#well the salad bags I get you can’t usually just open it with your hands

[rosicheeks]

6/8/22?

Ok ok so 6/8 looks like I was just editing old pictures BUT on 6/11/22 I was an idiot and sliced my finger open 😇

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

compos mentis 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note:Double does of Andricus.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“My lawyer will hear about this!” Your mother snarls and you shy away. 

She always has to make a scene. You don’t even understand why she’s doing this. All they did was forget to put a fork in the bag. The poor employee behind the counter looks ready to snap as they wipe their sweaty hands on their apron. 

“My daughter is sick and you can’t remember a fork! It’s so much for her to come back in here!” She snarls. 

“Mom, I could wait in the car--” 

“Be quiet. Oh yes, I want corporate’s number, right now. I will be certain my attorney gives them a call about you...” she squints at the girl’s name tag, “Tina!” 

“Mom, please,” you pout. 

“Oh honey,” she turns and pets your head dramatically, then look at the worker as she cradles your face and adjusts the tube under your nose, “look at her. Look what you’re doing to her.” 

You hold back the flood of tears. You hate when she does this. You just want to be invisible but she always has to make you front and centre. She always has to tell everyone how sick and helpless you are. 

“Mom,” you moan. 

“Ugh, whatever,” she tears away and snaps her fingers, “give me the fork. And I expect a complimentary salad as well.” 

“Ma’am, we can’t do that,” Tina says dully. 

“What do you mean you can’t do that?” 

“Here,” Tina reaches under the counter and pulls out a card, “that’s the number for head office. I’ll grab you a fork.” 

She turns and takes out one of the bamboo forks. Your mother snarls and squeezes the card until it folds. She snatches the fork and throws it back at the worker. 

“Are you kidding? She can’t eat with this! She’ll get splinters.” 

“I want to go, mom,” you whine. 

She shrugs off your touch on her arm, “Mr. Barber, DA, will hear about this!” 

She stomps and spins. You turn slowly to follow as she’s already halfway to the door. You're already forgotten. You roll your tank with you as you curl your shoulders and awkwardly angle it through the door. 

Your mom’s a bluffer. Andy isn’t the DA. Not yet. He’s only the assistant. And he isn’t her lawyer. Not anymore. Once she won the lawsuit against the hospital, he traded in that title for boyfriend. And now she has a ring on her finger which means he’s soon be stepdad. You don’t think you can ever call him that.  

You avoid him as much as you can. Not because you dislike him, because you don’t know him. Aside from him coaching you to take the stand, you didn’t know much about him. You don’t have the energy to know more. Besides, he isn’t there for you. You’re just the unfortunate burden left for your mother to care for. 

You get to the car, heart racing, and shake as you struggle to get the door open. Your mother has the engine rumbling already and you can barely move around as you’re too dizzy to set your feet. You fall into the seat and strain to drag the oxygen tank between your legs. You really should have more space. 

You wiggle your chafed nose. Your mouth and nostrils are always painfully dry. You get your belt on and reach into the belt bag you keep on you at all times. You santize your hands from the mini bottle then take out the vaseline to apply to your dry skin. 

You lurch back as your mother veers out of the lot. You jostle with the movement and struggle to put the cap back on the tin. You tuck it away at last as her bluetooth dials out. 

“Andrew,” your mother greets the Assistant DA before he can speak. He sighs. You’ve heard him tell her over and over not to call him that. “You won’t believe what just happened. The way they gawk at us when we’re just trying to live like normal people!” 

She squawks on in one of her rants and you can only sit there and listen along with the man at the other end of the call. In the background, you make out the shuffle of paper and typing of keys. You shift as your mother cranks the real and you hear something rustle. You look back and groan. 

“Mom, the food spilled,” you utter. 

“Andrew!” She ignores you as she grips the steering wheel tighter, “are you even listening?” 

“Yeah, I heard. The food spilled. Why don’t you come by the office? I’m just finishing up. I’ll just take you ladies out.” He offers. 

You really don’t want that. You don’t like to go out. You only went to the wrap shop because your mom insisted after your last appointment. You’re always exhausted after all the tests. 

“Oh, gosh, that would be lovely,” she trills, “how about it, honey?” She doesn’t wait for your answer. “I’ll head over there right now. I hope you don’t mind, I won’t have time to change. We had a long day with the doctor.” 

“That’s fine. I just need to send these notes over and I’ll be all done,” he explains. “How about you, sweetheart? Feeling up to some linguine?” 

You don’t realise he’s talking to you until he says your name clearly. You gulp, “yes, sir.” 

“Oh, silly,” your mom reaches over to swat you, “she still calls you that.” 

He chuckles from the other end, “big changes. We’re all adjusting. Anyway, see you shortly. I got someone at my door.” 

“Bye, sweetie,” she sings and the line dies. 

She huffs and rolls her eyes. Her smile falls away. “I bet it’s that damned legal aid. Have you seen the way she dresses? Oh, how she flutters her eyes at my fiance?” 

You just grumble and nod. As usual, she isn’t looking for two-sided conversation. She tells, she doesn’t talk. 

“This will be nice. A family dinner. All of us. Honey, you really do need to loosen up with him. The wedding will be here before we know it.” 

You shrug, “I know. I’m not... I’m trying.” 

“I know, I know. The case was so much and then to think, it brought us all together. But this is the best we can hope for. The settlement is great but taking care of you, it’s so much. It’ll be nice to have help,” she chatters on. 

You zone out her usual gripes. She has a way of complaining about you without really saying it outright. You know you’ve made her life harder. Always sick, always helpless. You asked her to hire you a nurse with the settlement but she convinced you to put the money in a trust. It will be worth much more in ten years, honey... 

She pulls around the building with its staunch white pillars. The sight of them casts a wave of deja vu over you. You thought once all was said and done in court, you’d never have to come there again. It’s humiliating enough to be gawked at in public but to be put in front of an audience like that... 

You’re just sensitive. That’s what your mom says. She’s right. You wouldn’t know. You’ve never had to be on your own. She’s always been the one doing everything. 

She parks and gets out and you carefully lift your tank out of the car, not wanting to touch the cold shell. You stand and lean on it, rolling it ahead of you. You follow her inside as she hardly misses a beat. You can hardly keep up. 

She steps onto the elevator and tuts at you to hurry up. You get on and she hits the buttons impatiently. You get off on a floor, letting her lead you as you keep your head down. Her clicking heels keep you in line. 

“Danica,” Andy greets your mom by name, “just in time.” 

“Mm, there you are,” her response is curt.  

You look up at Andy as he leans on the desk of his aide. She’s a pretty blond woman named Gwen with shiny nails. She smiles as he stands on his own weight. 

“How are you?” Andy offers a one-armed hug. 

“Good,” she wraps him up and plants a kiss on his cheek as he dodges her lips. “How are you, sweetie?” 

“Tired, long day,” he replies stiffly. He looks at you, “hey, you look beat.” 

“A little,” you mutter. 

“You sure you’re up to it? We can just order in,” he offers. 

“I’m okay,” you say as your mother looks at you sharply. Better to just do what she wants. 

“I don’t mind,” he insists. 

“Oh, but sweetie, you said we’d go out. Don’t you want to have a nice dinner with your fiancee?” She smirks at Gwen. 

You want to turn into dust. This is torturous. You’re light-headed and uncomfortable. Andy keeps his arm around your mom, “see ya, Gwen. You get going. I don’t want people thinking I’m a tryant.” 

He struts towards you and puts his hand on your arm to turn you around. You walk beside him and his touch falls to your lower back. You want to pull away but you can’t. The wheels on your tank squeak with each step. 

You’re happy to detach from Andy as the elevator doors open. You wait and your mom steps on first by Andy doesn’t. He waves you in ahead of him and grunts. He doesn’t rsay anything to your mom but you can sense tension. 

“How about I drive? You can come with me in the morning and get your car,” Andy suggests, “save some mileage.” 

“Oh, that would be so nice. I’d love some chardonnay with dinner,” she bubbles. 

He steps between you and taps the button. His sleeve brushes you as you hunch lower. Your head is really bugging you. You just want to sleep. Or maybe you’re just hungry. 

“Looks like it hurt,” Andy points to your bandaged hand. You peek at it and shake your head. 

“IV. Just bruised,” you answer. 

“Ah, no fun,” he remarks. “Well, now you don’t have to worry about the hospital bills, huh? Got you all tucked away.” 

“It’s so wonderful,” your mom latches onto his arm. “You take such good care of us, baby.” 

“Mm, doing my best. Can’t be easy with a sick kid.” 

“No, no, not easy. But oh, you helped so much. I mean, how dare that hospital just dismiss us like that. They could’ve killed her. Malpractice if I ever saw it, and you would know, being a lawyer and all,” she says tritely. 

You stay silent. You don’t like talking about it. It’s over, so why do you have to keep reliving it? She seemed to bask in the attention it got her while you hated every minute of it. 

As you stare at the bottom of the doors, you feel a tickle on your hand. You wince but don’t pull away. You think, at first, it’s a stray hair. You glance over and find Andy rubbing his finger against your hand. You grip the handle of your tank tighter and swallow. What is he doing? 

He stands with his head straight, his shoulders high, as if he’s doing nothing at all. Maybe he doesn’t realise. You don’t move. You’re frozen in indecision. You don’t want to pull away in case you embarrass him. 

Surely, it’s unintentional. You’re just some sick woman still living with her mother. You’re frail and helpless and you can’t even breathe on your own. 

No, it’s just a mistake. A mix-up. He’s probably lost in thought, the way he gets. When he sits and stares at you but sees nothing at all. 

The elevator opens and he rescinds his touch. He waves you through first, and you shuffle ahead of him. Your mom follows and he brings up the rear. You need to sit down soon. 

You go outside into the cool evening air and make your way to his car. Your mother stomps ahead in her heels but he stays at a pace with you. You can never keep up. As you reach his SUV, you hesitate. You forget how much bigger his car is. So high up. 

“Can I help?” He offers as he follows you to the back door. He opens it for you as you spin your tank around. 

“I’m... okay,” you lift the tank first and he quickly scoops his hand under the wheels to help. You grab onto the door to haul yourself up. His hand brushes your hip as you do and you swing into the seat. “Thanks.” 

“Not at all, sweetheart,” he lays his hand on your knee and gives a quick squeeze. “You sure you don’t need anything?” 

You shake your head and close your eyes. You’re completely worn out. You need to save what little you have left for dinner. 

“Alright,” he lets go and shuts the door.  

He gets in the front as your mother hums, “let’s go. I’m starving.” 

[daydream-cement]

Ooohhhh been obsessing with your work!! When you have time can you maybe do a flirty reader who has a crush on Larissa and likes to tease and flirt with her with funny sexual harmless innuendos. Larissa can’t help but blush all the time. One day Larissa was like f@ck this and slams reader on the wall and kiss her. Reader suddenly gets shocked because never in her life would she expect this to happen and even if she really is a big flirt she is secretly a virgin lol. Reader suddenly became embarrassed since with all the jokes and flirting she did on Larissa she actually have zero experience. How would Larissa react when she finds out her minx of a reader is a virgin?

The Flirt

Larissa Weems x Reader

Authors Note: No smut, but people can use their imaginations.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite customer. Don't you look incredibly gorgeous today..." You grinned widely at Larissa Weems, who was still approaching the register. She would visit the diner you worked for lunch three times a week, always ordering her same half a sandwich with a side salad.

For months you had been flirting with her, not interested in hiding the fact that you found her to be intoxicating. There was no doubt she was the most beautiful person you had ever met and you wanted to make it known.

"Ah, Y/n. You always flatter me." Larissa (as always) brushed off the compliment, pulling out her wallet to pay for the lunch she knew would be ready on the counter behind yourself.

"I just need to make sure someone tells you. Have you given a second thought to that date? Dinner at my place? I'll make your sandwich and salad just how you like it and what ever happens... happens..." You give her a wink as you take her cash and pop open the till to get her change.

"Forever the charmer. I'm afraid I don't sleep with the people who make my lunch. Where else would I go for a decent meal?" She laughed lightly as she took her change, depositing the bills and coins into their rightful place. Larissa had always seen your flirting as a way to tease one another, never had she taken you seriously.

"I never asked to sleep with you..." You turned to grab the brown bag that contained her lunch, but you hesitated giving it to her so you could talk with her longer, "But now that you mention it..."

Larissa shook her head, unable to hide her smile, and held out her hand, "Hand it over."

"Aren't you gonna give me a kiss first?" You tease leaning forward a bit, tapping your cheek where you hoped she would grant you a kiss.

Her smile faded and she shook her head. When she realized you were only half joking, she leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek. You let your guard down, almost shocked this was about to happen after months of relentless flirting. She yanked the brown bag from your hand and pulled away from you, a triumphant smile gracing her lips, "Have a wonderful day."

-----

When Larissa hadn't come in for her usual, you felt particularly concerned. She never missed getting lunch from you, even if she sent another teacher to get it from you. The lunch rush was surprisingly slow, so you easily convinced your coworker to cover for you so you could drive Larissa's lunch to the school.

You had never been to Nevermore before, only ever hearing stories from the locals about the outcasts who lived here. The building was quite beautiful, but she shear size of it made you wonder how you would possibly find Larissa. With the guidance of a few different students, you finally found Larissa's office, knocking on the door twice before hearing her voice granting you access, "Come in!"

"Y/n... what are you doing here?" Larissa was completely shocked to see your face enter her office. Before you could respond, her eyes fell to the brown paper bag in your hand, "Did you bring me my lunch?"

"Well when my favorite customer didn't show up, I knew I had to deliver this myself." You stop midway on the walk to her desk, narrowing your eyes at her dress as she stands to greet you, "Wait one moment..."

"What? Is there something wrong with my dress?" Larissa looks down to her outfit, turning and scanning the fabric for a stain or tear.

"No. I just like looking at you..." You smirk and let out a small laugh when Larissa rolls her eyes at your flirtation. She continues moving around the edge of her desk, coming to rest against the side closest to you with her arms folded over her chest. You approach her and hold out the lunch to her, "I even added a little treat for you... It's not as sweet as you, but-"

Larissa's hand grabbing your wrist instead of the bag caught you off guard. She pulled you closer, making your heart beat wildly in your chest. Was this really happening?

"You really must stop the phony flirting. You are going to break my little heart when I find out you haven't meant a word." Larissa's tone suggested she was messing with you, but when you looked up into her eyes, you knew she was completely serious.

"It's not phony." You narrow your gaze, frowning at her assumption. Your eyes wander down her body before glancing back up into her eyes, "You are simply one of the most beautiful people I've ever met. I would do anything for a date with you."

Larissa's grasp on your wrist loosened, but you didn't move away from her, rather you shifted a centimeter closer. Her eyes caught yours for a moment before looking away. Was she nervous?

"I've never stood this close to your before..." You whisper as you study her face. She had a divine scar above her lip and you wondered if you could feel it under your lips or tongue if you were to kiss her. You look away when she doesn't respond. Never did you want to make her uncomfortable, "Maybe I should go. Enjoy your lunch."

You push the brown bag and turn to leave. Larissa tossed the lunch on her desk and followed your every step, pushing the door shut when you began to open it. When you turn around to face her, wanting to enquire why she wasn't letting you leave, her other hand pushed against your stomach, pinning you against the door. Her lips crash to yours without a moments hesitation.

Larissa's hands wandered to your hips as she deepened the kiss. While you tried enjoying the kiss, her knee between your legs made your head pound and your chest tighten. You weren't ready for this. Larissa was ready for so much more, but your inexperience made you hesitant.

Her lips traveled down your jaw to your neck, but she paused when she felt your body go rigid. She pulled away, concern filling her eyes, worried she had done something to upset you, "What's wrong? Did I do something?"

"No.. No, no, no. Larissa.. I-" You wince at the information you were about to relay her, "I am a virgin."

"You? My little flirt?" The possessiveness of the nickname made you smile. Larissa took a step back from you, offering you some space from her wandering lips and hands.

You nod in response, a blush beginning to creep across your cheeks.

"Perhaps we can start with that date? And see how things progress from there?" Larissa brought a hand to your cheek and cocked her head as she spoke gently to you.

"That sounds wonderful."

[roomsofangel]

BAD IDEA! . . . # CHAPTER ONE

synopsis you were always pressured by your family to start dating and have a life, as they said. with constantly getting compared to your older sister, and twin brother, san, you were constantly trying to find ways to gather approval from your parents. which is why now you were in a huge mess after giving a false story of a boyfriend that didn’t exist and your family now set and eager to meet him on this year’s vacation.

warnings none really, just suggestive jokes made by mingi and the mention of vomit.

wc 1.7k

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you knew it was a stupid idea. one of the worst ones in the history of your life — yet, you sat in your seat, shoulders slouched as you rested your weight on your elbows while you leaned forward, head falling onto your arms while you huffed an audible breath. you could have sworn you heard multiple pens drop and be picked up, you clicked yours a few times as well until the slam of something being set next to your head alerted you — body swinging upwards and you’re now face to face with him.

kang yeosang. your bad idea.

“you fell asleep, hurry up.” his voice ushered, harshly whispering while he rested his hands on his hips, brows scrunched together as he looked down at you

you scoffed, waving him off and leaning back, hearing the cracks of your spine before the tension released, “what’s it matter to you?”

yeosang shook his head with a teasing toothless grin, “jesus, someone woke up on the wrong side of the chair.” he chuckled

“don’t mess with me right now, okay?” you rubbed your temples in circles as you spoke, leaning down to the side to get your bag before standing, swinging the strap over your shoulder and fixing your posture, meeting his gaze yet again, “i’m not in the mood.”

yeosang hummed, “lost in thought?”

“drop it.” your eyes shot daggers into him, he held his chest as if they actually pierced a wound before throwing his hands up in defense

“hey, hey, was just asking,” he briefed, shrugging when he let his arms fall back to his side, expression unreadable before it melted into his familiar, stupidly jesting one, “don’t gotta bite.”

you huffed, glaring at him, “i wasn’t bi—“ stopping yourself mid-sentence, you knew it was impossible to try and even go back and forth as the two of you usually do, and if you wanted to ask him to go along with your stupid shenanigans later, you’d need to be civil. for now. “look, just leave it.”

“as you wish,” yeosang nodded, aimlessly looking around the room and tapping his foot while you brushed against his shoulder to leave the classroom, hearing his muttered yet loud enough for you to hear, “princess”

“yeosang!” you swiftly turned back in a haste, voice louder than intended which caught attention from other people who attended the lecture, you sunk into your own body and shifted your bag strap before softly apologizing

“sorry..” you bowed before turning to shoot a glare towards yeosang

who always accepted them with open arms, sending you a smile in return that you always declined

you weren’t sure how you were going to do this. it was a stupid idea. but kang yeosang was just as impulsive as you — he was all you had if you wanted to make this work.

“just tell them you can’t make it.”

was the first thing that came out of your friend mingi’s mouth who had his mouth stuffed with french fries, using his hand to cover himself enough to speak before getting a slow down and swallow first from hongjoong who slid him a napkin

you sighed, using your fork to pick at your untouched, and unwanted, caesar salad that you were unfortunately forced to bring in replacement due to your brother taking your packed one from the night before, “you obviously don’t know my family then.” you bitterly amused, piercing a piece of lettuce a bit more harshly

“what did that poor lettuce ever do to you?” yunho amused with his lips against the cup he later took a sip from, earning you to send a glare his way before you smiled

“honestly,” hongjoong broke the silence about your big plan, his hands on his head as he leaned back as if he was emptying his thoughts out his ears and you could watch the letters flow out, “the idea isn’t that bad.” he shrugged

your head turned to look st him before the others at the table with your hands up, motioning to hongjoong, “see!” you beamed, “thank you hong-“ before earning a strawberry flung to your forehead that made you huff and curse under your breath

“but!” hongjoong interrupted, setting down the fork he used to aim the strawberry, “it can go horribly wrong and none of us can help you.”

“fuck you.” you retorted

“no thank you.” he replied

wooyoung clapped his hands, leaning forward on his elbows shortly after while he smiled at you, sneaking one of mingi’s fries into his mouth, “anyways! why not just ask seonghwa? he seems a good fit.”

your face scrunched, “seonghwa? you mean the one who i threw up on in high school?“

“yeah!” wooyoung replied with a smile, eyes turning into crescent moons while he had to pause and swallow the snack he snuck away to eat, “see, the two of you have a backstory, your parents would eat it up!”

“just like how seonghwa’s shirt ate up your- ow!” mingi lead on before you elbowed his side to stop him from continuing, erupting a belly laugh from yunho who snacked on his chips

you eyed mingi before turning your attention back to wooyoung, “anyways,” you shook your head, brushing the loose strands of hair out of your face, “no, seonghwa is out of the question.”

“what about me?” yunho voiced with doe sparkling eyes, mouth stuffed with his potato chips that were leaving crumbs on his tee shirt

“yunho, i love you and all, but you would snitch the second we got there or give it away,” you frowned

“true..” he mumbled, a soft smile before turning his attention onto hongjoong who voiced another question

“then who else do you have as an option?”

you paused, eyes wandering while your lips pressed together, fingertips messing with the string of your sweater that swallowed your body, hands warmly held in a makeshift paw

“y/n… i know that look..” hongjoong’s tone was stern and you could hear he was ready to scold you, but your eyes and attention were focused on the one person who had just walked in with a stride, waving and saying hellos to people he passed, bowing and fixing his bag over his shoulder while he made his way to his usual table

hongjoong muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, “don’t tell me…”

“oh my god! this is hilarious!” wooyoung cackled, clapping his hands, “you want to fake date yeosang?!” he hollered

snapping your head back to your loud friend, face flushed, your hand attempted to swat at him from across the table, “wooyoung! shut your big fat mouth! what if he-“

“i heard my name, all good i hope?” yeosang’s presence and voice made himself known as he stood next to you at the end of the table, your breath hitched in your throat “unless your tongue tasted it, y/n.” his eyes landed on you, the angle making you want to cower and hide, why did he have to effortlessly look so good? was he even human? it made you sick.

mingi dug his spoon into his next snack, amused while he started to put the silverware to his mouth, “oh, her tongue wants to taste something— no! my yogurt!!” when your elbow ‘accidentally’ brushed and hit his spoon out of his hand before he could taste his sweet treat

intrigued, yeosang laughed to himself, “oh? care to elaborate?” he nudged you with his hand to your shoulder, earning a scoff from yourself with reddened ears

“yeosang, just go away-“ you muttered

“no yeosang! sit.” hongjoong interrupted which made your eyes widen, yeosang didn’t need to be told twice either — taking the seat by your betrayer friend.

you mouthed, “i hate you.”

“thank me later.” hongjoong mouthed back with a mischievous smile

three hours of agony and stolen intense glares were how you would describe the rest of the time you spent with your so called friends and yeosang. hands flat on your desk, you hoped the medicine you took was enough for your pounding headache to cease after the loud screeching wooyoung and mingi had done earlier — attempting to recollect your thoughts before you heard your door open and felt your stomach drop with it.

“y/n, a few friends are coming over—oh, why haven’t you packed? we have to go in a few days.” your brother, san’s voice broke through the hiatus of silence that was being held in your room, your body turning with the spinning chair to look at him

“i know, i know” you waved him off, brushing the tips off your fingers and pressing them to your temples to self soothe, “i’ll get to it, okay?” before you paused, arching your brow towards him with a side glance

you snorted, “you have friends?”

san gasped, “yah! i do!” aiming the closest pillow he could reach towards your feet while you laughed

“jesus— okay grumpy, what time are they coming?” you calmed your fit of giggles, stretching out your body and hearing the cracks, “i have to study.”

which wasn’t a complete lie, but not the full truth unless you counted operation kang yeosang to be an exam.

before your brother could reply, from the other room down the hall into the living room, you heard the sound of the front door being both knocked on and kicked in desperation, doorbell ringing along with it and it made you jump up a bit due to the suddenness, “…now??” san dragged his words while you scoffed

“san!!” you groaned

san dodged the pillow you aimed at him, holding a finger heart to you in return while closing your bedroom door, “love you! no promises we won’t be too loud!”

you whined, turning back to face your desk while you heard the muffled yet still loud enough boys enter the home, you muttered under your breath, resting your head down on your arms as if it would make everything go by faster and quieter

eyes slowly opening and closing, you knew you were dozing off, getting ready to slide out of your seat to start looking for pajamas to change into but you couldn’t move after seeeing another figure in your room with you, specifically at your doorframe

how long were you out? did you actually fall asleep? you turned your body to face the figure and wanted to scream, but only your eyes had widened and the eyes that mirrored them

because why was kang yeosang, your bad idea, standing at your bedroom door?

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[sanguineterrain]

Brooklyn Honey - Bucky Barnes x Reader

(Repost!) Hello, this is for the lovely @wkemeup​’s 9k writing challenge. I decided to go with the song prompt “Life in the City” by The Lumineers. It really reminded me of 40s Bucky.

Title: Brooklyn Honey

Summary: Life in the city ain’t always so pretty, but you’ve got Bucky and he’s got you.  

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: nah

***

“That’s so not how you do it.”

“Sorry, I must’ve missed the day you wrote the manual on how to put up curtains.”

“You sure did, and I can tell you as an expert, the nails aren’t supposed to resemble a mountain range.”

“Smartass. C’mere.”

Bucky’s palm opened and you took a nail, carefully tapping it into the wall.

“Or is it the skyline you’re going for?”

“You’re pretty mouthy for an assistant.”

“I keep it interesting, doll.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

“James Barnes, what on earth are you doing in there?!”

Your eyes went wide and you hurried to scramble off the chair you were standing on. Bucky put a hand on your back, shaking his head.

“Buck—”

“I got it, don’t worry. Keep hammering.”

“But—”

“Honey, don’t you trust me?”

“Absolutely not.”

More knocking, faster and louder this time.

“Coming, Mrs. Anderson!”

Bucky buttoned up his shirt, smoothing his pomade-slicked hair back, and went to answer.

You stepped down from the chair anyway, daring to peek around the corner. 

He had his arms up, trying to fill the entire door frame and hide the obnoxiously yellow curtains you probably weren’t supposed to have. Mrs. Anderson, Steve and Bucky’s busybody next door neighbor, was a small, shriveled, old woman with a perpetually pinched face that looked like it had been stored in a jar of formaldehyde for the last twenty years. She kept trying to look over Bucky’s shoulder but he wouldn’t let her, moving when she did.

“—could’ve sworn I heard hammering coming from this apartment.”

“Oh! You must’ve heard me fixing my bike.” 

“You don’t have a bike, James.”

“Did I say my bike? I meant Steve’s.”

“Steve rides a bike?”

“Absolutely. Keeps him fit.”

“I don’t recall seeing him ever—”

“Well, bye, Mrs. Anderson! Always a pleasure to see you, ma’am.”

She gave another stern look before shaking her head, walking away.

You sighed as Bucky shut the door with his foot, a too sly smile on his face.

“Didn’t I tell you to trust me?”

“I think you might be a worse liar than Steve.”

“Well, ouch, doll.”

“First of all, who’s ever heard of needing a hammer to fix a bike?”

“We can be the first.”

“Next time, I’m answering the door.”

You clambered back onto the chair, returning to knocking in the nails. 

“I still don’t understand why you wanted curtains in the first place.” 

“It adds a homely touch, doll. Aren’t you the one who’s always complaining about how drab this place is?”

“Of course, but it’s not my apartment.” 

“It could be, with how often you’re over,” Bucky said sweetly. 

“Keep dreaming, Barnes.” 

“I will,” he assured with a smile that could melt butter. 

You shook your head and returned to focus on the curtains. True, the first one was beyond help in terms of nail placement, but the least you could do was try and make the next one even. 

Bucky had offered at least ten times to do it himself but there was no way he was getting his hands on a hammer after what had happened when he’d tried to install some shelves last winter. 

Besides, you were better at decorating when it came down to it. At least, that’s what Bucky kept insisting, letting you do essentially anything you wanted to the apartment. 

The chair suddenly groaned under additional weight and you startled as you felt the side of a body press against yours. 

“How’s it goin’?”

“Bucky, this chair really isn’t meant for two people.” 

“You sure? Seems pretty sturdy to me.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist and you fixed him with a look. 

“What? Don’t want you to fall.”

“How valiant of you.”

“Ain’t it?”

He hopped off before you could scold him further, grinning up at you. 

“Beer?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Bucky disappeared and returned a minute later with an open bottle for you, holding it so you could sip safely while still perched on the chair.

Then you kept hammering, eyes narrowed as you focused on not hitting anything other than the nail.

Bucky watched from the floor as you did so, leaning back on his hands.

“What’re you looking at?” you asked after a while, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

He shrugged, a gentle smile on his face.

“The city.”

***

“Honey, I’m home!”

“What did I say about that, Barnes?”

“You said… you’ll love me for all eternity because you’re as sweet as honey?”

“I think it was more along the lines of, ‘don’t call me honey unless you mean it.’”

“I always mean it, Y/N.”

And that was a little more sincerity than you were willing to explore, so you pointed to the bag instead.

“What’s that?”

Bucky grinned, setting a giant paper sack on the counter.

“Lemons.”

“What?”

“Lemons. You know, the little yellow fruits that make you do this?”

Bucky puckered his mouth and smacked his tongue, eyes screwed shut.

“Lemon’s not a fruit.”

“It sure is! Fruit got seeds. Read that in a book about agriculture. We produce a lot of corn, did you know that?“

“Okay, Bucky, the presiding question still remains: why do you have every lemon in the city?”

“There was a good deal at the docks. Dirt cheap for produce. Some guys told me they were takin’ some home for their wives. Didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“I’m not your wife.”

Bucky just grinned. You rolled your eyes.

“I don't know who taught you this, but the way to a girl’s heart is not twenty pounds of lemons.”

“Think of all the lemonade we can make.”

“Unless you’ve also got FDR and his cabinet in those bags, we’re gonna have a lot of leftovers.”

“Look at it this way: no vitamin C deficiency. One less thing to worry ‘bout.”

“Bucky.”

“They’re not all lemons, doll. I got other stuff too. Tomatoes, cabbage, snuck some cucumbers, even bananas.”

You sighed, smiling tiredly. This ration was taking its toll on everyone. You knew Bucky was doing his best, had seen the vegetables and thought of you and how much you missed having cucumber salad and tomato sandwiches like you used to.

“Thank you, Bucky, really. I appreciate you.”

You brushed past him to begin preparing the excess vegetables you three wouldn’t eat this week to pickle. Salt and sugar was going to be hard to gather, but you’d manage. You always did.

“Welcome, doll.” 

He beamed, eyes full of warmth as he watched you. 

“You gonna stay for dinner?”

“I dunno. Seems like Steve’s gettin’ kinda tired of me,” you laughed.

“Never. ‘Sides, even if he was, doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, really?”

“Nope. ‘Cause you stay for me.”

“And where did you get that idea from?”

He shrugged.

“Seemed kinda obvious, doll. You’re smitten, admit it.”

“Oh dear, you’ve got me all figured out. However did you know?”

“I’m a bright fella.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You ain’t saying no…”

“Really, I have to say no? Can’t you tell I only stick around for the great deals you get on produce?” 

“But it’s me that gets the great deals, so really, you’re still staying for me.” 

Bucky was against the counter now, shoulder to shoulder with you. 

You sighed, hand on your hip as you stared at the table. 

“What the hell are we going to do with all these lemons?” 

“We’ll figure something out. Always do, don’t we?”

You hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder, aware he was talking about more than the lemons. 

“Yeah. We always do.” 

***

Steve had been home for a while, wordlessly letting you in when you’d shown up an hour ago. You didn’t have to explain anything to him anymore. 

The record player was on, crooning gently. Steve was in the corner, drawing, away from the window after the breeze had whipped his papers around one too many times.

“Can’t believe they’re building another skyscraper down on Lawrence.”

Steve frowned.

“Really? Won’t be able to see the sunset now.”

“Yeah. And Brooklyn’s not exactly known for its scenery to begin with. Saw a rat and a pigeon fighting over a pretzel this morning.”

Steve chuckled from the floor, shaking his head.

“Times are tough. Even for rats and pigeons.” 

“Sure are.”

“Nice curtains, by the way. I like the color.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Did Bucky ask—?”

“No,” he answered, smile evident in his voice. “But that’s alright. I know he’s just tryin’ to gauge what you like.”

“What?”

“Yeah, after the war’s over and all, he’s gonna try and buy a nicer place.”

“And he wants my furnishing tips?”

Steve shrugged, gaze soft and knowing.

“Guess so.”

You cleared your throat, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Want some lemonade?”

“Jesus, there’s more? I thought we’d run out of bushels.”

“You’d think, right? I put ‘em in the icebox so they won’t spoil so fast.”

“Sure, yeah. Thanks, Y/N.”

You were in the middle of stirring the pitcher when Bucky came in.

He didn’t greet you or Steve immediately, like he usually did, instead setting down his keys, then slapping the mail onto the table. 

“Well, hey there, mister. Fancy a drink? Today’s special is sour lemonade, your favorite.”

Bucky looked up, startled, and glanced at the pitcher before nodding, attempting a half smile.

“Sure, doll. Thanks.”

“Everything okay, Buck?”

He nodded, slipping away to the bathroom with a sigh.

You turned to Steve, who shrugged.

“Long day at the docks, I guess.”

***

June twelfth. That was when Bucky was being shipped out, somewhere in Europe, too far from you. This entire year you’d been holding your breath, hoping, needing the draft to leave him alone. 

Now they were taking him away from you in less than a week. 

You were in the apartment, lying on the floor, on Bucky’s second to last day. That’s how he found you upon coming home. 

“Trying to count all the cracks in the ceiling, doll? You’ll be here all night.”

You had a glass of lemonade by your head, spiked with a bit of rum. It was already warm, because it was summer and things were supposed to be warm in the summer.

The curtains danced in front of the window, yellow like sunshine and all those goddamn lemons in the freezer. The only respite from an otherwise colorless world.

“This city is so ugly.”

Bucky looked up at the sound of your voice. He walked over, crouching by your arm.

“Think so?”

“Yeah. Can’t find a single pretty thing in the city.”

“I can.”

“Can you?”

“Sure. She’s looking at me right now.”

“That was sappy.”

“Yes it was.”

Bucky lay down, rolling onto his side next to you, taking a sip from your glass.

“But I ain’t mean it any less.”

You hummed, closing your eyes.

“Well, for what it’s worth then, I think you’re handsome.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You could hear his proud smile.

“Don’t make me take it back.”

“No, I’m just surprised to hear it is all.”

“Surprised, huh? I’m certain I ain’t the first one to call you handsome.”

“You’re the only one I wanna hear it from.”

Something fluttered in your chest.

“What d’you say then? You and I, think we can take on a city as ugly as ours?”

He smiled.

“With you, doll?”

“Yeah.”

“With you, of course.”

“Good. I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Bucky propped his head up on his elbow. It was quiet again, with only your occasional sighs and his quiet breaths.

“What’re you looking at?” you breathed, opening your eyes.

“You.”

Bucky flicked a drop of lemonade from the tip of your nose.

You turned, now face to face.

And oh, Bucky’s blues. Those had been your color even before the curtains.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you blurted.

He smiled a little sadly.

“Gonna miss you too, Y/N.”

You pushed your lips together, taking a deep breath.

“You were right, you know.”

“‘Bout what?”

“That day when you brought home all those lemons. You said that I stay for you.”

Bucky’s lips quirked, gaze fond like it always was.

“All those times I stayed for dinner and pretended to know what I was doing putting up those curtains. I stayed for you.”

You wiped your nose quickly, sniffling.

“And I’m gonna keep staying.”

“Yeah? What if the bridge collapses tomorrow?”

“I’ll swim.”

“Even in the winter?”

“I’ll get myself a pair of ice skates.”

“You don’t know how to skate, doll.”

“That’s right. So you better come back safe and teach me.”

Bucky leaned in, nose brushing your cheek. He rolled over and carefully straddled you, holding his weight.

“I’ll be there, honey.”

“Now what did we say about that?”

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched in thought.

“Don’t say it if I don’t mean it?”

You hummed, pulling him closer, arms around his neck. Bucky’s lips were a millimeter from yours, breath fanning over your chin.

“Mm, I think it was something about eternity.”

Bucky was soft, tangy and sweet. His scruff scraped your cheek and your fingers curled into the baby hairs at the nape of his neck.

He slid his hands under your back and turned so you were on top, head on his chest. You lay like that for a while, listening to his heartbeat, arms strong around you. 

Yellow fluttered in the breeze, tacked unevenly onto the wall, catching your eye. 

Bucky glanced to the side, chuckling.

“Don’t let Anderson take our curtains away.”

“Of course not. I spent a weekend on those. She’ll have to fight me for ‘em.”

“Good God. Now I gotta worry about you brawling with old ladies and Steve getting into alley fights while I’m gone?”

“Nah. Steve’ll help me.”

“Oh, great.”

You reached up, brushing his jaw with your knuckles.

“Call me honey again.”

“Honey, honey, honey.”

You reached up to get just one last kiss, except it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. It couldn’t be.

“They’re not gonna take you away from me.”

Bucky shook his head, kissing you much slower this time, trying to memorize you before time ran out.

“Never. ‘M gonna think of you and I’ll be back ‘fore we know it.”

You nodded, wishing hard, hoping somebody was listening. 

“Then, when I come back,” he whispered, promise riding on the summer air.

“We’re gonna make the best damn lemonade you’ve ever had.”

And maybe this city could take away your sunsets, your tea and jams, even your summer.

But if there was anything that was yours and yours only, it was the lemon pulp on Bucky’s lips and the undissolved sugar on your own, as bitter and pretty as home.

[leossmoonn]

One Day at A Time

masterlist

pairing - lip gallagher x fem!reader

type - angst, fluff

note / request - “Hi, I love your Shameless imagines! And I was wondering if you could write something for Lip Gallagher x Reader having a baby and struggling with their new life ❤️” alright so i named the baby fred bc thats lip’s baby’s name already lol also you and lip live in the house that lip wanted to buy for tammy. enjoy!

summary - you and lip struggle to raise a baby and survive 

warning / includes - language, fighting, alcohol, smoking, but fluffy ending

————

*gif isn’t mine*

“Lip!” You shouted. 

Your boyfriend ran into the room frantically. “What’s wrong?” 

“I need you to get me more baby wipes. Freddy took a big shit,” you instructed. 

Lip nodded, going to the table where you kept the baby wipes. He gave you the whole packet only for you to yell at him.

“Hand me them! I have to hold Freddy down so we doesn’t roll off,” you said.

“Sorry, Jesus,” Lip muttered, handing you baby wipes each time you put your hand out. 

You successfully cleaned your baby’s bottom and but on a new, fresh diaper. You picked Freddy and went downstairs with him. You set Freddy down in his high-chair, going over to the cabinet to get Freddy’s baby food. 

“Are you um, are you going into work today?” Lip asked.

“Yeah, are you?” You asked. 

“Yeah, I am,” Lip said. 

You frowned, turning around and putting a hand on your hip. “You can’t. Someone has to watch Freddy.”

“Debbie can watch Freddy,” Lip said. 

You scoffed, “She's never here. And before you say V and Kev, they’ve already helped us enough the past few months. They’re busy with their own kids.”

“Well, I need to go into work. We need the money,” Lip said. 

“Yeah, and I need to go to work or I’m gonna get fired!” You exclaimed. You began feeding Freddy, your mood lightening a little once you saw the little guy’s face. 

“What about working tomorrow? I thought that was our schedule,” Lip asked. 

“It was, but one, I’m well overdue on maternity leave and two, my boss doesn’t care about my personal life. She doesn’t care that we are struggling to raise a child,” you explained. 

Lip opened his mouth to suggest something, but nothing came out. He looked at you helplessly. 

“Here, why don’t you work for a few hours and I’ll watch Freddy in the morning, then you come back home at lunch and I’ll go and work for the afternoon,” you said. 

Lip nodded. “Yeah, that works.”

“Alright, good,” you said. You turned your attention back to the baby, feeding him the rest of his breakfast. Meanwhile, Lip went to shower and get ready to go to work. He came downstairs, coming over to bid you and Freddy goodbye. 

“I’ll see you later. I love you,” Lip said, giving you a hug and a kiss on the forehead. 

Even though you were mad at him earlier, you melted into his arms immediately. You hugged him back tightly, burying your head in the crook of his neck. 

“Hm, I love you, too,” you said, breathing in his scent. 

Lip couldn’t help but smile at your actions. He pulled away after a few moments, walking over to Freddy. 

“I love you, too, buddy,” Lip cooed, kissing Freddy on the cheek, making the baby giggle. 

You smiled at the scene, enjoying seeing Lip interact with Freddy. 

“Bye,” Lip called out before leaving. 

“Bye!” You exclaimed, watching him leave. 

You let out a long sigh, leaning back against the fridge. You looked at Freddy, who was clapping his hands on his high-chair table. You laughed a little.

“You’re so silly,” you said, going over to him and picking him up. 

“Do you want to go to the store with me?” You talked to Freddy, bouncing him up and down while walking across the room. 

Freddy make a little squeak and you smiled. “Yeah, I know you want go to the store with me. I’m gonna shower and get ready, you stay in the crib, okay? I’ll be out in 10 minutes,” you said, going up to the nursery and setting Freddy down  gently. 

You went into the bathroom, taking a quick shower and brushing your teeth. You went back in your room and got dressed into a pair of mom jeans, a dark-purple, buttoned-up shirt and put a grey sweater over it, taking the collar of your shirt and folding it on the collar of your sweater. You then returned to Freddy’s room. You saw him on his back, sucking in his thumb. You smiled and picked him up, quietly going down the stairs. You set him in his high-chair again, getting your coat, purse, and your shoes. You also got Freddy’s little coat and hat to keep him warm in the cold winter of Chicago. 

You went out to your car, buckling Freddy into his carseat. You then went to the supermarket, putting Freddy in the front of the cart. You picked out fruit, vegetables, and salad mix. You got 2 gallons of milk, new coffee creamer, and cereal. You bought a few warm-up dinner packs and hamburger meat, going to the freezer isle and getting ice cream. You then went to the snack isle. 

“What should we get, Freddy?” You asked, looking at the pop tarts. 

Freddy pointed to the birthday cake-flavoured pop tarts. 

“Good choice, baby,” you smiled, grabbing the pop tarts. You then grabbed a few packs of chips and gum, going over to check out.

“Cute baby,” the girl at the register said. 

You looked up from putting the groceries on the table. You looked at her name tag and smiled. 

“Thank you, Stacy,” you said. “How old is he?” Stacy asked. 

“Almost 2 months,” you said. 

“Awe, so cute. I just found out I’m pregnant,” Stacy said. 

“Oh, really. Congrats,” you smiled. “Yeah, my boyfriend and I are happy,” Stacy smiled, putting her hand on her stomach. 

She rang your groceries up. “It’ll be $103.98.”

You nodded and took your card out and a few coupons you and Lip had collected in the past month. 

“Alright, with these coupons, your total is $80.56,” Stacey said.

“Great,” you smiled. You paid with your card, gathering the grocery bags. 

“Have a good day!” Stacy smiled. 

“Thank you, you too. Congrats again with the baby,” you gave her a kind smile. 

She thanked you as you walked out. You loaded the groceries into the car and put Freddy back in his carseat. You then drove back home, putting away the groceries while Freddy watched you in his high-chair. 

“Are you tired, baby? I’m tired,” you yawned. Freddy yawned right after you, making you chuckle. 

“Why don’t you take a nap and let Mommy clean the house, okay? It’s a fucking mess,” you muttered the curse words, looking around the house. Clothes and toys were everywhere. Plates were stacked in the sink and on the coffee table. The house needed to be vacuumed and wiped down very badly

You put Freddy down in his crib, turning on the baby monitor. You changed into a tank top and shorts and put your hair in a ponytail, going back downstairs to clean. 

You started with the dishes, washing and drying them off, putting them back in their cupboards. You then wiped down the kitchen counter, stove top, kitchen table, and coffee table. Next you decided to clean up all of the baby stuff that was on the floor. You put Freddy’s toys in the play bins you and Lip had bought and put Freddy’s clothes in the washing machine. You then vacuumed the living room carpet and swept the kitchen tiles, making yourself another cup of coffee. You were done in an hour and a half, taking a look at your work, smiling in satisfaction. Your house hadn’t been this clean since you and Lip had bought it. 

It was lunch time and you knew Lip would be coming home soon. You decided to make you and him lunch. You made chilli and salad, knowing that it would last you two for a few days. You changed back into your work uniform before grabbing yourself a bowl and sitting down, eating your lunch quickly before you had to go to work. 

15 minutes later, Lip had walked through the door. You got up to greet him. 

“Hey, babe. This smells good, what did you make?” Lip asked.  “Chilli and salad for lunch. You can have some,” you said. 

“Ah, nice,” Lip said. He gave you a kiss on the cheek, going over to the kitchen.  You frowned. He usually wasn’t this detached.

“How was work?” You asked. 

“Good,” Lip said, grabbing himself a bowl of chilli. “How was your day?”

“Good,” you said. “ I um… I cleaned the house and got groceries.”

“Oh, nice,” Lip said, sitting down. 

"Are you okay?” You asked. 

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” Lip said. 

“Um, okay,” you said. “Well, Freddy is upstairs taking a nap. He’s been asleep for about two hours, so he will probably wake up soon. The baby monitor is here. When he wakes up can you give him a bath? He’s a little stinky.”

“Sure,” Lip nodded. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to figure out why he was acting so off. 

“I gotta go to work. I'll see you later, okay?” You said. 

“Okay. Have fun,” Lip said.

You slammed the front door shut and walked to your car, letting out a long sigh. You wanted to ask why Lip was acting so distant, but you knew you had to go to work. You worked as a waitress at a local diner. You had been working there for the past 3 years. You hoped to be moving jobs to what you really wanted to do, which was cosmetics, but having a baby set you back a little. You were so thankful for Freddy, though, you didn’t regret having him one bit. It just sucked a lot. But you were good at your job. you were friendly to customers and co-workers, got the most tips, and never played around. You were your boss’s best waitress, despite you always having to change your shifts. 

You worked from 1 pm to 9, going back home tired, but happy you at least got a shift in. You drove home, looking forward to seeing Lip and Freddy, but once you got in the door, your excitement immediately diminished. 

Freddy was in his play pen and the person who was watching him wasn’t Lip. It was Carl. 

“Um, hey, Carl,” you frowned, setting your coat in the closet. 

Carl turned to you, a nervous smile on his face. “Hey, Y/n. How’re you?”

“Good, thanks. Where is Lip?” You asked, putting your hands on your hips. 

“He went out,” Carl answered. 

“To where?” You asked, your temper rising. “Um…. to the Alibi,” Carl said nervously. 

Your eyes blew wide. “What?! He went to the Alibi and left you to take care of our baby? No offense, Carl.”

“None taken,” Carl shrugged. 

“I…” you started to say. You put your fingers on your temples, rubbing in circles to try and ease the headache you were beginning to have. You were able to calm down a little. 

“Thank you for taking care of Freddy,” you said to Carl. 

“No problem. I love the little guy,” Carl smiled. 

You smiled back, grabbing your purse. “Here, let me pay you for watching him.”

“I would usually say yes to money, but I’ll say no this time. I like spending time with Freddy, he's my nephew, I like watching him,” Carl shrugged.

“Are you sure?” You asked, holding a 20 dollar bill. 

“Yeah, I am,” Carl smiled kindly. 

“Alright. Thank you. I’m going to find Lip. Do you mind staying until I come back?” You asked. 

“Nope. Can I have some of the chilli?” Carl asked. 

“Yeah, of course. Do you know how to change diapers and feed Freddy?” You asked. 

“Yeah, of course. I took care of Liam and Franny for Debbie sometimes,” Carl said. 

“Right, of course,” you chuckled. “Thanks, again. I’ll see you later.”

“See you,” Carl waved. 

You didn’t bother grabbing your coat, rushing out of the house to find Lip. You drove to the Alibi, parking haphazardly. You went in, anger surging through you as you saw Lip smoking and drinking his liver and lungs out. He was talking with Kermit and Tommy. 

“Lip!” You screamed, the whole room turning going quiet. 

“Oh, hey, Y/n!” Kev smiled. 

“Hey, Kev. Can I see Lip for a second?” You asked, clenching your jaw. 

Lip looked at you, his eyes dropping. “Hey, baby.” He walked up to you, a stoned smile on his face. 

You grabbed his hand, yanking him out to the alley behind the Alibi. 

“What's up?” Lip asked.

“You! That’s what’s up!” You exclaimed. 

“What do you mean?” Lip asked. 

“You fucking left Freddy alone!” You shouted. “I left him with Carl. He’s fine,” Lip shrugged. 

“Yeah, but you didn’t call me to say you were going to leave Freddy!” 

Lip glared at you. “I don’t need to call you. He’s my son.”

“He’s my son, too! I’m his mother. I need to know who he is with! What if Carl brought over Kelly and they started having sex on the couch where Freddy could see, huh? I don’t fucking want that!” 

Lip chuckled. “They wouldn’t do that. Carl and Kelly are broken up or whatever.”

You groaned. “That’s not the point! I’m tired and super stressed out. You could have let me know!” 

“I’m tired and stressed out, too!” Lip exclaimed.

“Oh, yeah, I bet you are. Getting fucking drunk and stoned,” you laughed sourly. 

“I’m not drunk, I had 2 sips of beer, and I worked!” Lip exclaimed. 

“Yeah? Well I worked, too! I worked until 9 at night. I should be home by then! And I was the one who cleaned the house and did the dishes and got the groceries, which by the way, you are fucking welcome!” You shouted. 

“I never asked you to do that,” Lip said. 

“i know, but I did it because we needed it. All I wanted was a thank you!” “Well I was tired and hungry when I got home,” Lip shrugged. 

You glared at him, tears clouding your vision. “You’re so full of shit, Lip. So full of fucking shit!” You screamed, pushing him back. He stumbled backwards and hit the brick wall gently. 

“What the fuck, Y/n?!” Lip yelled. 

“Don’t do that! You don’t have the right to question me!” You screamed back. 

Lip opened his mouth to yell back, but Veronica and Kevin came out. 

“Hey, you two stop it!” Veronica yelled. 

“Yeah, what’s going on?” Kevin asked. 

“She is yelling at me!” Lip pointed to you. 

“Yeah, cause you’re a fucking asshole!” You screamed, your voice hoarse and tears running down your face. 

“Oh, no,” Veronica muttered. She went over to you, wrapping her arms around you gently. “Let’s go inside and get you some tea, okay?”

You started to sob, leaning in to Veronica. Lip looked at you, his heart breaking at the sight of you so upset.  

“Kev, you take Lip home and get him cleaned up, okay? Make sure Freddy is fed and changed and put to bed, too,” Veronica instructed. 

Kevin nodded, putting his arm around Lip and went to Lip’s car. Veronica walked you inside, taking you to the back of the bar. She got you a beer and a hot cup of tea, placing them in front of you. 

“T-Thanks,” you sniffled. 

“Talk to me, baby,” Veronica said, sitting down next to you. 

“Lip left Freddy home alone with Carl. I’ve been so busy and tired today. I cleaned the whole house, got the groceries. I worked for fucking 8 hours. I just wanted a little ‘thank you’ from Lip. That’s all I wanted,” you cried. “God, I’m such a fucking crybaby.”

Veronica put her hand on your arm comfortingly. “No, honey, you’re not. I understand, don’t worry, and Lip should, too. Maybe you should calm down a little and then go back home and talk to him. Really talk, no shouting and pushing.”

You took a big sip of your beer and nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good plan.”

Veronica smiled. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“No, I’m fine,” you said. 

“You sure? We have some chocolate chip cookies,” Veronica smiled. 

“Hm, okay. I'll have a few,” you smiled. 

“Great!” Veronica squealed. She went away for a few moments, coming back with a container full of cookies. 

You sat and talked with Veronica for two hours. You soon were about to pass out and decided to drive you and Veronica home since Kevin had taken their car. 

“Thanks for the fun night, V,” you smiled at Veronica as you dropped her back to her house. 

“No problem! Drive home safe! Call if you need anything,” Veronica said. 

“Will do,” you said and drove back home, which was thankfully only 5 minutes away. 

You got home, going in and seeing the living room empty. You took off your shoes, groaning in relief as your heels had been aching the whole day. You trudged up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard the shower going but didn’t bother to go and see Lip. 

You changed out of your work clothes and into a pair of shorts and a tank top. You put your hair in a messy bun, flinging yourself on your bed. 

Lip came into the room with Freddy a few moments later. You noticed his presence.

“What?” You snapped. 

“I just… do you want Freddy and I to lay down with you?” Lip asked. 

You looked to them, seeing Freddy smiling at you. You couldn’t help but smile back. “Sure.”

You scooted over, Lip setting Freddy down next to you and climbing into bed with you. You gave Freddy a big kiss. 

“Hi, baby. I’ve missed you,” you cooed. 

Freddy chortled, clapping his hands. You giggled with the baby, ignoring Lip until he spoke. 

“So uh… how was your day?” Lip asked nervously. 

“Fine. How was yours?” You asked, not looking at him. 

“Mine was uh… good,” Lip said. 

“Good,” you said shortly. 

There was an awkward silence between you two before Lip spoke again. 

“I wanted to apologise for my actions today,” Lip started to say. 

This was the first time you felt like looking at him. You stared in his blue eyes, waiting for his apology. 

“I’m sorry about ignoring the work you did around the house and I’m sorry for not letting you know I was having Carl take care of Freddy. And I’m sorry for going to the Alibi and getting stoned. I really appreciate you cleaning the house. It really needed to be cleaned and to keep it clean, I promise to try and not leave dishes out and pick up Freddy’s toys,” Lip said. 

You smiled at his apology, scooting up on the bed so you could put your forehead on his without crushing Freddy. 

“Thank you. And the house being messy isn’t totally your fault. I need to learn to clean up after myself more, too,” you said. 

Lip chuckled, “That’s something we can both work on then.”

“Totally,” you smiled. 

“I’m also sorry for yelling at you at the Alibi. I’ve just been so stressed with work and Freddy. I’ve never had to take care of a baby that was my own before. I’ve always had help from Fiona and Ian,” Lip said. 

You put your hand on his cheek. “I know, baby. This is all new for me, too. And I’m sorry for yelling at you, too, you didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s alright. I kinda did,” Lip chuckled. 

You rolled your eyes with a smile “Well anyways, we’ll get through this together, okay? I love you. So, so, so much. And I love Freddy, probably a little too much,” you joked. “Let’s just take this one day at a time okay?”

Lip nodded and pressed his lips against yours softly. You kissed him back before pulling away, making sure Freddy was okay. 

Lip smiled. “I love you, too, you know.”

You looked back up to Lip with a big smile. “Yeah, I know.”

————

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[fanficwrit3r]

#2 fluff for John x reader? 💜

Thank you for being my first request! Hope you enjoy it! :) I am getting back into the swing of things when it comes to writing.

To make a request, you can find prompts here and requesting guidelines here.

Main Masterlist

John Shelby x Reader Fluff Prompt #2

Prompt: “What? I can’t cook you dinner?”

Trigger Warnings: none

Word Count: 765

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

You knew something was different the instant you walked through the front door. There was not a single sound. You had been spending the day out shopping for the family and gathering what everyone would need for the week. John’s children were growing faster than weeds and were usually not too careful when playing outside, so the new fabric was almost always needed for repairs. But, when you entered the house this time, it was silent.

Suspicious, you shrugged off your coat, setting down the bags containing the day's shopping. “Hello?” You called cautiously into the house, making your footsteps light as you moved. It hadn’t happened yet, but it was always a concern that John’s work could attract unfavorable guests into your home.

“Ow- fuckin hell!” John’s voice could be heard shouting from the kitchen. You froze, slowing your pace even more as you heard the sounds of things banging around. “Fuckin- stop doing that!” John exclaimed again, followed by a loud crash. The worst possibilities were running through your mind as to what could possibly be going on. There could be intruders, the children could be hurt or running crazy… the possibilities were endless.

Grabbing a candlestick as a weapon and swallowing your fear, you rushed into the kitchen. You swung the door open, holding the candlestick high, ready to strike at whoever had invaded your home. But, all you found was a mess of food on the floor, the table covered in various ingredients, and John trying to put out a fire in a pan.

“Oh, bloody hell-” You sighed, rushing over and putting out the fire with ease. You nearly slipped on tomato sauce on the floor, your tan-colored shoes now stained red. It took the work of both you and John, but the chaos quickly settled. The kitchen was a complete and utter mess. Nothing had been left untouched it seemed; even the clean spoons hanging above the sink.

“Surprise.” John gave you a large grin, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you close. He tried to kiss you to distract you from the absolute disaster that was your kitchen. You pulled away before he could plant a kiss on your lips.

“Mind explaining just what happened here?” You asked in near disbelief. Somehow, someway, one of your best cooking pots had a hole burned in it. John laughed nervously, running his hand through his hair.

“What? I can’t cook you dinner?” He smirked, starting to sort through some of the ingredients that had been left on the table. In trying to organize, he just seemed to make a bigger mess.

“Looks like you were trying to burn the house down.” You remark, crossing your arms over your chest. Suddenly, you remembered why everything had seemed so odd to you in the first place. “Where are the kids? It’s unusual for it to be this quiet.”

“I sent them to Aunt Pol’s for the night,” John answered, grabbing the trash can and just throwing away all the burnt and inedible food he had created. “I was going to cook you a romantic dinner, but I see that has failed. Everything just started burnin’ and going to shit.”

You couldn’t help but feel your heart lighten at the gesture. John was usually out late working or drinking, which left all the cooking to you. “Did you manage to create anything that’s edible?” You ask him with a hint of teasing in your voice.

John chuckled at that, surveying the damage he had done. “Well, let’s see… salad still looks good. Didn’t fuck that one up.” He laughed, looking into the salad bowl to make sure nothing had magically appeared to ruin it. “Don’t think anything I actually had to cook is gonna pass the test.”

You shook your head, a smile growing on your lips as you walked back over to John. You placed a gentle kiss on his soft lips, wrapping your arms around him. “We can go out to eat tonight then… but you are cleaning this mess yourself. And buy me new shoes.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, love.” John pulled you close by your waist, a smirk on his lips before he kissed you with some passion. Pulling apart slowly, he rested his forehead against yours, speaking in a whisper. “Or… we could go upstairs and just forget dinner.”

“In your bloody dreams.” You pause before kissing him, moving out of his arms in a slow and teasing manner. You turned your head, giving him a wink. “You’ll at least be buying me dinner first.”

[randomwriteronline]

Furze stares at her in bewilderment.

Briosa stares back at him and crams another handful of salad leaves into her mouth with her bare hands.

She keeps munching.

She is sitting at her desk in complete silence doing nothing, with a small stack of paperwork she has worked on, another one she will work on once her break ends next to it, her hearing support Mawile sitting on the edge of the desk nibbling at some kind of biscuit at her side, and one of those plastic bags with a zip for storing vegetables in the fridge in one palm from which she is busy intermittently grabbing entire fists worth of what is very likely raw unseasoned lettuce to fit in her jaw as she basically unhinges it.

It gives a few quiet crunches as she chews.

“Is there something you need me for?” she asks with her mouth half full.

Furze shakes his head.

“Is it your break?”

Furze shakes it again.

“Is it a slow day?”

Furze shakes it again.

“So do you have better things to do than gawk at me?”

Finally, his hands unfreeze from the confusion and ask, because he has never seen that bag in the small office fridge: Where did you keep that?

“Cryogonal,” she replies.

Furze blinks: “What--”

“Can I eat my fucking salad in peace, please!” Briosa interrupts him.

Furze scrambles out, and she shoves the rest of her greens down her throat.

-

“Agent Furze claims you eat salad right out of the bag like some kind of large hungry Bunnelby during breaks,” Emmet signs and says at the same time while they wait on the Multi Line.

“I do,” Briosa confirms.

“Why?”

“To not get scurvy.”

“You can eat it in a bowl. Still no scurvy. Or at least salt it. You salt your kale.”

“I also boil my kale, and it tastes too wet if I don’t salt it,” she notes: “But you can’t salt raw salad like that because it defeats its purpose as the anti-chip.”

Her boss tilts his head and makes a confused face.

He latches onto the handrail as the car hits a long curve, while Briosa simply leans in the opposite direction with her torso, legs unmoving, as she begins to explain: “You know how chips are salt in the shape of a potato and after you eat a bunch of them you get super thirsty and you have to stop eating to drink?”

Emmet nods.

“Ok, well salad is just water in the shape of a leaf, and if it’s good salad then it sorta crunches like chips, right?”

“Zucchini.”

“Nope, zucchini is water in the shape of a stick, you can’t just pop it in your mouth, you gotta bite the pieces off, it’s a completely different feeling. I guess it’s the anti-breadstick? Good breasticks have so much salt on them.”

Emmet nods again.

“But yes, what I’m saying is that if you’re eating a bag of chips you should also keep a bag of salad right next to it and just pull handfuls of it right out to keep hydrated. Boom! No need for water. No breaks. We’ve reached non-stop munch central station.”

The white-clad subway boss hums.

“Why were you eating it?” he asks then.

“Scurvy.”

“Not hunger?”

Briosa shrugs: “I’m not hungry usually.”

Hm. Emmet is not sure of that.

Instead of arguing with her, he asks: "Where do you keep that, anyways?"

"Cryogonal."

"What does that mean."

"I put it in her mouth and she keeps it nice and fresh."

He gives her a look that feels like pure exhilarated horror.

"What!" she argues: "She doesn't drool!"

Before he can sign anything back at her, Mawile snaps her enormous jaws to get their attention: one challenger carefully slides the door to the car open, their partner right behind them, and both bosses seamlessly slip back into familiar poses and scripts.

-

Emmet pinches the bridge of his nose. The healing station at the end of the car, courtesy of the Pokémon Centre Association, is slowly working on getting the strength back in his team.

“That was verrry bad,” he comments to himself, holding onto the handrail.

It’s good that Briosa cannot hear him.

“You were pretty good,” she reassures him.

Right. Lip reading.

“No,” he corrects her. “You did good. The two of them did good. I did not. I wasn’t focused. Wasn’t serious. Battles are only fun when they’re serious.”

Briosa hums.

Emmet’s hand returns to his face and makes a motion as if to wipe his head clean of thoughts with it. He lowers it under his nostrils and there it lingers, palm making a tent over his lips, drumming his fingers a little on his cheek.

“It just doesn’t work,” he mutters. “It doesn’t work. It just doesn’t. It just doesn’t. I like combinations. I like combinations of two Pokémon. I like combinations of two people sometimes. Not like this. I don't like them like this. It just doesn’t work. Nobody works. It’s unfair. It’s just unfair. I cannot work in these conditions. I should be able to. Combinations of two people, I should be able to crack them. Figure them out. It just doesn’t work. I just can’t manage it. It’s stupid. I should. But it’s hard. It’s three Pokémon and one person. It’s hard. It’s many things. How each Pokémon works. How the person works. How they work together. Moves, abilities, if it's physical or special. Technique, preferred methods, general way of strategizing. How to work with all that. How to synchronize. Synergize. With all that. I'm tired. I'm so verrry tired and I have no time. No energy. I'm so tired. So in battle I must keep watch on my team, on the opponents', on my partner's. I need to crack the challenger's strategy at the moment, and my partner's strategy at the moment. It distracts me. And if I am distracted, I am unfocused. I am not serious. Battles are only fun when serious. This is not fun. This is just tiring. Just tiring."

He sighs softly.

"It just doesn't work," his tone sounds a bit like sobbing. "It's unfair."

The train leaves the station again, making every part of the car rattle and shake as it runs down the tunnels. Mawile sits snuggly on one of the plastic seats, little legs dangling from them.

"I know you were talking."

Emmet turns to her, hand still over his mouth: "No you don't."

Briosa points just above her throat: "The chin moves when you talk," she continues. "I can see it,  and pretty well too from this angle. Being this short has its perks."

Observant.

He huffs loudly. His shoulders drop forward.

"Is it about us losing?"

He shakes his head. His hand moves (he wonders why he didn't learn sign earlier: it's so much better than having to speak verbally, sometimes) and he replies, with a bit of difficulty: Tired.

"Of what?"

No, not that. Crack your style, needs time. No time, no energy. Try during battle. Get unfocused. Not serious. Not fun. Angry. Tired tired tired.

"Ah," and she clicks her tongue loudly, like Mawile does: "I get it."

They hit a long curve, very fast. Emmet watches Briosa lean her entire body except for her feet in the opposite direction and remain upright effortlessly; she doesn't hold onto anything. He wonders how she learned to do that.

She hums loudly.

"We could get a pair of Depot Agents to handle this," she proposes.

He frowns deeply and shakes his head: no no no. Bosses, must be. Not Agents. People know. Expect Bosses. If no Bosses but Agents, disappointment.

"Yeah, life's got a lot of those," the substitute replies dryly. She holds his upset gaze: "The line isn't closing," she replies to his silent complaint, "You're stepping back from it because at the moment you don't feel like you can provide a service of the quality you think it should be. If someone's got anything to say about that they can talk to the manager and the manager can tell them to fuck off."

Manager you?

"Of course."

Yeah, he had a feeling that was the point of the analogy. Still, it feels like a cop-out. A cheap way to handle this.

"Plus, it's not like less stress and a little more rest wouldn't do you good."

Am fine.

He has to admit the Depot Agents were right: Briosa does have irises the color of rotten green olives.

"I've seen Pokémon on the brink of death looking less miserable than you."

Can confirm, Mawile finally butts in from her seat. She cackles in gleeful betrayal at his glare.

Emmet shows his tongue at her, piqued.

“You wanna try stepping down for the day already?” Briosa asks, and her squeaky voice is kind.

He shakes his head: No, he replies: Challengers were verrry strong. Might manage 48. Would like to try again. Figure out arrangements later.

Briosa looks almost lovely when she smiles with her mouth closed and her squinty eyes grow even squintier, pleased that he already considers her proposal. Not to say she isn’t generally pretty otherwise: simply, she momentarily loses the impenetrable cloud of menace she is usually sorrounded by.

She juggles three Pokéball in one hand almost absentmindedly, tossing one in her other other palm and trapping the remaining two between her fingers: “Couple Doubles?” she grins toothily - and with the sight of those pearly whites comes again that threatening aura - “To help you figure my strategy out, since we’ve got the time?”

Emmet smiles a little and fetches his team from the healing station.

[doubleleoenergy]

i. Summer Bummer, Lolita Series

She just might become my lover for real. I might fuck with her all summer for real. They better not holla if I cuff her for real.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: bestfriendsdad!Andy Barber x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of erection, lewd thoughts, drinking

Words: 2168

Summary: Andy meets Jacob friends for the first time, including y/n.

“Dad, we’re here!” Jacob cried out, opening the front door to his familiar family home. 

Jacob Barber had just finished his Junior year at Columbia University and had just finished packing up his things in his apartment before driving back home. His parents had just finalized their divorce over the Christmas Break, and frankly, Jacob was relieved. His father, Andy Barber, seemed to be doing great, much happier without Laurie in his life. Maybe that was why he had agreed to let Jacob and his roommates from Columbia stay in their home for the entire summer leading up to their final year of undergrad.

“I’ll be right down, just changing a lightbulb in the bathroom.” Andy called out from upstairs, finishing his work quickly and disposing of the broken bulb in the bathroom trash can. He took his time down the stairs, smiling widely as he saw Jacob and his friends standing in the kitchen. “Good to have you home, son.” Andy announced, embracing Jacob in a warm embrace. He wasn’t lying at all, yes, he was fine after the divorce, but he did miss having his son at home playing video games or listening to his music too loud. Once Andy let go, he eyed the two other boys behind him, patting Jacob on his shoulder. 

“You boys must be Jacob’s roommates, right?” He questioned. 

“Yes, sorry dad, this is Rashad and Collin.” Jacob motioned to each of them, watching as his father shook each of their hands. “It’s nice to meet you all, and please, call me Andy. Only my clients call me Mr. Barber.” Andy took a step back, reaching into the fridge to grab a few Coors Light bottles, handing one to each of the boys before turning his attention back to Jacob.

“I thought you said there was another roommate coming, right? The one who you begged me to let intern at my office during the summer?” Andy asked, raising an eyebrow at his son.

Jacob took a swig off his beer bottle, nodding his head. “Yeah, y/n said she’d be here soon, she was just finishing up with a friend for brunch and then she was heading over.” Jacob, Rashad, Collin, and Y/N had been roommates this year in a quaint little apartment about five minutes from Columbia’s main campus. Andy had been to the apartment once to meet up with Jacob for dinner in the Fall during one of his many fights with Laurie, though Jacob’s roommates had all been out that day.

“Alright, well why don’t you boys make yourselves at home, take your pick of any of the guest rooms upstairs and let me know if you need anything. I was thinking of firing up the grill, it’s such a beautiful day out and the swimming pool contractors just finished with the new pool out back.” Andy opens the doors of the fridge again, pulling out the hamburger meat as the three men race up the stairs to look at the rooms they’d be occupying for the next few months. “Sure dad, thanks!” Jacob calls back, giving his father a short wave of his hand.

About an hour later the boys had all settled into the Barber’s backyard, speakers against the home blaring the hottest songs of the summer. Andy and the boys stood around the grill, exchanging stories of their latest semester and giving Andy a chance to get to know Rashad and Collin better. He was quite impressed with the type of people Jacob had chosen to associate himself with. Rashad was an engineering major like Jacob while Collin was studying chemistry.

After the boys finished laughing about Collin and Jacob’s double date gone terribly wrong, Jacob’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen with a smile. “Y/N’s pulling in, I’m going to go help her with her bags.” The other boys stayed next to Andy, watching as he flipped the last set of burgers on the grill.

“She’s gotta look heavenly in a bikini, right bro?” Rashad asks Collin, nudging him playfully in the side.

“You got a thing for y/n? Because I don’t think it’d be too appropriate to get with someone you are living the entire summer with, especially under my roof.” Andy objected, removing the burgers off the grill and onto the plate beside him.

Both Rashad and Collin burst out laughing, taking swigs from their beer bottles as they do. “Nah, Andy. Y/N’s a smoke show don’t get me wrong, but we can look but don’t touch. She’s not a relationship type of woman anyhow.” Rashad teased.

Just as the two boys finished their snickering, Jacob opens the screen door, the two immediately jogging up to give y/n a hug. 

“What, you boys miss me that much after being apart for only a day?” She teased, Collin finally releasing her from his death grip. Jacob pulls y/n out into the yard, stopping right in front of the grill where Andy was turning off the burners.

“Dad, this is y/n.” He gestures towards the woman beside him just as y/n sticks out a hand for Andy to shake.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Barber, I’ve heard so much about you.” Andy finally turns his head in the direction of her voice, his eyes locking on hers as his heart skips a beat in his chest.

“It’s nice to meet you too, and please, call me Andy.” He reaches forward to shake her hand, taking in the whole sight of her. Her hair hung in loosely tousled waves down her back, stopping just above her breasts that were jutting out of her black lace bodysuit, which clung tightly to her hourglass figure and was tucked into her jean shorts that barely seemed to cover her ass. Her lips were plump and juicy, the color of a glass of fruit punch, a dotting of light freckles across her cheeks. Her eyes were striking, she wore no mascara, yet her lashes were thick and long. She was breathtakingly beautiful, a ‘smoke show’ as Rashad had said, indeed. 

Y/N watched how Andy’s eyes engulfed her body, tilting her head to one side as she pretended not to notice. “Well Andy, thank you again for letting us all stay with you this summer, and thank you for the internship. I would rather work a paid internship than work with these boys anywhere.” She teased, ruffling Jacob’s hair.

“It’s no trouble at all, our office could use a good intern for the summer.” He agreed, eyes lingering a little too long on her perky breasts again.

“Maybe we can carpool to work, I’m all about environmentalism.” Her words are flirtatiously drifting off her tongue, a seductive smile spreading across her lips. Was Andy imagining this?

“R-right, yeah sounds good.” He moves to grab the plate of burgers by the grill, gesturing to the house. “Boys, please bring out the salad, condiments, and tableware from the counter and come set the table. Oh, and get y/n a beer.”

Andy moves to the patio table and sets down the plate of burgers, watching y/n as she slowly sinks into the chair next to him. He catches a whiff of her perfume, a heavenly mix of oranges, vanilla, and sandalwood wafting through his nostrils. It’s the perfect scent for her, he thought, moving to sit at the far end of the table.

The boys come back with all the supplies for dinner, including y/n’s beer, which she is already nursing happily from. Andy’s eyes focus on how her lips wrap around the top of the glass bottle, clearing his throat as if to rid himself of his dirty thoughts.

“So, y/n, what made you want to intern in my office?” He questioned, assembling a burger onto his plate. Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, carefully putting a helping of salad onto her own plate before assembling the rest of her meal.

“I’m completing my undergraduate degree and then hopefully getting admitted to law school to become an attorney. I figured interning in a real office would be a great first step.” She stuck her fork into the salad, opening her mouth to take in the bite.

“So, what are you getting your undergrad in?” 

“My major is human rights with a minor in economics.” Her eyes met Jacob’s, a smile spreading on her face. “That’s how I actually found out Jake-y here was looking for another roommate. We had microeconomics together. Then I got introduced to these two losers-“ She teased, motioning to the other two guys at the table who feigned hurt expressions. “-and the rest is history.” The boys next to her were all chowing down as usual as if they hadn’t been fed in days.

As they take the time to finish eating, y/n lets the boys do most of the talking. She’s not a huge sharer when she first meets people, and frankly she’s glad to have the guys around to keep her entertained all summer. The dinner is spent catching way-too-long glances from Andy, his eyes lingering on hers for a bit too long here and there. There’s something about him that intrigues her, maybe it’s because he’s not a boy but a man, or maybe it’s just her usual game of cat and mouse, men usually fell to putty at her feet and she assumed he’d be the same.

“That was great dad, thank you.” Jacob says, finishing his third burger of the night. “Anyone up for a late-night swim?” He asked, standing up from the table and picking up a few of the items from it to take them inside. Rashad and Collin follow suit, with y/n trailing behind.

“Sounds good.” Rashad replies, going over to set his plate in the sink before bounding up the stairs. Andy walks back in as the four head upstairs to change, turning on the sink and rinsing off the dishes before setting them in the drying rack on the counter.

Shortly after finishing washing his third plate, he hears the boys running down the stairs, pushing each other to see who can do a cannonball in the pool first. Andy can’t help but chuckle to himself at their energy, it truly was nice to have noise in the house again.

“Can I help you, Mr. Barber?” Andy turns his head to the soft voice behind him, his cock twitching in his jeans. She’s standing in front of him in the tiniest floral bikini he’s even seen on a woman, the bottoms barely covering her slit and leaving nothing to the imagination of her ass.

“It’s Andy.” He chokes out, licking his lips before turning his attention back to the sink. Y/N sashays over to his side, grabbing the clean towel off the counter and starting to dry the dishes as Andy sets them into the rack.

“Right, I’m sorry, Andy.” Her eyes trail over his figure as she speaks, he can feel her eyes on him, and he shifts his weight as he stands to make sure his cock couldn’t be seen through the fabric of his jeans. “Thank you again for letting us all stay here; I was hoping not to have to deal with another summer bummer.” Her thin fingers set each dry dish carefully atop the other, Andy’s eyes glancing over one last time before he turns off the water, drying his hands on a clean towel.

He clears his throat. “Of course, any friend of Jacob’s is a friend of mine.” Suddenly, as if his ears are burning, Jacob opens the screen door sopping wet.

“You coming y/n?” He asks, cocking an eyebrow at her. 

“Yeah, I was just helping your dad clean up.”

Andy shifts uncomfortably, trying to hide the erection in his pants. “Hey kiddo, I’m going to bed, you guys have fun tonight.” He turns to walk down the hallway of the first floor to his bedroom, hearing y/n’s soft voice echoing out to him.

“Goodnight Andy.” She purred, Jacob finally picking her up over his shoulder and carrying her out to the pool area, her cries of protest lingering as he shut the screen door behind them.

Once locked away in his room Andy let out a sigh, undoing his jeans and letting his cock spring free from his underwear. He couldn’t believe the way he was getting hard for his son’s best friend, he hadn’t even had a chance to think of another woman since the divorce, but y/n just had this sickeningly sweet seduction about her, he knew it matched a certain name.

“Lolita.” He murmured, and though she wasn’t a 12-year old girl from the novel, because ew, he did seem to have some sinful obsession with her after having just met. Is this love or lust or some game on repeat? Andy didn’t know, but one thing was for sure, he was definitely about to jerk off to sexual thoughts of her in that bikini.

Tagging those who may be interested. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list: @midnightf @my-divine-death @saamwilsonn @fierylibraa @fuckandfluff​ @rattlemyb0nes​ @rootcrop @goldenboysteve​  @turtoix​  @jeremyrennermakesmesmile​  @ccmarvelxx

[green-socks]

Endless Nights

Pairing: Benny Miller x gn!reader (no descriptions or pronouns)

Summary: You and Benny can't seem to get enough of each other's company. Could tonight be the night you find the courage to do something about that crush?

Words: 2,101

Warnings: Nudity but not the sexual kind, food/eating. Almost zero editing and a tired writer.

Notes: I don't always participate in Writer Wednesday, but when I do I take one look at the picture, get an idea and then go completely off the rails. Sorry. So the pic doesn't really have a lot to do with the rest of the fic but I hope that's okay. For this week's @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday, thanks for organizing it every week!

I had the idea for midnight shopping at the supermarket with Benny and then realized I didn't want the night to end there... So it didn't. I actually like this piece, even if it probably suffered a lot from my fast writing and non-existent editing. Reader is mentioned having shorter legs than Benny but other than that I think there are no descriptions or pronouns used of reader, lmk if I'm wrong.

MASTERLIST

You and Benny have been driving around aimlessly for a couple of hours already, taking turns in picking the music, and talking about this and that while sometimes falling into a companionable silence. It still amazes you how easy and comfortable everything is with him. You have never felt like this with a crush before, used to the feeling of always obsessing over what you felt like you could and couldn’t say or do, or spending a lot of time and energy into trying to figure out what the other thought.

No, with Benny you don’t have to pretend anything or force yourself to keep the conversation running in fear of those horrid awkward silences, because both of you know that you can talk for hours on end when the mood strikes. You met through mutual friends only a few weeks ago, but the connection was clearly there. As was the obvious mutual attraction.

Strictly speaking, though, you and Benny are just friends. Nothing has ever really happened to indicate otherwise in any case. But friends don’t usually try this hard to find any excuse just to hang out, nor do you stay up late every night talking to your other friends. And when you hang out in a group you always seem to gravitate towards one another. What’s more, somehow it always seems to be just the two of you left at the end of the night, often not even noticing the others leave.

Your interactions always border on the line of obvious flirting with your touches and already formed inside jokes, but neither of you ever dare do anything that couldn’t be brushed off as innocent behavior between friends. You guess you’re both just kind of scared to take the leap - you have been burned before, and so has he.

It’s not that you doubt your own feelings for Benny, or indeed his feelings for you. Even you have to admit that he does seem pretty interested in you, but you still wave away your friends’ squeals of “he’s totally in love with you!”, mainly not wanting to get your hopes up too much.

Because a small part of you still finds it a little hard to believe; someone so handsome and funny and kind wanting to be with you? What if he likes you, but just not as much as you like him? What if you were just a second choice for someone you really like until something better comes along - again? That scares you, both of you.

Tonight has been like many other nights lately; you had been to the movies with some of your friends, but after the movie ended you had been grasping at straws to come up with a way to continue the night so they (Benny) wouldn’t go home just yet. Benny had helpfully suggested just driving around and seeing if any ideas came to mind.

Santiago in turn had rolled his eyes at you two knowingly (making both you and Benny fluster and try to fake complete nonchalance) before saying good night and leaving with the others, who apparently didn’t feel the compulsive need to continue spending time together.

--------

The sun has gone down already but you two are still enjoying each other’s company too much to go home yet.

You end up in the 24/7 supermarket parking lot, craving a midnight snack. You are reminded of your teenage years, when you used to hang around different parking lots, popping into the store to buy a soda or a candy bar, spending all day outside with friends.

The only other customers doing their midnight shopping are tired people just off their shifts or young people staying up late just for the hell of it, much like you and Benny are, in fact. You wander around the huge store together, pointing out different products you’d like to try and reviewing stuff one of you already has tried.

Before long you realize that you have already spent almost forty minutes idly wandering around the supermarket, collecting new soda or chip flavors to test. Neither of you thought to grab a basket at the entrance, so your arms are starting to get a bit full.

“Benny, do you think this might be enough?” you ask while struggling to maintain your hold on the different bags of chips.

Benny looks back at you from where he is pondering over whether to get some ice cream. “Huh, I guess. I do still wanna get a sandwich, though!” he exclaims and promptly takes off in the direction of the deli counter where they sell sandwiches and salads left over from the day.

You try to keep up with his long strides, certain that you must look a bit comical half-running after a man with your hands full of treats. Oh, well. Benny often complains about how much focus it requires of him to “modify his steps” to fit your much shorter legs, and he always forgets about it when he gets excited.

When you catch up with him, he has already picked a sandwich for himself and one for you. “I got you salmon, that’s your favorite, right?”

“Yeah, thanks!” you say a little breathlessly after your speed-walk, taken that he remembers.

As you finally get to the cash register and start loading your stuff in your bag you see Benny sneak one more candy bar among the rest of your purchases. For someone in such good physical shape he sure does like his candy.

“Where to next?” Benny inquires as you get back to the car.

“Hmm, how about this one waterfront type swimming spot? It’s pretty secluded, has a pier, and there’s a nice view to the sea. I sometimes like to sit there on the cliffs to watch the sun go down,” you suggest, and offer him directions to the place.

It’s a short drive and you show Benny where to park his car. Even though it’s somewhere around 1 a.m. and the sun went down hours ago, the night is still light enough that you can easily see where you’re going and it doesn’t feel like you’re just sitting in the dark.

You settle down on the small pier with your sandwiches and sodas and chips and munch away happily.

Benny hands you the candy bar you saw him grab earlier at the cash register “for dessert”. It has a cheesy text on the packaging about giving this to someone special. He grins and shrugs, “I know you love these”.

It’s such a simple gesture but you can’t help feeling really flattered and even more smitten with him than you already were. You don’t read too much into the text on the packaging, but even the fact that he would buy you a candy bar he knows you love - just because - warms your heart.

(What you don’t know is that the candy bars have lots of different texts to choose from, and that Benny specifically picked “give this to someone special” instead of “give this to a friend”. There was also “give this to someone you love”, but Benny worried that might scare you off.)

--------

After you’re both done with snacking you try to think of what to do next, still reluctant to pronounce this night to be over, you get an idea.

“You know what I would really like to do right now?” you ask Benny, looking out over the water that looks so tempting. “Go swim,” you announce, turning to look at him.

“You don’t have a swimsuit with you, do you?” Benny asks, turning to look at you too.

“No… But there’s no one here,” you point out with your eyebrows raised in challenge.

Benny looks at you for a few beats with a blank expression on his face, before shrugging “Alright,” and throwing off his hoodie and t-shirt, jeans following next. “What are you waiting for?” he shouts over his shoulder as he jumps from the pier into the water.

You’re left sitting there with your mouth open, blinking rapidly as you try to catch up with the fast turn of events. Shaking your head, you stand up and shrug off your clothes before quickly running after Benny and getting into the refreshing water.

The night is still warm, and the water feels wonderful. You swim to catch up with Benny.

“You know, it’s pretty dark here but I’ve basically seen you naked now,” he remarks, waggling his eyebrows, and you snort with laughter.

“Benny, you’re not allowed to make me laugh in the water or I’ll drown,” you try to say sternly.

“Oh sweetheart, I wouldn’t let you drown,” he answers in a surprisingly serious voice.

Suddenly the energy between you is full of.. something. Something new and buzzing, sort of scary but also exciting. Something you can’t quite explain. You’re swimming around each other, looking at each other intently, but not daring to say anything that would break the moment and burst the bubble.

Someone else does that for you.

A couple of teenage girls, you’d guess around 18 years old, stumble on to the pier and immediately notice you two in the water. The other girl lets out a shriek and tightens her hold on the towel around her, and before you can even try to reassure them that everything is fine, they run off giggling and shrieking some more. Evidently, they had had the same idea for a nighttime swim but found the place already occupied.

“Yeahhhh, maybe we should put some clothes on before someone calls the police,” Benny suggests dryly.

You two climb out of the water giggling and grinning broadly. You don’t have any towels with you since you didn’t exactly plan this impromptu skinny-dipping session, but Benny gives you his hoodie to help keep you warm.

Sitting back down next to Benny you’re even closer together now than earlier, ever so slowly inching closer and closer to each other. Both of you think you could pass it off as huddling for warmth if the other were to question it, but somehow you know that won’t be an issue.

Soon enough you’re snuggling together on the waterfront overlooking the sea. You stay quietly like that for some time, maybe fifteen minutes, maybe more. It’s hard to tell when the world is so still and quiet around you.

Suddenly you think that this is it, this is the moment you’ve been waiting for. In all honesty you sort of enjoy the pining stage of new relationships, but right now you feel like you might burst if you keep these feelings inside you any longer.

You turn and burrow your head into the crook of his neck and decide that you will have to take the leap now. You start pressing gentle kisses on his neck and hear Benny’s breath hitch at the first contact of your lips on his skin. He goes still as a statue, but you can feel more than hear his unsteady breathing at your actions. You’re practically vibrating with nervous excitement as you work your way up to his jaw and towards his lips.

Taking one final deep breath you close your eyes, not daring to look at Benny in the eye right now, as you bring your lips to meet his.

The kiss is sweet and unhurried, and yet your head is swimming and your whole body is buzzing with it as you melt into each other. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt, which just proves that everything really is different - better - with Benny. You pull away when you find yourself quickly out of breath just from feeling so much.

You finally dare to open your eyes to find Benny gazing at you with a dazed expression that surely mirrors your own and you slowly beam at each other, not feeling the need for words just now. Maybe you couldn’t even find them if you tried.

You settle back against his chest and the two of you stay like that for the rest of the night, sometimes spending long moments just kissing each other, sometimes talking quietly, sometimes just enjoying each other’s presence.

--------

Around five in the morning, when the sun is already getting up, you finally start to really feel the need for sleep. But this time it doesn’t feel wrong to leave and go home, since you’ll be going home together.

Later that day you wake up to a good morning, sweetheart in Benny’s arms where you fell asleep on his couch, tired but happier than you’ve ever felt in your life.

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part VIII

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~13.2k

Warnings: this one fucking hurts, pining, stupid decisions, miscommunications, explicit sexual content (it’s time for something we’ve been waiting for), yet another party, angst A/N: Read this, but before you murder me remember there’s one more after this. Also, this isn’t the big thing you’ve been waiting for, but I know it’s something a lot of people have wanted to see. Enjoy this ouchie. 

Mike doesn’t feel human when he wakes up. He’s nearly positive he no longer is—body taken over by some creature of the bog with toxic breath. Jesus, what the fuck happened last night?

 Blinking hurts. Shifting his leg hurts. His chest is fucking killing him, feels like he bruised his god damn sternum, and when he moves to sit up in a bed that is not his, overwhelming nausea has Mike groaning and covering his mouth with one hand. 

 “He has risen,” a vaguely familiar baritone voice rings through the air, loud enough to make Mike wave his other hand in an attempt to mute it. Erwin chuckles, paying him no attention apparently as he speaks again, “Good timing, too. I just came to drop this off.”

 Mike tries to focus his bleary eyes on the nightstand where his friend sets down a bottle of water, a bigger bottle of Gatorade, and several liquid gel pills. 

 “Chill here for as long as you need. I’m just watching the pledges clean downstairs. Want me to bring the trash can over?” Erwin’s concern can’t entirely hide the amusement in his voice. It’s irritating, but also… Mike needs that trash can.

 “Yeah,” he croaks through his palm. “Thanks.”

 Erwin nods and grabs the little plastic bin, setting it down next to the bed. Mike considers just picking it up and sitting with it in his lap, but he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stay upright for long enough.

 “I’ll be downstairs. If you need anything, you’ll just have to yell because your phone is definitely sitting in a bag of rice in the kitchen right now.”

 “What?” Mike frowns. How even…

 “It got wet,” Erwin states, like that clarifies anything. “Probably in the shower.”

 “Why was I—”

 “We can talk about it when you’re less…” Erwin gestures to Mike’s face with one finger and grimaces as he finishes, “Green. You didn’t do anything too terrible, though, so you can rest easy.”

 He leaves, and Mike chokes down the pills and a few gulps of water before gently laying back down. He has to retrace metaphorical footsteps to get to the last thing he remembers from the night before, and it’s body shots off some blonde clone. His order of events goes: hanging out with Rhi, talking with you and Erwin, Zeke showing up, catching Eren mid-roofie attempt and throwing him out, getting mad at Nile, and then just a lot of drinking. Too much. Of different kinds. That had been dumb. 

 He thinks he spent a little while in the bathroom. Erwin was there. And, Nile came and went. He thinks he may have heard your voice a few times but can’t be sure, and honestly, trying to recall anything from the period of time his brain was literally incapable of processing new memories is a pretty big waste of time.

 Mike spends most of the day in Erwin’s room. He drifts in and out of restless sleep, waking up to drink his water and Gatorade. At some point, one of the kids, Jean, knocks on the door and drops a bowl of soup off, mumbles, “Erwin told me to bring this up here.” Mike hasn’t spent a ton of time around the current pledge class, but Erwin must like Jean if he trusted the kid enough to give him his room code. 

 The soup settles his stomach enough to move around a little more. His headache ebbs into a dull throb, and the sharp ache in his chest fades into that of a bruise. By around five o'clock, Mike is finally able to amble downstairs, give everyone a tired wave, mumble his thanks to Erwin, then drive himself to his apartment. 

 He's still trying to piece together what happened the night before, but he just ends up more confused than before, so he decides to put it behind him and move on. Everyone deserves a wild night every once in a while. 

 *

 Thanksgiving nears. Mike has already made plans to go home to his parents which means he has to turn down the Pike house Friendsgiving offer that Erwin extends to him. 

 He tells Mike that Nile and Hitch will be there, but Marie might show her face, "So, that will be interesting." 

 Some of the brothers who can't make it home will attend. Erwin is bringing Maddie who Mike hasn't heard about in several months, but he's pretty sure that's just to throw him off the scent of whatever Erwin has going on with you. You, who will also be in attendance because apparently your mom opted to go on a girls trip instead of face the family. Mike can't blame her. 

 He thinks maybe he should reach out to you, to ask about the night he blacked out because he has a feeling you can give him some details that others can't, but Erwin assures Mike that you were only in the bathroom with him for a short time. "Just long enough to see you rip your shirt which she seemed a little too happy about."

 Mike doesn't know what he'd say to you anyway. Even after learning that Zeke had blocked his number in your phone. He's still mad that you let the fucker get close enough to do that in the first place, that you had chosen him. It's a wound that just won't heal. Any time he sees you or hears your name, all Mike can think about is why he wasn't good enough. 

 So, he keeps distancing himself. It seems like the most appropriate thing he can do until he decides he'll be able to have a conversation with you without blowing up. 

 Mike's parents are happy to see him when he walks in the door. Scout jumps on him until he picks her up and holds her like the puppy she is not. He isn't surprised when his mom asks about you, if you and Mike sorted things out. The question hurts even if he was expecting it, seems like yesterday you were walking around the house like you'd always been a part of it. 

 Lying is the easiest path to take. He tells his parents that you had to go home for the break, that you couldn't split up your time between two families in just four days, and, of course, they buy it. 

 Thanksgiving day is nice enough. The family travels a couple cities over to Mike's aunt and uncle's house. It's much bigger, has room for the relatives that are able to make it. There are traditional Greek dishes as well as the usual turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, etc. A few pictures here and there, entertaining his younger cousins—it's a good time. 

 Until Mike checks his various social media apps and sees the pictures from Friendsgiving.

 They're tame, nothing wildly inappropriate, but they still make Mike scowl as he thumbs through them. 

 One of Nile cutting into the turkey, of Reiner ripping into a drumstick, Connie hoarding all of the cranberry sauce while his best friend, a girl named Sasha, does the same with the deviled eggs. Gelgar looks to be crying with a dot of potato salad in his hair. Marie is indeed there, glaring in the background of a photo where Nile and Hitch are tapping beer bottles together with silly smiles. She looks much happier in the shot of her and Maddie sitting together, laughing over glasses of wine. 

 Mike's heart stutters when he gets to a photo of you aiming to toss food into Reiner's mouth, then of you and Erwin both holding beers in one hand and pointing matching finger guns with the other.

 Thick as fucking thieves. Two peas in a god damn pod. Mike wants to throw his phone out the window of his dad's suburban. 

 There are several more pictures that Mike doesn't bother to look at. He'd like to have a good time with his parents for the remainder of his break, and there's no way he'll be able to do that if he's pissed off. 

 So, he distracts himself. He goes on walks with Scout and plays with her for hours, watches old movies with his mom and dad, calls a couple relatives from overseas to catch up. But, those pictures are seared into the back of his mind, surfacing whenever he has down time. 

 He doesn't have any desire to go back to campus, not if he's gonna see you and Erwin together. His friend can deny it all he wants, but Mike knows something is going on between the two of you, and as he drives back to the college, he finally has the realization that… you might just be a shitty person. 

 Yeah, you have issues, but so does everyone. It doesn't excuse you from—from fucking toying with people, from using them as puppets whenever you need to. Mike wishes he'd never even tempted you to sleep with him that last time. It had felt too good and too right, but apparently you don't feel the same way. You went right back to Zeke once you'd gotten what you wanted, and Mike should have seen that coming. He should have been prepared for it. On some level he knew that's what you'd do, but that never stopped him from hoping that maybe… maybe it would have opened your eyes. 

 Plus, it ruined the entire Jurassic Park franchise for him, so that sucks. 

 He picks up where he left off both in his classes and in his social life. He stays away from PKA as much as he can but still attends meetings when necessary. The lacrosse season is coming to an end, so he tries to make the most of it. Rhi ends up in his bed again, both of them taking what they can from each other. Erwin jokes that he's gonna fall in love with her— "You know what happened the last time you tried to keep it casual," —and Mike nearly decks him in the face. 

 You don't try to talk to him, no texts or calls. When you see each other on campus, you don't spare him more than a sad glance as you pass him. 

 Mike is fine with it. He isn't about to be the one to make the move to talk things out. Honestly, he doesn't know if there's anything to talk out. You dated Zeke, and now you're dating Mike's best friend and trying to hide it. 

 He's mad at both of you, but it's easier to channel that blistering anger toward you rather than Erwin who he has to see on a regular basis. Besides, Erwin has always gotten around. Mike isn't especially surprised that he'd try his hand with you especially after what happened at the ranch house, but fuck, couldn't he have waited until after he and Mike graduated or something? Just disrespectful. That's what it is. 

 *

 "Bro, I do not wanna go to another party," Mike's voice rises in frustration. "Consider me partied the fuck out, okay? I'm tired of 'em."

 "It's not even a party," Erwin tells him. "It's more like a gathering of… like-minded individuals."

 Mike snorts. "Yeah, okay." 

 "I'm not kidding! Like, twelve people at the most. All we're doing is hanging out at the ranch house."

 "Will there be drinking?" Mike questions, moving his head back and forth in a mocking way. 

 Erwin shrugs his shoulders where he sits. "Of course there'll be drinking, but you don't have to partake. I just want you there to chill. Come on, man."

 "Who's going?"

 The blond lists off some of the Friendsgiving group, but he doesn't get to finish because once Erwin utters your name, Mike cuts him off with a loud, "Nope!"

 "Duuuude," Erwin sounds like the frustrated one now, not that he has any right to be. 

 "Don't dude me! Why the fuck would you think I'd have any interest in watching you two giggle and cuddle n' shit."

 "Mike," Erwin groans, rubbing his forehead. "How many times do I have to tell you…"

 "You don't have to tell me anything. I already know what I need to know."

 Standing up, Erwin seems like he's at his wit's end when he barks, "You don't know shit! You're seeing what you want to see without asking either of us! She misses you, dude. I'm just the next best thing."

 "Nice to know your dick game isn't better than mine at least," Mike grumbles. 

 "Jesus Christ, you know what? I don't care. Come to the house, or don't come. Whatever."

 Erwin takes long strides to get to Mike's front door, obviously ready to get away from him. He slams it hard enough to make Mike flinch. 

 He doesn't care how annoyed Erwin is with him. It's partially his fault that Mike doesn't want to go to the gathering, and he should know that. He'll come to understand eventually, and that thought makes it easier for Mike to make his decision. He's not gonna go. He refuses. There's no way. He won't—

 Mike ends up going. 

 After powering through finals and visiting his parents for another few days. He has a mental debate the entire way to the ranch house, swearing to himself, going over the pros and cons. He comes close to turning around more than a few times, but after a couple hours, Mike finally pulls into the large circle drive right behind Levi's black Prius. 

 Erwin is extremely surprised to see him but keeps his mouth closed about it, just tells him, "Room upstairs on the far right is still open."

 Mike drops his stuff off then greets the others—Nile, Gelgar, Reiner, Jean, Marco, and Levi. 

 "Wasn't expecting to see you here," the last states, focused on burning the loose string of his hoodie with a lighter. "Erwin told me you guys had some bullshit argument."

 "Happens sometimes," Mike dismisses as he takes a place on the couch. 

 "I guess. This is why I don't have a lot of friends. Can't put up with stupid shit like that."

 "Oh, is that why?" Mike rolls his eyes. 

 Levi snickers, shaking his head. "Aw man, he was right. You are in a bad mood, aren't ya'? 

 "Man, fuck off."

 They sit in silence for a few minutes. Mike is bouncing his foot where it's thrown over his opposite leg—anxious or angry or some other negative emotion he needs to get rid of. 

 "Party's gonna be a fucking sausage fest," Levi mumbles. 

 Nile passes behind the couch just in time to hear and informs the smaller man, "Not entirely. Maddie, Marie, Hitch, and Mike's little heartbreaker should be getting here soon."

 Mike groans internally but speaks out loud, "This was a mistake. I can't fucking be here if you guys keep talking about her."

 "If you can't handle us talking about her, how're you gonna handle seeing her?" Levi scoffs. 

 Erwin has stocked the bar with craft beer and various wines. Mike considers going ahead and breaking a few bottles open, but he resists—doesn't want a repeat of the forgotten party. 

 They set up a horror video game upstairs and an animated adult series downstairs. Erwin wasn't lying about it being a more relaxed environment than usual, but that doesn't stop Mike's neck from prickling when you arrive with Hitch at around five. Maddie and Marie show up a couple hours later, and Mike can feel the tension that surrounds all four of you. Amusing as it can be, he really doesn't have the patience for cattiness tonight. 

 High quality Chinese food is provided courtesy of Erwin's father's credit card as well as dipped strawberries that Nile keeps feeding Hitch. It gets Marie very heated very quickly, and Maddie has to talk her down in another room. 

 It makes Mike wonder if you would ever let him feed you like that or if you would snort and bat his hand away. What the fuck do you think you're doing, Zacharias? That's couples shit.

 It makes him sigh and slouch on the couch, thankful you're upstairs watching Connie play the most recent Resident Evil. 

 He knows you're not a fan of horror, so the only reason you'd be up there is to avoid Mike. 

 Good. 

 Erwin is the first to open the wine. Maddie won't leave his side, stuck to him like a magnet. The fact that he has to get a drink only furthers Mike's theory that Erwin didn't invite her as a real date. 

 He spends a fair amount of time shooting the shit with Levi. It isn't necessarily the most enjoyable conversation considering Levi's constant smartass comments, but it's better than trudging up to the second floor. 

 Nile fucks Hitch in the bathroom for everyone to hear. Marie starts crying and runs to the porch. This gathering is about as insufferable as Mike assumed it would be. 

 Eventually, you journey downstairs. It was inevitable. You spare Mike a glance and sigh as you make your way to the kitchen to grab a beer—you don't even like beer, so why—

 "Hey, can you grab me one too?" Erwin calls out, and when you hand it to him, he gives you that hundred watt grin Mike knows brings girls to their knees, but while Maddie stares at him with that dreamy look in her eyes, you just snort and gently shove him. 

 "Don't fuckin' look at me like that, Smith."

 Ah, the last name card, the one that you pull to act like you're all aloof when really you're just reeling them in. 

 "Like what?" Erwin asks before taking a sip, still smiling around the rim of the bottle. 

 "You know what."

 Mike chooses then to go upstairs, knowing he steals your attention as he stomps like a toddler throwing a tantrum. 

 Why did he even come here? Was it just to give himself more reason to brood? Solidify that he's valid in being angry? 

 Connie is trembling as his character makes his way through a decrepit house. Jean laughs every few minutes, but he also startles at every jump scare, leaving Reiner to call both of them pussies as he bites into strawberry after strawberry, throwing the stems into a little bowl in his lap. Mike supposes the first years are entertaining enough. He can see why Erwin invited them here. 

 It's close to nine o'clock. Mike is bored out of his mind, can't help venturing back downstairs mostly because he's tired of watching the pledges swear and shout at the video game (including Reiner now) but also out of morbid curiosity. 

 Marie has returned and is sitting in the kitchen with Maddie, both of whom are glaring into the den where you, Erwin, Nile, and Hitch share the couch. Hitch may as well be in Nile's lap, but you're sitting on the back ridge, feet planted on the cushions as you hunch forward and nurse a beer. Your knee is against Erwin's arm, but that's the only point of contact. Still, whenever something funny is said on the TV show, he looks up at you, as if to check that you're laughing, taking it in. Mike can't blame him. You have one of the cutest laughs he's ever heard. 

 Levi and Gelgar are both on plush loveseats on opposite sides of the room, either scrolling or typing on their phones. 

 Again, Mike has to think about how laid back the party is—even if he's a mess. It's so different from the raucous scenes he's used to—blasting music and keg stands and dancing on tables. This would be infinitely preferable if it weren't for the open pit in Mike's stomach. 

 If he could just chill the fuck out, pay absolutely no attention to you and Erwin and the way his fingers slowly wrap around your ankle when you won't stop bouncing your leg. 

 Not together his ass. 

 When Mike gets a text from Rhi, he basically sighs in relief—the perfect opportunity to forget about you for a while. 

 He doesn't bother asking to make sure it's okay with the host, just messages back, what are you doing rn? and immediately asks her to come over, knowing she only lives about an hour away. 

 Naturally, she agrees. One of the only great things about Rhi is that she’s always, always down to fuck. Mike doesn’t know if it has something to do with his size or if she just has a high sex drive. Either way, he’s glad for it.. 

 He meets her on the porch after waiting for what feels like an eternity, just having to sit and watch you kick Erwin’s thigh whenever he says something dumb. He always retaliates by pulling on your little toes which makes you squeak and almost fall off the couch. It’s fucking maddening, makes Mike want to pull his hair out or throw something, just trash the fucking house because Erwin deserves it. 

 But, then Rhi arrives in all her Ugg boot glory, wearing the old, green hoodie that you had given back to Mike a few months ago.

 They walk in, Mike’s hands on her shoulders like he’s pushing her over the threshold. You look up, take the other girl in, then very quickly step off the couch and prance into the kitchen without saying a word.

 Erwin, however, makes up for your silence, wide eyed as he stares at Rhi and utters, “Fuck.”

* You didn’t want to be like Maddie and Marie, jogging to a private place to cry over a fucking boy, but god, you are definitely locked in the bathroom, hunched over the sink sobbing as quietly as you can. Your nose is running, and your eyes are burning, leaking god damn rivers

 It wouldn’t have been so bad if she was just in her normal winter sorority get-up. But the hoodie? The one you wore for months on end, the one Mike would sniff whenever he would lay his head on your stomach, mumbling something about, “Smells good. Might have to take it back.” He didn’t have to say it out loud, but you knew he always felt a little jolt of pride when you’d wear it, like you were advertising how close you were to him.

 So, to see another girl wearing it—to see Rhi wearing it—it fucking hurts. Your throat is sore from holding back those loud, pained cries. Your stomach is rolling like you ate something spoiled. Your fingers ache from digging into the fancy, granite sink. Everything hurts. 

 It makes you wonder if Mike felt like this when you first told him about Zeke, if he feels like this now that he thinks you’re with Erwin—stupid, stupid, stupid. You shouldn’t have waited so long to talk to him. You should have cleared things up right after the party. Now, it’s too late. 

 There’s a knock on the door that makes you sniff and wipe your nose, but you still tell whoever is on the other side (most likely Hitch or Erwin), “Go away.”

 “It’s me.” Erwin. "Let me in."

 "Literally what did I just say?" 

 "If you don't unlock the door, I'll kick it in. It's my house, so I won't get in trouble for it."

 "Oh my god," you grumble before turning the lock on the knob. "Spoiled fucking brat."

 Erwin steps in and closes the door then takes a good look at your puffy face and red eyes. Sighing, he leans against the wall. "For the record, I didn't invite her. Mike must have—"

 "That doesn't make me feel any better," you say, grabbing some toilet paper to blow your nose. "Actually, it makes me feel even worse."

 "I just wanted to make sure you knew."

 "What, d'you want brownie points or something?" You ask sarcastically, making sure the toilet lid is down before sitting on it, bracing your arms on your knees and looking up at Erwin to find him frowning. "Sorry. I'm being a bitch, I know."

 He waves it off. "It's understandable. I'm not very happy with him either. The perpetual shitty mood is driving me crazy."

 You don't know much about that other than it being entirely your fault, so you apologize, "Yeah, sorry about that."

 "If you guys would have just talked it out like adults—"

 "Well, we didn't, Erwin. And, it seems like it's not even an option any more, so…" you hold your hands out in a clueless fashion, like you're at a loss. "I don't know what you want me to do."

 Your voice is thick, straining against the lump in your throat. Vision going blurry again, you shove your palms against your eyes, repeating, no more crying, no more crying, no more crying. 

 "I'm sorry he's doing this to you," Erwin says quietly. 

 You sniffle, almost laugh when you reply, "Not really different from what I did to him. Like," you have to blow your nose again so it doesn't start running, toss the toilet paper into the waste basket next to you. "I don't know if he's trying to get back at me or legitimately moving on, but I can't exactly hold it against him."

 "Still," Erwin takes a couple steps toward you. "Pulling this kind of shit is fucked up. He had to have known it would hurt you on some level."

 "You don't have to, like, take my side or whatever," you state. "I know we're friends and all, but you don't have to coddle me like this."

 "I'm not trying to coddle you. I'm sympathizing. There's a difference."

 "Whatever it is, it's unnecessary," you mumble.

 "Yeah?" Another step closer so that he's right in front of you. "So, you weren't planning on crying in here for the rest of the night?" 

 "No," you're quick to deny, but your lips quirk upward when you correct, "I was gonna go up to my room and cry in there for the rest of the night."

 Erwin shakes his head then pulls you into a strange embrace, pressing your face to his stomach with one hand while the other settles between your shoulder blades.

 Your first instinct is to shove him away, but his shirt is soft and smells like detergent, and his stomach is firm and grounding against your cheek, and the knuckles rubbing up and down the top of your spine are warm and soothing. 

 So, you stay in the slightly awkward position, shutting your eyes and trying to relax, but all you can think about is Mike walking in with his hands on Rhi and the way she looked in his hoodie. Is she cuter than you? Does she smell better than you? Does she treat him better than you did? 

 Tears well up in your eyes once again, dampening Erwin's shirt as they slip over your waterline, and before you know it, you're clutching the material covering the small of his back and crying against him. 

 And, he lets you—just keeps stroking between your shoulders and shushing you with a quiet, "I know, I know. It'll be okay." 

 Erwin is cocky and bold, takes things a little too far sometimes, but, just as you thought last year after he stole that kiss, he is good. Even if he's broken too many hearts to count and completely disregarded people's feelings, he's a good guy. At the very least, he's good to you, and that's what you need at the moment. 

 "What time is it?" You speak into his shirt. 

 "About eleven thirty."

 You hum and turn so that your forehead is resting just above his hips. It could be a suggestive position, but—

 But nothing. 

 You blink a few times, weighing the situation, everything that unfolded tonight—everything that's unfolded over the past semester and… it would make sense. It's not like you've never thought about it before. You're worked up and need to unwind, need to clear your head, and besides, Mike already believes there's something between you and Erwin, so why not take advantage of that?

 Sucking on your bottom lip, you go through a list of pros and cons. The biggest downside is that Mike will be upset with you. He already is, though, so there’s isn’t much to lose on that front. The upside is that you'll be able to forget about him for a while and possibly get an orgasm out of it. 

 "Hey, Erwin…" You're not entirely sure how to bring it up, but it turns out you don't have to. 

 "Don't fucking ask," he huffs. Perceptive bastard. 

 You push away from his stomach and look up at him. "Okay, why, though?"

 His head is hanging back, gaze trained on the ceiling as he admits, "Because if you ask, I won't say no, and it'll only make things worse."

 Something about that gives you butterflies. That's a good sign, means you might be invested enough to finally let your mind wander from Mike. 

 "Mike already thinks we're fucking, though, so unless you don't actually want to fuck me, I don't see why we shouldn't."

 Erwin walks backward until he hits the cabinets. His full lips are pressed into a tight line, and his blue eyes look like a warning. Don't push me. 

 "Do you honestly think you won't walk away from that feeling guilty?" He questions. "We know we aren't sleeping together, that we aren't actually doing anything wrong even if Mike doesn't believe it. But, to actually go through with it?" Erwin lets out a little chuckle and crosses his arms over his chest. "I probably won't feel bad 'cause I'm kind of an asshole, but you? You will feel awful."

 "I already feel awful," you remind him as you stand. "I already feel guilty. If you think I could feel any fucking worse than I already do, you might be overestimating my—my—I don't know—emotional capacity?"

 Moving forward, you nudge Erwin out of the way to get to the sink, splashing cold water on your face to clean it of dried tears. You cup a hand under the faucet, then toss some water into your mouth, swishing, and spitting, and turning back around. 

 Erwin's gaze is dark and not at all subtle when he eyes you up and down. 

 "I might hurt you, you know," he states in a voice that's considerably deeper than before. 

 You raise your eyebrows, unconvinced. "You don't have to worry about me catching feelings, Smith. Relax."

 Mouth tugging up on one side, Erwin smirks in a way that makes you squirm where you stand. 

 "That's not what I meant."

 It takes you a moment to decipher what he's trying to say, but you breathe an, "Oh," when you realize, then another as it truly sinks in. "Oh."

 That's okay, you want to tell him. I want to be hurt tonight. You only want it if it will hurt. If you confess to that desire, though, Erwin might back out—a disappointment considering the way you're starting to get a little excited. 

 "If I can handle Mike, I can handle you," you say, fully aware that he'll take it as a challenge. If there's one thing you know about men, it's that they thrive off competition. 

 Erwin is no different as he slides in front of you, hands finding your hips and pulling them to his. He's already half hard in his khakis, and you stand on your tip-toes, brushing against him as you do, to tilt your head back and hover just under his mouth as you tease, "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it before."

 "You have no idea how often I've thought about it—how often I think about it."

 You nip at his bottom lip, enjoying the way he licks it afterward. "Have you been holding back since we started hanging out—just the two of us?" 

 His fingers dig into your back, just above the curve of your ass, and you already know there will be small bruises left behind. 

 "Do you want me to paint a picture?" He rumbles, and you nod, pressing a kiss to his throat. "Any time I have you in my room I think about fucking you. On the bed. Over my desk. Up against a wall…" A little gasp makes its way out of him as you bite down on the skin you've been sucking on, and Erwin ruts against you a couple times before continuing, voice a little more strangled than before. 

 "Thought about fucking you downstairs on the couch for the whole frat to see, all spread out, moaning like a porn star. I know what you sound like," he whispers, catching you off guard when he suddenly lifts you to set you on the counter. "I've heard the way you scream for Mike." 

 There's a pang in your chest at the mention of him, but it's gone just as quickly. 

 "And, you'd like it, wouldn't you? Being watched." Erwin trails his lips from your temple to your ear, making you shiver when he speaks into it, "You can pretend all you want, but I know you liked it when I walked in on you and him. You liked being on display."

 He isn't wrong. You replay that instance in your head a little more than you probably should. 

 Hearing the fact stated now, though, right to your face has your body heating, arousal flooding you and making warmth pool between your legs. 

 "You can admit it, it's okay. I've known for a while now."

 One of his hands moves to the inside of your thigh then further up, fingers dancing over your covered pussy. It's your turn to gasp. You clutch his shoulders and spread your legs despite knowing there's no way you'll be satisfied with this, not when thick denim is separating you from his touch. 

 "Don't get too cocky, Smith." You try to sound confident, but it's hard to when your breath keeps hitching. 

 "Why?" He grazes his teeth over the sensitive space below your ear, and it makes you twitch in his grasp. "I have every reason to be."

 He goes on to list every other place he's thought about fucking you—apparently just about every setting you've ever been in with him. Each and every Pike party, the locker room before or after a lacrosse game, his Mustang, Mike's Wrangler.

 "That's fucked up," you somehow manage. 

 Erwin shrugs his shoulders, mumbles, "Can't help it," then slots his lips against yours for the first time (or, the first consensual time). 

 You're reminded of Zeke, the way all you did was compare him, only now with Erwin, you have two men who flash through your mind. He's softer than Zeke but just as bold as he cradles your head and slips his tongue into your mouth—tastes sweeter than Mike (probably from the strawberries), but it's not necessarily a good thing. It isn't bad either. It's just Erwin… Different. 

 His hair doesn't brush your cheeks like Mike's does. He doesn't have glasses to dig into your skin. Clean shaven, no coarse hairs to tickle against you, and he's smack in the middle in terms of height. You have to crane your neck more than you did with Zeke but less than you had to with Mike. 

 It's all a little jarring, but you feel this was always sort of an inevitability, at least once you started spending time with Erwin one on one. You never would have let this happen if you had stayed with Mike—if you had actually taken the next step with him—but that's why you started hanging out with Erwin in the first place. 

 You never noticed the way your back and forth was flirty, mostly just you giving him shit about one thing or another, but apparently others read further into it. And, you've had as good a time as you can. The heartache has put a damper on things, kept Erwin mostly off your radar save for the days you woke up frustrated and desperate, but that's what your vibrator is for. 

 Apparently, while you were busy making sure things stayed friendly between the two of you, Erwin's mind was getting away from him. Every god damn time you hung out, he told you, whether it was at the house or out to lunch, walking with you to classes or out to your car. 

 He did make it a habit of touching you, you can admit, but none of it was inappropriate—a nudge to knock you off balance that would result in you hitting him, a prod in the ribs that would result in you squeaking and hitting him. Sticking a foot out to trip you that would result in you…

 Dude obviously likes to be slapped around. 

 There's also the hugs. Up in his room when you feel extra gloomy, he'd wrap his arms around you and sway back and forth. Sometimes he'd sit and pull you with him, turn on a movie and keep a tight hold around your shoulders. There were afternoons you'd walk into his room while he was studying and just pass out in his bed, up too late the night before from worrying and obsessing, in need of a nap before your evening lecture. He'd set an alarm for you, stay up for a while longer before allowing himself to take a break and crawl under the blankets beside to—

 Oh, god, you've been dating Erwin Smith. 

 You have to break away from him to laugh, lightly hitting your head against his chest so that he chuckles and asks, "What?" 

 "I—" You look back up at him, shaking your head to yourself. "I can't believe I didn't fucking see it."

 "See what?" 

 "You and me—"

 "You and I," he corrects, and you shove him. 

 "You and I have just been doing what Mike and I were doing."

 "Uh, excuse me," he holds a finger up. "We have not been having endless sex, thank you."

 "That's not—" You roll your eyes. "I'm saying we've been dating without actually dating. Like, I get why everyone thinks we're a thing."

 "Oh," Erwin nods, sucking his teeth for a second then adding, "Yeah, I was wondering when you would figure that out."

 "Fucker. Did you do it on purpose? Like, just to prove you could?" 

 He frowns, looking genuinely offended. "Christ, what kind of person do you think I am?" 

 "Not twenty minutes ago you confessed to being an asshole."

 His face softens when he snickers. "Okay, true. But, no. I'm not trying to manipulate Mike or you for that matter. You've been upset, and you've put up with a lot of shit over the last few months, and I just figured you could use a friend."

 Staring up at him, you notice the way his face is turning a little red, and you hold your tongue between your teeth as you smile knowingly. 

 "You caaare about meee."

 He scoffs and looks away

 "Heartbreaker Smith cares about a girl," you tease. "How embarrassing."

 "Laugh it up. You would've been miserable without me."

 "I mean, yeah, but still. What's it like having a platonic girlfriend?" 

 He tilts his head to the side then reaches forward to squeeze your thighs. "Is it really platonic if we're about to have sex?" 

 "Absolutely. Hundred percent."

 "You're not even a little worried that it'll become a regular thing and you'll fall in love?" The arrogance is both astounding and amusing. 

 Cocking your head, you take a deep breath, expression one of false sympathy as you pat his stomach. "I'm positive. Unfortunately, my heart belongs to another."

 Erwin clicks his tongue before moving forward and sliding his hands between the counter and your ass. "I'm a little hurt, honestly. I'm used to fucking a girl and having to hide out for a while afterward—always so clingy."

 You squint, can't tell if he's being serious or overdramatizing to annoy you. 

 "You know what? Nevermind. I don't even want your little playboy ass anymore—"

 Naturally, he turns the charm back on right then, getting too close to your face, blue eyes flicking to your lips before he breathes, "Don't lie," and presses a tiny peck to them. "The tough girl act is only believable for so long."

 "Wow, fuck you."

 "That's the idea," he smirks. 

 "Har fucking har. You're so funny."

 Erwin pulls you closer to the edge of the counter and grinds his hips against yours then prompts, "Your room or mine?" 

 "Mine," you reply. "I'd rather you have to do the walk of shame later."

 "Probably a good idea since you won't be able to once I'm finished with you."

 You actually laugh out loud. It would have worked on you a few minutes ago, but all the joking has you a little giggly at this point. 

 Fuck, he is going to make a great distraction. 

 "Okay, calm down. Don't make promises you can't keep."

 "Sounds like a challenge to me."

 "Men," you sigh. "So predictable."

 After minutes more of unnecessary banter, Erwin finally coaxes you out of the bathroom you've both spent far too much time in. Your face has cleared up, the urge to cry subsiding, though your heart still drops in your chest when you pass behind Mike and Rhi on the couch, green eyes tracking you as you walk up the stairs in front of Erwin. 

 This is not the right way to solve a problem, but it'll probably be fun for a while. It's already fun as Erwin kicks the door closed and walks you back to the bed. He isn't even touching you, just watching you with a hazy blue gaze. He isn't smiling, looks like a predator, and honestly, it's ridiculously attractive. 

 "Stop making that face."

 "What face?" 

 "That—that—"

 You run into the bed, wave your arms to keep your balance, but Erwin presses his fingertips to your chest and just barely pushes to knock you back. 

 "What face, hm?" 

 The hair on your arms and neck is standing on end, anticipation bubbling in your gut as you try to crawl higher on the mattress only for Erwin to grab you by the ankle and tug you back down. 

 Damn. He's good at this. 

 "Stay," he commands, straightening up to take his shirt off. 

 He's tan and toned, light blonde hair sprinkled over his chest and above the waistband of his pants. 

 You're reminded of the very first Pike party you went to, the first time you slept with Mike (and can't remember), walking downstairs the following morning to find Erwin in the kitchen wearing sweats and drinking his coffee and smirking at you like he could tell the future. 

 Maddening. He's maddening. 

 You rid yourself of your own top then shimmy out of your jeans. Erwin eyes you hungrily, causing your whole body to tingle. It simultaneously makes you want to cover yourself and spread yourself open for him. 

 "I have been waiting way too fucking long for this," Erwin mumbles, raking fingernails down your torso so that you take in a shuddering breath. 

 "It's been, like, a y-year and a half." Your back arches on its own volition, hips bucking as Erwin scratches over the bones before catching your thong and pulling it down. He kneels at the end of the bed, a familiar scene save for the head of shiny, golden hair.

 "A year and a half of having to look but not touch."

 "Poor little—" you gasp when he parts your folds with his thumbs, staring at your pussy then blowing a stream of air over it. 

 "Do you know how many times I've jacked off to the thought of you? How many times I've slept with other girls while imagining it was you?" 

 You want to make another smartass comment, tease him about being a pervert or in his feelings or something, but you can't find your voice as he licks a long, slow stripe up your slit. You stare at the ceiling, not even blinking as too many signals fire in your brain all at once. 

 Erwin is good with his mouth. Like, stupid good. He has a teasing rhythm, flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue until your muscles are coiled then moves to trace the ring of your entrance, taking his time as you turn from human to puddle. 

 He’s better at this than Zeke who would purposely graze his teeth over your sensitive little bud a little too hard on purpose, would suck on it until it hurt. He liked when you whimpered for him, liked leaving raised welts on your ribs and back from where he’d scratched. The intermixed pain and pleasure never failed to make you come, but the climb up to that precipice was usually precarious for lack of a better term.

 Then, there’s Mike (because of course there is). His mood usually determined how he would take you, hard and fast before a game or slow and lazy as you both relaxed in his room. One thing always stayed the same no matter his disposition, and it’s that he fucking worshiped your pussy—even said it on multiple occasions. He would eat you out like a starving man, lapping at your juices like it would quench his thirst. Some days he would overstimulate you to the point of tears, neverending licks lavished over your clit as he pumped thick fingers in and out of your cunt. Other days he would go down on you like it was a fucking hobby—turn on a movie, spread you out on the foot of his bed, and eat you out while only halfway paying attention to the TV. He could pull multiple orgasms from you that way, letting you come around a finger or two before returning to your pulsing clit. Fuck, you used to make such a mess. He’d spend minutes trying to lick you clean, but you always ended up in the shower afterward.

 You shouldn’t be thinking of that right now, though. You should be thinking about Erwin’s clever tongue and the fingertips just barely brushing over sensitive skin. You want them inside of you, want something to clamp down on, but no matter how much you pull his hair or utter a breathy, “Please,” he keeps the same pace, only moving on when he feels like it.

 He’s doing it on purpose, trying to break you before even getting to the point of fucking you, and if you’re being honest, it just might work. He’s gonna make you lose your god damn mind tonight. Exactly like you want to.

 “Fuck, how much p-practice have you had with th-this?”

 Erwin laughs, stilling your wriggling by curling his arms around your thighs. “Too much, probably.”

 You whine when he continues, but when he starts softly sucking on your clit, you’re surprised at how close you suddenly feel, your legs naturally trying to spread further but remaining immobilized in Erwin’s grip. The threat of not being able to move only intensifies the building sensation in your gut, and soon you’re gasping his name, eyes rolling as you try in vain to buck further into his face. 

 You feel more than hear Erwin groan, a deep vibration that pours over your clit and makes you twitch. He gives you a few more long licks, then pulls back and stands, exposing the way his mouth and chin are covered in a glossy sheen. 

 “Feel better yet?” He smirks.

 You wave a lazy hand, don’t want to fluff his ego too much, so you allow him to witness your borderline stoned state while still jeering, “I’ll feel better when I have your cock inside me.”

 Erwin laughs to himself, mutters, “Eager,” then takes his pants off. 

 Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you give his cock a cursory glance and stop. “Hold on,” then slide off the bed and to your knees. 

 If you’re gonna fuck Erwin Smith, you’re at least gonna appreciate it. 

 He inhales sharply as you place your hands on his thighs, eyes traveling over his length. It’s pretty, above average in size, smooth, with a flared tip that’s currently flushing a dark pink. 

 “I really hate to admit this, but you could be, like, a dick model.”

 He chokes on some kind of snort, and you swear his entire chest turns red. “I—thank you?”

 “You’re welcome,” you tell him, promptly taking hold of his cock and guiding it into your mouth.

 “Oh, fuck, fuck—”

 His skin is soft against your tongue, warm as you take him deeper. His girth stretches your jaw, but you’re still pretty used to the feeling, had to get used to it with Mike because he’s a little bigger than—

 That’s not important. 

 Erwin breathes through his teeth as he places a hand on the top of your head, and when you look up at him through your eyelashes, he lets out a disbelieving little laugh. That confident fucking tease is nowhere to be found as you swipe your tongue over the tiny hole leaking pre then surge forward, almost pressing your nose to his pelvis as you run the muscle back and forth under the base of his cock.

 “Shit, let me—let me lean against the bed,” he says, pulling you off him and chuckling, “Gonna make my fucking knees buckle.”

 You turn where you’re kneeling, waiting for him to get better stabilized before resuming your efforts to ruin this annoying, charming frat boy who is always put together. You suck and slurp and trigger your gag reflex a couple times. Erwin’s fingers scratch against your scalp like he’s looking for purchase. He’s careful not to be too brutal as he pushes you down on his cock, raising his hips to meet your rhythm. His head is thrown back, thighs tensing under your hands as his chest rises and falls with short breaths. 

 You have to work up to it, but once you feel loose enough, you press forward and let Erwin slip further into your throat. His voice sounds like honey when he groans a low, “Hoooly fuck,” letting his head hang down as he attempts to stare at you with unfocused eyes. 

 “Okay, okay, okay,” he huffs. “Keep going and we won’t get to the main event.”

 You pull off of him with a lewd pop then raise to your feet. Your knees are a little sore, but it’s nothing some exercise won’t work out. 

 “Want me to wear a condom?”

 “I don’t care. I’m clean and on birth control,” you tell him. “What about you?”

 “Well, I’m clean, but I haven’t gotten my birth control prescription refilled in a wh—”

 You flick his chest, and Erwin laughs as he bats you away. 

 “Alright. Up on the bed with you then,” he motions to the mattress. “Lay on the edge.”

 You do as you're told, spreading your legs for Erwin to stand between, and you bite your lip when you feel him rub the head of his cock between your folds. You’re still wet with slick—probably dripped onto the carpet when you were giving him head—which makes the glide easier as he teases you. 

 “Ready?” He asks, wriggling thick eyebrows until you smile. He doesn’t wait for an actual answer before he starts pushing in, pressing your legs to your chest as he slowly seats himself in your cunt.

 You’re making that face—eyebrows moving toward your hairline as if you’re worried, jaw dropping open as air is pushed from your lungs. Erwin looks focused, licking his lips as he gazes down at the way your pussy stretches around him. 

 He thrusts in and out at a tortuous pace, apparently waiting for you to start trembling around him before he deems you ready to take more. Every one of his movements is measured, slowly pulling out only to push in all at once. The ridge of his cock drags over your g-spot, pressing firmly against it and making you claw at his shoulders. 

 He feels good, satisfying, but he’s not quite as good as Mike who used to hit all your spots without even thinking about it—somehow making you beg like a whore and sing like a little girl in Sunday school all at the same time. 

 Still, you don’t have to lie when Erwin quickens his pace and pants, “Feel good?” 

 “Fuck—yes, yes, Jesus Christ—”

 He’s pulling all manner of crude sounds from your pussy, wet and greedy as it sucks him back in with every rut of his hips. The angle is perfect—his height paired with the bed on stilts has him hitting your spot every time, and you feel the need to warn him, “If you keep—keep fucking me like this—god—m’gonna squirt.”

 “Fuck yes,” he praises, wetting a thumb in his mouth before bringing it down to massage your clit. He only speeds up as your voice rises, body confused like your muscles don’t know if they should be flexed or relaxed. 

 You feel that tell-tale burning, that urge that only gets stronger the more Erwin abuses your g-spot and presses against your clit.

 “Shit, shit, shit—”

 Erwin groans when fluid starts to trickle from you, pushes more and more out of you while quickly swiping two fingers over your clit. The sense of relief is mind-numbing. You can’t even be upset that your sheets are gonna be damp whenever you decide to sleep. 

 He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t lose his rhythm, just sticks his two wet fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean. 

 You see it now—the skill, the appeal, why the girls always come back to him. It makes sense. He’s devastatingly handsome, especially like this, all fucked out and flushed, hair out of place, lips red and swollen from biting them. 

 Yeah, Erwin is fucking hot.

 But, that doesn’t mean he’s your type. 

 Pulling out, he flips you onto your stomach, and you have to stand on your tip-toes as you lean over the bed. The burn in your calves disappears almost entirely when he slides into you from behind, pelvis pressing against your ass as he curls over you, cupping your tits and tweaking your hardened nipples as he gifts you with a series of shallow thrusts. It makes you whimper and teeter forward, unable to balance and squirm at the same time. Face suddenly buried in the mattress, your cries are muffled by the blankets. Erwin’s hands travel back to your hips, rocking you back and forth on his slick cock. He’s getting a little rougher, pressing into you as deeply as he can, and the fact that you’ll be sore from this tomorrow gives you a strange sense of satisfaction. 

 Only way to get over someone is to get on top of someone else, right? Or, underneath in your case. Being a little more in control wouldn’t be the worst thing, though, so…

 “Erwin, Erwin, fuck—Lemme ride you.”

 There is no hesitation. Erwin slips out of you and throws himself onto the bed, grinning crookedly as he watches you climb over him on unsteady limbs. His patience must have worn out some time ago, because he holds his cock with one hand, using the other to line you up with it, then guides you down his length. 

 You have to sit still for a second, or you would like to, but Erwin is still holding your hips, and he rocks you back and forth in his lap like he knows. He probably does. He’s probably fucked enough girls to notice exactly when their eyes pop open, when they shudder and break out in goosebumps because that pressure is hitting exactly where it needs to, and yeah, he knows. 

 Finding it in yourself to move again, you lean over Erwin, planting your hands on the pillows by his head, then start bouncing on his cock. He hisses in a dark, appreciative way, eyes and hands immediately drawn to your chest. He sits up enough to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and pinching then doing the same to the other. 

 He’s so good—feels so good, knows just where to touch, the exact place to bite on your neck that makes you melt, but how—how does he know that? It’s like he has a sixth sense or—

 Or, he just paid attention to the bruises that Mike used to leave on the sides of your throat. That checks out. 

 Fuck, he used to mark you like he wanted everyone to see, especially that last night. It was almost animalistic, like he had been—marking his territory, Zeke’s voice plays in your head. It makes you frown, and you rid yourself of the thought only to replace it with the memory of Mike’s mouth on your skin, his calloused fingertips trailing down your torso, huge hands wrapping around your legs to pull you against him—

 You whine, glad it sounds like a sound of desperation rather than frustration. You just want to stop thinking about him. Just an hour—if you could go a single fucking hour—

 “Hey, look at me,” Erwin commands in a soft voice. 

 You open your eyes, still hovering over him, and expect him to say something, but instead he just reaches up to the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. 

 He’s helping move you on top of him, forcing you to take his cock over and over, and like this, so close and breathing him in, you don’t even have the room to think about Mike. 

 Both of your bodies are damp with sweat, and Erwin’s hair is a mess, pushed from his flushed face. He bites down on your bottom lip and tugs, only letting go to ask, “Where do you want me?”

 “I don’t care,” you groan, legs and arms and pussy growing sore. You’re not surprised; you’ve been going at it for a while now. 

 Erwin licks your lower lip as if to soothe it after biting it, tells you, “Oh, don’t give me that option. You know where I’ll pick.”

 Smiling, you straighten up then move to fit your feet underneath you so you can bounce more freely. “You can come inside, dude. It feels good to me, too.”

 “I really don’t know how to respond to being called ‘dude’ when I’m balls deep in a girl.”

 You shrug, “Sorry not sorry,” then raise and drop yourself, feeling in charge for the first time tonight. 

 “Fuck—shit—”

 That feeling is short lived as Erwin goes right back to using you the way he wants. You think for about half a second that he’s finally, really losing himself, but the accuracy of his finger on your clit proves that is not the case. He’s clearly having a good time, but he isn’t at that feral stage that Mike falls into sometimes.

 Before you can dwell on it for too long, you hit your peak, moaning Erwin’s name, hips moving uncontrollably as you ride out your orgasm.

 He’s speaking, mumbling praise or pleas or curses, you aren’t so sure, but after about another minute of fucking into you relentlessly, Erwin comes, shooting line after line inside of you until he’s spent and twitching. 

 With your two previous partners, this is usually when you’d fall forward and cuddle, catch your breath and enjoy the feeling of being all plugged up.

 But, it’s Erwin, huffing and blinking up at the ceiling then finally stating, “That was a dumb idea.”

 It makes you laugh for some reason, probably because you agree. 

 The sex was great. There is a reason girls talk about him on campus, about his sexual prowess or whatever, and if you weren’t too busy suffocating in your little pit of heartbreak, thinking about your best friend nonstop, you wouldn’t mind fucking Erwin again. And, again and again.

 That’s not gonna happen, though. The heat of the moment is fading, every mental faculty returning to you, and despite the fact that you’re still seated on his cock, as you look down at him, you feel absolutely no spark.

 He’s ridiculously attractive, pretty fucking brilliant but with a dumb sense of humor, and you love him. You really do. He’s done a lot for you over the last semester, made it at least somewhat bearable, but… This shouldn’t have happened. 

 Hopefully, it quelled his curiosity, though.

 “I told you it would just make you feel shitty,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t look sad. Sympathetic more than anything, resigned that he’s probably going to have to pick up the pieces of another mess. 

 “Yeah,” you drawl. “You were right.” Your joints pop as you stand, towering over Erwin for once and leaking his fucking cum as you hop off the bed. 

 “It’s been known to happen from time to time,” he jokes absentmindedly, wiping a few drops of white off his stomach then reaching for the tissues on the nightstand. 

 You don’t feel awkward or out of place, but you have no idea what else to say. The only thing that comes to mind is, “I’m gonna take a shower,” as you walk toward the bathroom.

 Erwin moves on the bed, stretching a little before grabbing his pants and leaving you to your devices, but you pause before stepping onto the tile, turn back and pace over to him.

 “Hey,” you start, and Erwin glances up from the button of his khakis. “Thanks.”

 He rolls his eyes, a small smile playing at his lips, and once he’s all zipped and buttoned up, he pulls you into a hug. 

 “I would say any time, but we probably shouldn’t do this again.”

 “Yeah, probably not.”

 You breathe into the space under his collarbone, humming as he gently scratches you back, then break away. “Alright, actually gonna shower now.”

 Erwin nods, “You do that,” then slaps your ass as soon as you turn around. 

 You look at him over your shoulder with raised eyebrows, but he just winks and tells you, “I had to. Just once,” which is fair. 

 You run a hot shower, scrub the shit out of your skin, lather your hair with some fancy shampoo then rinse it off. Once you go through your full routine, you’re happy to change into pajamas and slip into the comfortable bed. You don’t even mind that the comforter is a little damp in various places.

* You don’t stir when the door opens and closes, but you do when the mattress dips. Shifting slightly, you assume it’s just Erwin, falling back into your usual routine by slipping under the covers with you.

 As soon as he lays behind you, though, you know it isn’t Erwin. You recognize that weight, that warmth, that smell, and you are very awake very quickly. 

 “M-Mike?”

 All he offers is a little, “Mm,” to confirm.

 You chew on the inside of your cheek, confused and clueless as to what you’re supposed to do. 

 “Are you drunk again?”

 “No. Little buzzed.”

 Why is he here, then? You want to ask—What is he doing? Why isn’t he with Rhi?

 You start to turn to face him but you're stopped when Mike sets a hand on your back. It's oddly firm, keeping you in place as he grunts, "No, don't."

 "What?" 

 "Don't turn around." His voice is hushed and choppy, like he's gritting out every syllable. 

 "Mike?"

 "I have shit I wanna say to you, and I won't be able to if you're lookin' at me."

 You have no idea how to respond to that, don't know if this is going to be a positive one-sided conversation where Mike confesses deep feelings while actually sober, or if he'll just unload all the baggage you've given him. Either way, you wish you could see his face. Something about having him laying behind you, close enough to feel his body heat, has you feeling very uneasy. 

 But, you nod, "Okay," trying to put on a brave face that he refuses to look at. 

 For a while, he just breathes. You assume it’s because he’s gathering his thoughts or maybe working up the courage to say something, but the suspense is making you shiver under your blankets. You have that terrible feeling in the pit of your stomach, the mix of anticipation and regret you get on the way up to the first drop of a rollercoaster. 

 “Why have you been lying to me?”

 And, there’s that drop. 

 You swallow. “I haven’t been.”

 “Bullshit.”

 “Mike, I haven’t been!” You try to turn again, but his large hand is still right in the middle of your back. 

 “Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” His fingers close around the material of your shirt. You feel it tighten at your chest, making it hard to breathe—harder to breathe. “How are you gonna tell me that right after sleeping with him?” 

 You open your mouth to argue, realize you can’t make a case for yourself, and when you snap your jaw shut again, the sound of your teeth clacking seems to echo in your head.

 Yesterday, you would have been able to talk to him about this and be honest when telling him you weren’t fucking his best friend. Now, though…

 God, that had been such a bad decision. Why hadn’t you just listened to Erwin? Why can’t you fucking listen to anyone?

 “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Mike mutters. His grip loosens, but you can still feel a light tug at your shirt, the movement of fingers, and you think he might be rubbing over the material he’s still holding. “Pretty sure all of us could hear you guys goin’ at it, so… Thanks for that.”

 You take a deep breath in, squeezing your eyes shut because it sinks in that this is not going to be nice conversation. This isn’t going to result in the two of you apologizing and making love confessions to each other. 

 “I… I’m sorry.”

 Now, you’re grateful for not being able to see his face. You wouldn’t be able to stand looking at him right now, not when you know his expression will be grim—probably angry. 

 “I can’t really do anything with sorry,” Mike sighs. His hand drops from your back, but you make no move to turn over. 

 Your heart is like a hummingbird’s, beating frantically in your chest as that ache rises inside of you again, making your throat constrict and your eyes burn. 

 “Why’d you invite Rhi tonight?” You ask, hoping your sniffle isn’t too noticeable.

 “Why does it matter?”

 You suppose it doesn’t, but you still want to know, “Is it to get back at me, or is it because you’re actually into her?”

 Mike scoffs. “Not that it’s any of your business, but do you think I’d be in your room at three in the fucking morning if I was into her?”

 It’s probably the closest he’ll get to admitting it, but it’s all you need to hear. He’s been going out of his way to hurt you. At least any pain you’ve caused him wasn’t intentional. Until tonight, that is, and even then, you didn’t fuck Erwin to hurt him; you did it to help yourself. 

 Pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, you hold back tears and mumble a thick, “Just wanted to know.”

 “Want to make sure I’m still interested? That I’ll keep waiting for you to fucking realize—”

 “I have—” You turn over roughly, pinning Mike’s hand under your ribs as you glare at him, but he manages to put more distance between the two of you when he yanks his arm back and sits up.

 “I can’t do this anymore,” he tells you, and you think you hear his voice waver for a second.  

 The orange light pouring in from the bathroom is the only way you can tell his eyes are wide—worried—and it chills all the blood in your body.

 “Wh-what d’you mean?” 

 “I mean, I can’t fucking do this anymore,” he repeats a little louder, drawing it out like it’ll help you understand. “I cannot deal with you anymore. I can’t keep feeling this way, okay?”

 “Mike…”

 “No,” he stops you, acts like he has something else lined up but bites his tongue and sighs. He sits cross-legged on the bed now, hangs his head as he speaks calmly, “This semester has fucking sucked. I am angry all the time. I can’t focus in class, and I can’t play lacrosse without getting in trouble, and I can’t fuck anyone else without feeling bad—I can’t fucking do anything without thinking of you, and I’m—” he looks at the wall and shakes his head. “I’m exhausted.”

 “I am too,” you tell him, voice cracking as that lump in your throat grows and bubbles, pushing hot tears from your eyes that you quickly wipe away. “Mike, I am too, so can we just—”

 “No,” he cuts you off again. “Whatever it is you’re about to say—move on, pretend it didn’t happen, pick up where we left off, whatever… the answer is no.”

 He seems like he already has his mind made up, came into the room with a plan, and he isn’t gonna let you talk him out of it. 

 So, you stay as silent as you can, sniffing and swallowing and letting the comforter catch every teardrop. 

 “I have been… Right in front of you this whole time. I made myself completely available for a year—was at your beck and fucking call. I was—I mean—I was good to you, right?” He sounds incredulous, like he can barely believe he’s asking. 

 “Yeah,” you manage. “Yeah, you were.”

 “Then, why…? Zeke? And, now Erwin?”

 “Do you want me to try to explain, or do you just wanna rant for a while?”

 Mike glances at you, looks surprised that you’d give him the option. 

 “Honestly, I don’t really wanna hear it. You’ve more than proved your point.”

 Indignation swirls in your stomach alongside your nausea, and you press, “My point being?”

 “That I’m not good enough.”

 Oh, god. No, no, no. You could understand him being angry. You’re okay with him being angry, it’s fine. But, this—this feeling of inferiority? That is so much worse. It makes you sick. This is the last thing you’d ever want Mike to feel. It’s the last thing he should feel because it’s false. He has no reason—he’s too good and too kind and too warm. He’s like… He’s fucking sunshine. He can light up a room, and he doesn’t even know it.

 “Mike, n-no,” your voice breaks, making you sound like a wounded animal. “You are so, so good. You are more than enough, I promise.”

 He snorts in a self-deprecating manner. “Then, why—”

 “Because I’m not good enough. I fucked this up. This is my fault, and I can own that as long as you know that there is absolutely no—nothing wrong with you,” the last part comes out as a squeak as you try not to hyperventilate and cry the way your body is urging you to. Not yet. 

 Mike nods a few times. You can see his mouth moving from the side like he’s biting his lip or sucking his teeth until he agrees, “Yeah,” then adds a quiet, “Whatever you say, babe,” that makes you want to throw up.

 Mike scoots to the edge of the bed and stands. You assume he’s about to leave, let you be alone with your thoughts, so when he rounds the corner to get to your side, you sit up a little straighter. 

 Half of his face is illuminated, casting shadows under his eyes, highlighting the bruise on his neck that Rhi probably left, but your gaze is trained on his as he leans down to you. A finger hooks under your chin, and Mike tilts your face at an angle, kissing you so softly that it’s painful. 

 His lips are warm and familiar, everything you’ve been craving as they cover yours. There’s no tongue, no force, just light pressure as he inhales through his nose.

 You know what this is, what he’s doing, but you can’t prepare yourself because there’s still that tiny string of hope you’re grappling for. He just needs a break. You just need to give him space. That’s all—

 “I love you,” Mike murmurs. His voice is low and honest and slices you open. “I love you so fucking much it hurts, and I just—” He brushes a thumb over your lower lip as he pulls away, and it takes everything in you not to grab his hand and beg him to stay. “It’s like I hate you too.”

 You pull away to wipe your face with the blanket. There’s so much you want to say but have no idea how to articulate it, so all you can do is stare at Mike with wide, watery eyes. He… hates you. He hates you. 

 Straightening, Mike’s expression is suddenly nonchalant, like he just flipped a switch in his brain. “I’m not exactly the social butterfly I used to be, but I wanna have fun my last semester of undergrad—make up for the time I lost fucking brooding over you, so—”

 “I’ll stop going to the Pike house,” you tell him quietly. It’s easier to make the decision yourself rather than have to hear it from his mouth: Don’t come around anymore. I don’t want to see you. 

 “Cool. And, if you, like, see me on campus or anything—”

 You cough, maybe gag, you can’t really tell at this point because wow, this just keeps getting worse. 

 “I won’t bother you.”

 “Cool.” He bends to press another much more patronizing kiss to the crown of your head, then starts walking toward the door. “I’m just gonna try to move on, you know? Start fresh. And, you should do the same. Shouldn’t be too hard for you.” 

 You don’t watch him leave, just listen for the door to click shut behind him before you crawl out of bed, turn the lights on, and start packing your things. 

 You and Hitch drove together, but you have no doubt that she'll be able to get a ride with Nile, and with that thought, you’re out of the ranch house and on the road just as the first rays of the morning sun start shining over the horizon.

 *

 It’s surprisingly easy for Mike to slip back into his old, obnoxious persona, and the remainder of the school year is spent partying, fucking, and cramming for tests he should have studied for weeks in advance.

 But, life is short, and he’s done beating himself up over stupid shit.

 Most of his PKA brothers are happy to have him “back”, and the pledges get the chance to see this of him, but there are times when Mike catches Erwin or Nile shaking their heads at him. He doesn’t mind much. They can both go fuck themselves for all he cares. 

 True to your word, you don’t show your face around the house. There were a few weeks after the holiday get-together where Erwin would disappear for a few hours at a time and come back either tired or angry, sometimes a combination of the two. 

 He attempted to bring you up in a conversation a total of one time, right in the middle of a party where Mike had been eyeing up a sorority girl. He brushed his friend off, easily telling Erwin, “Don’t fuckin’ talk to me about her,” through the crooked grin he was flashing at the little blond across the room. 

 Erwin didn’t bother after that, obviously deeming Mike a lost cause. 

 Mike knows better, though. He isn’t lost anymore. In fact, he’s found himself all over again.

 Every once in a while, he’ll catch a glimpse of you on campus, but whenever that happens, he just turns around and takes a different route to wherever he’s going. He doesn’t want to give you any reason to think you can talk to him—doesn’t want to give you the chance.

 He’s spent too much of his time hung up on you, too much time pining and hurting, and that hasn’t disappeared entirely. Mike can still clearly remember the way you looked at him the last night the two of you spoke, the way your tears twinkled in the dim light. He remembers how strangled you sounded while speaking, remembers the way your shoulders shook as you fought your emotions, remembers the way your lips trembled against his. 

 It wasn’t very satisfying. Mike left the ranch house the following morning sporting a few bruises on the outside thanks to Rhi as well as a few bruises on the inside thanks to you. 

 That entire night had been a clusterfuck—between Maddie and Marie storming off to cry then the little stunt he pulled by inviting Rhi, it had been much too dramatic for a gathering of that size. Mike experienced a wide variety of emotions that night, but the one that stands out the most is the searing rage that threatened to burn him from the inside, the red the clouded his vision as soon as he heard you moan Erwin’s name through the wall. 

 Mike had already been toying with the idea of severing all ties with you, but that’s what pushed him over the edge, watching you put on your little show when Rhi walked in only to turn around and have a grand fucking time with his best friend. 

 It needed to happen. Mike needed to free himself of you. It feels good. Mostly. There are still some days he comes close to giving in, just picking up his phone and calling you, but he resists, and he’s better for it. 

 He gets through his classes, does well on his finals after actually putting in the time to prepare for them, and by the time Mike graduates, he’s already been accepted to the graduate program of his choice and has an internship lined up. The tension between him and Erwin has faded for the most part, which is great since he’s going to grad school in the same area up north. Things look… promising—something he didn’t think possible without you by his side, something he didn’t want to be possible without you by his side. 

 But, now, here he is, unpacking his new apartment with the help of Scout who insists on sniffing absolutely everything. He’s halfway across the country from his parents, away from all he’s ever known, and Mike couldn’t be more thrilled about it. 

 He can go full days without sparing you a thought now, and he hopes—he prays—that one day he’ll think of you for the last time in his life. 

[ next ]

[bubblyhoney]

picnic bitch

warnings: crude language duh, suggestive (not explicit) content, an eminem reference

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

words: 1156

A/N: a continuation of a detail from my boyfriend!sapnap head canon :D

-

The breeze wafts across your face, moving a lock of hair to tickle on your cheek. You swat a hand up at your cheek and furrow your brows.

The weather today has been fairly pleasant and not too sweltering, thank God. The park is busy this time of afternoon, but you both snagged a spot underneath a huge tree in the southwest corner of the field.

“Pass me a strawberry, please, baby,” he mumbles from above you. You glance up at him, one eye squinted, and reach for the container of strawberries. “Feed me.” He smirks and drops his mouth open, tongue out. You just roll your eyes and place a berry into his mouth, careful to not get his spit on you. You settle back into his lap, content.

Today was the designated picnic day. You try to have a couple during the summer just because it’s so lovely to sit outside, relax, and eat, but you’d already had about six since the start of summer. They mostly consist of you feeding Sapnap fruit and laying with your head on his lap, stretched out and comfortable. Today you were sporting clothes all loose and blue as the sky, wanting to be stylish but not too sweaty. He’d gone for sweat-shorts and a green flannel over a white shirt: cute. Very cute. So cute you can’t help but stare and feel your cheeks flush.

Shuffling his legs, he readjusts his arms and hums as he settles back into the bark of the tree. Sweet music plays lightly in the background, courtesy of your portable speaker sitting perfectly on top of the picnic basket.

“You look ethereal,” is what you can’t help but to whisper. You peek one eye open and stare up at his relaxed face. He rolls his eyes but smiles down at you, tips of his ears pink.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, shy. You just huff and roll up onto an elbow, reaching for your lemonade. It’s tart on your tongue and you make a pleased noise at the taste, swallowing. He just watches you.

“What time are you making dinner?” You fold up onto your knees, raising your eyebrows as you screw the cap back onto your bottle.

“Oh, am I making dinner now?” Teasing, he reaches for your arms and you accede, letting him tug you onto his lap. “It’s salad night.” Making a face, he strokes up and down your bicep, both soothing and causing goosebumps.

“I thought you liked salad night, babe.” His hair is soft and nice on your palm when you reach a hand up to pet his hair. He stills and lets you, but shrugs after a moment.

“I like salad, but never as a full meal. Can we make spaghetti?”

“Okay, yeah,” you agree, shuffling forward on his lap. “That sounds good. I’ll be expecting homemade pasta, Chef.”

“Oh, yeah?” He brushes a wind-disturbed tuft of hair out of your eyes. Full lips split into a smile as he leans back into the tree, eyes closed. “Sounds like a lot of effort, sweetheart.”

Your skin tingles brightly at the pet name. A beam of sunlight breaks through the green leaves of the tree and stripes diagonal across his calm expression. When you said ethereal, you meant it.

The serene mood, all breezy and gentle music, breaks when you open your mouth. As usual.

“Hey, are you Mom’s spaghetti?” You pause for a second and let your hand drop onto his collarbone. “Because you make my knees weak and my palms sweaty.” The pick-up line takes a second to hit before his eyes snap open. Bowing forward, he makes a retching sound into your lap.

“Oh my God,” he breathes, cheeks puffy and strained as he holds in a laugh. “That was actually awful. You should be ashamed.” Shrugging, you relax back into his thighs with a sigh.

“I thought it was pretty good, actually. You’re in love now; I just beguiled you. Get beguiled.” Your voice is teasing, poking, as you play with the bottle of lemonade in your hands.

“I don’t think an Eminem reference has as much power as you think it does,” he says simply, and tugs you closer into his lap. One hand slides up to your neck, just resting, before he’s pulling you forward, inches away from his mouth. “But I do love you.” His lips slide easily against yours, tasting your chapstick and breathing you in. You taste like lemon and sugar. His other hand rests comfortably in the curve of your waist, squeezing intermittently.

You take a few minutes to just kiss. Not making out, not grinding or teasing. It’s peaceful out here, away from families, so you take your time.

It’s the second a drop of water plops right onto your shoulder that you tense. Pulling away, you raise an empty palm up in the air. Drop. Drop.

“It’s raining,” you practically wail, and clamber out of his lap. The sky has turned an ugly grayish blue, dark clouds that came out of seemingly nowhere looming in the distance. He huffs, irritated, and starts to gather your stuff up. The strawberries go into the basket, as do the sandwiches, and you toss your lemonade in as well. You stand to fold the picnic blanket and shove it down into a tan tote bag.

The park is rapidly clearing of people. Teenagers at the skating park hop on their bikes, adults walking their dogs scatter in the parking lot to their respective vehicles, and you two scramble to collect your things and make a dash for your car. It’s full on pouring when you yank open the passenger seat and climb clumsily in.

“This sucks!” He yells over the downpour, and slams closed the driver’s door. It’s much more quiet in here, you realize, and tilt your face up to the sunroof. You’d peeled back the covering on the way here “to let the sunlight in” and now it’s getting pelted with large, warm raindrops. Sapnap moves in his seat, getting situated, and starts the car with a rumble. It’s also fucking hot in here.

“This is not how I was thinking our picnic was going to end,” he pouts. “I thought we would actually make it to the cake.” A cartoonish frown appears on his lips and you melt, aw-ing. You reach a thumb to rub at his bottom lip.

“It’s okay, we can finish the cake when we get home. Spoil our dinner.” You wiggle your eyebrows and he huffs out a laugh, pulling his seatbelt to its lock.

“I doubt we’ll make it home without pulling over and shoving our faces with it,” he scoffs. A smirk grows on your face and he glances warily at it, shifting to reverse out of the parking spot. “What’s that face for?”

“Are you familiar with the idea of whipped cream play?”

Yeah, the cake doesn’t make it home.

-

A/N: ask or send me stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D comments are extremely welcome and even encouraged

[jolapeno]

Stood Up + Salads

Diego Hargreeves x Fem!Reader Words: 1.5k AN: Set with a S1 Diego but not S1 or S2 storyline. For a friend, you know who you are.

He didn’t need to look up when the door goes, he knows it’s you. Because when it rains, it pours.

Diego wonders if he should be more upset about his father, rather than being upset he’s had to see the others. Only for him to take his frustration out on you, consciously or not.

The fact you allow the door to meet the frame with such a loud thud is enough of a signal to him that you’re pissed.

Diego takes a second, thinking of his next steps as he swipes his tongue over his teeth, staring at the punching bag, as if it’s going to provide any answers on what he should do. How he could get out of this. Because if he plays this wrong, which he will, it’s going to spiral. Becoming so much worse than it already is.

A whole lot fucking worse.

And it’s already bad.

Hitting the bag once, twice and then thrice, he pays attention to your footsteps nearing. Not turning, not needing to see if your arms are folded, lips pursed and giving him one of you signature dead expressions. He knows you will be, because Diego fucking knows you and you know him.

And he hates it.

He despises that you know about his tick. About his family. About his upbringing, talent and everything else in between. He hates that you suggested calling off the meal before he did, and he hates himself for agreeing to go even if he knew he wouldn’t attend.

Because he’s decided he hates being happy.

He likes being miserable, likes fighting petty crime without anyone to come home to.

“Asshole.”

Rolling his head, he casts his eyes over you. Finding you exactly as he’s imagined. The only—slight—difference is the look in your eyes.

Sadness. A look which doesn’t suit you. One which stands out to him, because he’s seen it so rarely.

It swirls in your eyes, mixing with your usual shade, darkening them as they pin him to his spot. Or try to.

Letting his hands fall to his sides, he lets out a sigh before he can help himself. And the glare you send him is enough to force him to turn to face you.

When it comes to you, he isn’t sure if he hates how close you are to him physically or metaphorically; not sure if he dislikes it more that he wants to kiss you or let you love him.

“Hello to you too.”

Your lips twitch into a smirk. “You don’t deserve a hello.”

“Touché.”

“Surprised you know that word.”

“Under all this, I’m clever y’know?”

“Are you?” you snap, and you roll your lips together.

Those painted plump lips that’s kissed every inch of him. That he’s woke up dreaming about and gone to sleep pressed against.

“You’re angry—“

“Oh, I’m past angry, Hargreeves,” you says, tapping your foot on the gym floor. “I was angry when I was on my second glass, wondering where you were. I was fuming when I left, embarrassed and ready to hunt you down. Now, now I’m almost murderous.”

He hasn’t been called his surname in sometime. Hasn’t found himself in hot waters, with you at least, in sometime. Even angry, he feels your eyes rake down his frame, following a bead of sweat which falls from his neck down his chest and stomach.

Pulling the gloves undone with his teeth, snaps your eyes back up. And he finds himself smirking at you and his own foolishness simultaneously.

Because deep down he’s known this day would come, where you—like most—tired of him. Finding yourself irritated with his ways, of his selfishness and his impulsiveness.

“Let me have it then.”

He throws the gloves to the floor, shifting his weight as he notices the slight narrowing of your eyes. The way your lips twitch, whether a smirk or a smile, he can’t be sure. Usually, there’s less talking when you’re like this; usually you’re already pinned under him or against something. Now, you don’t even look at him like you’d welcome that.

Diego hates you for that too.

Despises that you have gotten under his skin, throwing him off his game. He’s dated. Well, since Patch they’ve not been constant. Real or permanent.

But you, you got to him. He still doesn’t even know how.

You don’t bend as easily, don’t surrender as you should. You fight him, sometimes tooth and fucking nail, and fuck, he doesn’t hate that about you. He loves that. He loves it when you steal the wind from his sail; when you cut him down. You don’t pander to him, you call him out, and he needs that even if he can’t admit it.

He even doesn’t mind that you sooth the insecurity, recognising when enough is enough. Halting anything before it goes too far, leaves too many wounds. You make him want to try to be a little better, even if he fails most days.

“No.”

“No?”

You snort. “No. Because if I rip you a new one, you’ll find some way to say sorry. And, then you’ll kiss me, and I’ll melt, and then you will forget that you’re an asshole.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

Your jaw tenses, almost impossibly so. “For someone in your position, you have a lot of snark.”

“Be careful, you may hurt my feelings.”

Nodding, your lips twist before straightening to an unreadable expression again. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m done.”

His muscles relax.

And his heart stops.

Yet Diego is somehow, not as surprised as he should have been.

Even if he looks at you, staring at your eyes and hoping to see a tease, a jest. He looks hoping you will change your mind, that he hasn’t successfully pushed another person away.

“Took you long en—“

“Im done talking,” you continue, cutting him off. Taking closer steps, slow ones, full of purpose as you dig your eyes into him. “I’m not gonna ask you to do right by me, I’m not gonna ask for an explanation why you decided to stand me up tonight. Hey, you don’t even have to talk to me.”

His forehead creases, flicking his eyes from your eyes to your mouth.

“Because I know why. You want me without the commitment, without the expectations of being a good person. You want a hole to fuck, so here I am, Hargreeves. You’ve got one.”

Fuck.

He stifles a sigh, especially as your finger press into his chest, nail digging down into the skin as you roll your lips and then he has to focus on not groaning. Especially when you bat your eyes lashes and smirk so condescendingly he wonders if you’ve been sent to test him.

“You want to pretend you don’t crave normal, that you don’t deserve it,” you continue, looking up at him, “I’ll play pretend. Hey, I’ll become the best damn actor in your movie you’ll ever know. But, I’m done talking.”

You place your other hand on his, moving his to your hip as you smirk.

“So, lights camera action, baby. Where do you wanna fuck me first?”

He feels your lips ghost over his. His hand clenching around your hip. Everything inside of him telling to just go with it, to not talk, to not burst open in front of you.

To kiss you.

To throw you down on the mats and not talk for hours.

“I-I’m s-sorry.”

“No. No you’re not,” you says, full of sadness, your expression not changing to match your tone. “If you were, you’d have come to dinner. You’d have stabbed your fork into the salad before I’d have told you I want street food.”

You didn’t move, and neither does he. Your hand spreading over his chest, his hand still on your hip.

“You don’t let yourself enjoy anything, because what? Your dad was an asshole and your brother went to the moon?” You ask, head tilted. “Diego, I don’t give a shit if you’re number two, you’re number one for me. But you have to try. You have to try at least ten percent otherwise it’s just me, forcing you to be with me.”

He never feels forced. Not with you.

You’re sometimes the only thing which is good. Which isn’t fucked, tainted or ruined. You’re good, if not a bit too sweary and a bit too good at drinking. But, you’re… nice, and unwilling to let him settle.

“You’re m-my number o-one too.”

“Cool.”

“I mean i-it.”

“Nice.”

“Baby, c'mon?”

You sigh. “What, Diego?”

Diego. He’s Diego again.

He doesn’t smile, even if he wants too.

He doesn’t kiss you, even if he’s fighting every part of himself.

He just stares, using his other hand to cup your cheek. “I am sorry.”

“Salad at a fancy place too good for you?”

He smirked. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Good. Because it’s too fancy for me too.”

“So why we’re we even fucking going, baby?”

“Because,” you say, defiance in your tone, “it’s what normal people do. They don’t meet over a bad game of darts and several beers, and fuck on a boxing ring. They don’t fight a literal mugger with trained assassin-level knife skills a month after beginning to sleep together.”

Your shoulders sink, your expression softening. “They date, at restaurants who charge too much and hold hands across parks. And for a second, one tiny fucking moment, I wanted that for you. I wanted normal, meet-cute type romance before we grabbed whatever was in a cart and we fucked on my new sideboard.”

His thumb brushed over your cheek. “I’d have liked that.”

“You’d have loved that. But—“

“I’m sorry,” he says again, softer, more meaningful, “I’m s-s-sorry. I really am.”

“I’m still mad.”

“That’s okay.”

“You owe me a fancy salad.”

Smirking, he nods. “Baby, I’ll give you a salad bar if you want it.”

“I don’t like salad.”

“No?”

“No.”

Smirking, he cups your cheek with more purpose. “What do you want then, baby?”

He watches your eyes darken. "Oh."

"Oh, indeed. You have a lot of making up to do.”

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here!

A/N: Shout out to @ideas-for-you-to-adopt​ for inspiring/writing a lot of the headcanons used for the “Bella Suspicion” part of this chapter!

I’m posting this a day early, because, well I’m flakey like that

* You spear another piece of pineapple, your teeth grinding together

* “I think that sounds perfect!” Lauren squeals lightly grasping Bella’s shoulder, Bella gives a small smile in return.

* You know what isn’t perfect?

* The fact that nothing is going according to plan.

* It’s already a month in and NOTHING has happened. You stab another piece of pineapple, sticking it into your mouth

* You’ve hung back in the school parking lot everyday for a MONTH, you were even late to cheer practice once, just to see if the “Tyler Van Accident”  happened.

* Only it never did, and you didn’t know why until Lauren confided that she and Tyler had been hooking up lately.

* As in hooking up at her house after school before her parents came home.

* Of course it’s not going to happen when Tyler’s ditching his last period to drive to her house

* What a mess

* You chew the pineapple carefully, just like a human would. Because even though Bella knows LITERALLY NOTHING. She somehow suspects everything.

* You watch her from the corner of your eye, making polite conversation with Angela about biology next period.

* The amount of questions she has about you is ridiculous

* How did you meet Edward? How does your family know the Cullen’s? Where are you adoptive parents now? If they’re back in the states why haven’t you gone to live with them?

* It’s literally never ending. And that’s just her trying to poke holes in your story.

* You’re not even going to start with all the stuff she’s commented on your physical appearance

* “Hey don’t you think it’s weird they all have gold eyes?” You had heard Bella quietly ask Jessica when she thought you couldn’t hear

* “Not really, they’ve got like six kids, so when one kid needs something more of them do too. (Y/N) told me Alice wanted color contacts so Dr. Cullen just bought some for all of them.”

* And then the week before that, while you were doing a stunt at a basketball game Bella said:

* “Aren’t they like, too strong?” You were lifting up a girl all on your own.

* “Oh yeah- I guess you never saw the video, apparently they’re jacked.” Conner says, with a shrug.

* “Yeah they heard working out helps with stress when they were like 12 and just never stopped.” Mike adds absentmindedly

* And if that wasn’t enough she’s even said this a few weeks before that:

* “Don’t you think it’s weird how beautiful they all are?” Lauren wrinkles her nose, at the time she had gotten used to Bella but she still doesn’t seem to like her very much

* “Not really, I remember (Y/N) wasn’t all that pretty freshman year, they used to wear these really dorky glasses.”

* You had almost started to forget how good you had it, after you did all the leg work in the last two years to establish that you were normal -just kinda quirky- you had just started to enjoy the pay off. A little more lax with your appearance, wearing clothes you liked, doing more solo routines in cheer.

* Only for little Miss.Curious to show up

* Now you have to try extra hard to look human again. And not just you, the entire coven does, because when one of you falls under suspicion you all do.

* Rosalie’s been making her hair look messy every so often to give the illusion that she’s having a bad hair day, Alice wears a retainer every so often, even Emmett pretends to need the bathroom more than he usually does.

* This morning you even had Rosalie do a fake pimple on your jaw.

* If Bella wasn’t going to be your best friends’ future wife, you think you might just hate her.

* You kind of sympathize with Rosalie in the book now.

* “Hey (Y/N) are you in?” Conner asks nudging his elbow against yours.

* “In for what?” You mumble, spearing another piece of pineapple. Another downside is now you have to eat at lunch. Otherwise Bella starts asking why you never eat and everyone gets really concerned and starts force feeding you

* God, all those years of establish you have low blood sugar and acid reflux induced nausea for nothing

* “La Push beach, we’re all going this weekend.” You perk up at the mention

* Finally, something’s getting back on track

* “Can’t, cheer stuff.” You mumble, shoving your food around your plate with your fork.

* You don’t miss Bella’s meaningful glance on your mostly full plate.

* Oh great, you can practically see the question “don’t you think it’s weird how they never eat anything?” Forming in the inner corners of her mind

* “What about you Edward?” Lauren flutters her eyelashes and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

* Lauren’s still annoyed that even though they’re hooking up, Tyler hasn’t made anything official yet

* Alice told her flirting with another guy might help.

* “He’s not going either.” You say before Edward can even open his mouth. He doesn’t say anything just gives you a questioning look and a smile.

* Looks like he’s finding everyone else’s thoughts more interesting

* “Are you guys going on a date?” Jessica waggles her eyebrows and on the other side of the table Bella sputters.

* You roll your eyes

* “No Jessica, but if I can’t go have fun neither can he.” Technically you both are forbidden to go on tribal land but whatever. “Best friend code.”

* Also you’re pretty sure Edward and Emmett are going to Yellowstone to eat bears or something, like a couple of heathens

* The thought of eating straight out of bear, no idea what they’ve eaten or where they’ve been doing their business, makes you shudder. 

* You did mention to them both that if they happen to find an orphaned bear cub somewhere to bring it back. You’ve been wanting to experiment with bear blood. 

* “Best friend code.” Edward repeats slowly, and the look he gives you makes your stomach flutter. And it’s not because you just ate half a salad.

* You’re knocked out of the look when Conner bumps his knee against yours

* “Well that’s a shame, I was looking forward to seeing you in a swimsuit.”

* So Conner’s been flirting a lot with you lately. Kind of weird, your best guess is that he was hoping to date Lauren, but now that she’s kinda seeing Tyler, you’re starting to look good.

* “Maybe you should have a pool party at that fancy house of yours then.” The group laughs but Conner just smirks

* “Whatever you want babe but-“ the bell cuts him off and you give him a consolatory pat on the arm.

* You move to throw away the leftover food on your plate, walking with Edward

* “We’re ditching right?” You ask him as you toss the plate into the trash.

* “Yeah Mr. Barnes is doing his blood type experiment today.” Like he even needs an excuse to skip school. “Do you want to go to the bookstore or something?”

* You shake your head, that won’t do, when Bella faints Edward needs to be there so they can fall in love

* “Wanna just hang out in my car? We can listen to that new Debussy CD I got.”

* Edward gives you a small smile, like he’s not really happy

* “Whatever you want.”

* Wait what’s up with that.

* “Hey, (Y/N)!” Bella calls out for you and Edward grimaces.

* “I’ll meet you at your car” wait he’s not going to stay here? If this was a dating video game he’d be the kind of player that wasted all the capture flags and then complains when they end up all alone.

* He leaves just as Bella gets to you. She spares a fleeting glance in Edward’s direction, almost looking sad as she watches him walk away before she looks to you

* “Are you heading over to biology?” She really is cute, like a puppy. She must have been hoping to get a little closer to Edward. 

* You almost feel bad for not warning her what with her issues on blood.

* “Nah I’ve got to finish my trig homework so I’m going to skip.” You fake a yawn.

* Oh, before you forget

* “I actually got you something.”

* You hand her a carefully wrapped gift bag, compliments of Rosalie of course

* “Vitamins?” Bella asks, her eyebrows threading together

* “Yeah, it’s like a vitamin powder, you just add it to water. We bought a big family pack so I thought I would share some with you.”

* Also because you’re 100% sure she’s anemic.

* Part of the reason you like the way she smells so much is because of her anemia, if it’s just the peach scent you can probably contain yourself. 

* You wave goodbye and Bella looks down at the package in her hands with a goofy expression. She hugs it to her chest before her expression pinches.

* “I should have offered to let them copy my notes” Bella murmurs to herself. Smacking her forehead and walking to biology.

* When you manage to sneak out to the parking lot through the gym doors, you see Edward leaning against your car, looking bored as he looks to the tree line

* “Why didn’t you sit inside? You look like a douchebag.”

* “I would have if someone had given me the keys”

* Like that’s stopped him before

* You unlock the car, letting it start with a hum before you pull out your trig homework

* You weren’t entirely lying to Bella, you really hadn’t finished you homework

* Edward pulls out a book from his bag, you’re not ashamed to say you’ve gotten him super into “The City of Ember” series

* “Hey why did you walk away when Bella came over?” you’re only half curious, mostly just trying to make conversation. “You don’t hate her do you?” You add with a laugh.

* The mere thought of Edward Cullen hating Bella Swan is laughable.

* “Yeah I do.” 

* You find yourself coughing from the sheer shock. 

* “You mean she frustrates you because you can’t read her mind.” Edward has spared you a concerned glance when you started coughing, but has turned his attention back to his book

*” No I mean I don’t like her, and I don’t like being around her.” He doesn’t look up from his book as he says it. 

* “But why?” Yeah she’s a little plain, and she’s still pretty shy even though you’ve been hanging out for a month and all those damn questions

* But she’s got good taste in books, and she’s pretty straightforward.

* She’s not the type of person to go behind your back, if you did something to upset her she’ll tell you straight to your face.

* Honestly she’s a lot like Angela, minus the hidden cunning nature.

* Edward eyes narrow and a heavy sigh escapes him. His head tilts back to rest against the passenger seat headrest.

* His neck is so long and white. The color of freshly fallen snow. You can’t help but think of how pretty it would look covered in hickeys.

* Like poppy’s blossoming in the snow. 

* Can vampires get hickeys? Would it just be like black instead of red since none of you really have blood anymore. 

* “I just don’t like-” He cuts himself off when his eyes meet yours, they seem to shine brighter for a moment, and you tilt your head. This feels like a meaningful look. 

* Edward sighs and looks away.

* “I just don’t like her vibe.” 

*”Vibe? Are you an Edward shaped imposter?” you see him mouth ‘Edward Shaped Imposter’ as you both laugh. 

* “Where did you learn to say these things?” He asks between laughs. You mock gasp.

* “The real Edward would never ask me that because he’s too afraid to know! Who are you really? What planet are you from?” Your hands move to his face, his face is as smooth as marble, lingering warmth. You leaned in without thinking about it, only a few inches away from him. 

* You’re so close you can smell him. He always smells good, like something ancient and profound. Rosemary and argon oil. 

* Your hands are still on his face and he’s grinning. 

* You gulp

* You’re trying to think of another ridiculous imposter joke you can make wen you catch a familiar head of blond hair through the window.

* “Is that Mike and ... Bella?”  

* This is a lot sooner than you thought, it hasn’t even been ten minutes yet.

* Edward looks almost bored as he follows your gaze. 

* “Yeah, looks like she made herself sick, she’s - what’s that word for when people are afraid of blood?” 

* “Hemophobia?”

* “Yeah, that’s what she has.”

* You wait for a second, releasing his face from your hands, but instead of moving to open the door he slumps back into his seat, eyes focused on his book. 

* “Don’t you think we should go help them?” He shrugs. 

* The f*cking criminal just shrugs. 

* WHAT THE F*CK IS GOING ON?!?!

* Human or not, there’s no world Edward wouldn’t at least think about helping someone who’s in trouble. 

* You’re starting to think this really is an Edward imposter. 

* You watch Bella lean on Mike, stumbling down the crosswalk to the nurse’s office in the next building. 

* You can’t watch anymore 

* ‘You know you-” You words finally get Edward’s attention as he looks up from his book. “You are wasting all the capture flags!” You shout before sliding out of your car and jogging over to Mike and Bella

* “Mike! What happened?” He’s so surprised to see you his grip on Bella goes slack and she falls out of his side hold.

* “Oh crap!” 

* You rush to catch her, swinging her into a princess hold.

* What was Mike struggling with so much? She’s not very hea - oh right you’re a vampire.

* “Are you alright, I know she’s kinda heavy.” Well that’s not very nice to say about a girl, besides she’s pretty skinny. Can’t be more than 120 pounds. 

* “It’s no problem, I do it for cheer are all the time.” You do a fake grunt as you pretend to get a better hold on her. 

* The movement jostle her awake, her eyes fluttering open. She’s still in a dreamy state, her eyes are unfocused. 

* “(Y/N)?” 

* “Hey buddy, looks like ya fainted, squeamish around blood huh?”

* “How do you know we were doing the blood type experiment?” Mike asks.

* Oh crap. You were skipping, you weren’t supposed to know that. Even worse you brain can’t seem to come up with a valid excuse.

* “Alice told us about it, (Y/N) used to be squeamish around blood when we were kids, didn’t want to take any chances” You let out a sigh of relief when you see Edward walking towards you. At least he’s not completely heartless. 

*”Then why were you skipping?” Mike asks scratching his head. Edward shrugs

* “They can’t go to class, then I won’t go either.” And then the criminal looks you straight in the eye and says with the cheekiest smile imaginable:

*“It’s the best friend code”

* Oh f*ck off Edward. 

* You almost want to scoff when he takes Bella from your arms and into his.

* SO now he wants to care about the capture flag. 

* You let him take her though, You swear you see her stiffen and frown when he holds her.

* That can’t be right, she seemed super relaxed when you were carrying her.

* “I-I’m fine I can walk.”

* “No you can’t.” Edward bluntly says.

* Even when he gets to capture event, he says all the wrong things. You sigh as you walk behind him. Only to notice another set of footsteps by you. 

* “You can go back if you want Mike, Edward won’t kidnap her or anything.” He might throw her into the lake though.

* Mike shakes his head. “No it just seems wrong to not make sure she at least gets to the nurses office.” 

*You smile, he really is a kind boy. 

* “Also I’ll be damned if Bella gives Edward all the credit.” Well mostly kind.

* You get to the nurses office, who seems incredibly flustered with both you and Edward in such a small space.

* She seems so preoccupied keeping her wits about her as she checks out Bella and deals with your presence that she never asks why three people had to escort one person to the nurses office.

* “Well your blood pressure is a little low, since you fainted I would suggest you go home. If you want you can take a nap in here until school’s out.” Wow, where was a nurse this generous when you were in school.

* Bella, the beautiful moron, shakes her head.

* “No it’s okay I’ll go back to class, I don’t want to take a zero for the assignment” Well that’s noble and responsible and all. But what does she think is going to happen when she goes back to class?

* She’s going to see some blood again and faint. Not that you can be mad, you would probably have to go the the nurse too if Bella ever managed to prick her own finger

* “Bella you really shouldn’t,” You settle your hand on her shoulder pushing her back onto the chair. “You just fainted you should lie down, or go home or something.”

* Her eyebrows thread together, mouth pulled in protest. 

* “I don’t want to impose on any-”

* “It’s not an imposition, I want to!” Her mouth parts, then closes, stretching into a fine line. You look to Edward who’s avoiding your gaze and seems very irritated.

* Enemies to lovers trope it is.(Though you’re not sure if this counts as enemies if only one person dislikes the other)

* “I’m going to drop you off home, come on.” You pull Bella up by her hand, leading her to the parking lot. 

* “Wait what about my car?” 

* Oh you hadn’t thought about that. 

*Hmmm in the original book Alice drove her home. But Alice doesn’t really do anything unless there’s something in it for her, or if she wants to.

* Also you’re pretty sure when she ditched today when she found out that people were pricking there finger on campus. She claimed it was for Jasper, but you’re pretty sure there’s a sale in the Nordstrom in Seattle.

* Edward would rather get the flu than drive Bella’s ancient truck.

* Which leaves only one option.

* You toss your keys to Edward who catches them with one hand.

* “Edward will drive you home in my car, and I’ll drive your car behind him.” 

* “What about Rosalie?” He grumbles.

*“What about Rosalie?” Why is he being so difficult right now? Doesn’t he realize you’re doing this all for him!

* “You’re driving her home since Emmett and I are leaving for Yellow Stone as soon as school lets out.” Oh right the bears. Cr*p.

* “It’s not a big deal, I’ll drive back to school after we’re done and you can go your way and I’ll go mine.”

* You can tell Edward doesn’t like it, but he just sigh’s climbing into your car and then promptly getting out of the passenger side and sitting in the driver’s side.

* The dork forgot he had to drive the car.

* You’re dying laughing as Bella leads you to her car.

* “It’s the blue one.”

* Her truck isn’t all that bad. It’s old, but in a kind of retro way. It’s powder blue, with only two doors and no backseat. 

* You climb in, turning the engine and hearing it purr. Well it’s more of a roar, but it’s not terrible.

* You’re surprised when Bella climbs through the passenger side door. 

* “Um, you’re not going to drive with Edward?” She looks at you like you just asked her to recite the Fibonacci sequence. 

* “Why would I go with him when you’re the one driving my car?” Okay, that’s fair.

* You sigh, why does nothing ever go according to plan.

* Maybe it’s for the best, Edward doesn’t seem to be in the best mood. Not that this is good either, she’s sitting so close to you, her peachy scent fills the small space of the truck and you feel lightheaded.

* It’s less than a ten minute trip, no need to get dramatic. You’re pretty sure you won’t kill her just because she smells nice.

* “Soooooo... what do you want to talk about?” You ask as you turn out of the school, this car is super slow compared to yours, you’re pretty sure it won’t go over 50 mph.

* Bella fidgets beside you, playing with the ends of her hair. 

* “So are you and Edward...dating?”

* You laugh so loud you actually start coughing. And then you laugh again. 

* “No-pfff- no We’re uh- we’re not dating.” You finally manage. 

* “Why is that so funny to you?” She asks, genuinely confused.

* “Well it’s just outrageous you know?” How would that even work? You can’t even picture it. Edward getting all hot and bothered because you’re wearing an oversized sweater and glasses. You flirting with him all over the house in front of Carlisle and Esme. Edward signing up for a sport just so he can see you in his letterman.

* It’s all...impossible.

* And yet, there is one thing you can picture. 

* Edward by your side, he’s almost golden brown, his eyes bright green. He points to the living room, and in there are Alec and Jane, both of their eyes blue as they argue over who’s turn it is to watch TV. 

* Maybe if you were human, if you had met in a different world or a different time, that would be something you could have. 

* But it is what it is

* “Edward and I have been friends for a really long time, we’ve just seen too much of each other to find each other attractive like that.” 

* Bella looks like she doesn’t believe you but she doesn’t say anything.

* Wait what are you doing? This is the perfect chance to talk Edward up!

* “But you know Edward is a real stand up guy!” It leaves a little too forcefully, a little inauthentic.

* “Oh is he?” She doesn’t sound too excited to be talking about this.

* “I know he’s got one of those face-”

* “Obnoxiously handsome?” She spats 

* “Like he thinks existence is a curse, and the world is evil and everything is terrible -” Wait you’re getting off track. “B-but he really is a good guy!”

* You bite your lip, as Bella tells you to turn into a subdivision. 

* “You know after- after I was adopted,” After your parents died. “I was really lonely, I had a family that loved me and anything I asked for but I didn’t really have anyone to talk to” Oh god, why did you choose this story to pick? “Edward was probably the only friend my age I had for years.”

* She straightens up a little bit, a curious glint in her eyes.

* “Really?” You nod.

* “Yeah he would come by every Monday and Wednesday,” You still remember the crunch of the snow under your feet as you both walked to the barn. He always asked why you didn’t just run, and you always told him because you liked the way you could see your breath hang in the air,

* “He could have been out that time, hanging out with other people,” More well adjusted vampires, who hunted instead of harvesting small amounts from animals they raised. “or chasing girls and playing sports, but he stayed with me.”

* “He always made me feel safe, and I’m sure whoever is lucky enough to end up with him will feel that way too.” 

* “I think you’re giving him too much credit” Bella finally says, you smile at her

* “what do you mean?” 

* “Well, who wouldn’t drop everything to hang out with you?” You can’t tell if she’s being genuine or if she’s bitter. Your eyes meet hers and there’s a twinkle in them. ”My house is the one on the left, the one with the magnolia tree.”

* You come to a stop in front of the house she mentioned, shifting it into park, and handing her the keys. 

* You don’t say anything as you climb out of her car. You see Edward stopped a few dozen feet behind her truck, your jeep still on. 

* “Thanks for driving me home” She smiles at you, a real smile that reaches her eyes. It’s nice.

* “No problem, it gave me an excuse to ditch school too haha.” You both stand in awkward silence. Neither of you moving. 

* Well damn what are you supposed to do now?

* “Oh, hey do you want me to bring you your homework or anything?” 

* She perks up at that, reaching into her pocket

*  “If you don’t mind, could you text me what page he homework is on for trig today?” 

* “ Oh for sure! No problem at all” You take her cell phone in your hand. It’s a white sidekick, with a picture of a cactus on the back. She must have gotten it when she moved.

* You can’t help but wonder if she has any friends she misses. She spent her entire life in one community, sure Phoenix is a pretty big place, but she must have had friends, people she sat with at lunch everyday, girls she had known since childhood, sleepovers where they whispered about boys they had crushes on.

* As you hand her phone back, your contact information saved in it, you can’t help but wonder who this person in front of you is. You know her, but at the same time, you know absolutely nothing about her. 

* “See you Monday!” You wave goodbye as you get into the passenger side of your car, and Bella waits on the porch until you and Edward leave.

* Edward’s got that look on his face.

* “Edward why are you mad?” 

* “I’m not mad.” He grumbles and you raise an eyebrow. He sighs.

* “You’re going out of your way an awful lot for that human.” He says as he turns back onto the highway.

* “It’s just the right thing to do Eddie.” 

* He shakes his head, his mouth pinched into a frown

* “Just be careful, I don’t know what that one’s thinking, she could be planning to burn our entire coven for all I know.”

* You roll your eyes, yeah you bet Bella who weights exactly 115 pounds, and has anemia is single handedly planning to bring down the entire vampire race. 

* “How about we make a deal, I’ll promise not to rock the boat while you and Emmett are gone-”

* “Why do I feel like I’m going to regret not covering my ears?”

*” If you promise to bring me back a bear cub - an orphaned one.” He gives you a look you don’t quite care for.

* “You want me to kill a mother bear so you can have a bear cub?” 

* “No of course not! I’m just saying- Emmett doesn’t really look before he kills  so if he kills a mother bear, just make sure you bring me the cubs.” 

* “Why do you even want a bear? How are you planning to take care of it with all those deer around, they need a lot-”

* “Yes Dad I know it’s a big responsibility, don’t worry I won’t make you take it on walks or anything.” 

* Edward gulps hard, one hand detaching from the steering wheel to cover his mouth. 

* Wouldn’t it be positively sinful for you to be underneath him, whining ‘daddy, please’ in that breathy voice of yours and-

* Edward.exe is broken. 

* “Dude you really need to get your shit together before you go on your trip, we’ve been parked for fifteen minutes and your foot is still on the brake.” You say as you get out of the car

* He hits his head against the steering wheel.

* “Yeah, I really do need to get my shit together.” 

Tags:  @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show @wicked-watering-can @lazydreamers @ xxxmuxxx  @ideas-for-you-to-adopt​​ @poisoinedhope @maryleigh8796​ @moose-squirrel-asstiel​ @hotmessgoodness​

[chiliiscereal]

Chosen last: part two

Rottmnt x reader

Summary: reader worries that their new friends are becoming exactly like their old ones, unaware that they’re ditching them to prepare a surprise

Platonic, of course!

Part one: https://chiliiscereal.tumblr.com/post/650808822043115520/chosen-last

———

“I’m SOOOoO gonna beat you, Mikey!” You gloated, smashing your fingers over the remote buttons and narrowing your eyes at the tv.

“Ha! In your dreams, baby!” He responded gleefully. He leaned forward and concentrated harder than you’d ever seen him.

It was your annual video game competition. Once a month you and the turtles (and April of course) have one day dedicated to seeing who was the video game champ.

Mikey won last month, Donnie won the month before, Leo won the three months before that, and Raph came close but April defeated him.

You were absolutely determined to win this month.

Surprisingly, Leo was on the couch behind you and rooting for you.

“Go y/n! You got this!” He shouted when your video game car passed Mikeys. He even jumped out of his seat, nearly spilling the popcorn.

“Why are you rooting for y/n??” Mikey accused lividly. “I’m your brother!!”

“Y/n hasn’t won a single competition! Besides, you won last month!” Leo smirked, sitting back down. “It’s hilarious to see you this worked up.”

“Oh you and Dr. Delicate touch are gonna have a looooong talk later.” You snorted.

“Hell yeah he is!” Mikey growled.

Before you could say anything else, Raph entered the room.

“Hey, guys, sorry to cut things short but... Dad needs us to clean!” He blurted out quickly. “Sorry y/n but you should probably go.”

You waved him off, shutting the tv off. “Oh, I can stay and help!”

“No! I mean, it’ll just be boring trust me.” He intervened and took the remote from you hurriedly. He even grabbed your arm and pulled you off the floor. “You don’t want to help clean! It’s fine!”

“Hold on, we have to clean?” Leo groaned. “We cleaned last month!”

“Yeah, why aren’t we fighting Splinter on this?” Mikey stood in Raphs way when he tried to push you out of the room.

You wriggled out of the red masked turtles grasp. “Come on! Don’t you want someone to help you debate this with Splinter!”

You were on the rats good side ever since you bought him the exclusive Lou Jitsu movie box. All the turtles knew this.

Why didn’t they want you on their side?

A small part of you whispered past insecurities but you brushed it away.

Raph sighed, clearly nervous. “Guys we gotta do... the thing. We gotta clean the thing!” He looked at them as if searching for help.

“What thing?” Leo narrowed his eyes.

“The THING. You know?” Raph cleared his throat. “You don’t want to know, y/n. It’s super gross.”

You placed your hands on your hips, suspicious.

“You know... the thing April mentioned a while ago?” Raph tried again, making some loose gestures that you couldn’t really understand.

Somehow, though, Mikey and Leo caught on.

“Ohhhh, the thing!” Mikey exclaimed and immediately began clearing away the snack mess that had been left from the video games.

Leo joined him. “Yeah! Dude, you don’t wanna be here to clean the thing.” He shoveled as much garbage in his arms as he could. “You can just head for the door and come back later! You know, when we don’t have to clean?”

Hesitantly, you grabbed your bag. “Okay..?”

What was this thing they had to clean?

Did they really think it would gross you out?

And why did it take them so long to catch on?

Whatever. It was probably more shenanigans. It didn’t mean anything.

“Alright then,” you stepped away from them slowly, “I’ll just head out.”

The turtles stood in their spots stiffly and waved goodbye.

You rounded the corner to walk over to the ladder, unsure of what to think.

They didn’t normally act like this...

But maybe Splinter just really wanted them to clean?

But why weren’t you allowed to know what the Thing was?

And April apparently already knew about it...

Maybe it was just that you were still relatively new to the friend group.

Yeah, that made sense.

Before you could touch the ladder you heard voices.

Two voices.

Coming from Donnie’s lab.

Well, might as well go say goodbye to Donnie right?

You shouldered you’re bag and headed over, standing in the doorway and knocking on the wall so he’d know you were there.

He and April were both sitting together looking at a computer.

You didn’t even know April was there! Well, she might get kicked out for cleaning day to. Maybe you could both do something together!

The duo looked up, panicked, and Donnie quickly shut the computer off. “Ah! Y/n! I didn’t know you were here!”

You frowned, a little hurt. “Today was the video game competition? I was here just like the last... five months?”

April gave you a too wide grin and shut the laptop. “Well! What... uh... what brings you to the lab?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Raph and the others kicked me out cause they need to clean a Thing? They said it was really gross, and I came in to say bye to Donnie and maybe see if you wanted to go get ice cream or something?”

April turned to Donnie, wide eyed. “Well... I... I can’t exactly... I have a...”

“She has to help clean the Thing as well!” Donnie filled in for her.

Now you were really confused. “But... Raph said it was too gross for anyone other than family.”

“It’s fine!” April waved you off. “But let’s get ice cream later! Okay?”

You gave them a small wave and turned around. “Yeah... okay.”

———-

That Saturday you found yourself walking down the street with one of your old friends.

She wanted to get frozen yogurt and had a coupon for a “buy one get one free”.

Normally you’d have said no. But the turtles AND April denied you every time you asked if you could hang out!

So you said yes.

Just like old times.

“I’m SO sure Jake likes me.” She grinned to herself as she typed away on her phone. “Hope you don’t mind but he’s gonna be at the frozen yogurt shop with us!”

“Oh.” You mumbled. “I thought it’d just be you and me.”

“It’s fine!” She waved you off. “He’s nice! He’s not like the last guy... uh... what’s his name?”

“The guy who told me I was a prude or the guy who told me I looked better with makeup?” You couldn’t help but spit out bitterly.

“The first one.” She eyed you strangely. “And what’s with you today? You’re more pessimistic than usual.”

“That one was Brian. And I’m fine.”

She turned back to her phone, the two of you weaving through the new York crowd.

You’d rather be with the...

The turtles?

You stopped, hearing familiar voices coming from the alley.

“How could you forget!”

“You think I just meant to?!”

“Maybe!”

“Guys, shut up, it’s not a big deal, okay? There’s still time to figure this out.”

“Easy for you to say! You’re just gonna make up another lame excuse and leave!”

“I will not!”

“Can’t we just wait for April in peace?”

“No, because RAPH forgot about-!”

You cleared your throat and entered the alley.

The boys were huddled together, arguing. Quickly they jumped apart and tried their best to act normal.

“Heyyyyy, y/n!” Leo gave you awkward finger guns. “Didn’t expect to see you here!”

Mikey looked like he was trying to say something but couldn’t find the words.

You were suddenly less excited to see them. “Hey’ didn’t expect to see you guys either!” You bit the inside of your cheek nervously. “What’re you... what’re you doing here? I thought you were too busy to hang out?”

“We are!” Donnie nodded. “Very busy.”

“Yeah and dad grounded us from hanging out with people so-.” Raph added, only for his plan to fall through when April showed up from behind them.

“Guys! I got the-!” She stopped, spotting you. Whatever was in her hands she hid it purposely behind her back so you couldn’t see it. “Y/n!”

You fixed them with a small glare. “Too busy to hang out?”

You didn’t want to sound clingy or desperate, but now it just felt like they were going out of their way to avoid you.

“Well, you know, April doesn’t count! She’s practically family!” Raph chuckled.

That was enough for you to make a decision.

“Well, I’m kind of with a friend right now! I’ll... I’ll just talk to you guys later.”

You backed out of the alley, surprised to find yourself looking forward to meeting the new boy your friend was chasing instead of seeing whatever goofiness the turtles were up to.

You’d survived without them before.

Surely you could survive until whatever this was passed.

———-

“Hey girl your birthday’s coming up!” Your friend mentioned at the lunch table the next day. “I’m Definetely taking you bowling! We’ll bring all the girls, maybe even Jake!”

You didn’t even like bowling.

You didn’t even like Jake!

He was just like all the other boys she’d dated.

But it was better than just sitting at home and waiting for the boys to explain their recent behavior.

“That sounds great.” You muttered, stirring your salad half heartedly. “Can’t wait.”

You went back to sitting with your old group since this whole thing started.

You didn’t have anyone else to sit with! April would disappear during her lunch hour and say she just was going out to get lunch, but she never did that! Ever!

A part of you believed that maybe they finally realized you weren’t worth being friends with.

Maybe you were always meant to be the hermit.

“You excited?” One of your friends asked. “I am! I’m gonna invite Jaxon to go with me and I’ll get dressed up-!”

You tuned them out immediately.

What was the point.

They were talking about it like it was their party.

Not yours.

Just like every other year.

———-

Another day went by.

You found yourself with those same girls again.

They were planning the ‘bowling birthday party’ and coordinating rides. But, of course, there was no room for you to carpool with them.

“Hey, y/n!” April shouted across the lunch room.

You debated about ignoring her, and then debated about just getting it over with.

Ignoring her seemed easier.

“O’Neil, what do you want.” One of your friends asked almost boredly.

Crap, April was right behind you.

“I just wanted to talk to y/n!”

You didn’t bother turning around.

“I know you heard me. Why aren’t you sitting at our table?”

You clenched you’re fists under the table. “You haven’t been here, April. Besides I have other friends.” You finally turned to face her.

She narrowed her eyes.

But, not from anger.

“Well... I’m back now!” She grinned, placing her hand on your shoulder. “Also, Mikey wanted to know if you wanted to have ice cream with the guys later tonight?”

One of your friends burst out laughing before you could even answer. “This Mikey guy is real?”

Another one snorted. “Who’d have known?”

You tried to laugh it off.

You really did.

But that proved harder than you thought.

April placed her hands on her hips. “Excuse me? What do you mean by ‘who’d have known’?”

“You know what y/n’s like!” The friend beside you waved her off. “She hardly talks to anyone! He’d probably think she’s boring.” She turned to you. “Right?” She elbowed your side when you said nothing, as if she were joking with you.

You straitened your lips into a thin line and nodded. “Yeah... right.”

“So, when we go bowling for your birthday, do you think Jake will like my blue dress or my-?”

April slammed her hands on the table. “Hold on, you think this is all some game?”

Your friend shrugged. “We’re just playing with her! She knows it’s a joke!”

“Was it? Cause I couldn’t tell!” April huffed.

“April, drop it.” You mumbled. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not!” She nearly yelled. “You guys haven’t been a good friend to her at all! You forgot her birthday present last year and you make her walk everywhere-!”

You stood up from your seat. “I said stop, okay?”

Surprisingly, she did.

“It’s fine. Just leave it alone.” You walked over to the trash can and dumped in your long forgotten food.

She frowned. “Fine, if you don’t want me to do this, I won’t.” She walked next to you, casting a look over her shoulder at your table. “Even though I’m right.”

You said nothing.

What could you say?

“Hey, I... I gotta go talk to the guys.” April bit her lip and glanced at the door. “Can you possibly come to the lair? Tonight? Around... five?”

You set your tray back in the pile with all the other dirty ones. “Yeah, I can try.”

“Great thanks!”

April was out of there faster than you could say ‘hot soup’.

————

Wouldn’t you know it, five o’clock rolled around.

You didn’t want to go.

You really didn’t.

Well, you did, but you honestly thought this was going to be them ditching you.

All the signs were there.

Instead of over thinking you decided to just go. Don’t even think about it.

You arrived at the lair quietly, taking your time stepping down the ladder.

All the lights in the kitchen were off.

All the lights in their skating room was off.

By now, it just felt like this was one big joke. Did you misinterpret April? Did the guys even know you were down here? Ugh what if they were doing this just to laugh at you?

Finally, you got to their living room.

You clicked the light on.

“SURPRISE!!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when the four boys, one girl, and one rat dad jumped out.

Confetti?

Cake?

Even a happy birthday banner?

Decorations with your favorite colors?

Your favorite movie ready and waiting to be played in the tv?

“Ha! Look! Y/n’s speechless!” Leo chortled.

“Happy early birthday, dear friend!” Donnie waved to showcase the room. “April told us your friends were having a bowling party on the actual day, and that you probably needed a little something fun, so here we are!”

“We got all your favorite things, facts checked by the master!” Raph patted April’s back.

“We even got your favorite video game from the store!” Mikey bounced over to the tv and picked up the disc case.

“We have cake, baked by me, and your favorite sodas!” Splinter gave you a toothy rat grin.

“And as for the gifts,” Raph chuckled guiltily, “you kind of caught us trying to get them at the store! April told us it was coming up but we forgot and had to rush to get things ready.”

You...

You honestly didn’t know what to say...

You didn’t have any words!

No one had ever done this for you before.

No one.

Not even the friends that you’d known for years.

A small tear slipped out against your will as you brought your hands to cover your mouth.

“Hey, what’s the problem? You’re supposed to be happy!” Leo dropped his party hat and rushed over, brothers behind him.

You wrapped them up in the biggest hug you could give them. “Thank you so so so much! I... no one has ever done anything like this for me!”

The family gladly returned the gesture.

“Ah, so they’re happy tears. Excellent.” Donnie nodded to himself. “You are happy with this, right?”

You released them and stepped back. “Definitely happy tears.”

April draped her arm over your shoulder. “Well then, what are you waiting for! Let’s get started!!”

That night was probably one of the best nights of your life.

For once, you weren’t chosen last.

You weren’t the extra.

You weren’t the plus one.

You weren’t taken for granted.

Let me know if you have any ideas for a part three! Possibly one where the turtles find out about the readers friends? 😏

@magicalfrickingfish

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: What We Don't Know Can't Hurt Us

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Librarian!Reader (cishet female) meet-cute

Warnings: No warnings really, some language and mention of masturbation and sex. Reader doesn't like kids. Yearning. Frankie is a TOTAL DILF SWEETHEART. Sad ending.

Summary: Reader is a librarian who has to temp at the kids' section desk from time to time which is a pain because she doesn't like kids. And who is a regular if not a very hot, scruffy-looking dad with the very polite and mild-mannered daughter? Sparks fly but some things maybe aren't meant to be.

Words: 5,155

a/n: Just to be clear, this one doesn't end well. I just wanted to write something sad, I guess.

Oh, shit, there he is again. The Hot Dad.

You straighten a little in your chair and once again curse the fact that you’re working in the children’s section at the library: the only desk that isn’t adjustable. You prefer to do your service desk duties standing up, not only for ergonomic reasons but because you hate how patrons look down on you – literally – when you’re seated by the desk. Also, you tend to slouch and it’s not an attractive look. And at the kids’ section, you’re all supposed to work on the same level as the little tykes. And you’re not particularly keen on those.

You are, however, keen on hot dads. God knows you only get them once in a blue moon and if they show up, it’s usually in tow of a whole clan of children and a wife. But this dad has been in once before when you’ve had desk duty and you saw him stop at the shelf for picture books about divorce and pick out a few. You also heard him tell his little girl that she shouldn’t bring the books she chose to her mom’s. Divorcee, so fantasizing was even more allowed – although he probably had a girlfriend. Guys like that always do.

“You don’t want to lose them, sweetie,” he had explained patiently to his daughter. “You can keep them in your room at my place but if you take them to your mom’s there’s a risk you lose them and that means I have to pay for them. You see, we’re only borrowing these books, that’s what you do in a library.”

You had smiled an inwards smile when listening to him. There was nothing you loved more than parents who actually seemed to understand that all the material in the library was free at one simple condition: return it in time, in the same condition as you borrowed it. A lot of people did not seem to grasp this and made a huge deal when they failed to meet these conditions and were faced with late fees or even had to compensate for lost books. But when parents who knew how to use a library include their offspring, explain how it all works for them, well, that’s how you foster a new generation of good library patrons.

This dad did just that. And he was very careful with the books, prompting his daughter to be the same. Every book she pulled out of the stacks, he helped her put back in the right place. That’s practically marriage material right there and it was enough to make you weak at the knees, to be honest. After almost ten years working in a public library, you were disillusioned about people in general and their intelligence in particular. Sure, you liked your job enough to not cry in the mornings when you had to leave bed, and you did enjoy the work itself (mostly), but… having to deal with people was exhausting. Having to deal with little people even more so, and the worst was having to deal with adult people who had little people with them. Parents.

Hence your absolute obsession with Hot Dad who was soft-spoken, really good with his kid, understood to appreciate the library and its services, nodded his hello to you when passing by the desk, didn’t make a mess, clearly read to his kid regularly and encouraged her to read for herself. You just didn’t get to see people like that so often, and it triggered your interest. You allowed yourself to daydream about him.

Francisco Morales. You remember his name from his last visit, when he and the kid came up to the desk with their haul. You always encouraged patrons to use the self-service check-out (the less you had to do deal with them, the better), but for this guy you were more than willing to go the extra service mile, even with the kid staring at your every move from across the desk as you registered all the loans. You silently gave her plus points for not trying to “help” like some kids did, and for the quiet but clear Thank you she gave you without prompting from her father.

You’re busying yourself with the returns, loading them onto a cart, when you hear a soft, deep voice go Excuse me behind your back. You twirl around and see Morales, pulling his baseball cap off his head to reveal curls that would make any hair model cry of envy.

“Sorry to bother you,” he offers. Take me now, you think to yourself but instead, you give him your brightest customer service smile, the one you rarely give patrons.

“No worries, how can I help?”

“We’re looking for picture books about farm animals. You don’t happen to have those separated? I noticed you have some subject areas separated.” He gestures back towards the picture book stacks where his daughter is quietly perusing.

“We don’t, but I think we have some Julia Donaldsons available, let me come and have a look.”

You don’t always offer. With most patrons, you’d tell them to look under D for Donaldson and then smile sweetly and ask them if they’re okay to do it themselves. You can’t do everything for everyone, that way they’ll never learn. But for Francisco Morales and his well-behaved little girl, you’re absolutely willing to make an exception.

There are some Donaldsons that the girl, whose name you learn is Sofia, eagerly accepts when you present her with them.

“I love fawm animals,” she sighs happily as she browses the first one. “Do you?”

“Who doesn’t love animals?” You make the effort to small talk although communicating with kids usually makes you awkward.

“What’s youw favowite? Mine is bunny. And howses. And lambs.”

“Goats! I love goats, they’re so cute and sweet and playful.” You almost add something about goats being the devil’s favorite animal as well but manage to stop yourself in time.

“Is there something else you want to ask the librarian?” Morales asks his daughter. “If not, I’m sure she has a lot of work to do, and we shouldn’t keep her any longer.”

“I’m here to help,” you shrug and give him a little smile: not a polite, impersonal one that you’d give a patron, but a more intimate one. A flirty smile. “You just need to ask.”

The smile he gives you back is warm and grateful, and you realize that he doesn’t have different facial expressions for different people. He doesn’t work in customer service because if he did, he’d know the difference. Not that you ever thought he worked in retail or anything like that, well, maybe a hardware store, but no. He just doesn’t seem like the type. The way he moves his body suggests something a lot more physical.

Oh, you’d like to get physical with him, alright…

All the sucky library-themed pick-up lines flash through your head. Can I check you out as an overnight loan? Can I insert my private collection into your empty stacks? My reference desk or yours? Am I being too loud, well, you’ll just have to shush me with your lips. You’re like an overdue library book because you have fine written all over you.

Worst part is, if Hot Dad Morales tried any of these on you, you’d probably forgive him and go for it. Maybe. You’re really not that simple, but a girl can dream, right?

The kid thanks you and you return to the relative safety of the desk and the mundane task of alphabetizing returns. You need to calm the fuck down and act professional. Daydreaming is fine but you’re barely toeing the line.

God, you need to get laid. As if that’s something that one can remedy just by walking into a store and ordering a medium dick with a side of hands and tongue.

📚📚📚

The next time you see Francisco and Sofia Morales, you’re taking your lunch break in the small park outside the library. It’s a sunny day and you didn’t fancy sitting in the breakroom with your salad, listening to colleagues talking about who cares what. So you took your lunch box, fork, and water bottle, and went to sit on the park bench the furthest away from the swing set and sandbox. The weather is nice and you enjoy yourself and your break from the library’s chat service. You never know what you’re gonna get when you work the chat: a stupid question about opening hours which anyone could google the answer to, or something more complicated like requests for books with partial or no titles, rarities, or subject areas that you don’t know much about. That’s when you get to use your whole competence and really dig deep, think outside the box, solve problems. You love it but it’s challenging at times, and takes a lot of energy. Your outdoor break is welcome.

“Hi!”

You hadn’t noticed the girl walking up to you and the greeting startles you.

“Oh, hi.”

“We’we wetuwning the animal books,” Sofia informs you seriously. You have to smile.

“Good job. You want more of those or something else this time?”

“Mowe. Will you help me find some?”

“I’m not working the desk at the children’s section today but my colleague there will absolutely help you. Just ask her.”

Now you see Morales walking towards you from the swing set, carrying the large, flowery canvas tote that says “book bag” he always brings to the library.

“Hello,” he nods with that warm smile that he definitely gives everyone. “Sofia, don’t disturb the lady on her break. I’m sure she wants some peace and quiet before she has to go back to work.”

Jesus fucking Christ. How does this man just know shit like this?

“I’m sowwy,” Sofia immediately offers. “I wanted to say hello.”

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” you allow, although technically, he’s not wrong. “I’m almost done. It was nice to see you. I hope you have a good visit to the library.”

“Thank you!” She skips along and Morales chuckles as he takes off his baseball cap and scratches his head, swipes his long locks out of his forehead, then puts the hat back on.

“You’re her favorite, you know,” he tells you. When you raise your eyebrow, not comprehending, he hurries to elaborate. “Of the librarians. She says you’re the best.”

“Thank you, but whatever for?” You know you do a good enough job at your usual position and that your regulars appreciate you, but you are also very aware of not being at your finest in the kids’ section.

“You have to ask her,” Morales grins as he looks out for his kid, who has returned to the swing set and is pumping her legs on the swing, brows knitted in concentration. “But she’s very taken with you. I think it’s because you’re very calm and focused with her.”

Calm and focused??? You almost laugh out loud. That’s everything you’re not when you’re at the kids’ desk.

“Thanks,” you manage, because you have to say something.

“She’s also really interested in your tattoos and I definitely think she wants to get her nose pierced now,” Morales goes on. “I told her that we don’t comment on people’s appearance, but just a heads up, she might ask you about those.”

Ah, the unpredictability of children.

“I appreciate it.” You really do. You don’t mind talking about your tattoos or the septum ring you have but if a kid suddenly asks about it, you’d rather be prepared.

“Anyway, sorry to intrude on your lunch.”

“No worries,” you reassure him. “You can… sit down for a while if you want to? I have ten minutes left.”

Your heart beats faster at your proposal. It’s not exactly appropriate but you just want to enjoy his company for a moment. And discreetly sniff him because he smells so fucking good, woodsy and smokey but with a hint of… vanilla? You’re terrible at recognizing smells but it reminds you of some aroma reeds you had a couple of years ago that smelled like a wood cabin with vanilla sugar spilled on the floor. You loved it but like everything you love, it was discontinued.

Morales looks over at his daughter before nodding, the book bag slipping down from his shoulder as he places it next to the bench.

“If you’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”

He likes your straightforward answer, you can tell from how his eyes crinkle a little and how relaxed his body language is when he sits down.

“I’m Frankie, by the way,” he says, like he just remembered that introductions are a normal part of human interaction. He extends his right hand to you and as you accept it and tell him your name, you can’t help but marvel at how huge his hand is. Big, warm, slightly damp but not in a weird way.

“Nice to meet you, Frankie.” Frankie. Francisco Morales is Frankie. It suits him better than Francisco, to be honest.

“And that’s Sofia.” He points to the girl who seems content swinging by herself. You realize you’re expected to say something nice about her to the proud dad.

“She seems sweet.”

“Yeah, she’s awesome. And she loves coming to the library, it’s all she talks about when I have her.” He clears his throat and adds: “Her mother and I got divorced quite recently. I only get her five days every other week.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Shit, it’s divorce and custody talk from the start. You have no idea how to respond to that.

“That’s life,” he shrugs, “but I figured that going to the library every time I get her could be a good routine to ground her. And then we have books that we can read together for her entire stay.”

It’s definitely a good routine as far as you can tell.

“When I was between nine and thirteen years old, my dad would take me to the local library every Monday evening,” you tell him, smiling at the memory. “My dad never opened a book in his life but he patiently read the auto and tech magazines while I collected half the kids’ section with me. When I went to tell him that I was done, he always pretended to object to the amounts, but then he’d help me carry it all to the car.”

As you tell him this, you’re looking at him, no, staring at the patchy, grey-splashed beard he’s sporting. It’s the most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen. What’s the story there, why doesn’t it grow evenly? Is this a thing? You don’t have enough experience in the field of facial hair. Is it genetic? Is it always like this?

He keeps looking at his daughter as he listens to you with a small smile on his face, clearly enjoying your little anecdote.

“That’s lovely,” he says, turning his attention back to you when you’re finished. “Dads and daughters, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

You pick up your phone to check the time. Shit. You have to return to the chat.

“I gotta go. Lunch break’s over.”

You collect your things and stand up, brushing off your skirt. Frankie stands up as well and picks up the book bag.

“I’ll see you in there?”

“I’m not a the desk today.”

“Oh.” He seems disappointed, his eyes flickering from you to the ground. “That’s too bad.”

“And the kids' section isn't my primary department.”

“The bad news just keep on coming, don't they,” he jokes as the two of you start to walk towards the entrance. Sofia jumps from the swing and comes running.

“She's not at the desk today, daddy,” she tells Frankie precociously.

“I know, mija. We'll have to ask someone else about the animal books, okay?”

Sofia doesn't seem too happy with this solution but nods. You take your leave before she has the opportunity to ask about your body modifications, and disappear through a door marked “Staff Only”.

📚📚📚

The following weeks you seem to see Frankie everywhere. You run into him at the supermarket and get drafted into advicing him on what cereal to buy for his kid. “Something healthy, but good so she'll actually eat it.” How the hell should I know? you want to scoff, but you're simping for him enough to help him choose something you'd never in a thousand years touch yourself. You see him in town one afternoon when you're running errands and he suggests you grab a coffee - holy hell, in your book that's a fucking date - but you decline as kindly as you can, citing a busy schedule when in fact you're mostly just scared out of your mind. The daydream is becoming a little too real and you're absolutely not ready for that, especially not because of the kid. If it wasn't for Sofia, you could have dared the leap, but dating a guy relatively fresh out of a marriage, and with a kid to boot? No, that's asking for trouble and you don't want trouble.

One afternoon at the kids' desk, you once again get to help Sofia find books, this time on sharks.

“She went from farm animals to sharks in one week,” Frankie confides in you when the girl is sitting quietly in a reading nook, carefully studying every page and occasionally widening her eyes at what you suspect is pictures of shark teeth. “It's sharks this and sharks that. She asks if there are sharks in every body of water she sees, from the pond in the park to the ditch outside my parents' house.”

“Have her watch Jaws and she will never want to think about sharks ever again,” you suggest, earning a laugh although the idea was probably a little bit on the morbid side.

“Maybe, but that would probably scar her for life. I actually want her to learn how to swim.”

“Then best not.”

You pick up a couple of books someone else left behind on a table and make a gesture that says I have to re-shelve these, come with and Frankie follows you to the right shelf.

“You know, she talks about you as her friend at the library.”

Now, some people would find that adorable but you don't. You're not friends with this kid, you're in a position where you could possibly influence her keenness to literature and literacy but you will always risk critique from her guardians. Being a children's librarian is like a hybrid between being in customer service, and being a teacher. You get to form young malleable minds but you are always subjected to criticism, even when you've done nothing wrong. Kids are patrons, like adults, and to have them see you as friends is only going to complicate things.

“That's nice,” you reply carefully, not really sure what else to say. It's so hard to talk to parents sometimes, one wrong words and you're basically Satan, you can't know because you don't have kids yourself, how dare you not worship the ground my offspring just vomited all over?

“You're definitely her favorite librarian.”

That you can take. You have a couple of adult patrons who come in regularly and prefer to get their reading recommendations from you. They always have time to discuss literature and they bring you a box of chocolates for Christmas.

“Well, she's easy to help. She always knows what she wants and she's polite. And quite easy to please,” you smile, meaning every word. You don't mention that the only time you like kids is when they're like Sofia is right now: reading quietly in a corner, handling the books with care.

“You're my favorite librarian as well,” Frankie adds, and now that sweet smile he's always wearing when you see him is shy. There's definitely a red tinge on his cheekbones as well and it makes you want to lean forward and kiss him on his goddamn mouth with that goddamn full lower lip that he sometimes sucks into his mouth or fucking licks...

“How many librarians do you know?” you ask and manage to sound easy-going, or at least you think so. The laugh Frankie produces is low and rolling and it makes your stomach coil in on itself. Fuck him and that deep voice he rode in on!

“Got me there. It's basically you and Mrs Wilkerson, the school librarian who scared the shit out of me when I was in elementary school. She made sure I didn't step foot in a library until, well, now.”

“Oh, I so wanted to be a librarian like that when I was a kid!” You grin at Frankie's horrified expression. “No, no, hear me out! I always had this idea that those librarians led these super rich, fulfilling lives as night-time vigilantes or that they were actually millionaires who spent their free time floating around in pools with fancy drinks in hand.”

“Were you... a normal child, besides these illusions?” Frankie teases you and before you can stop yourself, you're slapping his arm playfully. Like a girlfriend would. Or someone more intimate than a Favorite Librarian, at any rate.

“I'll have you know that the voices in my head are saying that we had a very normal and healthy childhood,” you reply with as much dignity as you can muster, while desperately wishing for the phone to ring or another patron to ask for your help. But no, the ones present seem to be managing on their own - except for one mom who seemed to have overheard your joke because she is now staring at you with hesitation in her eyes.

It's Sofia who comes to your rescue with her request of being taken to the bathroom. By the time she and Frankie are done there, your colleague has come to relieve you of your duties at the children's section.

📚📚📚

You knew of course that it was coming. You may not be that experienced in the terms of dating and relationships but you weren't stupid and you had some experience: Frankie was going to ask you out. It had to happen. Technically, it had already happened that afternoon in town when he asked you out for coffee. He maybe didn't see it as a date, but you certainly did.

It happened when you had just started your shift in the children's section and it was a fucking mess. A class of kindergarteners had just left and the teachers hadn't bothered to keep them in check, so there were not only books on every available surface, they were also put in the wrong way and in the wrong places. Your colleague who you were relieving stayed behind to help you, feeling too bad to leave it all to you.

That's when Daddy and Daughter Morales showed up. You weren't really happy about the existence of kids in the first place but made an effort for Sofia, who brought you a drawing she had made in preschool that day. It featured some figures in green, slightly reminiscent of animals and one human but you wouldn't be able to tell. Luckily, Frankie explained it to you.

“She's waited all day to give you this drawing of you with goats.”

“Wow,” you manage. “Thank you, Sofia, this was so kind of you.”

The girl is beaming with pride. “Will you put it on the wall?”

“Super probably!”

“I can see you're busy,” Frankie notes and ushers Sofia along. “We won't distract you. Come on, honey, let her do her job now and maybe you'll get to talk to her later.”

You nod your thanks and focus on cleaning up the entire department before you colleague leaves and Frankie and Sofia come to the desk to borrow this week' picks. Sofia seems uncharacteristically giddy.

“Do you want to come with us to the awbowetum?” she asks with a wide, expectant smile. Fuck shit ass hell.

“We're going on Saturday,” Frankie fills in, “and we were both hoping you'd want to join?”

Saturday. Thank goodness.

“Sorry, I work on Saturday,” you say, trying to sound rueful. It's true and you're relieved about not having to lie. “But thanks, it's sweet of you to ask.”

Sofia is clearly disappointed and so is Frankie, but he masks it better.

“Some other time, yeah?”

If it were only him, you'd tell him it wasn't a good idea. But you can't say that with the kid right in front of you. You may not like kids but that doesn't mean you want to scar them for life.

“Yeah, maybe.”

You loan them the books and as they leave, Sofia waves happily at you and Frankie shoots you one last smile that makes you press your thighs together in your seat.

Come Saturday, you're by your usual desk in the section for adult fiction and you almost fall off your chair when you see Frankie come up the stairs and straight up to the desk.

“Hi.” He's had a haircut and a shave and looks different. Still good, but very different. The dark locks of his hair are more tamed. The mustache is still there but you miss the patchy beard.

“Um, hi? Where's Sofia?”

“In the car, with a friend. We're going to the arboretum.”

“Right. I hope you have a good time, the arboretum's lovely.” You still don't understand what he's doing here and he seems to have some difficulty in telling you. Moving his weight from one foot to the other, he scratches his neck and looks down - why does he have to be so freaking cute? - before looking up at you.

“About that... I wanted to apologize. I wasn't sure it was a good idea to ask you to come with, but Sofia was so persistent. She likes you so much. I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. I'm sorry.”

“That's alright,” you brush it off because there's not really anything else you can say. “Don't think about it, just go have a good day.”

“I also wanted to ask if you wanted to go grab a drink with me. Just me. Maybe next week when Sofia's at her mother's.”

Fuck, there it is. His hopeful face makes you hate yourself for the answer you have to give.

“I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Frankie,” you begin carefully. “I'm really flattered, but you're... recently divorced with a kid. That's a lot of baggage and things could get complicated. I don't want to get caught up in that.”

You've practiced this speech at home but it still breaks your fucking heart because Frankie is so good-looking, kind, funny, and sweet. You would've asked him out yourself already if it wasn't for the baggage. Fuck, you masturbate to the thought of him, for crying out loud! You imagine what it would be like to be with him, to make dinner together and watch movies and go to bed and wake up in each other's arms. You think about sex with him a lot. You make an effort with your appearance those days you know he'll show up at the library, you don't even mind the kids' section that much anymore because you get to talk to him.

You are fucking in love with him, or at least the idea of him because you don't know much about him, only that he used to be a pilot in the special forces but now he trains new pilots, he has best friends who are like uncles to Sofia (and who have been asking about this mystery librarian she always keeps talking about), he likes cooking and loves baking with his daughter, he hates working out but knows he should take better care of himself, hell, you even know what brand of milk he buys.

He's clearly disappointed but keeps a brave face, one that you can see right through because he wears his heart on his sleeve.

“I understand that,” he says quietly, mildly. “I'm sorry, I hope I didn't embarrass you.”

Jesus fucking Christ can this man not???

“No, don't worry. I'm sorry I couldn't give you the answer you wanted. It's just... not a good time.”

Shit. You shouldn't have said that. Now he might think it could be a better time later.

Frankie nods and smiles sadly. “Yeah, you're probably right.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He clears his throat and nods. “I better be going. You have a good weekend now.”

“You too.”

He shoots you one final smile before he turns around and leaves. As you watch him go down the stairs to the exit level, you just want to call his name, do your run through the airport and hurry after him, throw yourself into his arms, kiss him, Jesus, imagine that somewhere there's someone who'll get to kiss him some day, tell him that you made a huge mistake and you want to go out with him, you want to have drinks with him and dinner and breakfast and lunch for the rest of your lives because nothing would make you happier than making him happy. You want to be the reason his eyes crinkle and his cheek displays that little dimple that makes you lose your train of thought every time you see it.

But it's not for you. People with kids need to prioritize their kids and you know that you can't be anyone's number two. You don't want to get caught up in custody disputes, you don't want to be "your father's new slut", you don't want to be anyone's stepmom. You don't want to have to spend five days a week in the same house as a five-year-old. Being in a relationship is difficult enough as it is and if you can make choices that avoid some of the problems, you're going to make them, no matter how much it hurts.

And it hurts. A lot. But so much in life hurts and you've made it through before.

He must already be out the door, probably in the car. Does he say something about this to his daughter and friend? Is it a female friend? No, it must be one of his army buddies, probably one of the brothers.

You pull up Frankie's profile in the library database and see his phone number. You could call him anytime. Or send a text. Keep talking to him, flirting.

Shit. It's a bad idea.

A patron approaches the desk and you force yourself to look mild and service-minded.

“Hi, do you have Hate To Want You by someone called... Ray, I think?”

“Please hold a moment, I'll check.” You stifle the sigh that threatens to escape you and hope that the day will be busy so you won't have time to think about Francisco Morales again.