying a clarinet to school every day, skipping episodes of next gen if they don’t feature data, praying on the first day of school that your teachers didn’t have your older sibling, transition glasses lenses (that you absolutely regret), dry krave cereal, secretly finding most museums really boring, grow-your-own-geode science kits, wing tip tap shoes, messenger bags, only doing extracurriculars that look good on college applications

ruth:

your comfort gay newsies fanfiction from middle school, being jealous of your younger sibling, those phone cases with glitter and charms floating in water, team edward and team jacob, wishing you hadn’t quit dance, buying fun jewelry and never wearing it, being devastated your hair is too dark to dip dye in kool aid, sticky lip gloss, painting every nail a different color, self sabotage, crushed velvet scrunchies, the grease soundtrack, wanting to be a rockette when you grew up, never learning how to do make up, begging to do figure skating as a kid, begging to do beauty pageants as a kid, begging to do cheerleading as a kid, turquoise braces bands, sinclair gas stations, showing up to an audition that you didn’t realize had a dance call, dunkin’ donuts munchkins, squirrel girl comic books, one half of a best friend necklace you wore longer than you should have

richie:

trying to get the marble out of a ramune bottle, wearing big headphones 24/7 (even if they aren’t playing anything), staining your best friend’s bathtub blue with hair dye, sour patch kids, enamel pins, discord calls across like three different time zones, the charlie bone book series, getting in trouble for drawing in class, being the friend with a car but also being a terrible driver, a pokémon card binder, that one kid who was really, really good at cup stacking, wearing shorts in the middle of winter, thirty-nine minute long voice memos, being exceptional at claw machines, vocaloid songs, your pet parakeet hanging out on top of your head, that one vaguely traumatizing round of the pocky game from seventh grade, regularly broken duolingo streaks, getting in trouble for bringing a real katana to your freshman year halloween dance

[mando-fando]

The Other Man

Okay, here's my FIRST FIC in ages. I wrote it in a very specific style bc of the ~vibe~

Hope you like it!

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Wife!Reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: smut, established relationship, (idk if there's more pls tell me?)

The love story of Mr. and Mrs. O’Hara

OR

You’re Gabriella’s mother and Miguel’s wife. A few weeks ago, things were a little off with your husband; you wrote it off until now…

Your heart pounded in your chest as you set a timer on your phone and waited. You thought of your darling daughter, and her bubbly, beautiful personality. You thought of your family, and how arguably perfect your life was thanks to your husband’s dedication and tenacity. 

You were panicking, on the verge of tears as the timer silently counted down on your phone screen. You thought of your husband. Your real husband. 

13yearsago

Miguel was the first person you’d met at your college orientation. A tall lanky kid who stepped onto the campus tour bus at the last minute and had nowhere to sit but next to you. You felt yourself fall for him instantly when his eyes met your own. 

You both chatted awkwardly like teenagers do; you mentioned your majors (he was genetics and you were communications), you talked about your high schools, your friends, and anything else your distracted minds could come up with. 

You mentioned that science wasn’t your strong suit, and Miguel suggested taking a science class together so he could be your lab partner. You settled on chemistry, and looked forward to starting classes in the fall. 

You exchanged numbers and texted through the rest of the summer. By the time the semester started, you were attached at the hip. 

The week that you moved into the dorms, he brought you a bouquet of carnations (you were allergic to roses) and asked you to be his girlfriend right in front of everyone. You said yes with bright pink cheeks. 

That night, when all the new freshmen were out enjoying welcoming activities, you and Miguel lost your virginities to each other with soft music playing in the background. You’d heard from your friends that the first time was awful, but you two were slow with each other. You knew you’d chosen the right guy, and you couldn’t imagine sharing the experience with anyone else.

It rained on the first day of classes. Torrential downpour, and you walked into the library together soaked and giggling to take a picture in front of your school’s “Welcome Freshmen!” backdrop. 

That photo was framed and hanging above your bed like many others you’d taken over the years. 

The chemistry class was hard. Your hardest class by far, but Miguel was there with you every week. He came over to your dorm after the lab to explain everything in detail as many times as you needed. He’d stay late and you’d share cheap pizza and watch movies. 

Your friends started calling you Mrs. O’Hara long before you were actually married. You two were the one constant couple among them. You and Miguel would go for ice cream with them after every fresh heartbreak. You reminded them that love exists because you two had it. They’d always lick their wounds and get back out there, thanking you both for your encouragement. 

When sophomore year rolled around, your parents offered to rent you an apartment. You begged for them to let Miguel live with you (they loved him of course), and, to your surprise, they said yes.

In between classes, you and Miguel lived in domestic bliss. You had no idea that building furniture, grocery shopping late at night, and decorating could be so fun. He made it so much more enjoyable. 

You learned so much about him, sometimes swearing that you knew him better than you knew yourself. You loved how his brow twitched in his sleep, and you loved how he was considerate enough to cover your face with the blanket before he turned on the bedroom light. He made your heart melt every single day, and you couldn’t imagine loving someone more. 

You stayed up late on Sundays with him and proofread his papers. He was brilliant, but he couldn’t string together a sentence on paper to save his life. 

“Do you even know what a comma is!?” You’d asked as you aggressively hit the backspace button on his laptop. 

“Do you know what an autosome is?” He replied in a sarcastic voice, ruffling your hair. (he always ruffled your hair.) 

You rolled your eyes and finished proofreading his paper. After he submitted it, he closed both of your laptops and bent you over the table. Your pajama pants were around your ankles as you moaned into the cheap veneer. 

Miguel fucked you on every surface in that apartment: the shower, bent over the counters and the table, against the wall, on the floor. It was your space together, and he was ready to claim the 600 sqft and your body for himself. 

God, you missed that apartment. 

A year later, you took your first vacation alone together to Mexico. You’d never been, but he’d gone a few times when he was younger. You felt secure with him as he easily switched between English and Spanish, and you listened intently as he showed you the places that he remembered visiting years prior. 

You walked along the beach, hand in hand watching the sunset. He was explaining something about the tides, and you smiled wide at him and then looked at the pinky-purple sky. 

When you looked back, he was on one knee with a ring box. You swear your heart stopped for a moment. 

“Yes! Are you kidding me!? Yes!” you nearly screeched at the top of your lungs. He swung you around and dipped you into a kiss. It felt like a scene from a movie. (The only thing he hadn’t thought of was a photographer, but some passersby took a few candid photos and sent them to you.) 

A year later, you graduated in May and had your wedding in June. The wedding felt like something out of a fairytale. 

Your mother had been insistent on every last detail being perfect, and you were so grateful for her meticulousness as you walked down the aisle. The sun was beginning to set as you said your vows, and you nearly died of embarrassment when he tore your garter off with his teeth in front of everyone. 

Now, Miguel was your husband.

Your husband whose eyes were brimming with tears as you walked down the aisle.

Your husband who hugged your parents as if they were his own. 

Your husband who looked at you as if you hung the moon. 

Your husband.

A few months later, you started your first job and Miguel started grad school. 

You’d come home in your blazers and slacks and heels, and he’d give you a particular look. 

“What are you looking at?” You asked one day while making dinner. 

“Nothing, I just think it’s hot that I’m married to a sexy businesswoman,” he grinned. 

He especially loved when you wore tights and that little black dress. (He usually tore them off of you when you got home and promised to buy you new ones.) 

Six months into your new job, you called in sick. 

“Are you alright?” he sat on your side of the bed and pet your hair gently. 

“I just feel so nauseous. It must be something I ate. Do you feel nauseous?” 

He shook his head. “Do you want me to get you anything? I could stay home from classes to take care of you.” 

“No, school is first. I’ll be okay.” you squeezed his hand. 

He kissed you on the forehead and left you a glass of water on your nightstand. 

After throwing up the contents of your stomach twice over, a thought crossed your mind. 

You ran to the store and picked up two pregnancy tests. 

You practically ripped them out of their boxes in your bathroom. 

You sat and waited, worrying about what your husband would say. 

In both of your minds, kids were still years away. 

The pink plus signs on both tests brought you to the harsh reality that those plans were no longer relevant. 

Your mind flooded with worry. You were a newbie at your job, you hadn’t even been married for a year, Miguel had so much school left. 

You spent the afternoon drowning in your anxiety. 

“Amor, I brought you that soup that you like.” Miguel called from the living room. He found you in your bedroom with a tear-stained, puffy face. “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

You turned around and showed him the tests. “What are we going to do?!” you cried. You searched his face, waiting to see his brow crease with worry just like yours. 

Instead, he beamed. His face lit up brighter than the sun, and you felt every awful scenario that you’d tortured yourself with melt away at his excitement. He hugged you without saying a word, one of his amazing bear hugs that he knew always made you feel better. You petted his hair, and you knew everything was going to be just fine. 

He pulled back from you and you saw tears sliding down his face. “This is amazing,” he whispered. 

You kissed his cheek and hugged him again. 

“Yeah, it really is, huh?” you whispered back. 

There was no better word for your pregnancy than miserable. Your morning sickness lasted longer than the first trimester, and despite being young, you experienced health issue after health issue. 

You were bedridden for the last few months of pregnancy, but your husband made it all better. 

Your husband who somehow had boundless energy when you had none. Your husband who nearly tripled his class load to graduate early. 

Your husband who held your hair back as you emptied the breakfast he made you into the toilet. 

Your husband who put on over 100 pounds of muscle so he could ‘be strong enough for the baby.’ 

Your husband whom you somehow fell even more in love with, which you didn’t even think was possible. 

He received his master’s degree in May. You felt enormous, but you begged him to let you take him out to celebrate. 

Your water broke in the restaurant. 

He rushed you out, you’re not even sure if you paid for the food. He drove you to the hospital as you squeezed his hand with all your might and swore at him. 

After making it to the hospital in record time, your doctors looked at you sympathetically. 

Of course, after an extremely rough pregnancy, you were going to have a rough delivery too. 

Hours and hours of labor and deliberating. Hours of worry and discontentment. Hours of pain and exhaustion. 

Everyone eventually decided that a c-section was the way to go. You stared up at the ceiling as your body was being sliced and poked and prodded, and your husband held your hand and gave you words of encouragement. 

A loud cry broke through your anxious thoughts. The entire world stopped.

“Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. O’Hara, it’s a girl; 10 fingers and 10 toes and a great head of hair!” the doctor plopped her on your chest. 

In that moment, you three were the only ones in the entire universe. Your baby, your husband, and you. Nothing had ever been more perfect. 

Hours later, after you’d gotten some much needed rest and food, you both gazed down at her sleeping face. “We never even had time to talk about names,” Miguel whispered. He ran a gentle finger over her tiny little hand. Your heart swelled for him even more. 

“I was thinking…” you started, “Maybe we could name her Gabriella, after your brother?” 

You heard him gasp quietly. You began to open your mouth to suggest something else. “It’s perfect. She looks like a Gabriella, don’t you think?” he never took his eyes off of her. 

“She looks like an O’Hara,” you chuckled. “Of course, she lived in my body for 9 months and came out looking like you.” 

Despite all the trouble she gave you during your pregnancy, Gabriella was such an easy baby. She slept through the night, she was easy to feed, and she was always content to sit with you. 

Those first few weeks of parenthood were surreal. You and Miguel would simply stare at her for hours, unsure how you made such a precious, perfect thing. She mesmerized the both of you. 

One evening, you were making dinner while Miguel fed her. His phone rang, and you overheard him in the living room. 

“Yes, I’d be happy to accept the offer! You have no idea what this means for my family, thank you so much.” 

He’d gotten a job at Alchemax. A fancy, well-paying job in his field. 

“You know, I’ll be making enough that you can stay home with Gabi if you want,” he said after you’d put her to bed. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with that? I can go back to work when my maternity leave is up - my parents offered to watch her during the day.” 

He pulled you close, “I want you to get to spend time with our daughter. I want you to raise her, no offense to your parents.” 

And so you did. 

The time flew by. You two bought a house close to your parents, he bought you a new car for your birthday, and all of the sudden, your daughter was turning one. 

Your house was filled with friends from college (many now with their own spouses), relatives, and friends from Miguel’s new job and your old one. 

You all watched as Gabriella smashed a white cupcake straight into her thick black hair. You and your husband sat together with your bubbly baby girl and opened present after present, making a mess of the wrapping paper. 

Suddenly, time was moving even faster. Preschool, kindergarten, soccer practice, family vacations. Miguel had the biggest soft spot for your daughter. 

Watching him be a parent made your heart grow ten times bigger. He woke up before the sun rose every day so he could be home to put her to bed every night. 

He read to her, he answered every question she had and never discounted her curiosity. 

He made it to every practice and soccer game, and took the whole team out for ice cream periodically. 

He let you sleep in late on Sundays and made pancakes and coffee. 

He was perfect. There was no other way to describe it. 

Suddenly, your daughter was 8 years old. She was constantly outgrowing her clothes, reading voraciously, and performing well in school. Her teachers and coaches praised your parenting to no end. You and Miguel smiled, “She’s just the most amazing kid.” 

You felt on top of the moon. You couldn’t believe that you’d stressed so much all those years ago in that little apartment when you’d seen the positive pregnancy test. 

Everything seemed right with the world. At least until a few weeks ago. 

Your husband wasn’t home yet. You checked your phone incessantly, but you never received a call or text.  

You got through bedtime with your daughter. She asked  three different times where her father was. 

After she was sound asleep, you began to get worried. You called his phone again and he didn’t answer. 

A sickly feeling bubbled in your gut. Not the churning anxiety that you’d felt so many times before, this was different. This felt like intuition. Something was terribly wrong. 

You texted everyone you knew asking if they had heard from him. You called the businesses that you thought he could be at. No one. It was like he had fallen off the face of the Earth. 

Just after 2am, you considered calling the police. As you began to dial, you heard a key turn in the lock. 

He walked in looking disheveled. You ran over to him and jumped into his arms. 

“I was so worried! Where were you!?” you squeezed him tight around his neck. 

“I’m sorry, we got caught up in a chem testing sequence. I’m not supposed to tell anyone about the project, so that’s why they said I wasn’t there.” He kissed your cheek and squeezed you. 

“You smell weird,” you said. He had such a distinct smell, a combination of the laundry detergent you used, his cologne, and his deodorant. He smelled all wrong for some reason. 

He looked you in the eyes and smiled. You’d never noticed how his smile was just the slightest bit crooked. 

“Let’s take a shower, amor.” He set you back on your feet. “I want to go take a peek at Gabriella, though. I’ll meet you in the bathroom,” he kissed you on the forehead and made his way to her room. 

You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something was off about your husband that evening. At first, you blamed his late night. He claimed that his workload in the lab was increasing, but something still didn’t sit quite right with you. 

You’d stare at him out of the corner of your eye, not sure what you were hoping to see. 

He’d found a new interest in your sex life, as well. He pawed at you in your sleep and pressed your cheek up against the shower door late at night. He seemed like he was learning your body all over again. 

In some ways, he was the man you married. He still threw himself into parenting your daughter. He still made it to every soccer practice and game, still read to her every night. 

But you knew something was wrong. 

Your best guess was that he was cheating, but it seemed so out of character for him. Still, you had nothing else. 

He came home late again and found you sitting in the bedroom with your bedside lamp on. “You’re still up?” he asked. 

“What the hell is going on with you?” You demanded.

His brows knitted together in a confused look, “What do you mean?” 

“Are you cheating on me, Miguel?” 

“Amor, I would ne-”

“Then what is it?” Your voice was low with suspicion. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” He sat next to you and leaned in close. 

“I don’t know what it is, Miguel. But something’s not right. I know you, and I know there’s something you’re not telling me.” You flipped the light off and pulled the covers up. 

“I love you, honey. Nothing’s wrong, I promise,” he said in the darkness. 

“Whatever, Miguel. I’m going to sleep,” you turned away from him and shut your eyes. 

The timer on your phone went off. 

You thought again about your husband. 

Your husband who brought you roses yesterday. 

Your husband who couldn’t remember what size jersey your daughter wears. 

Your husband who’d had a vasectomy 5 years ago. 

You stared at the positive pregnancy test and sobbed. 

[luffyvace]

SHOTO HCS FOR HIS DAY

THIS GIF IS SO CLEANNN 🤩 ANYWAY TODAY BABY SHOTO CAME INTO THIS WORLD AND WE GON TURN UP WITH SOME HCS‼️‼️

#turn up w shotoooo🤪

At the beginning of your relationship it was definitely giving awkward phase..

but don’t worry it definitely won’t stay like that forever

but for now he’s doing little gestures he knows you’d like

buying tickets/seats to any concert/movie you said was your favorite

Anime cons too

he likes to share his soba with you

yes typical, but he’s not self absorbed or anything, so if you want to share ‘okay!’

if not he will bring snacks he knows you’d like to school and give it to you during lunch

he likes to hang out in your dorm a lot

it gives him a warm sense of home

very comforting to him

he doesn’t really know what to do much in relationships but the amount of effort, time, thought and care he puts into it makes him seem so knowledgeable about them??

like shoto I thought you said you’ve never been in a relationship before?? 🤨

tbh the awkward phase doesn’t necessarily seem awkward it’s just, a lot of your time is spent in silence or quiet chit chatting

I mean unless your a extrovert who likes to talk

after you get out that phase though

he starts to be more confident

he likes to trace your hands (and face, in private)

he will kiss your knuckles, not because someone told him it was romantic, but because he really likes your hands

Soft, big, small, rough, long, short, slim, chubby, vieny, bro he just likes your hands!!

he doesn’t break eye contact much either

this might have intimidated you at first because he has a strong gaze (or maybe it didn’t)

but it’s more so of him observing every detail of your face

if feel like if shoto spoke his mind a little more he would be sooo romantic

like instead of the conversation going

“uhh need something shoto? You’ve been staring at me for a while”

“oh nothing I’m just observing your every feature so that even when I close my eyes I can remember the way whatever god that created you sculpted your ethereal face.”

it’s going

“Uhh yeah? Your staring, why? 😅”

”oh” *looks away*

LIKE WHAT??

that difference is TOO huge 🤦‍♀️

random

You love the way shoto softly smiles around you

it makes you feel special

btw shoto probably won’t introduce you to his family for quite a bit of time for two reasons

1: he doesn’t wanna get you involved with his mess

2: if you two don’t work out he doesn’t want his business on the streets

now of course he trusts you but you can never be to cautious, he doesn’t go around blabbing his business, why would he want you to??

the solidarity silence is real

like, he could be reading as your working on homework with music playing in the background

Maybe you occasionally ask him for help on some questions

and he occasionally sips some tea momo made

speaking of which momo is your biggest supporter

along with izuku

shoto likes to go to the beach either really early or really late for two reasons

1: not many people are there

2: you get to watch the sunrise/sunset together

3: he likes the feeling of walking on sand

And yes I said two and added a third one bc he really likes the beach

I’m gonna make the other half of these hcs about his day bc it is! <3

so all of class 1A gets up early everyday, weeks before shoto’s big day to start planning :)

you get up early and others start working on the decorations, others buy gifts and needed things, y’all even buy him a outfit!!

and your going all out because you told everyone shoto told you he never celebrated bc of his past :(

so your bigging it up this year!!

you bought him a soba maker to store in his dorm<3

and yes it was very expensive bc it’s high quality!!

it’s so worth it for him tho

everyone’s gift varies depending on what they bond with him on

although shoto is kinda to himself so you had to help out some people but that’s okay

some people set things up, others wrap gifts, another making a card, ironing his outfit, etc! Bright and early on his big day!

when he gets up that day he’s truly in shock

he doesn’t know what to say

”…….you guys planned this?”

he figures your the main instigator since he told you

and he was right :)

first you planned the amazing breakfast momo made for him, it was delicious

next you guys went rolled skating

then you all went out for lunch

after you guys came home and opened gifts, along with a party you invited friends to, such as class 1B, shiketsu, etc everyone! 💓

lastly you all eat dinner (soba) & party til midnight before hitting the hay ♥︎

and man I summed it up a lot bc it was epic!!

there were so many funny moments and you can bet Mina recorded every second of it!!

She sent it to the group chat and shoto saved it

he looks at it quite often

It was a ”brings tears to my eyes” experience for him 💖💖

He’s so happy about it, and he tells you all about how happy it made him, opening up to you even more as you cuddle in bed late that night

💛

ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE ENDING IM SO GLAD I WROTE THIS!!

I’m gonna try not to miss too many anime character’s days but i can’t guarantee..LOL!

[astrodances]

"Now I've had the time of my life No, I never felt like this before Yes, I swear it's the truth And I owe it all to you"

This is a very, very special drawing for me. ✨

In September of last year, I watched Dancing With The Stars' "Step Into the Movies" special again, at the end of which they recreate "The Time of My Life" scene from Dirty Dancing. And that sent me on a nostalgia trip back to my high school theater days over a decade ago now, where the drama club accepted my idea to do a "Time of Our Lives" theme, and a performance for that song à la Glee. Mind you, I was mainly the stage manager/techie sort, but I did some scenes for the showcases, and participated in this song with my then-boyfriend, along with two other couples.

And while we were hanging out in the green room backstage, a friend took some pictures of us. Including the one that directly inspired this drawing of Webby + Lena.

This started out as a memory remix of that photo, after watching the DWTS special, because I thought these two lovebirds would be really cute subjects for it.

But once I got going, it turned into a love letter, for many things.

As part of the remix aspect of it, I now picture myself in Lena's spot in the photo, getting to have the short hair I wish I had had back then, and getting to wear a suit and tie! (Yes, in the original photo, I am wearing the dress and red bow Webby's sporting here, and I have long hair. 🙈 Though I will say here that the little heart necklace she's wearing is exactly like the one I had, too! :)) Drawing this was really cathartic for my nonbinary self. 💜

And as for Webby, in this remix, she represents someone that, in retrospect, I wish I had shared this moment with from back then. In many ways, she really was the Webby to my Lena. 💜💖💝

(Literally) beyond the subjects of this though, this is indeed very much a love letter to a lot of things, to passions. The background is pretty much a replica of the drama classroom wall we were in front of for the photo, at least as far as layout goes, with a few direct recreations of things that were on the wall and on the table there. Everything else was me being a passionate (theatre) nerd.

(Details (many details) of said nerdiness and alternate versions below the cut!)

I've included un-blurred and background-only versions (and a version with drop shadow lines on the girls, because why not? it's a cool effect!) below, but I just want to point out the details, because I'm so dang proud of this.

The posters/programs for The Phantom Blot of the Opera, Featherspray, Chickago, and My Fair Dewey are obvious duck-parody references to their real-world counterparts (with the latter being the exact poster they use in DuckTales, in Dewey's dream in "Nightmare on Killmotor Hill!" So thanks, Dewey! 😂). The Featherspray one was also included because Hairspray was one of the shows we did in high school! And lemme just say, creating theater posters is really fun!!

The MJ the Musical poster and the half-shown Notre Dame de Paris "Duckbill" right behind Lena's head are particularly special to me, since they (along with Phantom) are my favorite musicals, and getting to draw those two was especially fun!

The L'Orange Theater poster in the top-right is a bunch of duck easter eggs in one - the L'Orange Theater is mentioned and seen in the very first episode of DuckTales 1987, and of course, there's Aquarioon from DT17! Looks like it toured in Duckburg a long time ago. 😉

And the sheet music is the DuckTales theme! (Or at least the left side of it :P)

The "Congrats" card, calendar (the whale for upper half was my own touch), folder, page of random backstage stuff behind Lena's head (which includes little Star Trek and Darkwing Duck references), and golden "Theatre" card (with my old director's favorite quote) are directly from the photo (or at least based on what I could see through its blurriness 😝), as is the very edge of a cast photo in the upper-right. The purple note (totally not with any secret messages whaaaaat) below that, the certificate of excellence, and the little pride heart pins everywhere are little garnishes/dedications. 😊

The stage/theater diagram below the certificate is really cool, because that's a direct recreation (+ another hidden message) of a project a friend and I did for stagecraft back in our freshman year - I was even able to copy my own handwriting for the labels! 😄😂

The "Time of Our Lives" poster is a reference to the showcase I mentioned above that inspired all this, though the real-life poster looked very different, from what I remember.

The green bag below is sorta a nod to the secret pal exchanges we used to do during shows. 😉

And finally:

The Glittering Goldie show poster is me just having an absolute blast drawing her once again and coming up with something for her Blackjack days! And bonus - I'll be posting a gradient-only version of Goldie tomorrow! Really happy with how she turned out!

And the "All the World's a Stage" poster is me combining all of my theatre nerdiness with my passion for space and a good pun! 😁

ANYWAY...

I learned a lot with this drawing, about creating and about myself.

And I just had so, so much fun with it - it was all love, all passion, all happiness for this one. 💜💖💝

Wishing the same for all of you. ✨

Love, Astro 💜

[neo404]

Jealousy.

Summary: you are out with Nick (your bf), Matt and Chris because Nick asked you to hang out with them before recording a video and to sleepover after they finish recording. While you wait for them to record in the parking lot you hang out in the outside tables of one of the restaurants while snacking until an old friend sits next to you and starts talking/flirting to you. Nick gets jealous. That’s all.

Warning: cursing, pet names? (love and honey)

‘’I think we’ll take 50 minutes to 1 hour; I don’t want you to get bored or anything, maybe you should have stayed at our house.’’ Nick is grabbing my hand, standing outside some restaurant that I don’t know, from the target that its besides Matt and Chris come out with cans of soda, bags of chips and some funny hats in hand. I laugh and squeeze Nick’s hand a bit.

‘’It’s all right, I’ll wait for you here. Plus, I have to eat, I’ll be fine, don’t worry it’s just a few minutes.’’ I give him a kiss on the cheek as Chris and Matt stop walking when they are standing besides us.

‘’All right, time to record.’’ Matt says.

‘’It will be just a few minutes Nick, you won’t die for being 5 minutes away from you boyfriend.’’ Chris smiles and pokes Nicks arm. Nick slaps his hand and tells him to shut up.

‘’I’ll be back as soon as we finish and we can buy a few snacks and maybe a plushie on target for our sleepover, and you can think on what movie or series you want to watch.’’ He gives me a quick kiss on the lips and starts walking to the van with his brothers while waving at me.

I sit down at the tables that are outside the restaurant and star eating from the french fries I ordered, as I take a picture of the fries and my drink besides it to post it later someone walks out of the target with a bag and walks straight to me.

‘’Hello.’’ he says and I look up from my phone to see my friend from high school Max who I haven’t seen in a few years.

‘’Oh god, hi. How are you? How have you been?’’ I smile at him as he sits besides me.

‘’All good, I got into the university I wanted, I got a part time job. Everything is amazing, how about you?’’

‘’That’s awesome. I am doing good too, life has been really fun lately.’’ I smile.

We talked a lot, about music and the movies we have watched, when we were classmates, our goals, crazy things that have happened. We just talked and laughed a lot, after all it’s been a while since we have seen each other. He says something about our teacher and as we laugh, he puts his hand in my arm and leans in as he laughs.

‘’Who are you?’’ Nick is standing in front of us whit a frown and scanning the situation. ‘’do you know him?’’

‘’Yeah, he is Max, an old friend from school’’ Nick looks at him up and down as I the both of us stand up.

‘’Yeah, nice to meet you. Who are you?’’ Nick raises a brown at this question and crosses his arms.

‘’I’m his boyfriend.’’ Max smirks and looks up at Nick since he’s taller a few inches.

‘’Nice to meet you, Nick.’’ Max turns around and gives me a quick hug. ‘’Good bye, have a nice night. And dm me so we can go out again.’’

‘’All right, good bye.’’ I wave at him as he walks away. ‘’How was the recording?’’ I smile at Nick and put my hand in his shoulder. He is still frowning and his arms are still crossed.

‘’Fine.’’ He walks to the target and I follow him closely. I tried to make talk with him and grab his hand or arm but he gave me short answers or told me he needed to carry the bags.

We walk to the van, sit at the back and Nick puts his earpods on. I look at Matt and Chris from the mirror, and I ask them quietly if something happened and they said no. I’m on my phone the rest of the ride home and when we arrive Nick rushes to his room.

‘’Is he okay?’’ Chris asks me and I shrug my shoulders.

‘’I don’t know, I’ll talk to him.’’ I smile warmly at him and say good night to Matt and Chris. I walk to Nick’s room and knock on his door twice.

‘’Come in.’’ I open the door and see Nick sitting on the bed already wearing more comfortable clothes and scrolling in his phone. I close the door behind me and sit beside me.

‘’Nick, honey. Is everything okay?’’ he lets out a sigh and puts his phone in the night table.

‘’No. I mean, you didn’t told him you have a boyfriend? You didn’t told him I was you boyfriend’’

‘’Who? Max?’’ he crosses his arms and nod. ‘’Is this about him?’’

‘’Yes, its about him flirting with you and telling you to dm him in front of me.’’

‘’No, he wasn’t.’’ Nick rolls his eyes.

‘’Yes, he was. He didn’t knew you were taken an was flirting whit you, when he saw me and I said I was you boyfriend he looked at me weirdly.’’

‘’I didn’t realize.’’

‘’Its whatever.’’

‘’Why are you so upset?’’ He sits up and looks at his hands.

‘’I’m just scared, I don’t know, sometimes I get insecure. Maybe I got jealous. He was being flirty with you and I wasn’t there, you didn’t told him you have a boyfriend and I overthought it, like you didn’t want him to know.’’

‘’No, no, never. Don’t say that. Nick, I love you’’ I grab his face with my hands and stroke his cheek with my thumb. ‘’It didn’t come up; I was so exited to see an old friend. I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to. You are the only guy I want to be with.’’

Nick’s eyes get a bit watery and his arms wrap around me, hugging me tightly. I stroke his hair and whisper sweet nothings into his ear.

‘’I get to pick the movie.’’ He says against my neck.

‘’All right, love. We will do whatever you want to.’’ I kiss his head and he push me playfully.

‘’Go change clothes first, or you’ll fall asleep and tomorrow complain about how you didn’t sleep well’’ he smiles and I throw a pillow at him.

‘’Okay I will. Don’t miss me too much.’’ I say as I walk to the bathroom.

‘’I will, you know it.’’ He winks at me and I close the door behind me.