#when i look back at fourth grade there are only two things i think of

[arionawrites]

dear big sister,

your birthday was this month. i didn't say happy birthday. i don't know how to reach out to you. i don't know how to talk to you. i don't remember the last time you said happy birthday to me. i don't know if you remember when it is. i don't want to assume that you don't but i can't think of a single reason to believe that you do.

dear big sister,

i have two little siblings. i don't know if i should say that i have two little siblings or if i should say that we have two little siblings. one of them is nine and the other is five. neither of them recognize your name when i say it. they are my entire world. they give me reason. grandma called them my kids when i was visiting her last week. i helped raise them as much as i could before moving out and continue to do what i can while going to see them as often as possible. i call. i chaperone field trips. i show up.

dear big sister,

i wish you had shown up. when i was twelve my entire life fell apart and all i wanted was something familiar. you were still familiar despite having moved out two years prior and me hardly seeing you since. i wanted you there, even if it was just to pick me up and take me away for a few hours. i would have loved those hours with you.

dear big sister,

i almost died when i was fourteen. i know you know this. i know dad told you. i know he said no to visitors because i was in the ICU and it was scary and touch-and-go and his intentions were good, he didn't want to overwhelm me or himself or my (our?) little sister, who wasn't even a year old at the time and couldn't understand why she wasn't allowed to lay in bed with me like i always let her do at home. i know you made a post on facebook. i left the hospital. that post was the only thing i got from you.

dear big sister,

i am the big sister now and it is the best thing that has ever happened to me. i love them with every single piece of who i am. i would do anything in the world to make them feel happy and loved.

dear big sister,

i find it hard not to wonder why you don't love me like that.

dear big sister,

congratulations on getting married. i'm sorry i'm only saying this now. i'm sorry that i'm not saying it to you directly. i didn't know you were getting married until after it already happened.

dear big sister,

i still remember you calling me my senior year of high school and saying you would love to go to my graduation. it was the first time i had spoken to you in at least a year or two. when the call ended, i sat down and i cried because i was so happy. why didn't you call again to tell me you couldn't make it? you had my number. it would have sucked to hear after getting so excited, but i would have understood, and i would have preferred to know ahead of time, even if it would have hurt.

dear big sister,

i can't imagine not going to my (our?) little siblings graduations. i can't imagine not seeing them on their birthdays. i can't imagine spending the holidays without them. going more than a week without seeing them makes me anxious.

dear big sister,

is it me? is that why you never felt like this? is it my fault that you don't love me like i love them? did i do something wrong?

dear big sister,

i don't know when (or if) i'll get married, but i will invite you even though i don't know if you'd actually come. i want you to be there.

dear big sister,

i wanted you to be at my graduation, too.

dear big sister,

i told my therapist that i want to process my traumas and get better, and then i told her that i was scared, too. when she asked me why, i told her that i'm afraid that part of getting better means having conversations i'm afraid to have, conversations that could put strain on my relationships. that i'm scared to track down your number and give you a call and try to explain all of this and have you get angry, get upset, or, worst of all, confirm my worst fears of you having never seen me as a sister at all. my therapist told me that i don't need to have those conversations. she said that i need closure and that there are ways to find closure that don't involve that confrontation.

dear big sister,

i am writing this to you and i hope you never see it. i am trying to find closure to this constant gnawing resentment that only serves to make me feel guilty for being angry. i do not want to be angry. i do not want to resent you.

dear big sister,

happy late birthday.

[odxrilove]

☆ TXT AND THINGS THEY DO THAT MAKE YOU QUESTION WHAT YOU TWO ARE

pairing: txt x f!reader

genre: hcs/scenarios, fluff, bsfs/friends2???? ~1.2k :D

a/n: requested by anon! song rec - nouvelle vague by wave to earth.. also big thank u to val pookie @fairybinie for helping me out sm with these scenarios!!! happy birthday poo i hope u had an amazing day and i wish u the best!! love you lots :D

back to masterlist!

☆ YEONJUN

constantly keeping his hand on your waist. such an action may seem futile and unnoticeable considering yeonjun’s the one doing it, but it still makes you confused. yeonjun’s known to be flirty, a literal heartthrob wherever he goes. he’s also very touchy, easily hugging someone or putting his arm around their shoulder. but it’s only truly with you that he lets his hand rest on your hip, finger hooked into one of your jeans’ belt loops.

at first he started doing it at parties, after finding you in the crowd, arms circling your waist to keep you from getting lost in the wave of people. it continued at normal hangouts, laughing alongside his friends as his fingers fiddled with the hem of your top. then it happened when you two were alone, lounging on your couch while watching a movie. there wasn’t anything or anybody he had to protect you from, but he still slid his hand between the backrest and your body until you were practically glued to his side, his arm comfortably holding onto your waist.

you’re not sure why he does it; maybe to show others you’re not available– you are though, or to purposely tease you and make your heart skip a beat– something that already happens a lot in his presence. but one thing you know for sure is, it certainly doesn’t help your already weak heart.

☆ SOOBIN

being oddly protective of you. soobin is the least confrontational person you know, so it didn’t surprise you when he kept his mouth shut as one of your classmates teased him in class. that’s initially how you two became friends, him nursing your wounded fist after you punched the bully right in the nose for calling him a lanky nerd. 5th grade sure was wild. the following years, soobin tried his best to defend you like you defended him back in the day but again, he’s the least confrontational person you know. however, his best friend-instincts took over him when a guy tried to hike up your dress at the graduation party. you nursed his wounded fist after and the two of you became even closer. after the “fight of the century” soobin swore to himself he would protect you. at first, you found it funny, trying to stop yourself from blushing when he would raise his voice at whoever decided to bother you that day. you don’t really know when it started but with each new time, his best-friend protection act would slowly turn into something that held a lot more feelings than just platonic ones. the way he would look at you to see if you were alright, or the way his hand would slid into yours, or even the one time he called you his partner instead of his best friend. everything was slowly changing, and you didn’t even know if soobin was even aware of it himself.

☆ BEOMGYU

calls you his girlfriend. the first time he did it, you thought he was just joking around, trying to tease you. so you laughed it off, attempting to hide the way your heart fluttered at the thought of you being his actual girlfriend. but the second time, a week or so later, you were even more confused. did beomgyu think you two had something going on? did he find out about your old crush on him? you really didn’t know why he started calling you his girlfriend, since none of his other actions showed he felt anything except platonic feelings for you. he stopped after the fourth time, after he noticed your disoriented and clearly disheartened expression. weeks passed and not once did beomgyu explain his old but short habit to you. but then, months later, when you had almost forgotten about the whole ordeal, beomgyu did it again. to be honest, him calling you his girlfriend that time was in fact beneficial for you– you refused to talk any longer to the creep begging for your number. but the way the word rolled off his tongue, a hint of arrogance and a ton of proudness, made you reach for his hand, acting like the role he had assigned you. tension followed after, for weeks, and your heart continued to long for him. if only you knew you were the only thing on his mind whenever someone said the word “girlfriend”.

☆ TAEHYUN

constantly buys you things. it may seem shallow at first, but whenever taehyun brings you a small trinket or whatever food you were craving at that moment, your heart fills with joy. it’s not the way he spends money for you, but the way he looks at you when he gives it to you, eyeing you to see your neutral expression change into a happy one. taehyun’s a great listener, so he knows all your orders and favorite things by heart, which only makes it easier for him to empty his bank account for you. he swears you’re not special, or at least not more important than the rest of his friends– for whom he rarely ever buys anything– but he can’t really stop his brain from thinking of you when he sees something pretty or tasty at the mall. the dainty necklace around your neck is the literal proof of his favoritism towards you. he had given it to you on your graduation and you hadn’t taken it off since. it was a symbol for your friendship, he said, something to remember the many years you spent together, but the shiny “T” letter pendant made your heart swell every time you felt it against your skin. in all truth, taehyun was just waiting for you to notice the letter pendant of your name he wore on his necklace and hid, carefully, under his shirt collar.

☆ HUENING KAI

he constantly mentions you two in his future. you and kai have been friends since the two of you were in diapers and basically experienced all your first together. spending all those years together, in the same neighborhood, school and friend groups lead to many talks about your futures, sometimes wiping anxious tears away or doubling over from laughter at the mention of so many possibilities. it was a normal thing for you two, getting together and just talking about whatever would be on your mind at that moment. every conversation was different but one thing never changed, the way huening kai wouldn’t forget to mention you in his future plans. he would have pictured everything out, you two living next to each other in your own homes, working across the street from each other, adopting pets at the same time so they could be friends, meeting every friday for a ramen and movie night… whenever you were worried about what the future prepared for you, kai would comfort you, reminding you that no matter what happened later, he would always be there. it always reassured you but unfortunately, you never had the guts to tell him that you’d prefer to live together later, spend your work lunch breaks together, adopt a pet together, and turn every night into a movie marathon.

taglist: @0x1lovebot @fairybinie @blaqpinksthetic @odetoyeonjun @pockyandme @soobin-chois @lolalee24 @soobisms @junityy @kaimal @laylasbunbunny @jaeyunverse @enhacolor @honglynights @starry-mins @bibinnieposts @raevyng @yoonzin0 @tyunni @pointlessapple @yyx2 @pearlygraysky @angelyeo-hyj

please do not copy, repost or steal any of my work. all content belongs to @odxrilove

[canthelpit0]

Silent

Pairing: Matt x reader

Wordcount: 1.8k +

Summary: you’ve always quietly watched the triplets, silently wishing you could be a part of a group like them. Until you and Matt talk for the first time…

Warnings: selective mutism, anxiety, crying, angst, praise, no use of y/n, no oc

(Disclaimer: I’m not mute in any way. This was a request from an anon that I accidentally deleted. Hope you like it ! Requests are open)

I developed selective mutism pretty early on. My mom says that I didn’t talk even back in kindergarten.

But it’s been years now.

I can talk, and I can’t shut the fuck up for the life of me. I talk a lot, even have full conversations with myself.

Just not at school, or around new people. God, especially not in school.

It’s not like I want to be the ‘ weird’ mute kid. I would love to talk and make friends, I just physically can’t open my mouth and talk.

It even took months for me to utter simple words to my therapist, tho by this point I’ve known her for years and I’m pretty comfortable.

There are these triplets in my grade. We’ve always gone to the same school, but I don’t think they ever noticed me.

Well the first time I noticed them was in first grade, because there were three of them. Of corse my six year old self didn’t understand the concept of multiples back then, and I really wanted to ask, and talk to them. I really thought they were cool.

The first time I interacted with any of them tho was when I was in fourth grade and Nick had asked to use my dark green pencil since he only had light green and needed both dark and light.

Back in fourth grade I wasn’t just selectively mute, but also really shy. So I’d just looked down and stared at the desk giving him a small nod.

In freshmen year I shared a class with Nick again, he asked me for a pen, wich I gave to him.

Despite not having talked to him once in my entire life, he remembered my name. Wich isn’t too shocking since we’ve always been around each other, I was just kinda in the shadows.

He actually gave me that pen back. Most other people would’ve forgotten and just taken it, but Nick didn’t and I appreciated that.

I only ever interacted with Nick those two times. despite sharing a few classes with both Chris and Matt over the years, I’ve probably never even held eye contact with either of them.

I’ve been watching everyone.

Bullying isn’t really a thing. Sure there were some hurtful comments by jocks here and there but it really wasn’t as bad as in the movies.

Besides I think most people forget i even exist so they don’t even bother bullying me.

I’ve had my eye on Matt for a while. Not in a weird way. But Matt seems to pretty obviously have anxiety too. I don’t know if he’s open about it, I’m not in his friend circle.

But every time I’m feeling overwhelmed and we’re in the same room, I unconsciously glance at him to see if he feels the same or if I’m just going crazy.

Chris seems to be the loudest and most extroverted one. And while yes, Nick seems pretty extroverted too, Chris seems more… random? Bold?

I sulk in the back of the class my lips pulled into a tight line as I try to get myself together.

There is literally no reason for me to be feeling like this. Honestly no one has tried to talk to me today, nothing happened, I just feel so overwhelmed.

I raise my hand just slightly. I make eye contact with the teacher. Mrs. Evans. I literally love her, she’s so kind.

Her son is apparently mute too.

When I was diagnosed with selective mutism they thought it’d be a great idea to make me learn sign language just in case, and that’s just what I did.

Since Mrs. Evans son is mute, her son, as well as her and her husband also learned sign language.

So whenever I needed something I could sign to her. Not that I wouldn’t be too embarrassed too.

Our eyes lock. Everyone was working on some paper I should also be doing, but I’m too busy hyperventilating.

I let my hand drop on my desk and glance at the door quietly asking if I can go to the nurses office since I was too tired and ashamed to sign it to her.

She gives me a pitying smile but nods. I hate pity, but then again that’s better than getting told im faking.

I look around the class of students. I get up, as quiet as I can. I pack up my little stuff and quietly walk to the front of the class. I nod in appreciation and walk outside.

I stare at the ground while I walk down the hallway. I sigh.

I feel my eyes start to water and I bite the inside of my cheek.

Honestly I should probably go to the nurses office to get checked out, just so I can leave. But I don’t think I can handle communicating with another human.

I feel like I’m about to break down. I continue to walk down the hallway clutching the straps of my bag harshly.

I consider if driving home even is a good idea seeing as I’m about to have a mental breakdown. Or-

Suddenly I bump into someone.

I close my eyes trying not to cry right then. I don’t know who I bumped into but I want to apologize, but I know that I can’t, and since I don’t know who I bumped into I don’t know if it’s someone who’ll be mean about it or-

I’m taken off guard by a gentle brush to my upper arm.

“You’re good, it’s okay” I hear a soft voice say. I can feel my lip quivering, I feel like if I open my eyes the tears brimming at my waterline will actually fall.

“can you open your eyes?” It sounds more like a question, and that voice sounds painfully familiar but I can’t quite place it.

I want to tell him that I can’t, that I’ll cry if I do and I’ll feel even more embarrassed. But my curiosity takes over me.

So I slightly blink open my eyes. I don’t open my eyes fully, just enough to see the person through my tears.

It’s Matt, looking down at me all concerned.

I blink my eyes open. at the sight I watch his expression relax just slightly.

He himself looks overwhelmed, and honestly I don’t know if it’s because of how I’m acting, or if he had a shitty day himself.

“You okay?” He sighs slightly. I watch as he licks his lips and swallows thickly.

I take in another deep breath trying to calm down. I nod just slightly, but while I do the tears in my eyes finally spill.

I feel my hot tears run down my face. Matt’s eyes immediately widen and his mouth opens slightly like he thinks it’s his fault.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, no please don’t cry.” He holds up his hands in front of my face as if he wanted to wipe my tears away but was holding himself back because he didn’t know my boundaries.

He looked miserable, like he was about to cry himself. And I just know that something this wouldn’t have him emotional like this on a normal day. At least I don’t think it would. But he seemed to be overwhelmed as well.

I scrunch my nose slightly sniffling in response. I glance back up at him and the sorrow in his eyes makes me want to sink into myself. I breathe out shakily.

Before I know it I’m bringing my hands up to my face and covering it. I tilt my head forward trying to stop crying, because crying in the school halls is just pathetic.

“I’m sorry. Fuck- can I touch you?” I hear his frantic voice. I appreciate that he asked first. I want a hug, but then again I don’t know Matt. But he just seems so genuine.

I overthink not responding to his question. My thoughts spiral at the sound of the sweet nothings and apologies leaving his mouth, only being back round noise.

Matt seems to notice that I’m starting to spiral. I feel his hand tenderly touch my wrist. I flinch slightly, and as soon as I do I feel him retract his hand.

Everybody deals with anxiety differently, some people like to be physically grounded others liked to be comforted some other way and I just knew that Matt was trying to figure out what to do without overstepping.

I’d tell him that it’s okay, or that he can hug me, but I literally can’t speak and I feel too embarrassed to let him see my teary face.

“I’m sorry, I’m-“ I hear Matt let out a breath. I know an anxiety breath when I hear one, he is panicking.

I decide to bite the bullet, what’s the worst that can happen. I look up slightly and peak through my fingers.

His hands are up and frozen. He looks almost frantic, Matt looks like the only way he knows how to ground me is by hugging me or something, but he seems unsure if that’s okay.

Despite myself I let out a little nod. Matt lets out another breath but this time he actually touches me, and I don’t flinch.

He holds my wrist and gently pulls my hands off of my face.

I let out a shaky sigh. I can’t help it when I let my head fall forward.

“It’s okay.” He says sweetly under his breath. He puts his hand under my chin as he picks my face up. Our eyes lock. I see the way Matt is also crying, tears running down his face too and I relax just a little.

He never seemed like the type to make fun of someone for crying, but especially not now.

“You wanna go to my car?” He says softly, not in a way where he is forcing me to do anything, but rather offering.

And honestly as upset as i am I have to weigh my options. Would I rather cry in the school hallways or in Matt’s car?

The best option would be to go to the bathroom, but Matt wouldn’t be able to come with, and honestly I would feel too bad leaving him alone at this point.

So I nod.

I feel Matt’s arm go around my shoulders as he hugs me for a moment. He turns me, and starts walking in a way where his arm is still around my shoulder keeping me close to him.

We walk out to the parking lot. I watch as Matt unlocks the car and opens the door for me to enter.

And by this point, if I go out this way so be it…

Before i can even register Matt is also getting into the backseat next to me.

We just look at each other for a moment. He breathes out another anxiety sigh.

“You want a hug?” And with that I don’t really know if he’s asking for me, or to comfort himself. But regardless I nod.

I feel his arms come around me and I sink into the feeling of his hug.

I’m uncertain if by tomorrow he’ll act like this all never happened, or if he’ll try to get to know me, because I’ve been wanting to know him for a while and I would more then gladly let him.

Masterlist

A/n: I know this is really short and I’ve been uploading a lot of angst recently. But I’ve been feeling sad, and every time I do write smut it’s for Kinktober. Soon you’ll get smut tho. Also this ended up a lot like crybaby. <3

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo , @chr1sgirl4life

[abbyromanoff]

hi!!! is it okay to request R (18) having a crush on her professor which is Nat (either 27 or like around 30s) then Nat heard about it because of the gossips so she confronts reader abt it although reader have the upper hand defending herself yet nat was able to pin her and they kissed—thats the last time they saw each other not until they had a reunion during reader's college years

sorry if this is kinda long😭

SEE ME AFTER CLASS

PAIRINGS: Natasha Romanoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 781

WARNINGS: all are 18+ teacher x student relationship, professor x student relationship, kinda stalking, angst, fluff, and some heated moments yall

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

You were fucked, to say the least. You had never been called to stay after by a teacher, but here you stood, eyes shot wide, lips slightly agape as you nodded slowly to Ms. Romanoff’s request.

“You’re probably wondering why I had you stay after with me today,” You nodded once again, and she chuckled while leaning forward on her elbows, unconventionally pushing her breasts further together in your view.

“Well, you’re not in trouble, sweetheart.” She helped ease the tension, and your breath of release caused your eyes to flutter shut, your hand coming to your chest as you feared the worst.

“But, there is something I’d like to talk to you about. There seems to be a rumor lurking around the school, and with your popularity, it only took a short time to reach me.” She suddenly stood from her seemingly comfortable chair and placed herself on the edge of the desk in front of you, leaning down to place a hand on her knee as the other found your chin. While you were both of legal age, considering that you were forced to stay back in the fifth grade when your parents had to move halfway into the school year for your father's work, this was still wrong. You were a senior, she was your teacher. And even though you were near graduation with your final week approaching, you were still hefty about the consequences this action could have.

“Uhm, Ms. Romanoff,”

“Call me Nat,”

“I- I don’t exactly think that is appropriate, I don’t think any of this is appropriate.” You began to stand but were quickly forced back down with her incredible strength, and you nearly whimpered at the contact.

“Shh, baby, no one needs to know, okay? It’s just me and you in here; besides, aren’t you the one with that little crush on me?” Your eyes shot wide, your stance faltering as you failed to explain yourself.

“C’mon, all I’m asking is one little kiss before I have to see my favorite student go,”

And that’s all it was, at first. It started with a small kiss. Only once, never again. But then it came again, and her lips drew you in again and again and again. Up until your day on the podium where you thanked multiple people, her being one of them. That’s where you ended it.

When your parents waited in their car and everyone began piling out, you dragged her behind the school, crying through small pecks as you two said your goodbyes. You expected it to be your last. But then you walked into your fourth class on the second day of college, you were yet to have this class the day prior. It was fresh, the faces were all new, except the professors.

“Nat?” She turned suddenly hearing your voice, smiling widely when seeing you.

“I didn’t believe it when I saw your name on my roster, but it’s true.” She began rushing towards you, thankful for your early arrival. You put your hands on her chest to back her away, causing her to hold a confused raise of her brow.

“What is it? I know we ended things but- but I’m here, and so are you, we’re back together again.” You shook your head with a scoff, your gaze falling to the floor before she lifted your chin to look her in the eye, and goosebumps ran down your skin as you recalled the previous encounters just like this moment.

“Y/N, we ended things because you were going to college and we would be too far. So I moved, and I got a job here, I’ve had the skills and degrees to be a professor and now it’s all finally working out for the best.” She paused, brushing the hair out of your face before cupping your cheeks lovingly.

“We can be together again, Y/N, we don’t have to fear it. We’ll have to hide it for a few years, but that’s all. Outside of these doors, we can be whatever we want to be, I don’t care about the age difference or the looks or the judgement, I only care about you. I love you, sweet girl.”

“Y/N? Y/N!” Your head shot up in a hurry, your mind quickly investigating the surrounding area until you registered where you were.

“You keep falling asleep in my class, and I’m beginning to grow quite concerned,” You faced the older woman who had a small smirk plastering her lips. She leaned in a little bit closer, and you hoped it did not look so promiscuous to others.

“Please see me after class, honey, we need to have a chat.”

[unreleasedwrites]

Caught You, Again

“You’re eyes seem to be wandering yet again, and your cheeks are redder than rubies.. You just never get tired of me, do you?

summary: You and Gun have been in the same class since the eight grade, and you developed a little crush on him that same year. Once the ninth grade started and you two had been paired as seat mates, you started to drop subtle hints here and there with the idea of your little crush on him for the past year. Gun notices this and takes it as an opportunity to constantly tease you about it jokingly— until, he was no longer joking, and made a move by asking you out which then ended with you becoming his first and last girlfriend, because he made you into his first and forever wife. Yet, he never fails to see you in the not so hidden act of admiring him, which has him calling you a “simp,” and he continues to tease you for it.

character(s) included: Park Jonggun x fem!reader

cw: fluff, teasing, playful and flirtatious gun, gun is nice, swearing, use of Y/N, mentions of physical fights gun gets into, mentions of blood/bleeding/bruises, couple nicknames, kissing, established relationship, idk much about weddings, VERY SUGGESTIVE TOWARDS THE END!! this is really long tbh 😭😭

unwrapped on: Saturday Night, December 03 2023

wrapped up on: Sunday Evening, April 28 2024

published on: Sunday Evening, April 28 2024

“Need something?” Your seat mate suddenly questioned you as he shrugged a brow at you, who was blankly staring at him, obviously lost in your thoughts.

“O-uh— No!” You quickly replied and zoned back into reality, “Sorry, I was just thinking, I didn’t notice tha-” You added before he cut you off and said,

“If you like me, you could just say so’ You wouldn’t be the first girl to confess to me this school year.”

“Wha-! Talk about confident, also it’s literally the second week of the ninth grade..” You scoffed, a little nervous considering you have liked him since the eight grade so he technically wasn’t wrong.

“That isn’t a no~” He replied with a tint of his usual smirk.

“Wel-” You tried to speak right before he interrupted you once more “Enough with the excuses already, it’s boring.”

…

“Well?” He added and you responded with, “Well.. What I was trying to sa-” Ding, Ding, Ding— You were interrupted once again, but this time, by the bell. And it was now lunch time, so you two went your separate ways.

That was one of the occasional conversations you had with Gun, it just so happens that you two have been paired as seatmates since the eight grade and therefore, had to have spoken to one another atleast a number of times by now. They were just meaningless and short interactions that was just another way to kill time for him, yet those little conversations and interactions meant the world to you.

Fast forward into the school year and currently, it’s almost the fourth month of school— all of your classmates along with the new/transfer students have gotten to know each other, and it just so happens that you and Gun have started to talk more aswell. From little “Hey, about the homework-”, “Since were the next pair who’ll discuss, how about we-”, and “Could I borrow an extra pen, if you’ve got one?” To “What did you get for this number..?”, “Let’s hang out at my place, we could also plan our discussion for english tomorrow.”, which also turned to him simply grabbing things out of your bag when he pleases.

The formal little questions he’d usually ask you were starting to turn casual and friendly, not only his words but his tone is shifting as well.

You never thought you’d be invited to his place so casually and he’d lend you his jacket whenever you two are hanging out. Although, he insists you keep all of them since he loves the way it looks on you. It was weird. It was all so weird. So many girls like him, he’s constantly got girls dreaming to be around him as much as you get to be. Now, if you think about it— you never actually see ANY girls approaching him or hanging around him at all, aside from you, that is. People are constantly telling you about how you two must be dating, well you aren’t, but he’s never actually denied it either. He continues to tease you almost everyday and it just has you falling for him even more.

“Y/N?” Gun suddenly called out to you while you were walking out of the classroom to go home.

“Hm?”

“Dinner, just you and me. This Friday at 7 o’clock, how’s that sound?”

“Wait, what?” You rose a brow at his sudden invitation, “What do you mean, by dinner with just you and me?” You briefly added.

“A dinner date, with just the two of us.”

“That was a little, out of nowhere.. Don’t you think?”

“..Yeah.” He responded, “My bad. Maybe it was a little too soon, never mind about what I sai-” He added before you cut him off, “Wai- wait! it wasn’t too soon at all! Sorry, I was just taken a back— since I really wasn’t expecting this from you.” You said, visibly happy.

“Well then..?” He nervously asked and you responded with, “Are you kidding? That’s all I’ve ever wanted!! I’d love to, Gun.” It was evident just how excited you were. Suddenly all bubbly and red in the cheeks, Gun found that to so adorable. “I wasn’t expecting such enthusiasm from you,” Gun said as he laughed, “You’re probably in love with me, aren’t you?” to which you replied, “You asked, I answered! And would you have wanted a no for an answer?” “A no from the girl who’s head over heals in love with me? I highly doubted that response.”

Gun might’ve said those words so casually and care free but he really was surprised with how quick it took for you to say yes. Throughout the course of your friendship, it did become obvious that the two of you do like each other. But it was much more evident on your side, with how much people knew you like Gun and how you spoke about him and how you were whenever you were with him, versus how you were when you were with some other boys that were rumored to like you. Of course, Gun was slightly taken aback when he learned about all this— how could someone like you, a beautiful and simple sweet heart who doesn’t even like contact with people or going out that much, like him, a guy whose name is insanely problematic and all the rumors spreading about him are mostly true and have something to do with his violent side and the things he does outside of school, a guy who people quite literally fear.

But Gun didn’t really like thinking about any of that. All that mattered to him was how you felt and the adorable reactions that come out of you whenever he teases you about apparently liking him so much.

A few months passed since your first date and the two of you started dating after a while, even more time has passed since then because you two were now in your final year of high school. Despite going further into your friendship to turn it into a relationship, nothing much has really changed.

You guys were at your place this one time and you begged him to do skin care with you. He was reluctant at first but with your puppy dog eyes and some touchy convincing, he finally agreed.

“Stay Still!!” You scolded your boyfriend who kept moving when you were trying to apply a full mask onto his face.

“How am I supposed to? It’s so wet and slimy, kinda reminds me of something..” Gun replied.

“Oh shut it, I finally finished applying it, now we have matching masks on!! Come look at the mirror!” You exclaimed, “Tada~!”

He looked at the mirror blankly and slowly turned to you, who was overflowing with joy.

“Awh, don’t you like it?”

“It’s.. something, that’s for sure..”

You looked at Gun with your usual pout, to which he caved in and finally went along with the whole thing, saying it’s not that bad.

“Hehe, my baby looks so handsome, just as he always does~” You said as you admired Gun while squeezing his cheeks.

“You’re such a simp, you know that, right? Gun said, slightly muffled as he looked down at you with his usual smirk.

“Hmph! If you don’t want my love then you could just say so!” You said as you let go off his cheeks and crossed your arms with a grouchier pout on your face.

“Baby, there’s no need to be a brat.” He then grabbed your chin to kiss your lips (you were tiptoe-ing). Gun always knew how to deal with the unpredictable pace of your mood, given how you can go from absolutely simping over him to a pouting girl who doesn’t wanna talk about it at all with him.

“Your eyes sure as hell love to wander, dont they?” Gun teased. You went all pouty again so he coated you in some more kisses to make up for the teasing about you being a complete simp.

Those were the moments that ultimately led to the situation you’re currently in. Beneath the sunset in your favorite place, dressed in an astonishing wedding dress, paired with an elegant pair of heels, just the right amount of steepness for you to walk in, given your veil and dress that was trailing on your back. Holding an extravagant boquet with all of your favorite flowers wrapped in such delicate material.

It was all so ethereal. Gun, your soon to be husband hasn’t seen you. You were queued to walk down the aisle so very soon, which had you shaking in both excitement and fear. It’s finally the day you’ve been waiting for so very long. You knew you really liked Gun the moment you two became closer, yet you’re still stuck in the point where you were admiring him from technically— not afar because he was right beside you the entire time. But still, you were just an admirer in awe. And now you have the same last name as him and do tons of things together— cooking? hell yes, shopping? without a doubt. hopping in the shower and bathtub together? you don’t even notice him coming in until you feel a strong pair of arms wrap around you and start to wander across your body.

Another thing is that Gun may seem like a “cold” or reserved person on the outside, but he really does care about people that matters to him and knows how to observe. One of the things he observed about your “infatuation” with him was how you looked at him. He really saw right through the eyes you looked at him with— they only expressed one thing. That one thing was actual love, and it was not at all short-lived as people say what infatuation is.

It truly surprised him to see how your eyes never got gloomy or even got tired of looking at him that way even when time passed.

If anything, they became brighter and loving with every moment that passed with you looking at Gun’s dark eyes, wondering why he would ever want to have anything to do with a girl who’s had a huge crush on him for so very long.

He realized just how much importance those little details hold. As they say, the eyes don’t lie. And he sure as hell was able to experience that for himself.

He may not have wanted to admit it at first, but he slowly fell for you, in the way where you fell first but he fell harder. His entire mood and demeanor would change the exact moment that you’re around him. He could be beating up people and see that you’ve come to check up on him because he specifically told you that he was just going out to get something from Goo, but ended up taking way too long— hence, why you went to find him. He changed in an instant. Leaving behind the scene and making sure you won’t have to worry your pretty little head about it. And according to Goo, the way he talks about you is just “agitating”— which pretty much translates to “amazing” in your vocabulary, given that Goo doesn’t care about these types of things.

You’ve heard from various of his friends that he really does love you, because he doesn’t prolong any of his fights due to the very fact that he wants to make sure that he can get home to you asap. Especially when it’s late at night, he knows you like to sleep but he wants to be the one to tuck you in and cuddle and place gentle kisses on you to sleep. So even though he loves fighting worthy opponents that gets him turned on, no one can top you— he just loves that matching pj’s set that you tend to wear, with the small pink lace ribbons and the silk fabric, the short and small shorts with the sleeveless top.

Gun told you all about what he does for Charles Choi when he fully trusted you and you guys were already dating, and he didn’t expect you to stay. He was scared to tell you with there being a big chance that you’d freak out and leave him, call the cops, and do other things he wouldn’t have ever wanted you of all people to do to him.

Despite all of his fears and bad expectations of what you might do when you learn of the “bad” side of his, he still has you and always will. He really cant believe that you stayed after everything and still look at him the exact same way you did when you first met him. You somehow still retained the same feelings and love you have for him despite everything— and he is insanely in love with you for that. He loves teasing you about it though.

Going back to the present situation you’re in, you were now walking down the aisle as Gun absolutely stared at you in awe. Enthralled by how amazing you looked in white and how such a gorgeous woman was walking down the aisle to meet eye to eye with him and to hold him hand in hand.

The ceremony was breathtakingly beautiful, flowers of all sorts were surrounding the venue with just the right amount of lights that have been set upon with candles and dim lighting. The details in fabrics, decorations, covers, and even the architecture of the venue was simply incredible.

All of this “extraness” as Gun would call it, was for you. Gun wasn’t the type of person to have such a big wedding despite the small number in guests, but he knew you loved all of the things he had made to be included for the special day.

And even though Gun was relatively smart with his money, he was more than willing to go all out on this short event.

After all the agreements and words that the officiator had asked the two of you, you guys finally reached the most important part of the day, the one you have been dreaming of for who knows how long.

The officiator spoke once again, “Do you, Y/N, take Park Jonggun to be your lawfully wedded husband— To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live?”

You looked deeply into Gun’s eyes, “I do.”

The officiator turned over to Gun, “Park Jonggun, do you take this woman to be your wife— to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?

Gun held eye contact with you with a subtle yet sincere smile, “I do.”

He then carefully placed the beautiful ring on your finger, which was followed with you doing the same with his. Just after that was the unity ceremony which was such a bliss.

Of course, once that had passed, came the pronouncement— After more words and hundreds more that you didn’t pay much mind to, the officiator finally looked at the two of you deeply and stated, “I now pronounce you as husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

And so you guys did kiss, for a pretty long time— With Gun’s hands placed on your waist and one of your hands on his shoulder, and the other nestled against his face. The crowd cheered for the two of you as it all happened.

It was all so, so, so, incredibly divine.

Once the ceremony has ended and the after party was finally about to begin, you kept chatting with the guests, more particularly your closest friends who were also your bridesmaids. It genuinely made them wonder how you could be so in love with someone. The way you talked about him was absolutely adorable considering they’ve met Gun before, and think of him as the luckiest guy on earth, and you as the blindest girl.

And despite not knowing many of Gun’s friends that he invited, they were still so kind to chat with you. They told Gun when he came by that he really was one hell of a lucky guy to have someone so head over heals for him. To which he only agreed with them before he went to attend to the other guests.

“I don’t understand how you could like him so much, he’s garbage..” Goo said as the other guys were talking amongst themselves at the same table you and Goo were at.

“Maybe to you he is— but he is just the sweetest to me, and he’s hot as hell too.” You replied, obviously lost in your thoughts, imagining Gun once again.

“Woman, what the hell do you see in him for him to be considered as sweet? Do you have any idea how much people he’s arranged the organs of?” Goo questioned.

“Oh please, how much have you?”

“Hey. I don’t like getting my hands dirty as much as Gun does.”

“Rightttt..”

Goo came closer to you and whispered in your ear, “Did you know that Gun has liked you before you even attended the same school together..?”

“..What?”

“Yup. You may have been led to believe that you were the first to like him all these years, but he’s just never told you that he’s actually a creepy stalker deep down.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Nope! And you could figure it out for yourself!” Goo exclaimed.

“Oh please! If he hasn’t told me all this time then he wont tell me now, why don’t you just tell me more about it?”

“Fine, buttt! You can’t tell Gun or even give him hints that I was the one to tell you all this, alright?”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t do that,” you replied.

“Alright-y then! I’m guessing you know Gun as someone you became classmates with in the eight grade, and became friends with in the ninth. Butttt, he actually first heard of you in the seventh grade, and although he wasn’t in your school that time, he transferred the next year so that you two could be classmates. He first saw you walking out of that school and he told me all about how pretty you were and how he’d like to be friends with you,” Goo explained.

“I can’t tell if you’re telling the truth or not..”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe, just know that I am telling you the truth and it’s up to you to take it or not.” He said with a smile spread across his face.

Like all things, the wedding eventually came to an end, it may have been short-lived but it was truly memorable. Of course, what comes after the wedding is the honeymoon.

You guys went on a trip to somewhere tropical for your honeymoon, which resulted in Gun wearing almost nothing most of the time, and if he was wearing something, it’d be boxers or swim trunks, or a more formal outfit that just looked sooooo good on him.

There was this one instance where you guys were about to go to bed, and Gun would usually have on some loose pants or shorts, but this time.. He was wearing absolutely nothing, not even boxers or briefs of some sort. He casually walked over to your shared bed while you stared at him.

“Need something, babe?” Gun asked he tucked himself into the blanket you were also tucked in, but you were both still sitting up.

“Well.. No, but um…” You replied nervously, obviously pent up from the view you had right in front of you.

Gun looks at your eyes then down to his naked body (and mind you, you were wearing a cute yet small and slightly revealing matching- sleepwear set), “Hm? You’ve seen me naked countless times before, and it’s not like you’re a virgin.” He teased as he brushed some of your hair to the side.

“Yeah b-but..” You managed to utter as you were still straight up staring at his body, fresh from the shower.

“But what? Does my wife need help with her words?” Gun teased as he leaned in closer to you and slowly lifted up your top to place his hand on your chest. To which you got very tense and nervous.

I’m sure you already know what followed in the next moments..

But moving forward with a few more days that passed, Gun caught you staring— maybe even admiring one of the pictures that you took together recently, specifically zoomed in on him. You hadn’t realized or even noticed his presence so you were just looking at the picture like some teenage girl, obviously crushing on him.. As if you didn’t just get married to him to him last week.

You were cheekily smiling at the picture, even giggling to yourself at some point when you swiped through some of the other pictures of him and you. You just loved him so bad, that even though you had him right with you, you still resorted to pictures. Gun thought that was adorable. The woman he fell in love with, sat on a chair facing away from where he was sneakily stood at, was swiping away at pictures of him when you didn’t even know that you had him wrapped around your finger.

“What’s my dear wife up to this evening?” He spoke out of nowhere, suddenly startling you. This caused you to have the phone slip out of your hands, but he swiftly caught it and took a closer look at the photos you were staring at.

“What are you doing with pictures that you can’t already to with the real deal right beside you?” He asked as you got increasingly nervous by the seconds passed and you were starting to fidget.

“I was just looking at what photos I wanted to keep.. And what I didn’t want to keep, y’know what I mean..?” You replied.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, my dear oh dearest husband,” you said mockingly— “Why are you interrogating me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Little miss stalker,” Gun said as he sat on the chair across from you, obviously enjoying himself.

“Stalke—? Oh wait-! That reminds me,” your husband’s brow rose at your sudden statement, “Your close friend, Jonggoo, told me a little something when him and I were talking during the after party.” You added.

“And that is..?” Gun asked, skeptical of what you might’ve learned, knowing Goo very well.

“Well,” you shuffled around as you tilted your head and finally spoke, “Is it true that you only came to the school I go to in the first place because you saw me walking out there one time and.. yeah—?”

“That bastard— But, yeah. That is true.” He said without a change in expression and emotion.

You gave him a teasing smile and a soft “hehe” as you looked at him. For some reason, finding out that was true only seemed to make you fall in love even more.

“Oh hush, I don’t understand how much a person could like someone—” He said and he stood up to lift you into his arms for teasing him.

“Hey! Why are you carrying me?” You suddenly yelped. He dropped you gently on to the bed and he climbed on top of you.

“Woman, it’s not good to start something you can’t finish.”

“Tsk! My nickname is now woman?” You pouted.

“My apologies then, my wife.” He said somewhat mockingly to which you pouted even more, so he finally said it in a more sincere manner and gave you a kiss.

“Well?” He asked you as you were still in the same position, with him on top you.

“Well what?” You clarified while your eyes shamelessly wandered through his body, flustered with the position you were in and the teasing he was doing to you.

“You’re eyes seem to be wandering yet again, and your cheeks are redder than rubies.. You just never get tired of me, do you? Gun said in a teasing tone as he leaned in closer.

This honeymoon sure as hell will be going on for a long time.

notes: I think ill prolly put out a masterlist and about me post in like a month or two who knows, also this request has been with me for so long 😭 I am so so so sorry to this anon, please forgive me 😵‍💫 Also, I really hope that this wasn’t too bad and can live up to what you were expecting and requesting, I am so sorry if it doesn’t, I really tried 😭 ANDDD I accidentally deleted the actual request because I got a little lost with trying to navigate tumblr because I accidentally clicked the Queue button and yeah.. I don’t think I really proofread this tbh

- With or without proper credits, please don't try to steal or claim any of my works as your own

I genuinely appreciate opinions, feedback, likes, and reblogs

Once again, I hope this isn't too bad for a request, and I'll be doing more characters in lookism so feel free to request!!

[saerins]

⋆୨ prologue ୧˚ all see through, just like glass

⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ next: chapter one - thorns without flowers, bars with no drinks ୧˚

⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?

ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 1.6k | ೀ content warnings: modern au, rich!reader & rich!sae, fluff/angst, swearing, somewhat boys being boys, manipulation/gaslighting, bad parents, yn has a sister here but won’t be mentioned too much !

i. y/n

“Don’t be so overly emotional, sweetheart. Isn’t this absolutely perfect for you?”

“You’re saying no? Can’t believe you’d say that… you know if you don’t do this you’re only damning your little sister instead, right?”

“Sweetie, we are listening to you. But don’t you think we would know what’s best for you? We’re only criticising you because we love you.”

Marriage; a concept you’d been familiar with since young, way back when you had a dream to marry your one and only Prince Charming—someone who’d appear one day and completely sweep you off your feet. Five year olds are silly like that. You’d believe in Prince Charming and fairytale endings and that two people in love would always work things out.

Being the daughter of a very successful businessman, a lot of things were given to you as a child. You never had to ask for toys, or books, or anything at all. Your father would ensure your material needs were well taken care of, and your mother would ensure you’re pampered from head to toe, buying you designer assets and making sure you look the best you can at each instance.

Life in the upper echelon is mostly desirable; the privileges are apparent, the favouritism rampant. You’re grateful for what you have, but there’s a small ball of thought inside you that wishes for your parents not to see you as a product, but as their child. Most of the people you had met had absolutely zero problems with their upbringing, perfectly content with being handed everything on a silver plate.

Most people except Mikage Reo, your best friend since the fourth grade. He hated having his life dictated for him too, and you both found common ground in that. Ever since then, you’d both been close as ever.

“Wait wait wait,” he nearly chokes on his rice, the disbelief in his tone overwhelming, an eyebrow cocked as his fringe falls over his left eye. “Repeat that again.”

A small sigh escapes your lips, your fork poking against the rice in your bowl, any form of appetite you had earlier being sucked out just by revisiting the topic. “It’s an arranged marriage.”

Reo appears unamused, but he restrains himself from commenting too much negativity. “And… what did you say?”

That’s why he’s a good friend—he feels you out first before filtering what he needs to say. He’ll still speak his mind, but depending on your decision, he’ll choose his words carefully.

You’ve always been eternally grateful for his presence. It calms you down, that sense of comfort irreplaceable. You know that if you ever really screw anything up that bad, you’ll have him—and really, that’s enough for you. Out of everything you have, you think this friendship’s probably the most precious one.

“The wedding’s in a couple months,” you half-answer, deciding to stop playing with your food and putting your fork down. The clang of the metal hitting the marble-top table is the last sound you hear for a while before Reo clears his throat.

Before Reo can get any words out, you interject. “The guy said yes too, apparently.”

Now he chokes on his rice.

You slide the glass of water across the table and Reo chugs it down, water trickling down the sides of his lips at his urgency. “How the fuck did your parents get Itoshi Sae of all people to say yes?”

Itoshi Sae. The name of your to-be husband. You know him as much as what you can search online. Twenty-five this year. No hobbies but it’s rumoured he’s good in soccer. He’s a lot like you when it comes to status and standing in the business world—the kid of successful self-made parents who everyone in your immediate circle automatically expects good things from. The pressure to perform and become someone of note since birth is probably something you both share. Except, maybe, Itoshi Sae looks like he’s a lot less obedient than you are. He looks like he’s more rebellious than not, and that’s why you wonder if he has any hidden agendas by agreeing to this business arrangement.

You know why you’re agreeing.

“Seriously, we raised this child and yet she’s so ungrateful!”

“Y/N, you know if you don’t do this then he’s just going to force this on your little sister, right?”

How can you let that slide as a big sister? Especially when your little sister is perfectly happy in a long-term relationship? Unfortunately, threatening their children isn’t below your parents.

Even when you revisit the conversation in your head, your mother’s faux concern is nauseating. She’s always been that way; everything your father says goes and she doesn’t offer much else other than what he expects of her. Maybe that’s why you grew up to be this way.

Shrugging, you turn your attention back to Reo, a small pout forming on your lips. “You know my dad. He’s always been good at talking.”

“What about you though? Are you really okay with this?”

At this point, Reo’s the only one who’s genuinely concerned for you. Maybe because he knows about all your childish dreams about finding The One. While you appreciate his concern, you brush it off.

“Yeah, I mean, how bad could things possibly get with Sae?”

Reo’s eyebrows show he’s not convinced, but he doesn’t say more.

“I’ll be fine, Reo, promise.”

You’ll just have to win Itoshi Sae over. Even if it’s hard, you’re determined to try and make the most of it. It won’t be that bad if you work hard on it… right?

ii. itoshi sae

“Either do this, or I’ll get Rin instead. It’ll be a pain, but don’t think I won’t do it.”

“Honey! Stop speaking like that… Sae, please try to understand, this will be a huge opportunity. It’s the least you owe us, hm?”

“You lost your shot, do you want Rin to lose his too?”

“If you don’t want her, I'll take her.”

“Go ahead.”

Sae’s completely tuned out of the conversation, the thoughts of his upcoming wedding filling his head. Now that everything’s settled between yours and his parents, it’s really kicking in that fuck, did he really let them dictate his love life like that?

“She’s pretty hot, though. I think she’s just a year younger than you?” Oliver’s scrolling through your Instagram—typical behaviour from his end. The moment Sae told them your name, it took only half a minute for Oliver and Otoya to find your online presence.

L/N Y/N. He’s always heard of you. Your name constantly leaves his parents’ mouths, ever since he was a kid. Apparently, your parents and his have been tight since high school. Sae is sceptical about the relationship, though. Nothing is ever that plain and simple between rich families. There must be a reason Sae’s never personally seen you, after all, despite his parents claiming to have a good relationship with yours.

“What the fuck’s going through their heads?”

And by that, Sae assumes that Otoya means his parents. If that’s the case, Sae has long decided he’s given up trying to understand what goes on in their heads—but if he had to guess, it’s probably all because of a simple business deal.

Having their kids wed each other would mean that one of them is absorbing the other. A little side knowledge that Sae doesn’t care for, so he only shrugs in response.

“Aw, little Sae is growing up,” Oliver sneers, earning a snicker from Otoya and a middle finger from Sae himself.

Otoya eggs him on, adding to the fire. “Yeah, to think that the guy who only ever dated once in his whole fucking life is the one getting married first,” he comments, eyes gazing to the side in deep thought, “what was her name again? Mirin?”

“Oh fuck, yeah I forgot about her,” Oliver exclaims, smirking at Sae. “First love type shit, right?”

Sae rolls his eyes, ignoring him, forcing him to change the subject.

“Shit, didn’t think you were the kind to ever say yes though,” Oliver remarks, eyes still glued onto the screen, likely still scrolling through your posts.

Oliver’s standards are quite high. Are you really that pretty? Sae’s never actually seen what you look like.

“I’m not fucking marrying her. I don’t even know her.”

“Maybe we should just pull Rin out then, get him to come back here and handle all this.”

“Sae, be a good boy and listen to us, okay? How about this—if it ever gets too bad, we’ll look into a divorce in the future, hm?”

As if he believes that. His parents are insufferable. There’s no point in ranting to this group though, so Sae brushes it off.

“Not like I care about this marriage shit,” he leans back, an air of nonchalance around him. “I’ll just shut my parents up and wait for the right time to leave.”

Otoya scoffs, smirking. “Lucky girl.” Sarcasm is his forté.

Oliver laughs, finally putting his phone down. “Okay you do that, and then I’ll pop up and be her Prince Charming and sweep her off her feet.”

Sae inwardly sighs to himself. His friends are insufferable as well, though he’d argue whether that’s the correct term for them. They’re only a group because their families happened to meet often. Somehow, Sae had been dragged into this weird association one day, and the rest is history.

“Do whatever the fuck you want.”

The rest of the night, Sae drowns out their conversation, choosing to ignore whatever shit they’re talking about. In his head, he’s only thinking about how long it’ll take before he can safely absolve himself from you without his parents threatening his younger brother’s career. More importantly, he’s wondering how the fuck he’s going to tell you he’s thinking of a divorce even before you get married.

Surely, you don’t really expect anything to come out of this either, do you?

If you do, you’ve got a rude awakening coming.

taglist: @kimvmarvel @mxplesyrvp @yuzurins @futuristicxie @kiopanxp @k0z3me @y-sabell-a @sae1toshilover

[johnnys-breastmilk]

VHS Tape 1A - "Sleepover" | Wally Clark x Male!Reader

a/n – THIS is what sent me into a writing slump but lets hope i conquered it by finishing this

Summary – Last night, Wally invited you to a sleepover as a joke, but things turned serious by the end of the night.

warnings – drinking, sex, mentions of anal, oral (wally receiving), pre-death!Wally Clark, dirty talk, 18+, he might be a tad bit ooc!

words — 6.1k

~~~

Life was something that, to you, needed to be treated with the same level of thought and care as with anything else contained within it. You tried to be mindful of your grades at school, steered clear of any and all uses of drugs, especially the lethal ones, and kept your inner circle small for the most part. The teachers addressed you the same way you did them, on a first-name basis. You had practically secured a spot on the faculty-designated pages of the yearbook. That’s why, when Wally's constant teasing about the night you stayed over at his house started up, you almost didn’t believe him.

There was a black spot in your memory, a time when nothing existed to you, but something was there that he knew of. You tried to think back to the moments leading up to everything that had happened, things you knew for sure. It was the Friday before a huge exam that would take place on Monday of the following week, and a folded-up note was passed to you in fourth period–Psychology–from the back of the class. While the teacher was turned away, you carefully unfurled it to get to the message inside. To you, the plans for that night seemed normal enough–a sleepover study session to cram in as much information for the exam with enough booze to calm everyone’s nerves, as explained by Wally’s messy and strung-together letters on the note. It felt a little counter-intuitive, but he insisted on supplying the alcohol. He claimed that it would help encourage others in the class to show up and take their academics seriously, and you were inclined to believe his words. Who didn’t love free drinks and a jock with a nice house to get wasted in?

That was your first mistake, and the second came when he invited you over the day after the so-called sleepover. He flooded your landline with numerous calls, excitedly telling you all about how he got everything from last night on film and that he would be over to pick you up soon. The mere sight of his house from the windshield of his Cutlass jogged your memory. You remembered hesitantly walking up to his door, textbook in hand with a look of awe as you ogled at his house’s exterior. Typically middle class with a clean front exterior combining brick on the first floor and light blue paneling on the second. His house extended into a two-door garage, but both doors were closed the night you went. And the next morning, one was open as he pulled into the right side of the vacant garage. The door slid down behind you, sounding exactly how you wanted the VCR to when Wally inevitably played back last night’s events on tape. Once it shut, the only light emanated from his beamers on the front and back-ends. The light forming a clearing from the shroud of darkness in the room felt exactly like your memory. You knew where to go to learn the truth, and now, it felt like you didn’t know how to turn back.

In the passenger seat, the armrest between you and him wasn’t the only thing separating the two of you. From what Wally hinted at on the ride over, you two seemed to be on the same page last night, and he didn’t mean the textbook. 

You sighed, piecing together your own path leading away from it all, “Do I really want to know what happened last night?” 

“You definitely do. It was legendary!” Wally insisted.

“As long as it’s not embarrassing…”

If you went into his house, you ran the risk of remembering something you could have lived your whole life not knowing about; something you might end up wishing to forget. But the thought of what exactly happened was too tempting not to find out. How bad could it be? The only way to find out would be to watch it and see what looks like you do things you couldn’t recall.

Wally casually placed a hand on your thigh, “Hey, we were both pretty drunk. And after watching the tape this morning, I can confidently say, I would do everything on it all over again.”

“Pfft. You held the camera, I bet you’re barely in it.” His hand felt out of place, like seeing someone place their palm on an open burner on the stove. Any heat from before didn’t boil over into this morning, though, including your worries leading up to the moment you arrived at his house.

“I was basically your co-star! Here–let’s recreate it.” Wally hopped out the driver’s side of the lowrider, rounding the hood of the car and opening your door. He offered out a hand, but you didn’t take it.

His garage door didn’t stay closed for long, as he had the perfect plan to reenact the interaction that started it all.

“I’ll head in through the door in here, you go to the front door and I’ll be there to answer,” he directed. You did as he said, taking the little paved pathway to his house, picking up on the littlest of details in his front yard to see if anything rang a bell. Nothing. The same could be said as you knocked on his door–the vibrant red facing you with a gold handle and lock above it to fit a jagged-cut Clark house key. The anxious feelings you got standing at his door less than twenty-four hours ago didn’t pull your stomach into knots this time. It was like your body had lived through the feeling of resolve–maybe a forgotten rejection–but your head was still catching up to all of those feelings.

A few seconds went by and you heard the lock click out of place, followed by the door swinging open with the turn of the handle. He answered the door in the same way as he had before: an arm raised above his head, leaning against the door with it and greeting you with a wide smile. The only difference was his clothing. Last night, he donned dark-colored jeans and a forest-green jumper. Today, he wore a lighter shade of blue denim for his pants, mostly to keep it from clashing with his white tee-shirt and navy blue letterman jacket he earned from his dedication to football. On top of his head, he wore a black baseball cap, turned one-hundred and eighty degrees to face backward. There was one accessory missing that greeted you with its eye at the door as well–Wally’s camera. You remembered the video camera he had been waving around in your face when he answered the door. He claimed that it was a gift he received earlier that day and wanted to take it for a test run. 

He practically used it as his way of seeing, his way of looking at you, and memorializing something as simple as studying. It felt a bit insincere the first time around like he was just doing it for the proof that he was a nice person to everyone, not just his football team. But right now, you felt more attended to, more cared for by his brown eyes not hidden behind a video camera. Even with his forgiving and welcoming nature, it couldn’t keep you from recalling the meandering conversation you had when you first arrived. 

“Remember… anything?” He held the ‘er’ longer than the awkward silence lasted as he moved out of the doorframe, waiting for you to enter the lion’s den. You shook your head, “Just that your house is nice and all.”

The memories started to slowly fade in as he took you inside with him. His house let you in and welcomed you with a warm foyer, brightly lit from floor-to-ceiling windows and thin drapes pulled back to let the light seep in. The furniture, from the kitchen to the living room, looked well lived in, but it hadn’t lost that cozy feeling. There were still many more memories to make on them, but you were concerned about one in particular.

He led you to the same brown leather couch that you felt vaguely acquainted with, and you took a seat on the left end of the couch. He took the right side and left the middle cushion vacant. A mismatched, wavy-patterned chair sat turned to face the couch and the coffee table caught in the crossroads of both directions. You noticed the walls were white with pastel blue accents. Images of ships at sea and framed family photos fill the space between the windows in the room, which made it feel like Wally stared at you from every angle you could think of. Simply looking to the end table to your left brought him closer to you, and when you turned to look at the older version of the man in the photo, he had scooted over to the middle seat. 

“I got the tape.” He said. Wally flashed the tape in your direction, looking proud of his creation. In those brief moments, you were able to see the word Sleepover crudely written in black Sharpie. He had already given a title to his film, and maybe you should have been happy that it wasn’t your name followed by the description of something abject.

“Well, put it in!” Your hands waved him off the couch and toward the large entertainment center. At first, it was easy to mistake it for a closet, but as Wally pulled away the two panels in the front, you knew it to house a boxy television. On the shelf below it is a VCR and it’s remote, and on the shelf below that, speakers.

While he put the tape in, you tried channeling any memory of last night from the couch, since you remembered it as the first landmark–besides his kitchen–that would mean anything to you. The note, the car, the couch, the drinks, the textbook–all things you went over and over again in your head, but couldn’t quite figure out what path they were inescapably leading towards. Spontaneity may have been your downfall here, as one unexpected factor revealed on the tape could change the direction the night had gone in. Wally reclaimed his seat on the couch, directly next to you. The tape whirred in the machine as its innards stretched and rolled around various corners to relay its evidence of last night.

The first minutes are nothing much to gawk at. Wally showed himself recording in a mirror, seemingly testing out the device until a knock played out. Holding the camera at chest height during your conversation, he answered his front door as expected. You exchanged greetings and he welcomed you inside.

“Where is everyone?” Watching the recording of yourself felt different. It wasn’t weird or confusing, but you started to notice things about yourself that you wish you could have done in a better manner. 

Wally was hidden behind the camera as he spoke, keeping it focused on you. Maybe that’s why you noticed everything–because it was how he had seen it last night. His voice was louder than yours when he spoke thanks to how close the microphone on the camera was to him. “Oh, they’ll be here later. Is that good with you?” 

“That’s fine. We’ll get a jump on studying.”

You wanted to cringe, is this how you really acted? Nervous and far too afraid to make a move that you sold yourself as a complete loser to compensate for it. This was a part you painfully remembered from last night but it looked better from your perspective. Looking at the observer to your right, he looked content with himself and the product he created. 

You tried to hint that you wanted the jock to fast forward through this preluding embarrassment without giving away how you felt. If you were going to get embarrassed by things from last night, you might as well have seen the worst of it first. “Worst movie ever.” 

“Ouch. Does that make me a bad director?” He played along.

“I think it’s just too boring, plus that one actor can’t say his lines right even if the script was in that book.” You note the textbook that you’re still holding on the screen, clutching it as if it were some kind of last-resort barrier between you and Wally. You refused to pay attention to what you were saying, so as not to feel more embarrassed. Thankfully, the director kept commentating over his home movie.

His gaze doesn’t break from the screen. “Harsh critic, I like it. Let me know what you think of the other lead, he seems pretty handsome.” 

“It’s pretty bold to have the director star in his own film.”

“You’ll come around to the casting choices. There’s one scene later on that will blow your mind,” he smirked, looking over to you.

These were all things you remembered, and he didn’t seem to get the hint, so you asked him to skip ahead outright. “Mind fast-forwarding? To the good parts, I mean.”

Wally’s smirk dropped and he went back to following your command. He was supposed to be the one helping you live through your irretrievable actions, “Yeah, tell me when.”

Wally peeled himself from the couch, reaching for the remote and hitting one button on it a few times. The footage relayed across the screen became as much of a blur as it felt in your head. The speedy actions and jumps from when Wally would occasionally stop recording felt disorienting, but you noticed a brief flash of an alcohol bottle between shaky shots, “There!”

Wally’s stunning looks were on screen, and you deduced that you held the camera this time. You were in his kitchen, just one room over from his living room with a doorway connecting the two. The doorway, it was visible from your spot on the couch, located to the left of the television stand. Seeing the perspective of the camera made you think that you were standing relatively within the doorway, and Wally stood surrounded by the U-shape of his counter. The pearly white gloss of the counter reminded you of his smile–wide, perfect, everywhere. 

The man with those pearly whites ducked below the counter to fetch a bottle of vodka–the sound of a small, whirring machine halting as a door opened played through the screen, suggesting that the Clarks had embellished a wine cooler into their base cabinets. Then, he reached up high to a pantry cabinet emerging from the wall, pulling out two shot glasses. The detail was fuzzy, but you could make out some various juices and zests already prepared for all the woo-woos and cold ducks two rebellious teenagers could want. 

“What unit are we on again?” He asked, trying to make small talk.

You reminded him of what the teacher had written in chalk weeks ago. “Interpersonal attraction.”

“What’s that? I totally studied it, I just… forgot.” He said it as if it wasn’t his fault, and it still sounded virtuous as it re-rang in your ear from the stereo. A thought crossed your mind, that, maybe it wasn’t. He excelled at football and could get into college on that, so long as he steered clear of any injuries that would hold him back, which would mean that his grades just had to be good enough. Maybe he was simply a product of his environment, and you couldn’t really blame him for that.

“When someone only sees the positive side of things in a relationship,” you answered.

“I think this study session is going great.” He said while pouring the vodka into both shot glasses. He filled one higher than the other and rounded the counter with both in hand.

“That’s not it, and it really isn’t. We haven’t even gotten to the hard stuff yet.”

“I said I needed something to help us study. I positively think this will loosen you up a little.” Wally offered one of the shots to you, the last frame holding on his charming face.

The camera cut and the scenery around it changed again, but to something familiar. You were back in the living room you currently watched the tape in, but the table in front of you had been moved off to the side. His camera laid on top of it, capturing you and Wally sitting and facing each other, with your textbook on the ground, filling the distance between you and him. The bottle of alcohol had the cap twisted off, resting upright next to Wally, some cut-up limes scattered on a plate next to that, and your shot glasses next to them. Due to the quality of the camera, you couldn’t quite tell how much of the bottle was empty until Wally picked it up. 

The angle at which he held it while decanting some into his glass answered your question. You and he must have made a dent in the bottle at that point, and your guard was likely lowered as you felt extremely comfortable around Wally. He topped off the shot glass with the clear courage. “If I get this wrong, this one’s yours.”

Expectedly, the question you fired his way was not met with an acceptable answer. Your mind was trying to think of each question like a teacher, how they would accept and consider his answer compared to other students’ responses. As you drank more due to his inability to take the class seriously, you started to slip away from that teacher mentality. This wasn’t the first time he wagered this bet, and it wasn’t the first time he lost, either. Whether it was intentional or on purpose, you held up your end of it. The video showed you preparing yourself for the shot, shaking out a smattering of salt from the castor, and readying yourself to drop the shot glass and lurch for the lime. Your hands felt almost shaky at his failure, knowing that you were bound to mess up the order of the steps.

He talked you through each step.

“Salt…” You could taste it on your tongue, even now. The same could be said for the saliva left on your hand from where you poured the salt out at.

“The shot…” The cold, thick rim of the glass felt indented into your lips. The feeling of the liquid going down your throat, burning as the dehydration set in lingered just the same.

“Then lime! Oh, yeah!” Wally cheered, looking proud of the teacher he had become to you.

You took a moment to let it sink in. Warmth on your face, soon to be everywhere. Courage building up from nothing into something that would perforate the cover of embarrassment.

Then, you looked down at the textbook. Your eyes alternated the pages beyond pages of information at your hands, having so much to pull from that you undoubtedly knew would be regurgitated on to the test, just less profoundly worded than its primary form. When you looked back up. . . had Wally always looked like that? His dark hair looked darker, and softer, like a fuzzy void to rake your fingers through. He did it just as the thought crossed your mind. No doubt he had to be feeling it, the way the buzz started to become the only voice in your head–a voice without reason, a voice known for speaking its mind.

“What three things make up the triangular theory of love?” You would have said it while halfway out the door, ready for embarrassment and tripping over your wordless apologies on the way out, but you were far too deep into his den to leave.

The answer was simple, and through the haze of last night, you still knew it–intimacy, passion, and commitment. Instead, he said, “You, me, naked.”

As you watched over yourself, you were taken aback by hearing his advances. But you were more ashamed of how you completely brushed it off less than a moment later. “Intimacy is one of them, yeah.”

“Okay, smart guy. I want to see you mess all these up.” He teased.

“You’re on.” He turned the textbook around so that it faced him, on your agreement.

“What is…” He flicked through a few pages and scanned over them briefly. “The reinforcement theory?”

“Uh, it’s when the person gets out something of equal or fair value in relation to what they put in.” You said, reciting it almost word-for-word as it was described on the page.

“Can you give me an example?”

It was hard not to utter the answer to yourself like you were watching a contestant on a game show, but even this one knew the million-dollar dinger. “An employee stays at their job because the pay–”

“A real example.” He interrupted. “Say… I kissed you. What could I get outta that?”

The confident and guided version of yourself from last night stood on their knees, almost crawling over to him as they could hardly keep themselves balanced. They looked so foreign yet so familiar–it was you without layers of fear and cowardice covering your most intimate feelings. Silence fell over the two of you as you fell into him, and then, the soft sound of kissing and pulling away played from the TV. The kiss felt straight out of a rom-com rental, but the moments following were pure and unabashed the-cashier-is-sure-to-check-your-ID-at-the- checkout pornography; you could tell when Wally’s jumper came off, and the kiss started to feel more heated than your face from the alcohol.

Next to you, you felt Wally slump forward on the couch, jutting out his hips. Your eyes stayed glued to the screen, almost entranced by what was happening, until you heard the sound of a zipper being undone. In your peripheral sights, Wally’s hands had undone his fly and the button of his jeans.

“Do you mind?” He asked. For a moment, you thought he meant the video. How he captured both of you embracing each other in a way that would be shown in Health class in the near future, likely titled Everything Not to Do In Sex. The headliner would be something along the lines of where not to touch your partner, as the actions playing out on screen were messy due to inexperience and the disorienting relaxation of being under the influence. He would probably end the viewing session by asking to smash the tape in his backyard or something along those lines, not what he had done instead.

“What–holy shit.” You turned to see his light blue denim and dark red boxers bunched further down along his thighs. He had his cock out, toying with it while it was still soft. His heavy balls sat low enough to rest on the cool leather of his brown couch, being pulled up as he tugged on his dick.

“What?” He refused to stop moving his hand. He kept going, almost at a faster pace when his eyes locked on to you in the present. Maybe you had everything all wrong. Wally wasn’t looking at this with regret, he wanted to enjoy last night. You knew he didn’t fully regret everything, as he stated earlier, but you thought he meant that he learned so much or had a fun night. Not this, and not with you of all people. What you were looking at felt like the result of a cheerleader helping the Split River Devils celebrate their big win of the night. 

Your hand pointed out to the image displayed on the screen. Your eyes never once broke from his gaze as you spoke, “It’s me–it’s us–on screen.”

“I know,” he said. His voice stayed the same throughout. 

You couldn’t fathom it–he liked it. “And you’re getting off to this?”

“We make a pretty good pair!” He tried to justify himself, finally breaking from the nonchalance to sound happy about it. You assumed that he must have not cared about whether or not you agreed with him, because he stood up seconds later. “Fuck, I have to make this feel better…” 

You heard his footsteps grow quieter as he left the room, then returned with what sounded like a spring in his step. His dick flopped up and down as he paced around the couch and back to his proclaimed seat on the couch. In his hand is a silvery Pringles Light potato chip canister, emptied of its retail packaging and filled with two halves of a sponge to make a slit in the middle. “I’ve been blue-balling all morning since I saw this…” 

And, suddenly, it became very, very real. He reached for some hand lotion on the table, squirting it into his fleshjack and then into his hand. He lathered the glob on his length, his hand finding a way to spread it along himself with only a few tugs. It was a sign that he was all for it, and you decided that you were, too. Before he could get too far into pleasuring himself, you offered him your hand. You placed it on his thigh, unsure of how far to go that would be considered too close. “I could help.”

“Really? No pressure or anything. I didn’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you, uh, see yourself doing.” He looked at the television again, and you thought that he might be right. If you felt differently about what you did last night after everything had already happened, you could leave. You could pretend that last night and the ensuing morning had never happened, and you could look at Wally the same as you always had–an unattainable crush. 

“Really.” You affirmed, completely sure of doing something that you would never forget. The confidence from last night returned, your hand gravitating to his lotioned skin. It had barely sunk in, and it was slick on your hand, emitting a wet cry and earning a moan from Wally. You would have thought the lotion became astringent, as Wally’s thighs tensed and his breathing hitched.

“Are you okay?” You asked, hand freezing all movement on his warmth, but never letting go of it.

“Yeah, I’m just used to my hand doing this part.” He became familiar with it quickly, though. Your hand made haste with the motions of jerking him off. Wally tried to level himself out by slumping further down on the couch, making himself more of a flat canvas for your designs. “But I could get used to this.”

There was one feeling he couldn’t get enough of, though. As your hand skimmed up and down his shaft, it occasionally slipped up over the head of his mushroom tip and teased the sensitive surface. Every time that your hand happened to find its way to his peaking pleasure, his hips jerked up and brought your hand down his shaft, like a drop tower that wasn’t quite ready to plummet into the needy feelings of release. Wally groaned, his head rolling back on the upholstered support backing the leather backrest. His flipped cap nearly got pulled off the top of his head, a sign that could’ve been looked at as him losing his mind over how good it all felt.

You looked over at the screen, seeing things take a sharp turn as you had your legs spread over Wally’s thighs. His legs stuck out, used to the kind of stretching he found himself doing on the field for football practice, and you sat squarely on his upper thighs. One hand stayed glued to his face and slid down to his neck as you explored five percent of the surface, and your other hand journeyed into the deep blue of his jeans. The same hand cupped his growing heat; you could remember the faintest feelings of it now. When he became too big, too rigid for your hand to mold and keep from slipping through your fingers, your hand emersed from his denim confines. The motion kept flowing, though, when your ass had found a way to push him down as he presumably pushed up, an action you felt ready to mimic. His rudimentary fleshlight wouldn’t have to leave him wanting more, and you were sure to make it known.

While he was no longer new in the box, the barrier between the two of you gone and discarded in the recycling, you felt comfortable choosing to come out of yours. “I think I want you to fuck me.” 

Just as you were about to step out of its confines, his words snaked around your wrists and tied you down to the box’s cardboard backing. Your motivation was restrained from where he drew the line. “Yeah, you might just want to use that sweet hand for now…” 

“Why?” 

“Uh, last night… we kind of did anal,” he groaned out. Suddenly, there was a cry from the TV that was unmistakably your voice, “I want you to fuck me!” Wally cleared his throat, “No, we definitely did.”

He stared down the television, entranced by its contents in a matter of seconds. The exact thing he said started to unfold. In the drunken misguidance, he had forgone lube to make the blur tinting his hindsight go a little bit faster. He carried the camera along his body until he held it in front of his face like he had when he first greeted you at the door. There was a slow, disorienting rise as he stood, showing just how tall he was. It was like the peak of the drop tower, when your stomach would twist into knots from knowing what was about to happen. You moved into frame, rubbing the bulge in his jeans as your hands rounded the waistband around to his backside, pulling his denim down.

From the view of its eye, it peered down at his torso wrapped in green knits, his cock quickly springing out and sharing the stage with your face right next to it. It was clear that your box had been perforated, and he was the cause of it.

“Oh, oh fuck. This is my favorite part–too bad my dick looks so fucking small. The TV just doesn’t do it justice, I mean come on! Look at how big it is!” 

He must have been referring to the lingering shot of his dick. The camera was still panned down from Wally’s perspective to show his cock at full fuckable potential. He got up and stood next to the image of his dick, comparing the two. Just the sight of the one on his TV made you nervous, but shifting your gaze slightly reminded you that he was painfully bigger than he looked on camera. Eight millimeters of a film reel was such a small space to capture such a big thing on screen, and his twenty-six-inch TV could only do so much to blow up the image.

The picture went dark, and black filled the screen. Wally covered the camera and gave you stage directions on the tape. “Get on the couch, all fours. No. Yeah, yeah–like that.”

You felt a warmth press into your side, Wally rejoining you on the couch again. He held his hands up in the air like he was guilty of a charge you weren’t pressing, “Sorry, not my best work, I know.”

His hand pulled away from the lens. The quality was hazy, indiscernible in some things that it captured as the kitchen light behind Wally blocked his face. But you’re on full display, arching into his touch. 

Wally tugged on his cock a few times before seizing all movement, “I could take you up on a handy–fuck, maybe a beej?”

“It might not feel as good as, you know.” You said, quickly averting your eyes from the television by fully shifting your body around and onto the floor. His legs were spread by habit but were now parted by necessity as you kneeled between them.

“A hole’s a hole, I won’t complain.” 

His gaze only rested on you for a second, to line himself up at the sweet spot. The point of entry, a familiar place for his dick–your body–but a new place to explore–your mouth. He made sure you were on track to take him all the way down without teeth or a gag reflex getting in the way. One trip down to the base of his cock and he was already looking away, continuing the motion with a more forceful pace to make up for what he was missing.

He looked head-on at the sex tape, seeing the view of the camera as he tried to evoke as much of the feelings from last night from its point of view. Wally imagined the wet, shlurking mouth in front of him was your hole, ready to give the same abuse he gave to your ass last night. Kind words echoed from the TV. He was talking you through the pain and happily giving you pleasure when you started bouncing on his cock. He planned to mimic it at the moment, spouting on about ‘how good you took him’ and praises alike.

Then, he saw himself slamming his hips into you on the screen, your ass smacking against his hips in a way that really demonstrated just how fast he was going. Coupling it with your cries to go ‘harder!’ as you took him, he did it from your past command. You couldn’t speak with a mouthful of him, but he treated it as something you wanted now. Wally shot up from the couch, standing and taking you with him. 

His eyes were trained on the screen, moaning as his hands took over from your control. In your peripheral vision, he had propped a leg up on the coffee table to fuck, not just guide you down his length. He would have done the same with his fleshlight and your hole–bending them over the table and fucking them senseless. Your mouth, and now as he reached it, your throat, were treated like those two. His hiked leg flexed and he jutted his hips forward, his pubes bristling your nose and his swinging balls plapping against your chin. Soon, as he plowed your mouth, the sound of him face-fucking you overtook the sex on the screen.

It wasn’t until the sound of you blowing a load of hot white over his chest as he did the same inside of you did he feel fully immersed in last night’s acts. He buried himself deep in your throat one final time and made you swallow what you could, taking a minute to register that he wasn’t fucking your ass.

His hands let go of your head and you pulled off, his come running down your chin and dripping onto him and the carpet. “Jesus, that was a lot…”

Wally handed you some tissues that he must have been expecting to use after watching this tape–since this wasn’t a film worth crying over–and patted the spot on the couch next to him. “How do you feel? Sorry if that was too rough.”

“You’re good, just throw in a warning next time?” You took a few tissues out of the box and cleaned up what you could. Wally filled his expected place on the couch, redressing himself quickly. He leaned towards the table he had just finished using as leverage to fuck your mouth with to get the remote. Silence filled the room as he paused the last few minutes of the tape.

“Deal,” he agreed. You took a seat in his lap this time after cleaning up, “So, is the ending gonna ruin the whole thing?”

“I, I wouldn’t recommend watching it.”

“Seriously? We basically watched the whole thing, let’s see it!” You took the remote from him, hitting the button shaped like a triangle to let it play.

Wally started speaking almost right after the sex on-camera was over, “How do you feel? Owned? Like a good boy–” 

Wally lifted the neck of his letterman, burying his face into it as he heard himself say those words. It was good to know he wasn’t happy about everything from last night, but you kind of liked hearing him say it. At least you had proof to get him to do it again.

You were quick to cut him off, though. “Like I’m gonna hurl.”

You swiped the remote from the table, pausing it just as you walked out of frame. “I left because I puked?” “Motion sickness. My fault, some people just can’t handle a long ride.”

[xoxodivine]

ACADEMIC RIVALS | FUSHIGURO MEGUMI x READER

summary: reader is annoyed particularly after their classmate megumi copies their answer. they have a rivalry that carries into high school, something shocking is revealed about megumi

content warnings: light n' slight cursing, reader is lowkey petty and a bully, first story ever type writing

NEW SCHOOL, Same bullshit. Same lame ass teachers that think they know every damn thing, Same students forced to be in a legal prison for 7 hours straight, Same assignments that take longer to finish than the class, and same stupid icebreaker questions no one cares about. It is only your third or fourth year in elementary school, and you already want to graduate college. Maybe if you're smart enough I can graduate extremely early and leave this school that's full of sh- "We're waiting for your answer" You spaced out again? that's like the fifth time today "I'm sorry, what was the question?" You were so wrapped up in your thoughts about graduating you forgot to listen for your name for icebreaker questions.  

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" Easy question. "A doctor" It has been your dream career since you were 5. You've always wanted to be a doctor for as long as you can remember, it was the reason you pushed so hard in school despite being in the third grade. "Wow, our first doctor! Wonderful choice." You felt special that you were the only person who said you wanted to be a doctor. It was granted since most people in the class had stupid answers like "A fairy princess" or "A dog". Yeah, the kids in your class were that dumb. "Ok, last person. Megumi, what do you want to be when you grow up?"  

Megumi? That's a dumb name. He wasn't difficult to spot because anytime someone's name was called the whole class would stare at them. He looked like he wasn't paying attention at first, looking out the window. He was the supposed "smart kid" of the class. Not smarter than you of course but to you he just looked quiet. He also looks like he would pick his nose to be honest but hey, don't judge a book by its cover? He stuttered as he spoke, "uhm...uh a doctor?"  

Who does this kid think he is? He just stole your answer. You just heard this kid speak and you’ve already decided he’s your biggest enemy. “Oh, now there’s two doctors in the class.” No there’s not. This wannabe will never be a doctor. He wishes he was me. “Alright class, take out your notebooks and we’ll start the lesson for today.” You turned to look at him with a stank face which doesn’t go unnoticed by him. He furrows his eyebrows at you in confusion and you mouth to him “I hate you.” 

And that’s all it took for your rivalry to start. It was always a competition with the two of you. Although Megumi was a smart kid, you were smarter. For example, he might know grass is green, but you knew it was chlorophyll that made it green. He could be able to the time on a digital clock, but you could tell the time with an analog clock with roman numerals.  

After that day in third grade, you’ve both spoken 264 words to each other within the years you guys have known each other. A few exchanged that time you bumped into each other in the hallways which was dismissed with a “Oh, my bad” and “Watch where you’re going”. The other 254 being when you had a science project with him which your teacher conveniently paired the both of you together. 

 Was this “rivalry” really because he said he wanted to be a doctor back in the third grade? Sadly yes. You both are in your first year of high school and you still haven’t let it go. But in all honestly, Megumi hopes you don’t let it go. Before your rivalry, he never really felt a reason to go above and beyond in school. If he had A’s and B’s, he was set for the year. However, you pushed him to do better, seeing as you were always competing. He does think the reason this started is stupid. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

The reason for that isn’t just because of his grades improving, It’s also because he’s madly in love with you. 

xoxodivine©

[spideystevie]

and if i say 3 w hangman 🤭🤭🤭 or 12 w rooster just bc i think thatd be the funniest god damn thing - vinny xx

vinny!!!! went with the hangman (but if u send another with rooster i’ll write it) and this got way out of hand fast i simply couldn’t help it. enjoy <3 (1.4k) 

3. smiling into a kiss

Jake Seresin didn’t get nervous. 

Well, maybe that’s not true. There was that time he got so nervous in the fourth grade before a math test that he thought he might throw up. He was nervous before his first time flying a jet, even more nervous when he went through his first bird strike. 

So maybe Jake did get nervous but only with things that mattered a lot to him, and he hid it well. If someone could read that he was nervous, then that meant they could see right through him and that terrified him.

The point is, Jake Seresin didn’t get nervous. Especially not when it came to flirting and charming his way with somebody. And then he met you.

It was a little intimidating being new in a city you didn’t know. Even more intimidating when your first job in the city is bartending at the local Navy bar. But you needed the money and Penny was welcoming and kind. 

You considered yourself to be a fast learner, able to catch on to how the Hard Deck ran and keeping track of the regulars. Despite it all, your first Friday shift was a learning curve you hadn’t quite anticipated. It wasn’t that it was hard, it was just busy. The constant flow of people to and from the bar kept you moving and occupied but it left you entirely overwhelmed, even with Penny and Jimmy there to help you out. 

Jake can tell you’re a little frazzled the closer he gets to the bar even though you’re trying your best to hide it. You’re smiling at customers and engaging in conversation with them when you can but there’s a bit of a rushed movement in your hands and your hair’s started to get a little messy. 

He leans against the bar, not really in any hurry to get another round for him and Coyote. You see him out of your peripherals and excuse yourself from your conversation to help. But when you open your mouth to speak, Penny fills the beat of silence. 

“Hangman,” she greets and he nods in acknowledgment, a smile on his face that’s all charm. You swallow. “Two more?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, though he’s looking at you when he does. His voice is warm in your ears and you blink at him, hardly registering Penny disappearing behind you. His eyes look you over, purely observational he insists in his head. 

“Is that your callsign?” you ask once you find your voice. Jake hums, his brows arching as he leans forward more against the bar. “Hangman? Your callsign?”

“That’s me,” his smile morphs into something more of a smirk. You’ve forgotten that it’s the evening rush, even just for a moment when he asks you for your name. Your smile is almost shy when you tell him and he repeats it to himself. “You can call me Jake.”

“Jake,” you repeat, lips involuntarily curling into a small smile. He grins. 

Penny returns not a second later with two new bottles of beer and you watch his fingers wrap around the necks of both of them. A drop of condensation rolls off the side of a bottle and onto the bar. “Thanks, Pen!”

Penny smiles and nods before she goes to walk away. She nudges your shoulder almost playfully, maybe even a silent encouragement as she walks past. You try not to feel too flustered as you look over your shoulder at her, fully expecting Hangman to have disappeared when you turn back around. 

He hasn’t and your eyes widen only slightly when you see him. Jake’s not sure why he’s lingering, especially when he’s got drops of water sliding onto his fingers from the beers and the knowledge that Coyote is waiting for him back at the dartboard. 

It was something about you that kept him in place. It could’ve been your smile or the way your voice sounded when you said his callsign or maybe it was because you were so pretty that he couldn’t help but look. There’s a prick against one of his nerves and suddenly they’re all alert beneath his skin. 

He feels nervous standing in front of you and he’s confused because he’s never like this when he finds someone attractive. He had no problem being charming and suave, the right words hanging out of his lips. And yet, he couldn’t seem to find a single thread of thought when you turned back around. 

“Need anything else?” you tilt your head and he simply smiles and shakes his head.

“Nope,” he pushes himself off the bar. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, face scrunching when he turns away from your view feeling like he could’ve come up with something a little more charming than that. You watch him walk away and disappear into the throngs of people. Your body feels warm and your chest feels like there’s a swarm in it as you slide down the bar to take someone else’s order.

It goes like that for a few weeks. A simple, almost hidden flirtatious back and forth across the bar. Jake feels like he’s sixteen again around you, fumbling over words every once and a while. You never seem to care, eyes twinkling whenever he manages to offhandedly charm you. 

He thinks he’s back in fourth grade again, right before that math test, when he decides to ask you on a date. A foreign feeling of giddiness takes over when you agree, beaming the whole time. He can’t remember the last time he liked someone the way he likes you and it feels thrilling, it feels like the high points of flying a jet.

Jake thinks he’s back in that moment right before he flew a jet for the first time when the day of your date finally rolls around. You seem prettier than ever when he picks you up, a glow like moonlight illuminating you when you see him. 

To his relief, it all goes swimmingly. You hold his hand walking from the car to the restaurant for dinner and his nerves seem to wane the more the night unfolds, fading like the sun in the sky at sunset. It’s when the two of you impulsively end up at the beach, the sun starting to set, that they seem to return tenfold.

Because in the glow of the setting sun, you look even more like something from a dream. He can’t stop thinking about how right it feels when your fingers fit in the spaces between his, or how melodic your laugh sounds when he shares an old story from flight school. Truthfully, he can’t stop thinking about kissing you with the crashing waves in the background and the sand under your feet.

He tries to ignore it, tries to push the nerves and everything to the side but he can’t help it. One of his hands comes to hold the side of your face and he hopes you don’t notice the slight nervous tremor. His hand is warm against your cheek and you can’t help yourself from leaning into his palm. 

A sticky affection seeps into his chest at the sight of you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. You follow the motion, your eyes blinking back up to meet his gaze. The two of you pull together like magnets until your noses brush. You think the anticipation might kill you. 

“Can I..” his voice is impossibly quiet and he doesn’t finish his question, but you understand. You nod once, heart pounding against your ribs. His lips meet yours and you nearly sigh against him, your hand coming to hold the front of his shirt. 

Your head feels like it’s spinning from the feel of his lips pressed to yours. A tender push against yours, confident and sure that you welcome with ease. It’s hard not to let your lips curl up at the corners, a smile rounding your cheeks.

It feels like your stomach does a nosedive when you feel his smile grow against your own. Something so inherently warm and affectionate about not wanting to pull back even when it’s getting harder and harder to keep your lip pressed together.

You don’t know who relents first, maybe it was a mutual thing, but your faces are beaming. Radiant and shining, rivaling the morning sun when it peeks over the horizon. Jake’s dimple pops at the corner of his mouth and your thumb almost instinctively brushes over it. 

Jake Seresin didn’t get nervous, but he’d welcome the anticipatory feeling everytime if it meant he was met with a kiss from you.

[candidateofloyalty]

In my mind the Persona trilogy protagonists are all top of their class but their methods and attitudes towards it vary wildly, so like Kotone was a decent student before coming to Tatsumi Port Island but then Mitsuru makes a comment about grades early on and Kotone dedicates herself to becoming top of the class without apparently trying just out of spite. She'll invite the group to Tartarus saying it's to train whoever isn't on the main fighting force but then she spends the whole time listening to audiobooks and vaguely waving her spear at shadows.

Makoto I think has mastered the art of putting in as little effort as possible for a grade. Does one class's homework in another class so he doesn't have to do it at home; half the time this is the period before the homework is due. He knows how to pad an essay and make it look like you're just being thorough about your research, netting you bonus points for less thought. It would be infuriating if he ever called anyone's attention to his scores but he's just coasting along.

Yu is a nerd. This kid organizes study sessions with his friends and takes notes in class and no one thinks twice about his grades because obviously.

Ren wanted to give off that impression when he first arrived at Shujin, visibly studying in the library and all, but he very quickly stops caring about that again now that he has friends and his reputation doesn't matter to him. What he also has is an excellent memory for trivia and a knack for bullshitting. He reads a book about shogi to try to impress Hifumi and two months later he finds a way to make a shogi analogy while explaining something in class that obscures the fact that he's parroting what the teacher just said. (This also drives Akechi crazy, because Akechi will painstakingly decide his stance through research and then Ren will go "well I don't know about that exact thing, but" and then somehow have an angle that Akechi didn't know about. Someday Ren will chain himself through three different fun facts and only hold back from a fourth when Akechi "jokingly" threatens to throttle him.)

[sommerflue-22]

Childhood Crush | Muichiro Tokito

Yuichiro version

Featuring: Muichiro Tokito, Yuichiro Tokito, aged up!Muichiro

Content Warning: gn!reader, modern setting, fluff, annoying grade schooler behavior ew, but happy ending (sort of), not beta read

Word Count: 1.3k

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A/n: I just finished my thesis but I'm still waiting for feedbacks from my professor. This is a warm up piece before I get back to my other writings. Still, I hope you enjoy~

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On your fourth grade, the teacher assigned you to sit next to Yuichiro. Being Yuichiro's seatmate was alright, but sometimes he could get a little snappy. Especially when something happened to him during recess (probably couldn't make another kid the "it" while playing tag). So you let him be most of the time.

You didn't know Yuichiro had a twin brother until one day he didn't come to school because of the flu. You didn't pay him any mind but you were shocked when you saw "him" going to the restroom. You weren't exactly his close friend, so you just waited outside until "he" finished.

Afraid and in shock, you paced back and forth in front of the restroom. What if something bad happened to Yuichiro and his spirit had come to haunt you? You were so ready to run to your homeroom class if "Yuichiro" didn't come out in five minutes.

Bless your poor innocent soul because "Yuichiro" did come out. Nothing prepared him for being trapped in a kabedon position by you.

"Teacher said you're sick! Why are you here?!"

"What do you mean I'm sick--"

"I didn't see you the whole day!"

"Huh?"

"You're not a ghost, right?"

He tilted his head, "Oh, I think you're mistaken. I'm Mui. Yui's at home. He is sick."

And that was how you met Muichiro.

You learned that Muichiro was Yuichiro's younger twin brother. He's from another class, but after knowing you he often visited your class to chat with you and Yuichiro.

Unlike Yuichiro, Muichiro was friendlier. He let you braid his hair, lent you his blueberry-scented eraser, and even taught you how to draw Pikachu. Muichiro also let you call him Mui. He told you only his family and closest friends called him that, so it made you feel special.

Mui was a soft boy. You sat with him during recess and talked about random things. Cartoon, what you wanted to be when you grow up, doctor appointment, tooth fairy...

You didn't really know when did it happen the first time, but one day you looked at him and thought "Wow, Mui's really pretty."

You started braiding his long, black hair more often, told him more jokes to make him laugh, drew him a lot (and by a lot, I mean a lot) of his favorite cartoon characters. They were bad, you couldn't really tell which character you drew, but Muichiro always thanked you.

You'd like to think that maybe Muichiro did like you too. He would hold your hand when you both were running down the hallway, playing tag with the other kid. He would also give you random things he found like flowers, marbles, stickers from kids magazines.

You didn't remember every little things that happened between the two of you, but you did remember that Muichiro brightened your days and made your school years more memorable.

By the time you started the 6th grade, though, everything went downhill. A few kids noticed your little crush for Muichiro. However, as we all know, grade schoolers can be a little mean. They started to tease you. You were afraid that Muichiro would find out and stopped being your friends.

The thing was, those little rascals couldn't tell the difference between Muichiro and Yuichiro. Since the fifth grade, the twins had been put in the same homeroom class. Differentiating them became more difficult for kids who weren't their friends.

You were visiting their class one morning, looking for Muichiro. You met Yuichiro instead. You could tell it was him, because he didn't immediately talk about the latest episode of that one cartoon you liked.

"Hi, Yuichiro. Where's Mui?"

"He forgot his lunchbox so he's waiting for our mom--"

"Ew, Tokito! Stop flirting with them! It's not even the first period yet!"

You froze in your place as Yuichiro turned to the kid who jeered at you both. "What did you say?"

"Eh? Aren't you two dating?"

"(Y/N) likes you, Tokito!"

You couldn't meet Yuichiro's eyes as he stared down at you, "You like me?"

"N-no... I... It's not..."

"(Y/N)?" A hand was placed on your shoulder, "Are you okay? Yui, why are you staring at (Y/N) like that?"

You lifted your gaze and sure, Mui was back with a lunchbox on his hand. "M-Mui, I..."

"Oh, shit!" "Oi, language!" "Oh my, I think we got the wrong Tokito twin!" "Does it matter? They look the same!" "Which one do you actually like, (Y/N)?" "Yeah, which one is more handsome?" "You can tell them apart? Cool!" "Pick one, (Y/N)" "Yeah, pick one!" "Pick one! Pick one! Pick one!"

As the kids chanted, you frantically look around trying to find an escape. You were panicking, afraid, annoyed, so you couldn't think straight. You looked at Yuichiro and he looked back at you in (what you thought was) disgust. You turned to Muichiro who was just staring at you, wide eyes, lips parted like he was about to say something.

You couldn't hold it any longer so you just cried, which made a few of the kids laugh.

"(Y/N)..." Muichiro placed his hand back to your shoulder, trying to calm you down.

"Stay away, Mui!"

"But (Y/N)..."

"I said stay away!" You shoved past him and pushed the other kids out of your way as you ran out of the classroom.

Ever since that day, you stopped seeing both Muichiro and Yuichiro. Other kids still teased you but they gradually stopped because they found another target to bug. You didn't even say anything to them during the graduation ceremony, even though you could feel Muichiro's eyes on your back.

Things got better when you started middle school because you moved to another town. A start fresh, exactly what you needed. You thought you would find someone new there, but to no avail, your mind kept wandering back to a familiar pair of mint green eyes and gleeful laugh.

You gave up trying to find a lover, and sailed through high school and first two years of uni without sparing a thought for teenage romance.

That was until you found him, tracing his fingers on the spines of the library books. His hair was still as long as you could remember, the only thing different was the mint green ombre. The library was off-limit for outsiders, so he must be a student. How could you not see him before around the campus?

You realized you've stared at him for too long because the next thing you knew, he was staring back at you.

"(Y/N)?" His eyes widened.

"Uhh... hi...?" You let out a nervous laugh. "Long time no see... uh..."

His eyes softened and his lips quirked up. "It's Mui."

"Yeah... should've known it's you. Yuichiro hates me, so he wouldn't greet me like that."

"What makes you think so?"

"You know... when that happened..."

"Ah, yeah. The fuckening."

Muichiro cursing was something you did not expect, which made you snort. "The fuckening, indeed."

"Don't worry, he doesn't hate you. We were wondering, though..."

"Eh?"

"...which one of us did you fancy?"

You wanted the floor to swallow you whole right then and there. Even though it had been eight years, you couldn't help but blush. Muichiro waited patiently, holding back a giggle as he watched you struggle.

"W-well, wasn't it o-obvious..."

Muichiro tilted his head. He walked towards you and ruffled your hair. God, you didn't even notice how tall he had grown.

"If you're still up for it now... and if you're free... we can grab a coffee. My treat. I'm sure drawing each other deformed Pikachu and Princess Peach doesn't count as a date now."

You sighed, trying to control your heartbeat. Mui chuckled again and waited for your answer.

"Y-yeah, I'd love to."

"Okay." He put his arm around your shoulder and led your hyperventilating ass out of the library.

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Read the sequel to this post here

A/n: Thank you for reading until the end! This is actually longer than what I was planning, so yay :D I've been thinking about aged up!Muichiro, so cool and pretty and tall and aaaaaaa >.< Anyway lemme know if you want me to write more aged up!Mui because I love him sm T^T

[fadingdaggerr]

Hey can I request a melissa schemmenti x femreader based on season two episode 1.where maybe the reader is rlly stressed out and maybe she can’t park bc Ava is using her parking spot to celebrate the eagles game and maybe mr Johnson comes into to tell the reader her is getting toed away so her,Melissa and the other teachers run outside and maybe the reader is getting angry and shouting at the man,melissa is begging her to calm down.and then she does what Janine did in the actual episode and she gets in the car and try’s to drive off and everyone is telling her to stop and Melissa try’s to get her out the car and out of rage she kicks the car and hurts her foot and then maybe the reader storms back into the school and melissa goes to find her when the school day is over and the reader has a panic attack and Melissa comforts her. Tysm ❤️

delphinium blooms

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! i made little changes, mostly just so i wasn’t just rewriting janine’s scene but with r and mel but i hope you still like it :)

warnings: hurt/comfort, r has a morning of unfortunate events, r is kinda mean (to a man so it’s fine), stress/anxiety crying

note: i rewrote so much of this because i kept thinking of things and creating nonsense lmao but i had a lot of fun writing

development week has always been the calm before the storm. you had everything planned already: each month’s separate decor to keep a lively room, the giant drawing paper for the wall so students could doodle during free time (and you could proudly display their art), and even the seating chart was done. everything was perfect and in order, everything just needed to be set up.

but sometimes the storm comes before the calm, or the calm packs its things and jumps out of the moving car.

the coffee maker in your apartment died on you, only about half a cup of watery coffee in the bottom of the pot. you didn’t have the money, nor the time, to stop that the cafe one block over. rent’s more important, we can get coffee at work, you tell yourself. you soon found that it was nearly unbearable to eat breakfast without your coffee and splash of oat milk creamer. coffee and maybe breakfast at work, i guess.

at nine in the morning, there is a full-on barbecue in the parking lot of abbott elementary. janine’s parking spot was a grill station. your spot, which was two down from janine’s, was currently being used as a blow-up pool splash zone. you roll down your window when you see ava close by.

“ava! what the hell is this?” you yelled out your window.

“it’s a development day party!” the principal responded with a big, happy grin.

you sighed, “your party’s in my parking spot.”

“pay valet or park somewhere else, i have a party to host,” she waves you off as she turns to talk to whoever approached her. after a, give-or-take, nine hundred point turn, you parked your car on the street. you prayed to the meter-maid goddesses that you’d have time to move it before someone came and ticketed you.

you pulled box after box out of the backseat, stacking them in your arms, creating the leaning tower of heavy-as-shit. as you slowly walk towards the fourth grade classrooms, you top few boxes get lifted away, easing the load significantly. you look to see who it was, expecting gregory, but instead you’re met with jade green eyes and fiery hair.

“trynna show off carrying all these?” she says with a laugh.

you laugh with her, “oh, of course. how else am i going to impress the ladies?” melissa snorts a laugh at this, opening the door to your classroom and letting you in ahead of her.

“and who are these ladies?” she jests.

you look at her, taking in the smirk on her face before answering, “we both know it’s just the one.”

she helps you spread out the boxes and get everything open before asking, “ready to head to the opening meeting?”

“you mean the ava show?”

she laughs, “yeah, come on.”

—

you half-listen to ava’s little speech and flirts to gregory, your eyes trained on melissa’s rings instead of ava’s vacation photos. you only perked your head up when janine mentioned donuts at her little mixer.

“and why would i wanna go to that?” melissa answered janine, barbara nodding in agreement beside her.

“you said donuts?” you ask janine, she nods eagerly, “then count me in teagues, but if there’s no strawberry frosted i’m leaving.”

there was no strawberry frosted. you dropped into a seat next to melissa, who was happily eating a chocolate frosted donut. she sees your pout and offers you a bite, which you accept with a smile. she wiped a blue sprinkle that managed to land on your cheek, the action is enough to make you smile a bit, warmth spreading through your cheeks.

just when you think the worst part of the morning is over, the tried and true mr. johnson walks into the library.

“anyone drive a beat up sedan?” all the hands in the room rise up. “who drives a silver one?” less hands, but still a good amount. “one with a sticker that says ‘if you see this, thank a teacher’ on the bumper?”

janine pipes up, “oh that’s mine!”

“you’re getting boot on your car, young lady,” he answers, and janine immediately is running out with jacob, gregory, and barbara behind her.

“oh and anyone got a green sedan? little cat bobble head on the dash?” mr. johnson speaks up.

melissa turns to look at you before you say, “don’t tell me it’s being booted.”

“course not,” you sigh in minor relief, “you’re about to get towed.”

you’re immediately running out to your car, melissa hot on your trail. you get outside to see a boot placed on janine’s car and the tow guy is rigging your car to the truck.

“aye, back off the car! what are you doing?” you yell, getting close to the tow operator, eric.

“no parking zone, can you read? it’s for the buses. we’re pulling ya,” he says as he continues his work. you groan in anger, walking closer to the car where he had already hooked it up.

“what fucking buses? school hasn’t started yet,” you counter.

“it’s still a bus zone, and you’re still getting towed,” eric says.

before you start throwing hands with the guy, melissa steps in, “how much to not tow the car?”

he laughs, “you can get it back at the lot, should be two hundred. might be three for wasting my time. you’re not getting it back now, it’s parked illegally.”

you see red when he mentions raising the cost, you couldn’t even afford the original one, “wasting your time? your time?! i’m supposed to be in that building making lesson plans for children who will be here next week, and i’m wasting your time?”

“yeah, you are. now move your ass or i’ll move you,” the man answers angrily.

you bravely taunt him, “try then.”

“sweetheart…” melissa tries to reach for your arm, but you step just out of reach.

barbara and gregory say your name at the same time, both of their tones advising caution. melissa is stuck between wanting to help and letting you just handle it. she wearily watches as you squat down and start undoing clasps and hooks, taking the chains off the car. you’re movements are fast, getting two wheels free from the rigs.

“hey! you can’t be touching that!” eric yells once he hears the disconnect. he stomps over to you and grabs your arm, harshly yanking you away from the car with a tight grip. “stupid little shit,” he mutters.

“touch me again and i’ll break your fingers,” you threaten, and by the look on your face, melissa knows you’re serious. now is when she has to step in, she knows that much.

“twenty bucks says our scrappy-doo over here wins!” ava yells over, holding her phone up, ready to record if you followed through.

“not helping ava!” barbara and melissa shout at the same time.

melissa moves to gently wrap her arms around you from behind, pulling you away from your car and away from the tow guy. when you try to pull away, she tightens her hold, muttering to you to calm down and slow your breathing. you’re irritated, and melissa can feel you shaking against her. she knows you’re using your anger to coverup how much you want to cry.

once the car is all set, the man speaks to melissa only, “here’s the address of where to pick it up. and thanks for keeping your dog,” he pointedly looks at you, “on its leash.”

once he drives off with your car, melissa releases you slowly. your chest rises and drops with every unsteady breath, and you groan loudly. immediately, and without much thought, you repeatedly kick the stone wall around the entrance, even when pain strikes after the first one.

“sweetheart. baby, stop…” melissa grabs you again, “you’re going to hurt yourself.” barbara ushers away everyone else, giving the the redhead space to calm you.

it took a few moments for your breathing to slow, but when it stuttered, melissa turned you in her arms and hugged you tightly. your face instinctively tucked itself away in the junction of her neck and shoulder, your arms firm around her waist. you could feel her arm around your shoulders, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back and she swayed from side to side, in hopes the motion would help you focus your breathing.

“baby?” melissa asks with a hushed tone.

you pull away from her to sniffle but tuck back into her skin before answering, “i can’t afford a cup of coffee. i can’t afford a new coffee maker. i haven’t eaten since we had dinner last night. and this half-wit just stole my car and put it up for ransom, because there was a pool in my parking spot.”

the accumulation of everything from today being said aloud made fresh tears fall from your eyes. melissa held you tighter, whispering soothing words to you even if they fell on deaf ears. after you’ve calmed down again, she coaxes you back so you can see your face. her hands hold your face delicately, thumbs stroking away left behind tears.

“i will hand deliver you coffee every morning until you find a new coffee maker,” she says making you huff through your nose, “and i’ll buy you lunch, maybe make you dinner too, if you want,” she sees you perk up at the offer, “and i’ll stab a hole in the pool.” you laugh for real this time, making melissa smile. these days, she found that making you laugh was her favorite thing to do.

“what abo-” you start, but melissa cuts you off.

“oh, you’re not paying a dime,” you go to tell her not to pay it, but she’s ahead of you. “and neither am i, trust me. i could pull a uncle carlo and get them to give me three hundred bucks, for my time.”

you shake your head, “you bringing the bat or just that cute face?”

melissa cheeks grew rosy at your words, “you were crying five minutes ago and now you’re flirting?” you nod, biting your lip, but still waiting for an answer. she gives in, “the bat will be stay in the car unless they really deserve it. scout’s honor.”

you laugh and press a kiss to her cheek, mumbling against her skin, “thank you.”

she turns her face, pressing her forehead against yours with her eyes closed. she leans in and presses a sound, loving kiss to your lips, then your cheek, then the other, a final one placed on your forehead. she holds your face once more, “you needed me, and i was there. you don’t have to thank me, i love you. it’s what i’m supposed to do.”

you kiss her again, very quickly, then say, “i love you, too.”

—

after she bought you lunch, she didn’t drive you straight back to abbott. no, melissa was parked in front of market street towing company. she wordlessly got out of the car, but motioned for you to stay when you went to undo your seatbelt. you just watched her walk away nervously until she disappeared inside.

two songs and one radio ad later, you see your car pulling out of the fenced lot, melissa behind the wheel. you jumped out of the car as she got out of yours, grabbing her tightly.

“oh my god, thank you, thank you, thank you,” you say excitedly, only hearing her laugh a bit.

“no one was harmed, except maybe a couple egos,” she says before pulling back to drop your keys in your hands. “we still on for dinner?”

you grab her chin between your forefinger and thumb, bringing her lips to yours in a slow kiss. when you pull away, you revel in her stunned look, and it’s just too tempting to kiss her again, but she beats you to do. she breaks the kiss for air, and you speak quietly in the small space between you, “dessert, too.”

i hope u like this anon and i hope i did ur vision justice <3 feedback appreciated as always

[chicgeekgirl89]

Rating: T Characters: Carlos Reyes and T.K. Strand Summary: In the early days of their budding relationship, T.K. and Carlos discover some of each other's more adorable characteristics. Or, five times T.K. learns adorable things about Carlos and one time Carlos learns something adorable about T.K. A/N: Thanks to @bluenet13 for the title help on this one. It's been on the back burner for a while and it was time for it to fly free. Also working on a reverse 5+1 companion for it, so keep your eyes open for that...someday... Tagging: This is more than seven sentences, but please accept it anyway. Thanks to @strandnreyes, @bonheur-cafe, @carlos-in-glasses, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @ladytessa74, and @lemonlyman-dotcom. Tagging @liminalmemories21, @welcometololaland, @carlos-tk, @louis-ii-reyes-strand, @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad, and anyone else who would like to share your Seven Sentence Sunday! Read on AO3

Glasses

T.K. is brushing his teeth in Carlos’ bathroom. Usually his daily oral hygiene wouldn’t be a notable event, but today it feels monumental. Because it’s Carlos’ bathroom. And T.K. is brushing his teeth. Because he’s staying over. Because they’re together. Like really together. Officially. 

He smiles goofily at his reflection in the mirror, his mouth still full of white paste and toothbrush. He’s happy. Really, truly, deeply happy.

He opens up Carlos’ medicine cabinet one handed as he continues brushing away and realizes that while he remembered to bring a razor he did not remember to bring shaving cream. “Hey babe,” he calls around his mouthful as he turns around and pokes his head back into the bedroom, “can I borrow—“

His eyes find Carlos on the bed and he immediately chokes on his toothpaste and has to rush back to the sink to spit it out. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before turning and marching back through the open doorway. 

Carlos looks at him, amusement on his face. “You okay over there?”

“Since when do you wear glasses?”

Because he is. Carlos is sitting in his bed, shirtless, hair soft and wildly curly after his shower, a paperback in his hands, and a pair of glasses on his face. Glasses that T.K. has definitely never seen before in his life. Glasses that are kind of knocking the wind out of him.

“Since the fourth grade?” Carlos says. 

“But I’ve never…you’ve never worn them when I’ve been here.”

“I haven’t?” Carlos scrunches up his nose in thought and it makes him even more freaking adorable. “Are you sure?”

“I think I would remember my boyfriend morphing into Clark fucking Kent,” T.K. retorts.

Carlos chuckles. “I only wear them at night when my contacts start bothering me.”

“You should wear them more often.” The words are out of T.K.’s mouth before he even realizes it. He feels wildly out of control of himself right now and who could blame him? His already incredibly fucking hot boyfriend now looks like an incredibly fucking hot librarian and it is making T.K. think some very, VERY dirty thoughts.

Carlos raises his eyebrows. “Why?” A slow, lazy, self-satisfied smile spreads across his  face. “You think they’re sexy?”

“God yes.”

T.K. is across the room in two seconds flat, scrambling onto the bed and pulling Carlos’ face to his for a bruising kiss. Carlos immediately drops his book and responds in kind, mouth open and inviting as his hands grip T.K.’s hips and pull him close. “You called me your boyfriend,” he says when they finally break apart for air.

“I did,” T.K. says, diving back in for another taste of Carlos in glasses. It’s completely different than regular Carlos. It’s nerdy. And hot. He loves it.

“You’ve never called me your boyfriend before,” Carlos says breathlessly, grinning so wide it’s like the sun has come out. “I like it.”

T.K. grins back at him. “Me too.”

Socks

“Oh my god,” Carlos says as T.K. collapses onto his chest and presses kisses into his sweat sticky skin. “How does it just keep getting better?”

“Because we’re amazing,” T.K. mumbles against his pecs, his eyes already heavy with sleep. “So. Freaking. Amazing.”

He takes a few breaths and feels his body relaxing as sleep pulls him down. He snuggles deeper into Carlos’ chest, eyes drifting shut. He’s nearly out when he feels Carlos shift beneath him.

“Where are you going?” he asks, tightening his hold on Carlos’ torso to keep him from moving.

“I’ll be right back. I just need to put some socks on,” Carlos says, pressing a kiss to his hair. 

T.K.’s eyes pop back open and he props himself up to look at Carlos’ face. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m going to put some socks on,” Carlos repeats.

Things still aren’t computing in T.K.’s brain. “…why?” he finally asks slowly.

“Because if we’re going to sleep I need to wear socks.”

He was looking for clarity, but now he’s even more confused. “I don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand? I’m putting socks on to go to bed,” Carlos says, looking equally as confused.

“But…why?”

“Because otherwise I might catch a cold,” Carlos says with a laugh, gently pushing T.K. off so he can get to his feet.

T.K. blinks a couple times trying to get his bearings and then rolls over, sitting up with the sheet wrapped around his waist. “That is not how colds work. Like not even close.”

Carlos returns and sits on the bed to pull his socks on. “I know that,” he says.

“And yet you’re still putting the socks on,” T.K. says.

“My mom always made us wear socks to bed when we were kids.”

“Is she coming over?” T.K. asks incredulously.

“No.”

“Then why are you wearing them?!”

“Because she always made us!”

T.K. takes a breath. “Let me get this straight. You are going to get into this bed with me, fully naked, except for socks that you’re going to wear because your mom made you do it when you were seven?”

Carlos pauses. “Well when you say it like that it sounds stupid.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“I just like it okay? I’ve done it forever. I can’t sleep without them,” Carlos says defensively as he slides back into bed beside T.K. “Is this some kind of a dealbreaker for you?”

“Nope,” T.K. says. “Just trying to understand. If wearing socks to bed is what does it for you, then by all means wear the socks.”

“Thank you,” Carlos says, giving him a peck on the lips and turning out the light before pulling T.K. close and snuggling in to go to sleep.

T.K. gets comfortable and closes his eyes, but he can’t stop the thoughts running through his mind in the dark and quiet of the room. He sits up and turns the light back on. “I really need you to tell me that you understand that you can’t catch a cold from not wearing socks though.”

Romance

T.K. loves being in Carlos’ condo without him. He likes it better when Carlos is around obviously. But he feels so special that Carlos has given him a key and invited him to share his space. It means he trusts T.K. enough to let him be here alone where it’s peaceful and calm, unlike his dad’s house which somehow feels crowded even though there are only two of them there most of the time.

Carlos’ place feels more like home than anywhere else has in a long time.

He takes his shoes off when he arrives and dutifully puts them away, then grabs a mineral water and a yogurt out of the fridge before collapsing onto Carlos’ couch. “Ouch,” he says with a frown as something pokes into his back from behind the throw pillow.

He reaches behind him and pulls out a book. It’s not unusual to find books around the condo, Carlos is a big reader, but the brightly colored cover on this one makes T.K. pause and raise his eyebrows. The Spanish Love Deception is the title and when he flips it over to read the back he learns that Catalina Martín is in desperate need of a date for her sister’s wedding and her mortal enemy at work seems to be her only option.

He’s rifling through the pages when the door opens and Carlos walks in. “Hey,” he says, smiling as his eyes meet T.K.’s. “When did you get in?”

“Like fifteen minutes ago,” T.K. tells him as Carlos slips off his shoes and then comes over to press a kiss to his lips. “I found this behind the throw pillow.”

He holds up the romance novel and Carlos takes it from him. “Francesca must have left it here,” he says, referring to his sister. “Looks like her kind of book. I’ll text her and let her know you found it it.”

T.K. doesn’t think about it again for a couple of weeks until one night when his dad cancels their dinner plans and he spontaneously heads to Carlos’ instead. “Hey, it’s me!” he calls as he pushes the door open.

“T.K.?” Carlos appears at the top of the stairs, one hand behind his back, looking a little frazzled. “I thought you were going to dinner with your dad.”

“He bailed,” T.K. says, adjusting his overnight bag on his shoulder as he takes the stairs two at a time, giving Carlos a peck on his lips when he reaches him. “You okay?” he asks, taking in the weird expression on his boyfriend’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Carlos says, even as a minor amount of panic is flickering through his eyes. “I just didn’t know you were coming.”

T.K. looks him up and down. “Do you have some other guy in your bedroom?”

“What?! No!” Carlos says quickly.

“Were you watching porn?”

“Of course not!” Carlos says, but there’s a deep blush rising up in his cheeks. 

“What’s behind your back?” T.K. reaches for him, but Carlos steps away out of his reach.

“It’s nothing,” he says.

T.K. raises his eyebrows in amusement. “You know you are so freaking bad at lying, right?”

“Can we just drop it?” Carlos asks, desperation creeping into his voice.

T.K. takes a step forward so that Carlos is forced to back into the wall and then reaches around him and plucks the hidden object from his fingers. It’s another book, the cover bright blue with the title The American Roommate Experiment on the front. T.K. recognizes the name of the author as the same one from the book he found behind the couch cushions and his eyebrows rise. “Oh. You were reading porn.”

“It’s not porn,” Carlos says. “It’s a book.”

“Are you telling me there’s no sex in this book?”

“I…don’t know yet,” Carlos says, dropping his eyes. “I haven’t gotten that far.”

Delight is spiraling through T.K. as he fully realizes what’s going on. “That was your book a couple weeks ago. Not your sister’s.” He can feel his eyes start to sparkle with mischief. “You like smutty romance novels.”

“I don’t like them because they’re smutty,” Carlos says quickly. “I like them because…I like them.”

“You like them because you’re a big old softy romantic,” T.K. says, poking him gently in the chest. “Do you watch Hallmark Christmas movies too?”

The silence that follows tells him all he needs to know. “You do,” T.K. says happily. He could not be more thrilled about this new discovery.

“I grew up with four sisters,” Carlos defends himself.

“Please tell me you read Fifty Shades.”

“I would never,” Carlos scoffs. “Those books are not an accurate depiction of the BDSM community.”

“Oh my god you’re adorable,” T.K. tells him. 

“No, I’m, no don’t call me that,” Carlos says, clearly embarrassed.

“You are,” T.K. tells him, wrapping his arms around Carlos’ waist. “You are the most adorable boyfriend the world has ever seen.”

“Are you going to let this go, or is this something you’re going to talk about forever?” Carlos asks.

“Mmm definitely the second thing,” T.K. says as Carlos sighs with long suffering. “Now how about you take me to your bedroom and teach me some of the things you’ve learned from these books?”

Scaredy Cat

Sharing new things with each other has become a complete delight for T.K. So when he finds out that Carlos has never seen a single one of the Halloween movies, he declares the need for a marathon during the month of October and immediately goes over to his dad’s to dig out his DVD’s. No way is he dealing with ads breaking up the masterpiece that is Michael Myers. 

He’s popped popcorn, pulled out all the throw blankets, and even gone so far as to make up a bloody looking mocktail to really get them in the spirit of the movies. Now he’s just eagerly awaiting Carlos who has gone out to fetch their pizza.

He’s pulling down plates from the cupboard (Carlos refuses to eat pizza straight out of the box like they’re “college frat bros”) when the door opens and his boyfriend returns, pizza in hand. 

“Perfect timing!” T.K. says, eagerly taking the box from him and handing him the gory looking cocktail in return. 

“Oh, wow,” Carlos says. “This is…something.”

“I found a recipe online,” T.K. tells him excitedly as he dishes out pizza slices onto plates. “I thought they would be fun!”

“So creative,” Carlos says, poking at the gummy eyeballs that T.K. ordered online and added for extra pizzazz.

“Okay,” T.K. says as they settle onto the couch, his excitement at an eleven. “So, John Carpenter and Debra Hill wrote this in like ten days, which is crazy, and Carpenter got paid ten thousand dollars to write, direct, and score it. They built a cinematic masterpiece, the go-to film for horror, and they did it in ten days for ten thousand dollars. Can you even believe that?”

“Sure can’t,” Carlos says with a shake of his head. 

“We’re starting with the original Halloween,” T.K. tells him as he flicks on the television. “1963, Michael Myers versus a bunch of teenage girls. We’ll skip a few in the middle, Halloween: Resurrection isn’t worth anybody’s time, and while Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers does feature a young, fresh faced Paul Rudd, it has too many flaws to be worth watching.”

“So we’re skipping two out of…”

“Thirteen,” T.K. tells him.

“I guess I should have taken the month off of work,” Carlos tells him, sending him an odd, tense sort of smile.

Come to think of it, Carlos’ whole body feels a little tense too. If T.K. didn’t know any better, he’d think Carlos was nervous. But he chalks it up to worry over getting pizza grease on the couch and hits play as he snuggles into his boyfriend’s side.

They’re still snuggled together as Michael takes a knife to his teenage sister and T.K. doesn’t miss the way Carlos stiffens even further over the bloody scene. Or the way he seems to get more and more tense as the movie progresses. “You want another drink?” T.K. asks after Michael murders the Wallace’s dog.

Carlos shakes his head, his lips pressed together in a firm line, eyes a little wider than normal as he stares at the screen. He gasps audibly when Michael appears in Annie’s car and when T.K. looks down he finds that Carlos is gripping the edge of the couch cushions so hard that his knuckles are going white. 

By the time Michael starts going after Laurie, Carlos’ breathing has gone rapid and T.K. carefully slips his fingers under the edge of his sleeve to find his pulse racing. Not a surprise given the contents of the movie, but Carlos’ face has gone almost white and and he’s sitting so rigidly T.K. is afraid all of his muscles are going to lock up. 

“Carlos,” he says quietly, but Carlos doesn’t respond, eyes glued to the screen, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows hard.

“Carlos, are you okay?” T.K. asks again, reaching for the remote.

He’s too late. Michael appears out of nowhere and Carlos jumps to his feet with a shout, hands going to his hips as he paces a couple agitated steps back and forth. 

T.K. finally gets his finger on the button to pause the movie. “Carlos, hey, look at me,” T.K. says, feeling legitimately concerned.

“No I—it’s fine. I’m fine,” Carlos says, hand making chopping motions as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as T.K. “Go ahead, turn it back on. I’ll just um, I’m just going to—“

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” T.K. says.

“No I’m—it’s good,” Carlos says even as a car honks outside and he flinches violently.

“It’s not fine,” T.K. says. “You hate it. Let’s watch something else.”

“We can finish—“

“Carlos, you look like you think Michael is coming after you personally. We’re not watching anymore,” T.K. says with a chuckle, using the remote to flip over to live TV, Bobby Flay declaring loudly that he will not be beaten at his own culinary game this time.

“Thank you,” Carlos sighs, collapsing back into the couch.

“When were you going to tell me you hate horror movies?” T.K. asks.

“Never,” Carlos says, running a hand through his hair. “You were so excited and I thought maybe it would be okay.”

“But?”

“I begged my parents to let me watch It with my sisters when I was ten. I didn’t sleep for like a month after that and ever since…” he shivers, “I just don’t get why people like them.”

“It’s pretty cute you know,” T.K. says with a fond smile. “My big tough police officer being scared of horror movies.”

“Cute or pathetic?” Carlos says with a roll of his eyes, finally starting to look like himself again now that it’s vegetables being chopped up instead of people.

“Cute,” T.K. tells him definitively, pulling him close. “Now come here. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

Paparazzi

The radio is blaring when T.K. walks in from his shift, so loud that for a second he thinks he’s walked into the wrong condo. A quick glance around reveals that no, this is indeed Carlos’ place, although there’s no sign of Carlos anywhere, and it takes him another moment to realize the music is actually coming from upstairs.

He climbs the staircase, the music getting louder with each step and by the time he’s reached the top it’s changed from something in Spanish to Lady Gaga and is blasting so loudly that it feels like he’s at a live performance rather than in his boyfriend’s bedroom.

That’s when he finally hears the singing. Not Gaga herself, although she’s hard to ignore. No. Someone is belting out the lyrics from behind the bathroom door, slightly out of tune, but with the most passion T.K. has ever heard.

He opens the door quietly, the sound intensifying as the spray of the shower joins the fray. 

“I’M YOUR BIGGEST FAN, I’LL FOLLOW YOU UNTIL YOU LOVE ME! PAPA-PAPARAZZI!” Carlos bellows from behind the semi-frosted glass of the shower door.

T.K. crosses his arms and leans against the wall, a grin on his face as he watches the blurry silhouette of his naked boyfriend scrubbing away at his hair while he sings along. He makes it through the rest of the chorus and another verse before he turns around and lets out a yell. “Jesus Christ!”

The water turns off immediately followed quickly by the music as T.K. laughs. Carlos opens the shower door, poking his sopping wet head out. “What the hell? How long have you been standing there?” he says, clearly torn between fury and embarrassment.

“Long enough,” T.K. says, handing him a towel before returning to his position against the wall, watching appreciatively as Carlos pulls it around his waist and steps out, water glistening on his skin.

“You realize that’s really fucking creepy, right?” Carlos asks as he double checks that his towel is secure.

“I can’t believe you didn’t invite me to the concert,” T.K. says fully aware that he is smirking and enjoying every second of watching Carlos squirm.

“Yeah, well, there’s a reason for that,” Carlos says, looking down at the floor, his cheeks flushed from more than the heat of his shower.

“Do you always sing in the shower?”

“No.” But he doesn’t meet T.K.’s gaze when he says it.

“Yes,” T.K. says gleefully. “Why don’t you ever sing when I’m here?”

“Because some things are better left in private,” Carlos tells him with a glower.

“Babe, come on,” T.K. says, taking a step forward and putting his hands on Carlos’ hips just above where the towel is sitting. “I love knowing stuff like this about you. It makes me feel like you’re mine. I get to see these little parts of Carlos Reyes that other people don’t.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Unless you also put on performances in the precinct showers.”

“Definitely not,” Carlos scoffs. His hands come up to rest on T.K.’s biceps. “You really don’t think it’s weird? I know I’m not a good singer.”

T.K. kisses the tip of his nose. “It doesn’t matter. It makes you happy. And that’s all I care about.”

+ 1: Ticklish

Waking up with T.K. had been his dream for months, but he wasn’t completely surprised when it turned out not to be a reality. It turns out T.K. doesn’t wake up with anyone. In fact he barely wakes up at all. He has to be dragged out of bed and plied with coffee and a shower before he’s even remotely functional. 

When questioned about how he can wake up and immediately go to work when the alarm bells go off at the fire station, T.K. looks at him like he’s crazy and says, “That’s different.”

So Carlos contents himself with waking up beside T.K., pressing a kiss to whatever part of him is poking out from under the blankets, and then greeting him more officially when he finally stumbles out of bed usually an hour or two after Carlos.

He’s just finished his workout when he hears T.K.’s alarm going off followed quickly by a muffled thud as T.K. predictably sends his phone flying to floor in his attempts to turn it off.

Carlos smiles and wipes a towel across his forehead before stowing away his weights and jogging back upstairs. T.K. is buried under the blankets, only the top of his head poking out. “Morning,” Carlos says softly, bending over to kiss his forehead.

T.K. reaches up and catches his arm, tugging him downward. “Come back to bed,” he mumbles. 

“I’m all sweaty,” Carlos says with a laugh. “I need to go take a shower.”

“No staaay,” T.K. groans, tugging more insistently.

Carlos rolls his eyes but he concedes, sitting down on the mattress and pulling the blanket down enough to reveal T.K.’s face. “Are you going to get up?”

“It’s our day off,” T.K. tells him, eyes still tightly shut.

“It is.” Carlos leans closer, a fond smile on his face. “And if you don’t get up soon it will be over.”

He pokes T.K. in the ribs good-naturedly and immediately receives a sharp backhand across the face. “Ow!” he yells, rearing back and clutching his nose. “T.K. what the fuck?!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” T.K. yelps, and Carlos can feel him scrambling to get upright in the tangle of their sheets. “Oh my god! Are you okay? Let me see!”

He reaches for Carlos’ face, but Carlos pulls back. His nose feels like it’s been smashed into a thousand pieces, but he rubs at it experimentally and it seems to be intact. Another check shows no blood on his fingers, so he’s probably all right, but damn. It hurts. “What the hell was that for?” he asks grouchily, sending T.K. a glare.

T.K. looks sheepishly down at the sheets. “Um, well, I might be just a little bit ticklish?”

Carlos blinks at him. “No you’re not.”

T.K.’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Yes I am?”

“T.K. we’ve been together for like four months. I would know if you were ticklish.” He knows T.K.’s body intimately. Where he can touch to make him moan, to make him gasp, to make him arch his back. If T.K. were ticklish, it would have been revealed long before now. 

“It’s just that one spot on the left side of my ribs,” T.K. tells him. “If your hands start to go there I just take them and move them somewhere else. You’ve never noticed?”

Huh. Carlos sits with that for a second replaying as many of their sexual encounters as he can remember. “I guess…I guess not. Why did you hit me though?” he asks with a frown.

“Ah.” T.K. blushes. “I always move your hands because I can get a little…violent when I get tickled. It’s kind of a panic response.”

“And instead of telling me this you just waited for me to discover it by accident and nearly broke my nose in the process?”

“I kind of forgot honestly. It’s just become a habit to move your hands,” T.K. tells him.

Carlos snorts out a laugh. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god what?” T.K. asks warily.

“Oh my god…that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Carlos says, full on laughing now. 

T.K.’s face breaks into a smile and runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “It is kind of dumb.”

Carlos leans forward and cups his chin, pulling him in for a real kiss. “You’re cute,” he says. “You and your ridiculous ticklish spot.”

“You’re cute too,” T.K. says, then wrinkles his nose. “But you kind of stink.”

“Oh I do?”

“Yeah you do.”

Carlos wraps his arms around T.K. while he yells in protest, holding him tightly as they fall onto the mattress together. It’s disgustingly adorable. And Carlos wouldn’t trade it for the world.  

[epicsteddieficrecs]

Epic Steddie Fic Rec | May 8th-May28th 2023

So just like I got infected by the Steddie brainrot last fall, I've now fallen deep into the gay firefighters show and the last 10 pages of my ao3 is full of Buddie fics 😆 so most of these fics were read in the first two weeks of this rec...

Complete

one of the good things by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (Nobody Dies AU | < 1K | General): Eddie is staring at him. He sets the guitar aside, leaning forward and peering at Steve like he’s doing something particularly fascinating. “You’re angry.” Steve shakes his head reflexively, feels a prickle of defensiveness. He keeps his voice as even as he can when he says, “No, I’m not.” “Oh, you are,” Eddie says softly. Something must show on Steve’s face because he amends, “Like, not… Don’t worry. Not a loud anger.”

proof we’re here by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (<1K | General): “I used to wonder about this place,” Robin tells Eddie as they lounge on the couch, looking up at Steve’s pristine ceiling, not a cobweb in sight. “Huh?” Robin smirks knowingly. “Come on, you must have wondered, too.” She puts on a hushed voice of mock reverence. “The King of Hawkins High roaming these hallowed halls… if walls could speak…”

you're so fine, you blow my mind by griesly (PWP, Crossdressing | 4K | Explicit): Eddie walks in on a very private moment, with unexpected (and thoroughly enjoyable) consequences.

buzzer-beater history by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (S4 Missing Scene | 1,7K | General): When Lucas Sinclair starts to apologise for missing The Cult of Vecna, Eddie initially thinks that he’s hearing things. “Jesus, Sinclair. I’ve got an ongoing list of folks who owe me an apology since, like, sixth grade, and trust me, your name’s not on there. Can pretty confidently say it never will, okay?” Eddie sees Steve tilt his head ever so slightly from where he’s walking just ahead of them, like he’s listening in. Spots his faint nod of approval. Eddie can’t decide if he resents it or finds it endearing—kind of gets the ridiculous feeling that Steve’s vetting him on behalf of the kids.

halving the compass by griesly (No Upside Down AU, Fake Relationship | 8K | Explicit): Forced to attend his father's elitist black tie gala, Steve Harrington asks along the one person sure to throw a wrench in the works - Eddie Munson. It's only for show, of course. It's not a real date. ...or is it?

Say Xanathar by pinkcash (PWP | 8K | Explicit): Eddie comes to sell Steve weed and leaves with a lot more information about him than he had originally. Like, for instance, he’s not nearly as straight as he thinks he is

Steve the Reluctant by rachtay13/ @rachtay13 (Post-S4 | 46K | Explicit): Robin raised her brows.  “You know what, Harrington?” She nodded her head. “Yeah, you know what? I dare you to make a friend. I dare you.”

Dream Boy by indelicate/ @steddielations (Post-S4 | 8K | Teen): Or, Steve goes to see Eddie’s band play and finally finds what he’s been looking for.

Melt Me On Your Tongue by indelicate/ @steddielations (PWP, BDSM | 6K | Explicit): “This okay?” “Yeah it’s— shit, it’s more than okay, Steve.” “… you’re crying, Eds.” Eddie can’t hold back a choked off noise then, somewhere between an overwhelmed laugh and a sob. “No one’s ever done this to me before.” He doesn’t know if he means no one’s ever given him a bath, or braided his hair, or just any of the things Steve does for him, really. Eddie's never had a Steve before.

I Wish I Knew You Wanted Me by indelicate/ @steddielations (Getting Together | 1,9K | Teen): Or, Steve finds out why Eddie likes wearing his clothes so much.

three whistles in the dark by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (S4 | < 1K | General): “Why are you whistling?” Eddie asks after he’s heard Steve do it for the fourth time. “Huh?” Eddie imitates him; it’s not like Steve is just casually following a tune in his head—it sounds deliberate. Encouraging whistles, one right after the other, in groups of three. Like a… like a call to something.

i’m down on my knees (i wanna take you there) by twelvexclara (Pre-S4 | 4K | Explicit): Steve really needs to pass his English class. So who better than to visit the resident genius/freak, Eddie Munson?

The Intuition of Claudia Henderson by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (Post-S4, Claudia POV | 1,8K | General): Claudia opens the door quietly. It’s not Max who’s in the bed. And there, lying so peacefully against Eddie Munson’s shoulder, is Dustin. He’s fast asleep. Eddie’s got an arm around him, and he’s slowly running his fingers through Dustin’s hair the way she used to when he was little, to help him drift off. He looks up from his book at the sound of her entering the room, and his face goes as white as the bedsheets.

🖤 i've been having a horrible time pulling myself together by deadratz (Post-S4 Fix-it | Friends With Benefits | 74K | Explicit): The last thing Eddie thinks as he draws his final breath is that Henderson is gonna need a shit ton of therapy. But then, Eddie wakes up, gasping for air, and miraculously, he's being rescued. Now he has to figure out how to live.

WIP

🖤 better by you, better than me by palmviolet/ @palmviolet (Canon Divergent, Season 1-2 | 32/? | 167K | Mature | Warning: Violence): November 1983. Between unpaid bills, the supposedly straight jock he’s seeing, and letters from his convict dad, seventeen year old Eddie Munson’s got enough to worry about. But when Will Byers goes missing, it sparks a chain of events that will show there are more depths to Hawkins — and to certain people in it, like infamous Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington — than he realizes. / or, the excessively long slow-burn in which Eddie is involved in the Upside Down from the very beginning.

Bandaids for the Heart by LexiRoseWrites/ @lexirosewrites (Modern AU, A/B/O, Nurse Steve | 1/16 | 5K | Explicit): Steve has been a pediatric nurse for long enough to know that Eddie and his daughter shouldn’t be seeing him in the emergency room this often. Ellie Munson can only shove so many marbles up her nose and eat so many crayons before he starts to think the five year old might have an ulterior motive.

🖤 Trouble Looks Good On You by indelicate/ @steddielations (Post S4 | 3/5 | 35K | Explicit): It happens like a fever dream. The first time Steve gives Eddie a swift smack on the ass, it’s obviously just an old jock habit that’s stuck with him. It wasn’t meant to have Eddie’s knees going weak, or turn his blood hot under his skin, or give him a brand in the shape of Steve Harrington’s hand, or— Nope, because Eddie’s not even into that. But then, it happens again. Or, Steve keeps accidentally awakening Eddie’s new kinks.

Until We Fall by indelicate/ @steddielations (Fake Relationship | 3/6 | 19K | Teen): “Hate to break it to you, Buckley, but you can’t set Steve up on a date ‘cause he’s already got plans… with me.” Or, it starts with a drunken night and a plan that Steve can’t remember making, but Eddie sure does.

🖤 Reboot by plutosrose/ @plutosrose (Modern AU, Actor Steve & Eddie | 8/10 | 30K | Explicit): In 2012, Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson film a scene in the teen drama Normal Stuff that launches a popular ship on ao3. By early 2013, they aren’t speaking anymore. In 2024, Robin calls Steve with an offer to reprise his role as Andy Hartley in a reboot of their old show, with one important update–his character gets together with Eddie’s.

🖤 Steve Harrington’s Radical Fun Time Babysitting Service by Humanities_Handbag / @humanityinahandbag, Invader_Sam (No Upside Down AU, 90’s | 26/? | 100K | Mature): Alternatively: Steve accidentally starts a babysitting service, falls in love, panics [in bisexual], and gets himself a boyfriend. (Part 1 of 90’s Music Store AU)

the weight of us by loveinhawkins/ @loveinhawkins (Dustin-centric, Post-S4 | 2/3 | 8K | Teen): It’s only once everything is okay that Dustin starts thinking there’s something deeply wrong with him.

[reachingto88constellations]

hi guys I’m in a horrible bad mood and I cried for four hours with Tsukasa plush over a fanfic

And then I looked at him and thought “he’s the only one who can comfort me”

And then I got an idea! So here’s a small little thing I wrote:3

Polyshow thingy thing (also me projecting on tsukasa hi guys) (Tsukasa angst and also comfort)

And there he sat, a boy with blonde, strawberry hair. With tears flowing down, in a corner behind the dear place of happiness. Phoenix wonderland, the wonder stage, these places should make him happy. And they do. They do, they really do. So why, why was the star, Tenma Tsukasa, crying like a child? And even worse, crying when he was supposed to be practicing. Tenma Tsukasa, the world future star, born to make people smile, to shine so bright. He wasn’t doing any of that. All he could think was, ‘ stop crying, stop crying, stop crying, you have work to do, get up and practice, and stop crying. ‘ yet, he couldn’t. No matter how hard, he’d continue, and continue, and continue.“ Tsukasa-kun? “ He heard, with a male peaking behind the curtain. His purple haired director. Tsukasa attempted to get himself to stand up, but he couldn’t. There was nothing, nothing he could do. It was the end of the star, Tenma Tsukasa.

“…eh? Tsukasa-kun?! Are you okay?” Rui asked, with such worry that Tsukasa had never heard before. He didn’t give an answer. “..Emu-kun, Nene-chan, come here. It’s important.” Tsukasa hears Rui say, and he panics. No, he doesn’t want this! He tries to speak, but nothing comes out. His eyes meet Rui’s, and he silently pleads. But it’s too late. Emu and Nene walk backstage, and Rui goes after them. Tsukasa wasn’t very hidden, so the two girls spotted him almost immediately. This was horrible. His troupe, his best friends, and his partners, saw him crying like a child that didn’t want to go home. Humiliating. He looks at them, pupils dilated. his cheeks were stained with tears, and he watched the three as the stared at him. Rui stood straight up, looking in slight shock. Nene was neutral, but worried. And Emu.. Emu had the most unfamiliar expression of all. She wasn’t smiling at all. Instead, she ran over to Tsukasa, looking as if she was going to cry. She hastily sat down on the floor and jumped into hugging Tsukasa. Tsukasa was shocked, his dilated pupils darting from her to the other two. He felt as if he would start crying again, and he did just that. Rui and Nene approached slower, both sharing a silent conversation. They had dealt with this more often with each other. Rui and Nene knelt next to the boy. Rui put his hand on the blonde hair of his boyfriend, stroking his hair and putting their foreheads together. He let out a few “shhs” while Nene patted his back.

A few minutes, and his sobbing faltered. He looked at the three, whom were backing away and sitting on the floor next to him. Rui was the first to speak. “Tsukasa-kun, mind telling us what happened?” he asked, his hand on the blonde’s shoulder. Tsukasa sniffled a little, and took a breath. “…today hasn’t been a good day.” Is all he said. “How so?” Rui asked another question. He looked at Rui, who nodded, and then the other two. The other two nodded, Nene smiled calmly yet slightly upset at him, while Emu had a solemn, sad smile on her face. “It started with my parents. They had gotten mad at Saki, since she had accidentally dropped a plate.. dad was yelling at her, and I saw her crying on the couch. Mum hadn’t done anything, but she hadn’t interfered either, and that’s when I did. It was back and fourth arguing between me and my dad, but it ended when he said I was useless, that I’d never get anywhere in life.. and it hurt, more than it should’ve. Saki and I left really quickly.” He spoke. Rui, Nene, and Emu all had shocked expressions. “What else is there, Tsukasa-kun?” Rui questioned, doubting that was the only reason. Tsukasa sighed and continued.

“It’s pointless. Got a low grade on my test, a few classmates made fun of me for it. That’s it.” The three looked as if they either wanted to hurt someone or that they were shocked at everything. Rui tightened the grip on Tsukasa’s shoulder. “Tsukasa-kun. If you’re ever going through anything, tell us. Stop keeping things from us.” Rui spoke, with Nene and Emu nodding in agreement. “It’s going to be okay, Tsukasa.” Nene spoke, patting his back. Emu hugged Tsukasa once more. “Tsukasa-kun! We care about you a lot, so please talk to us!” Emu said in a pleading tone. Tsukasa nodded. “..okay. I’m sorry, everyone. My crying just served as a burden to you all. “No!” The three said in union. “You can cry if you want, Tsukasa. Sometimes, you just need to. It’s healthy.” Nene said, and for a second Tsukasa didn’t recognize her. He nodded, and smiled back, with cheeks stained with tear drops. He stood up, and took a breath. “Alright. I feel better. Thank you, everyone. I love you guys.” Tsukasa smiled a toothy grin. Rui chuckled, Emu giggled, and Nene smiled. “We love you too!” They said in union, once more. He kind of felt like this was planned.. “Now! We have a show to practice!” Tsukasa said, pointing his finger at the curtain. The three nodded, and the four walk to the curtain, at a sort of peace.

OK HI. This is quite a long post but if you read I love you with my heart <3

This was mostly to make me feel better, so it’s not good at all. I’m sorry that ran a little long..

If you’re ever upset, remember that there are people who love you. You are loved, by me, by your friends, by your family.

Have a good day/evening/night, my stars that shine so brightly in the sky.

[movedmovedsoup]

Hey I love your writing so I was wondering if you could do a finney x fem!reader where he has a super big crush on the reader so he embarresses himself a lot in front of her and it's just a super cute fluffy and awkward fic and if it's possible do you think you can tie it all up with him confessing his crush and mabye even her being his first kiss if thats not possible that's totally fine thank you!!!

i’m sorry if this seems a little rushed ! i wanted to get something out ! and this is adorable i had fun writing it💕

“lovefool”

finney blake x fem! reader !

dear god. finney was nothing else but embarrassing when it came to girls, girls he liked to be specific. he was never the kid every girl liked in elementary, usually getting flat out ignored or just grouped in with the quiet undesirable kids of the class. he wasn’t like his best friend robin arellano or his fellow baseball player bruce yamada. the two having girls practically fawning over the two boys, whenever homecoming wrapped around it was like a war zone in girl world, as almost every teenage girl tried to get noticed by either of the two. or if they wanted to be more on the risky side, they’d tried to grab the attention of vance ‘pinball’ hopper which almost never worked. but long story short what mattered was that finney just wasn’t..exactly experienced in that field. the boys he had named had some type of girlfriend in their life. meanwhile the closest finney got to that was dancing with his friend donna at their third grade show for the parents. god that haunted him. it never exactly bothered him a whole lot, yeah okay here and there but it wasn’t his number one problem. he didn’t put his time and attention onto crushes. that was until you came around. you weren’t new to denver no no you just came from a different school hence why finney hadn’t seen you around in middle school. you weren’t an out of an ordinary girl, not in a bad way. not too popular but not too unknown. just kinda in the middle of everything. you were donna’s right hand woman being friends since birth, you two being family friends.

the first impression you had of finney was the first day of freshman year, 1979. walking through the halls of the semi-crowded building you had spotted a familiar face, that being finney. you had gone to his games here and there over the summer so it wasn’t like the two of you were strangers. from that point on from that day the two of you made it a priority to walk to first period together. you guys didn’t share it but were right next door to each other. sure you’d do the talking most of the time but you didn’t really mind at all. little did you know the whole reason why finney was so silent was because he was practically choking on his words trying to talk to you. only able to let out hums of agreement and nods. the occasional “yea!” that was so silent if you made the smallest noise you were sure to miss it. looking back on past interactions finney would get extremely embarrassed. one of those things where your about to fall asleep and think of something so mortifying. like this one time when the two of you were chatting at the bleachers when a stray baseball had hit him point blank in the back of the head.

you ended up having to drag him over to the nurse because he was so dizzy. and could you imagine how embarrassed he was? he was muttering apologies and sighing all the while you helped him. and do not get me started when he tried to impress you with his baseball skills at the fourth of july game, only to fall flat on his face on third base because he got too nervous feeling your eyes on him. and you were kind enough to wipe the dirt off his face when the game was over. in a way you found it cute how finney was more on the shy side. you didn’t exactly enjoy how some guys came on too strong and too over confident. usually they were just straight up jerks. so when the news hit finney that none other than his old bully matty had asked you out the day before behind the school.

oh he was absolutely livid. sure you didn’t exactly know what happened between him and finney, you just thought they had a small altercation. it was the end of the school day and you usually waited for finney to come out of his last period. resting your head against the cold wall of the hall. finney had soon came into your field of vision looking rather upset. his expression had spiked your interest, it was only once in a while he’d get upset over something. and finney had quite the patience. you met him half way with a concerned look on your face. “finney are you alright? “ you tried not to trample all over him with concern as he dismissed you with a shake of his head. “no i’m fine.” he mumbled sucking the inside of his cheek as the two of you started up on walking. you obviously knew he wasn’t alright so you pressed on, catching up to his speed. “finney you seriously aren’t selling it.” you mumbled back, the chatter of kids getting louder and louder as class got dismissed. finney could feel his heart sinking into the pits of his stomach. like the total idiot he was he already assumed you were gonna say yes to matty. he was pretty well known around school, he was well feared not as much as vance hopper but him and his goons could easily beat up whoever looked at them the wrong way. and finney..well..

he wasn’t very aggressive he wasn’t a fighter, more of a lover if anything. it was a bit embarrassing how his little sister gwen had to fight for him one time last year. he did a better job standing up for himself currently now. he had a few scattered friends here and there he was fine with a close knit small group. the pick was obvious in his mind. matty had beaten him once again to you and finney just had to unfortunately accept it. he just had to know what you were gonna say or what you did say to matty. lifting his head up to glance at you from underneath his lashes. “what did you say to matty?” “huh?” “matty asked you out didn’t he??” he confronted, his stomach twisting into a swirl of nasty jealous emotions. now you were a bit confused, why was finney getting all stirred up about this? with a deep sigh you slightly rolled your eyes getting aggravated at his assumptions. “and why do you even care??” the tone of voice you had slightly rose in volume, eyebrows knitting together in frustration. balling his hands into fists as he halted to a stop. the rubble from the unkept streets making a small noise underneath his sneakers.

“because y/n!!! i like you!! i’ve been liking you ever since donna has introduced us, i’ve been liking you ever since you cleaned the dirt up from my face even though i was looking like a total idiot!!” he didn’t even realize what he was saying, his mouth moving faster than his nerves at the moment. “i..i don’t want you to go with that asshole!! god y/n you are too good for him and probably too good for me-!! i..” he trailed off as his words started to jumble together like his thoughts and emotions. seeing the shocked expression that laid upon your face he had finally realized what he had said. a small frown made its way onto his lips as he shook his head, embarrassment filling into his heart. turning on his heel, he started to speed walk once more. not expecting you to follow beside him, ever. blinking a bit and quickly closing your agape mouth you didn’t hesitate to quickly catch up to finney who was a whole more farther from you. “finney!!” you sighed out, placing your hands on his shoulders as you quickly caught your breath. “i..is..is it true? what you said just now? is it true?” you breathed out with a more than happy smile, the smile that made finney’s heart skip a beat.

“why are you asking..?” he mumbled, confusion evident in his voice. “just-just tell me you meant it, is it true what you said? do you really mean it?” you repeated yourself once more, chest heaving up and down as excitement filled your lungs. as finney nodded that was all the confirmation you needed before gently bringing him close and landing a rushed kiss on his lips. both hands were carefully placed onto his cheeks, squishing his face ever so slightly. the two of you slightly clinked teeth together as smiles were etched onto both of your faces. you had caught finney by surprise but in a good way. his hands hovered over your shoulders, not sure where to place his hands. as you pulled away, grinning from ear to ear, matching finney’s expression you let out a small laugh. “i never accepted matty’s invitation how rude of you to assume!” you teased, letting out a joyful sigh as you adoringly looked at a bashful finney. “i..i..er..i..didn’t me…” he stumbled over his words as he lightly touched his now lipgloss covered lips.

your laughter filled up the afternoon air as you gently grabbed ahold of his hand, starting to walk once again, intertwining hands just for good measure. you could’ve sworn you felt finney squeeze your hand as butterflies overtook his stomach. god, he really was a total lovefool.