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aziawow · 5 months

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secret kisses (lash x f!reader) 13k+ words

summary: you and lash hate each other, but an unexpected kiss sparks a certain arrangement. a very hot, very secret arrangement.

warnings: lots of descriptive kissing, mild swearing, mild violence, very brief toilet humor, brief underage drinking, brief intoxication, vomit mention (nondescriptive), blood mention (nondescriptive)

notes: stronghold!reader, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, reader has telekinetic powers but that doesn't matter until the end

Boomer hauls you and Lash into the principal’s office, yammering away like he had in the cafeteria and in the hallway. You’re barely paying attention, your focus on the earlier events and containing your fury rather than the loud coach.

He uses the grip he has on both of your arms to toss you in the two seats in front of the desk. You’re silent, not sparing a glance Lash’s way and not wanting to meet Boomer’s eyes.

He sighs heavily and runs a hand down his face. “Principal Powers is still dealing with your mess, so until she’s done, you two are gonna stay in here.” He begins to walk back to the door. “Try not to kill each other, and don’t leave this room. Just to make sure,” he holds up a key.

“What if there’s a fire,” Lash drawls.

You roll your eyes and Boomer ignores him. The door shuts and the only sound you can hear is the jingle of metal as Boomer locks you in.

You last all of one minute before you explode.

“I cannot believe you,” you fume at Lash. “Wait, actually, I can. Pretty on par for you. What I can’t believe is how you think this is anything other than your fault.”

Lash clenches his jaw. “My fault? If it wasn't for you this entire thing wouldn’t have happened.”

You jump to your feet and face him. “Me? You started it! You always start it!”

He gets up and towers over you, face hard as he glares down at you. “That doesn’t mean you have to finish it. You can’t leave well enough alone, can you?” You scrunch your nose at him.

“No, I can’t. Not when you pick on defenseless kids right in front of me! You expect me to do nothing while you humiliate them?” You step closer to him, secretly pleased when he sharply inhales at your proximity. Good. He should be afraid of you. “You are nothing. But. A. Bully,” you enunciate by jabbing his chest with a finger. “I am sick of your behavior.” He scowls.

“I’m sick of you! Ruining my fun all the time. Making that face you make all the time.” Lash gestures to your face, clearly peeved about something.

You reel back, confused. “My face? There’s nothing wrong with my face. What about your face, huh? Always twisted up in that mischievous look you have when you’re doing something mean. And it’s not just one part of your expression, oh no, it’s your whole face,” you say, waving your hand around him, nearly taking an eye out. He grabs your wrist and pulls it down. “With that stupid troublemaking grin and the way your eyebrows pinch together when you’re plotting. Your eyes are the worst. They have this look in them that’s so cocky, like you know you can get away with whatever you want. But you can’t! I hate it.”

He tilts his head, completely in disbelief. “You have a face too. I call it your Getting Lash In Trouble Look. Always so innocent, but I know the truth. You pretend to be this good samaritan, a champion for the people when really you just like the attention you get from being a busybody—”

“Busybody!”

“—and messing with me! You literally can’t let anything go ever! It’s so annoying. Every single time you look so sweet and blameless and when they praise you for being a hero, you smile like you’re shy, which is a total fucking lie, I’ve never met anyone as conceited as you, with the way you pat yourself on the back like snitching on me is a badge of honor!”

Your jaw drops. “I do not!”

“Yes you do,” he argues. “And you bat your eyelashes and it makes me so mad because that’s what does it! That’s what gets me in trouble! I don’t know how you do it, but whenever you flutter your dumb long lashes like that it convinces them to throw me in detention. It’s a weapon you use against me and you know it. It’s deceitful.”

You’re taken aback. You are not hearing what you are hearing, surely. “The second you decide to harass someone is what gets you thrown in detention, asshole. I have nothing to do with it.”

Lash scoffs. “‘Nothing to do with it’,” he parrots. “You have everything to do with it!”

You get in his face, which proves to be immensely difficult as he’s so much taller than you, but you’d rather fall off the edge of the school than back down now.

“Everything?”

“Everything,” he confirms.

You are, genuinely, at a loss for words. You’re so frustrated and infuriated with him that all you can do is glare at him. This conversation is giving you a serious headache, but you have enough of a mind to be furious that he, technically, got the last word.

You’re breathing hard, staring into his eyes, and you, all of a sudden, notice he’s doing the same thing. You also notice how close he is. It’s normal for you two to butt heads, but not literally. You’ve had arguments that shook the whole school, but you’ve never been this close to him.

You know what everyone says about you. That all the fights are a result of unresolved sexual tension. No one ever dared to say it to your face, and most likely they’ve never mentioned it to Lash, but the gossip mill runs fast at Sky High and a ridiculous amount of people are terrible at whispering.

It enrages you when they imply there’s something more going on between you, but you can't deny the fact that you and Lash have some sort of attraction to each other. Always seeking each other out to push and shove, endless arguing and, admittedly, some preening. You convinced yourself it's not a sexual or romantic attraction. You hate each other, it’s just that neither of you can get away from the other.

But.

You can’t deny you have a certain energy with Lash. You always have. He knows it too. There was this electricity between you two, and that's half the reason you hate him so much. Every time you think you might be genuinely attracted to him—because you’re not blind and, despite your feelings, it’s an undeniable fact that Lash is a seriously attractive guy—you get angry at yourself, at Lash, at everything for being so confusing and unfair. Your hormones are unbelievably stupid around him.

Which is how it happens.

You and Lash are similarly breathless after your fight, and realizing you can feel the little puffs of air from his mouth on your face overwhelms your thoughts instantly.

Again, you notice how close the two of you are.

In his eyes, you still find simmering anger, but his edges have softened now. The way he’s staring at you, focused and drawn—it’s as if, to him, you’re the only person in the world. Like you're some kind of puzzle he wants to take apart and inspect bit by bit, wanting to know the pieces and touching along the ridges until he can commit them to memory.

He’s not relaxed exactly, he’s calmer, but there’s another kind of tension you can feel coming from him. He breaths again, and when you feel his breath on your lips, you can’t stop your eyes from dropping down to his.

They’re an incredible shade of pink, and for a moment they disappear as he quickly licks them, a constant tick of his you noticed a long time ago.

You blink back up at him, somehow closer than ever. You see the question in his eyes: are we really gonna do this? You also see something dark and longing.

That is…unfamiliar to you. You know all of his looks and expressions by heart, particularly because they are so often aimed at you, but never something like this. Like wanting. It makes you stop, heart stuttering.

You begin to move your arm, why you did and where it was going is unbeknownst to you, when you realize Lash has been holding your wrist the entire time. Probably since he had moved your hand away from his face just minutes ago.

Both of you look down at the two hands in between you. He squeezed you slightly before releasing you slowly, but you don’t move away. Instead, you continue to hold your arm out, letting his fingers run along your wrist and your palm, slow and aching. It tingles, and you gasp lightly at the feeling.

Lash, taking that as a sign, clasps his hand around yours and tugs you towards him.

You go readily, and when you meet his gaze, you lean in and your lips finally meet.

The kiss was tentative at first, but after a few seconds, you sink into it completely. You let go of his hand at the same time he drops yours. How else was he going to wrap his arms around you and hold you? Yours comes up and fists in his hair, running it through his soft strands over and over as you kiss. You had an arm curled under his, a hand gripping at his shoulder, something to keep you steady and touching all of him that you possibly could.

One of his hands rubbed up and down your back, stroking and feeling purposefully, and when it grazed over a sensitive spot, you moaned into his mouth. Your feelings for him were a complicated mess but this was easy and so, so good.

Your resolve slipped as you careened into him further. You were still so angry at him and you kissed him exactly how you fight with him: swift and calculated, but with an edge of vengeance and fire as you undo him as he does to you. Lash, similarly, wasn’t gentle with you. He did what he always does and takes, chasing satisfaction but not doing so without a show of power. Just to remind you who he is. You, unlike his victims, were not helpless. You matched him stride for stride, insistent and sure, unrelenting as you refused to let this spark burn out.

He kissed you deeper, his tongue slipping in and you didn’t think about it: you let him, because his mouth on yours? It felt absolutely and completely—

The door rattled.

—horrible! So, so horrible!

You push Lash away, both of you staring at each other wide eyed and cheeks flushed, disbelief and confusion evident on Lash’s face. Damn you for thinking this caught-off-guard looked good on him!

You had seconds to compose yourself, but after a kiss like that? You were lucky to look half as composed as you felt when Principal Powers burst in.

“Instigating a food fight? That's a new low, even for you two. Now, here’s what’s gonna happen...”

You listened to her as best you could, but your mind kept straying back to that kiss without your permission.

It was so.. intense. It kind of makes sense, you think. With what you know about yourself and Lash and yourself in relation to Lash, everything you two do was heated and passionate exactly like that. You’ve always known that you and Lash are cosmic forces mere moments from colliding, but kissing him? Surely the universe was laughing at you. It’s Lash.

The two of you were sent home, serving a half day of suspension and the rest of the week in after school detention. Together.

You were surprised that she didn’t make you clean up the cafeteria, but the janitor with a cleaning power begged her not to for a reason you can’t recall, and that was perfectly fine with you. The cafeteria was a mess, cleaning it all up would take forever.

There was hell to pay when you got home. Your parents, the Commander and Jetstream, were extremely disappointed to say the least. Honestly, you were barely paying attention to the lecture your mom was giving you. It’s always a sermon with her, and who would rather listen to that than lose their mind over having the World’s Most Earth Shattering Kiss?

It stayed in your mind the rest of the night, the next morning, and all throughout the school day. You and Lash had a few classes together but sat nowhere near each other, so it was easy to avoid him. Then detention came along.

You met him at the room, eyes darting away from each other just as quick as they were found, and you walk in.

Mr. Medulla was assigned as your detention teacher, but he had an experiment in the observation stage so he couldn’t stay in the room the entire time. In fact, he didn’t stay at all. He promised to make periodic check in’s, told you to pass the time with homework, did an evil laugh, and walked away.

You had your homework out, but made zero progress on it. The silence was so suffocating that, in a roundabout way, made you want to laugh hysterically. You didn’t want to say anything or even talk about it, but at the same time you had to know. Why did it happen? How did it happen? When it happened, did he feel the same things? Feel the same way? These questions nagged at you, but when Lash spoke up without warning, you panicked.

“So…you kissed me.”

“Nope.” Deny, deny, deny.

“...”

“Um, yes. I was there?” God, his confusion should not have been as endearing as it is. You know Lash, so you know he’s not stupid or purposefully obtuse, so maybe you had messed him up just like he did to you.

You sigh. “Look, that didn’t happen. That wasn’t a thing. I don’t know what happened or why, but that’s fine, because nothing happened.”

You spare a glance his way. He was slouched on the chair, an arm draped over the back, no books in sight. He was so casual. He shrugged, looking totally unbothered. “Alright then. Nothing happened. Fine.”

A few minutes went by. Medulla checked in. You scribbled down an answer on the sheet in front of you. It was probably right.

But, like, the way he said it. Like it meant nothing. It didn’t have to mean anything so why was his attitude so blasé. He was hardly ever indifferent so what made this so special that he let it go? It didn’t have to mean anything but it didn’t have to be nothing. He wasn't better than you just because he apparently felt nothing. Well, you don't do things by half, and Lash is not an exception. You full body turn to him.

“We’re just not gonna talk about it then?” You could not care less if that was the exact opposite of what you just said. It’s fine; Lash knows how contrary you can be.

Sure enough, when you get a good look at him, he’s smirking at you, eyes bright and expectant. Like he knew you couldn’t not talk about it and was just biding his time until you broke first.

God, he was aggravating.

“Hey, I always knew it’d be a matter of time before you jumped me.”

“What!” you squeak. “If memory serves me right, you were the one who couldn't keep your hands off of me. Do you always do that when you kiss someone? Hold them so tight they can’t escape. You’re like a straight jacket. God knows I should be in one, what was I thinking?”

“You were thinking ‘Oh, Lash is so hot I need him now’ and if someone wants to kiss me why would I deny them that pleasure?” he mocked your voice with a high pitch, and you got so annoyed that you took off your shoe and threw it at him as hard as you could.

The bastard didn’t even look mad when it hit his chest. He caught it and cackled. “You are so not getting this back, Stronghold.”

You jump to your feet. “Why! You only have one and it won't fit you. Give it!” Your very reasonable demand was not met.

Instead Lash rose from the chair and walked toward you. He dangled your shoe above his head, knowing full well that, even without using his powers, it was well out of your reach. He looked up at your shoe as you threw your dignity out of the window and jumped for it with no success. You very well could jump on him for it, but you know the jokes he’d make after.

“Your feet are so tiny,” he teased.

Oh! Feet! you think, and stomp on his.

As expected, Lash backed up and hunched over in pain, whining at you. You take this opportunity to reach around him for your shoe, but it remains elusive as he continues to hold it out. You did however manage to grasp his arm and pull it forward.

Lash’s body followed and the unexpected weight against you tripped you up. Soon you two were crashing into the desk you were using with half of the contents on your table falling to the floor.

You and Lash were in an awkward potion. Not quite standing but not completely on the floor either. Lash, being on top, moved first. You still had a grip on him, and he had no choice but to pull you up along with himself.

The result?

You were close. Very close. Again.

You wanted to move back, you really did. Your body had other plans though, and when you looked into his eyes, you knew immediately it was a mistake. You wanted to kiss him again, no, you needed to, and the gleam in Lash’s eye told you everything you needed to know.

You get on your tippy toes, throw your arms around his neck, and tip your head up. He meets you halfway, for once, and you two are kissing and kissing.

It picks up where it left off, all fury and passion the two of you felt bleeding into the kiss. This time, you open your mouth immediately and pry his open with your tongue. Judging by the sweet mewling sound he made into your mouth, Lash was not expecting you to be so bold.

He should know better.

Your tongue slides against his, tasting and feeling and wanting. He fights you when you flick the roof of his mouth and caress his teeth and cheeks, realizing he’s lost all control. This makes you pull back and smirk, momentarily breaking the kiss. You couldn’t resist, a helpless Lash is one you don’t see often, and this time? It was all your doing.

You make eye contact for a second, visibly proud of yourself and confident that you can make him react like that, and Lash’s expression shifts to one of determination before diving back in.

You know what he wants, and you got what you did, so you let him guide this kiss. He mapped the insides of your mouth, quickly becoming its best cartographer as he tongued every tooth, every ridge possible in the most delectable way.

He sucked on your tongue when you offered it, and it nearly brought you to your knees. He held on tight to you, holding you up. It would have been embarrassing if it was anyone else.

You stopped kissing, both needing to catch your breaths. You didn’t stray far, breathing into each other's mouths, lips brushing and still high on adrenaline. Neither of you moved apart while you waited for your breathing to return to normal. You traced your finger over the patch of skin he had exposed on his neck, and he rubbed circles on your hip with his thumb.

You were just wondering if Lash would think you were desperate if you tried to go back in for another round when the door slid open.

There really was no way to salvage the situation, but Lash took a few steps away from you. Luckily, Medulla’s head was turned as he talked to someone in the hall. He didn’t see you and Lash in an embrace of any kind, but there was still the matter of the room.

“What happened here? Miss Stronghold, why are your things all over the ground?” You had no idea what to say. You kept your mouth shut and rushed to pick everything up. Lash on the other hand—

“Lash, why in the name of Science are you holding her shoe?”

Fuck. You forgot about that. It’s like Lash has this ability to invade all your senses, being so successful that you forgot you were only wearing one shoe while making out with him.

Lash looked at the shoe in his hand. “Um.”

The teacher blinked. “Well give it back!”

Lash handed you your shoe, and you pulled it on as Medulla gave you a quick lecture. After both promising to not cause any further incidents, Medulla ran back to his lab to check on his experiment and left you and Lash alone again.

Then, you started laughing. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. After a moment, Lash joined in too, the events finally catching up to him.

“Why did you still have my shoe? You didn’t let it go? Not once?” you can't even form coherent words after that, still giggling.

Lash’s body convulses as he’s overcome with laughter. “I have no idea what happened. I literally didn’t even think about it.”

“Am I a bad kisser? I’ve never gotten anything other than stellar reviews so tell me now because if you were so unimpressed by me that you didn’t drop my shoe from your hand, then I need to know now.”

Lash, unexpectedly, became affronted. “I didn’t say or think that. Not at all.” You saw a blush rising to his cheeks. “You’re good. Like, really good. I like kissing you.”

Whatever you thought he was gonna say, it wasn’t this. You blink. “Oh. I like kissing you too.”

You were silent for a moment, but you knew where this was heading. Neither of you wanted to be the one to admit it, but if you did it together, it would lessen the sting of seeing each other so exposed like this.

“So, if I like kissing you, and you like kissing me…” he trails off.

“Then we should kiss,” you declare. He nods enthusiastically. “We should just kiss.”

“Yes, just kiss. Whenever we want. No promises, just kissing.” Very reasonable.

“Yup.” you say. Then, “We can’t tell anyone.”

His eyes bulged. “No, god no. I have a reputation and you have yours. We wouldn't be doing ourselves any favors.”

“Right, right. Can you even imagine?” You shudder. No one can know that you and Lash have kissed. More than once. Even worse, they cannot know that you’re going to keep kissing him.

The rest of detention rolls by, the atmosphere half awkward at what you agreed to and half giddy at what’s to come.

The next day as you’re walking to gym, lagging behind for no good reason, you feel an arm wrap around your waist and pull you away. You don't freak out, knowing immediately who it is. When you see the sign on the door you were just pulled into you say, “The boy’s locker room, really?”

Lash hushes you. “What’s the point of keeping this a secret if you’re just gonna shout it out for everyone to hear?” He continued to pull you around, weaving through rows of lockers.

You huff. “First of all, I said nothing of the sort, and second, I didn’t shout. It’s echo-y in here! That’s not my fault.”

Finally, Lash stops in a decently secluded area and corners you against a locker, bodies pressing together. “No, you are by far the loudest person I’ve ever met. Seriously. Do you have a volume control or are you permanently stuck on the loudest possible setting?”

“Shut up,” you instruct, and kiss him.

He came to you willingly and you made quick work of keeping him quiet.

You nip at his lips then suck on his mouth, ignoring his prodding tongue and not opening up fully. You continue to tease him for a few moments, giving him just enough of what he wants, but holding back until he decides to finally take it. You love being in control and it’s so easy with him, but the idea of Lash coming undone because he can’t stand the thought of you having something just out of his reach and finally doing whatever it takes to get it is a power trip in of itself.

Just knowing that right now Lash is obediently following your lead on this makes it all the more sweeter to punish him later when he unleashes himself on you.

When you‘re ready, and only when you’re ready, you loosen yourself up enough for Lash to take over.

He whines.

Lash dives into you, your mouth open and waiting. He kisses and sucks and licks everywhere he can, you don’t think he’ll stop for anything. You feel like he’s drinking you up the way he completely devours you.

You’re having fun learning what makes him tick. You know them already, but not in this context. Having to relearn him is something you do easily, and it’s funny that not only is he predictable, but he doesn’t even notice he’s showing you these things about himself.

Like your hair. You’ve noticed he brushes his hair to the side often, and not just to get it out of his face. He likes the soft, silky texture, which means Lash, currently, is caressing every strand of yours he can get his fingers on. On the flip side, with the amount of times he runs his hands through his hair, you know he melts when someone does it to him.

Lash constantly licks his lips and purses them. You don't know why, you don’t care. It’s good for you, because that means he isn’t opposed to wet lips, and you know that if you lick his and kiss him firmly, he will fall apart.

He also likes power. This is the most obvious. Who doesn't like power? The thing about Lash is, he likes to be drunk on it. He seeks it out even when he doesn’t need to and milks out that high for as long as he possibly can. Power, however, he likes to gain with a fight. Fighting is what you do best, and if there’s one thing about Lash, it’s that he will fight no matter what. He has no problem with it, and the struggle for ultimate dominance is what keeps him going. It pushes him, and the result is always victory.

He wants victory over you, but you know him, so his victory depends on how you exploit him.

Right now, Lash thinks he’s winning. You’re okay with letting him think that for a while longer if it means he keeps kissing you like this. What he lacks in surprise, he makes up for with enthusiasm and skill.

Surprise was never too important anyway.

You kiss and kiss, stopping a few times to suck in much needed air before going back for more. Eventually though, you pull back.

“We’re missing class,” you remind him.

He gives you a hard kiss that bangs your head against the metal locker, which you enjoy immensely, but you refuse to deepen it.

“I will gladly take a tardy for this, but not an absence,” you insist.

Seeing that you’re not budging on this, Lash groans and pulls away from you completely. Your front is suddenly very cold, but you pay that no mind as you make your way to the door.

When you move to open it, Lash spins you around and presses your bodies together once again. Seeing his big round eyes plead at you plucked at your heart strings. “Fine. One more.”

Lash ducks down and presses your mouths together. You move your lips against his for a few seconds, secretly thankful he wanted another.

You pull apart when you hear chatter in the hall.

“We can't leave at the same time. I'll go first, then you,” you tell him. He hums, not really looking like he heard a word you said, eyes far away and lost to satiation.

You slip out and simultaneously add two more things to your mental list about Lash:

Can and will beg and Gets kiss drunk.

Both very, very interesting bits of information.

Over the next week, you and Lash realize you can’t make out in the detention room. The window made it too risky and teachers were in and out constantly. The locker room was out of the question after the first time, it would seem was too suspicious for you and Lash to constantly miss the beginning of P.E. on the same days and at the same time, and there were just too many stragglers in the locker room and the hallway. So Lash has the brilliant idea to kiss in the boy’s bathroom.

You try it once and only once.

You pull your mouth away from Lash with a smack.

“This is the worst,” you deadpan. “You’re the worst.

His jaw drops open, looking slightly offended. “Uh, I don't see you finding anywhere for us to do this. There aren’t that many options.”

You roll your eyes. “And one of them has to be a bathroom? Getting E. coli is so not worth it.”

“Fine,” he says, grip on your waist tightening. “Where do you think we should go?”

“The back of the school, the roof, janitor’s closet, one of the many empty classrooms, behind the buses, under the bleachers,” you list off. “Literally anywhere that doesn’t involve a toilet.”

You can see the irritation flashing in his eyes, but you can tell he’s mildly impressed. He bites his lip and grins, “You sound very eager to kiss me, you know.”

“Oh yes, very eager,” you say sarcastically. “Remind me, Lash, who was the one begging who to ditch study hall for this? Was it you or me? I can’t seem to remember.”

He’s still grinning, and you can't help but to match it with your own. Lash dips down and murmurs against your lips, “Me, but who came anyway?” and he kisses you again.

His mouth is hot and fierce against yours, and you give as good as you get, sucking and licking him until he’s pliant enough to let out those soft noises you like so much. You scratch at his scalp and weave your fingers through his hair, occasionally pulling when you want him to do that thing he does with both of your tongues.

Although, no matter how hot this is, him and the kissing and the sneaking around, you’re still in a public bathroom.

The door creaks open and you pull off of him. You’re locked in a stall, but no one in this school has four legs so it was just too risky for you to stand there, whoever came in might see.

You do the only thing you can think of: you wrap a leg around Lash’s hips and pull yourself up. Lash, always seeming to understand what you want, holds your body firmly to his and reaches down to grab at your other thigh. He lifts you with no issue, securing you in the air. Now all you have to do is wait.

The thing is, you’re not the best at holding it together during tense situations, you laugh at everything no matter what. This is no exception. It’s just, the way Lash looks so serious, like being caught is a death sentence, humors you greatly. When you hear the guy relieve himself, you have to cover your mouth to muffle your giggles.

It mostly works, but seeing Lash’s face of utter bewilderment at you makes it hard to stop. He mouths at you to shut up, but you can’t. Laughter makes your whole body shake and he has no choice but to wait it out. It’s getting pretty hard to breathe at this point and you’re a little dizzy, so you decide to rest your head on Lash’s shoulder, your mouth pressed against the hot skin of his neck. At least you can breathe now.

The guy leaves, and you crack up again loudly, unmoving from your position.

“You are,” Lash begins, sounding drained, “the weirdest person ever. Literally all you had to do was be quiet, what if he caught us?”

“‘All you had to do was be quiet,’” you mock. You lift your head up and snort. “I can't believe I'm saying this to you, but you have to calm down.” Who would have thought Lash was the serious one between you two?

Lash begins to bitch at you, but you don’t care enough to pay attention. You’re not with him to listen to him talk, and besides, what he’s saying is a whole lot of nothing. You don’t let him rant at you too long, deciding to bite his neck because it’s there and you want to do something with your mouth.

It works.

He grunts in pain and he shuts up for all of two glorious seconds before asking what the hell was wrong with you.

“Lots,” you reply. “Now kiss me.”

He shakes his head at you, eyes both disbelieving and in wonder. He’s still holding you up, and you have no intention of getting off of him, so he backs you against the stall and kisses you like a man starved.

You try out other places at school, finding what works best and what doesn’t. You thought the roof was a safe place to go during lunch, but you had no idea how many teachers and students came up for a smoke. They took forever and there was no time for you and Lash to do anything, so that was out. Empty classrooms and under the bleachers were also a no-go, there was just too much traffic and exposure in those areas, and getting caught would be inevitable. You did manage a few sessions behind the buses, but you realize Ron spent most of his time there for some reason you can’t figure out. You like the guy, but he really needs a hobby, especially when it interferes with yours. You tried the janitors closet, but Lash nearly passed out from the fumes.

The only place that works is behind the school. Students never went there, and the only people who did were maintenance workers and delivery guys. These were issues that had schedules, so you and Lash worked around them.

You’re back there one day, sitting on a slab of uplifted concrete with Lash in between your legs. You’ve been kissing for a few minutes, and you didn’t have much time if you wanted to eat lunch that day. Lash, however, didn’t seem as into it like usual.

He was pouty and slow, hands braced next to your thighs on the concrete, not really giving you anything to work with.

You pull back and cross your arms, shooting him an expectant look. “Okay, what’s up?”

He shrugged. “Nothing, I’m fine,” he responds, moving back down to you. You stop him with a hand to his chest.

You give him an ultimatum: “No telling, no kissing.”

He has the audacity to look affronted with you, pouting even worse than before just because he was denied a treat. You raise your eyebrows at him and wait.

It doesn’t take long for him to break, either because he knew this was the fastest track back to kissing or because he wanted to tell you, you weren’t sure.

“You hair,” he says quietly, he bends his head down and rubs his neck, face flushing. “I like when it’s down, I like touching it.”

Oh. You werent expecting that. You knew he liked your hair, but enough to get genuinely upset when he couldn’t have it? It made your heart stop.

You let out a tiny, amused scoff. He stands there, sheepish.

You’ve never seen him like this.

“Okay,” you say. He looks up, his expression filled with blooming hope. Your hair is in two braids today, so you offer him one. He takes it hesitantly, unsure of what to do. You giggle and take your other braid, removing the tie and undoing the plait. Lash copies you, gentle when he removes the purple hair tie, slipping it on his wrist just as you had done, and he’s even more gentle as he uncoils your hair.

He undoes it slowly, fingers brushing lightly on each strand. You watch him, heart threatening to beat out of your chest. The way his attention is fully focused on your locks with unfiltered amazement, just wholly enraptured, like he’s never seen it before causes an ache to sprout in your chest.

When he finishes, you fluff out your hair, flashing him a smile when it settles.

He blinks at you, mouth parting open. “Oh. It’s wavy.”

Your smile widens and you bite your lip. His eyes track that movement with renewed vigor. “Yeah, that happens sometimes.” You reach for him, and he’s already tipping his head to catch your lips with his, kissing you with that familiar spark. It’s a bit different this time around, the way he moves against you and how he explores like he’s rediscovering you. You swear it's softer.

Later, when you’re back in the cafeteria, you hear Speed's voice a table away, asking Lash where he's been and why he has that. ‘That’ being your hair tie. You don’t look over at them, instead you smile down at your food, pretending to listen to your friend talk.

You and Lash continue to meet up, but after a few weeks you explain that you can’t continue to kiss him at school because your grades are suffering because of it.

“So, you don’t want to kiss me because you got an A- in the Heroes of History test? You should be grateful, I got a C on that!” Lash looks extremely put upon, and you elbow him.

“I didn’t say we had to stop, just that we can’t do it at school anymore. Or, at least, as often as we have been. I can’t let my grades suffer.”

He nods. “Alright, fine, you don’t want me to get in the way of your 4.0. I, however, am at a steady 3 and am perfectly fine with it.”

“Oh, sweetie, you don't have to tell me you’re okay with mediocrity, I’ve always known,” you say, voice sugary.

“I hope you have fun with burnout in senior year,” Lash drawls, voice agonizingly calm. “I’m sure your Type A personality will be great at helping you with that, babe.”

You preen at him, not taking the bait. “I’ll be sure to mention it by name in my valedictorian speech.”

Tension rolls off you two in waves, both feeling the burn inside as you crash into one another, heavy and unstoppable.

Five minutes and very swollen lips later, you’re heading inside.

Lash bumps your shoulder. “If we can’t meet up here anymore, where are we gonna go?”

You say, suddenly becoming shy, “Well, I was thinking, you could come over.” He furrows his eyebrows together and you tear your eyes away from him. “To my house. You can come over to mine. If you want.”

Oh god this was so awkward. You were well aware of this line you were crossing, an unspoken boundary to keep this separate from your private lives. You haven’t set an end date for these meetups, but you would understand if you freaked out Lash enough for him to call off the whole thing right then. You were dreading it, to be honest. You had no idea what you were gonna do when this was over.

But he doesn’t call it off, he agrees.

You smile to yourself, not willing to show how thrilled you were.

You did miss kissing at school, only meeting up there twice a week, but it’s so much easier to kiss him when you have actual privacy. You were a nervous mess the first time he came over. You cleaned obsessively and checked, double and triple, that your parents weren't home and wouldn't be until Lash was long gone.

You led him into your room, fidgeting as he observed its contents.

“Cute,” he remarks, fingering at an NSYNC poster.

You swipe at his hand. “Don’t touch Joey,” you whine.

He cackles. “Figured you be a JT girl,” he teases.

You shove him and he, frustratingly, doesn't go anywhere. Instead, he snatches up your hand and tugs you forward. You crash together, limbs finding their way around each other, mouth inches apart.

“Don’t you have a brother?” he mutters, eyes drawn to your lips

You shake your head. “Will’s at Layla’s. I dunno when he’s coming home, but he knows to knock before coming in here. He learned that the hard way.” Lash laughs, a short thing. You feel his air puffing on your skin, tingling all the way. Your gasp is soundless, and he chases the movement of your lips, but still not breaching the gap.

“Oh? And what kind of scandalous thing were you doing for him to have learned that lesson, hm?”

You press your foreheads together and push his head back hard. Not enough to seriously hurt, but a clear punishment. You've never done that with him before, another boundary broken, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “I know what you’re thinking. No, it was nothing like that.”

You feel him vibrate as he hums, it shudders through you like an earthquake. “Will you tell me?” he asks.

“Nope,” you deny. “You gonna kiss me anytime soon?”

Lash brings a hand up to grip at your chin and tilts it where he wants, eyes dark and wanting. “You gonna let me?” He barely finishes his sentence when you surge forward, lips finally coming together, slick and demanding.

A few days later, everything changes.

You were invited to a party at Gwen's, and you knew Lash would be there since he’s part of her inner circle. You’re good friends with her, seeing as you’re both in the same year and popular, but they had this interesting four person (not including Penny’s clones) clique that remained exclusive.

Gwen’s parties are always absolute ragers, and you had no trouble letting loose, drinking and dancing with your friends. There was also a karaoke machine, and you were part of the small group that had commandeered the mics. You got lost in the music, singing and swaying along, not caring how you looked or sounded, just basking in the fun.

Unbeknownst to you, Lash stood in a corner, watching you the entire time.

Had you noticed him, you would see the fond, amused smile that never left his expression. You won’t know this, but he was thinking of what a terrible singer you are. Enthusiastic for sure, but completely tone deaf. He thinks about how devastated he would be if you ever got any good. You’re having fun, though, and that’s all he cares about.

Had you noticed him, you would have seen that smile drop, moments later, when he comes to a realization. Probably the most important one of his life. It’s dangerous and unsteady and tilts his whole world sideways, yet so unbelievably worth it. But you don’t notice.

You’re drunk and your vision has blurred when you get pulled into a game of Spin the Bottle. It’s not your favorite game, but you whoop along with everyone else when people kiss. You think you’re lucky that the bottle never lands on you, until, of course, that’s exactly when it does. You’re a little reluctant, but rules are rules, and you get a peck from some senior who’s name you wouldn't be able to recall even if you were sober.

You don’t take your turn, flipping off everyone who boo’s you as you hobble to the nearest bathroom.

The truth is, you’re not too keen on kissing anyone who isn’t Lash. That senior was so unimpressive you forget about it as soon as it happens. It’s fine, though. Nothing you want to remember anyway.

You finally find a half bath, kicking at the door, and hurl into the bowl. You’re grateful when you feel someone collecting your hair, holding it out of the way. They rub your back, and you know immediately whose hand it belongs to, having felt them on you many times before.

Lash has only encouragement for you, and when your stomach is empty, you hold out your arm so he can haul you up to the sink. You find a bottle of mouthwash on the counter and grab it, rinsing and spitting habitually. You can see Lash watch you in the mirror, staring at you with an expression you were too drunk to fathom out.

Finally, when your mouth feels clean, you dissolve into giggles.

“Oh no,” Lash groans. “You’re not one of those drunks, are you?”

You’re still giggling when you nod, your whole body following the flow of your head, tipping forward. You catch yourself, and you can only snort in laughter as an exasperated Lash puts his hands on his hips, shaking his head all the while.

You stop laughing, zeroing in on his pose. His arms aren't necessarily open, yet there were two perfect gaps in between his arms and body wide enough for you to slink yours through. You fall into him, doing exactly that. The urge you felt to stick to him like a second skin overrode everything else in your mind, and besides, he looked like he could use a hug.

He’s frozen for a moment—not that you notice—before wrapping his arms around you too. You stay there for a long while, clinging and breathing each other in, the party outside nonexistent in the bubble you created.

“Are you upset,” you ask Lash eventually. “You seem upset.”

You feel him breathe in deeply then sigh heavily. “Yeah. A little bit.”

“Oh,” your heart sinks and you pull away. You’re still koala-ing him, but you tilt your head up to pout at him. “At me?”

“No,” he admits. He brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face. “At Ricky Wilkins.”

You squint at him. “Who the hell is that? That’s such a dumb name. Why are you letting some guy with a dumb name upset you? How dare he take away your smile! I like your smile. Lash,” you bat your eyes up at him, “can you smile for me?”

And he does. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. “There it is!” You’re so enchanted by his mouth, so you bring up a hand to trace his lips. They’ve long since been burned into your memory, yet, in your state of drunkenness, you forgot how pretty they are.

“Why did Rocko make you upset?” you ask, still playing with his lips.

“Ricky,” he corrects, but you’ve already forgotten it. “He kissed you.”

Your eyes dart up to his. “Nuh uh.”

“Yuh huh,” he mocks lightly. “He kissed you during Spin the Bottle. That’s why I got upset. I didn't like seeing that.”

You can tell he’s being honest with you, even if being open didn’t come naturally to him. You feel a warm flutter rise in your chest.

“Lash, I can’t even remember his name.”

“Clearly,” he says sarcastically. Then he sighs and says quietly, “I didn’t like seeing you kiss someone else.”

“Oh,”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Lash smiles, it’s not the same as before. This one is hurting. “We never agreed to anything like that, you can kiss whoever you want. I’ll deal with it.”

“No,” you shake your head at him, “No, don’t do that. I don’t want to kiss anyone else but you. I haven’t since you. You’re too addicting for that.”

Lash grins and eyes shiny at your lack of a filter. “You’re extremely addicting too, and it drives me nuts that you don’t know how much. I haven't kissed anyone else either.”

Relief pours through you all at once. “Then we agree. We don’t kiss anyone but each other.”

The way Lash is looking at you now, like you’re something precious, makes you melt.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you sigh in contentment, tucking yourself back into him. “I’ve never thrown up after kissing you.” The way Lash burst out laughing at your words made the bathroom the home of your symphony.

Days later, you and Lash are, surprise surprise, making out on your bed. Him half on top of you, one arm propping himself up and the other roaming along your side, like he was a pianist and your ribs were the keys. You’re holding his face in both your hands as you kiss languidly.

Lately, they’ve become softer, more purposeful. Your touches have also become more daring than they had been before. Fingers pressing deeper into skin, hands wandering further than normal, lingering where they shouldn’t. Kisses now all over faces and jaws and necks, biting and sucking and feeling so, so good.

Lash’s hand skirts past your waist this time, trailing down your hip and over the side of your thigh. He traces a random pattern on your flesh before he grips it with a hot hand, and you gasp as he hikes your leg up and onto his hip and back. It was a bold move, and you knew he wouldn't dare go further. No matter how much you fight and defy each other, he would never make you do something you didn’t want to, and you were never compliant enough to let him. He’s still holding your thigh, you think you might kill him if he lets go.

You’re kissing deeply, obsessed and intoxicated, bodies twisted together, lost to the world and only concerned with finding each other.

Which is why, unfortunately, you get caught by Will.

“OH MY GOD!” your brother screeches.

You and Lash startle apart, looking at the intruder. Will was in the doorway, flushing red and hands covering his eyes. Lash rolls off you and onto the other side of the bed, allowing you to get up and yell at your brother.

“William! Knock! You know this!”

“I’m sorry!”

You roll your eyes. “What do you want,” you exhale.

The dork still has his eyes covered. “Mom called, they won't be home until tomorrow. I was gonna ask if you can make Layla and I pizza.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. I’ll be down soon.”

“Sweet, Layla’s gonna be so happy! She’s a vegetarian, remember? So no meat,” he reminds you.

“I know, bud. Now get out of here.”

Will turns and speeds off, but not before running into your doorway first. “Oh my god, Will, open your eyes.”

You turn around and see Lash getting up. After all, it’s usually about this time when he heads home. To be honest, you didn’t want him to go. You never did.

“Hey, um, if you’re hungry you can just…stay.” The words fought you coming out, unsure how Lash would feel and what he would think. You’ve been crossing all kinds of lines with each other lately, was this really so different?

Lash’s eyes widen, and for a heartstopping second, you think he’ll say no.

“I could eat.”

That’s how the two of you end up in the kitchen, Lash obediently following your instructions as you throw together a pie.

Lash holds up an unmarked mason jar. “So, where does this come from?” he asks, and you explain that your dad homemakes it, it’s a Stronghold secret recipe.

“Of all the hobbies the Commander has, I never would have guessed that he dabbles in homemade pizza sauce.”

“Hey,” you defend. “You’re holding a seven time winner of the annual Maxville Realtor’s Pizza Fest. Show some respect.”

“Seven?”

“Consecutively,” you add.

Lash shakes his head at you with a grin. You’re quiet as you work together, comfortable with the peace that comes with the silence. When you finish your creation, a simple mozzarella spinach pizza, you pop it in the oven.

“Y’know,” Lash says, leaning against the counter. “I’ve realized that my mouth is super tender now. It’s totally your fault, by the way.”

“Wha— my fault? Do you know how much chapstick I’ve gone through these last few months alone because of you?”

“Believe me,” Lash assures, “I know. You taste like a different flavor every week.”

You slide up to him, head tilted. “Oh? What was today’s flavor?”

“Not sure,” he says, nonchalant. It's not a very subtle segue but you’re not gonna complain. “I think I might need a reminder. Care to give me one?”

“Shut up,” you murmur, and kiss him until your lips bruise.

The timer goes off sometime later and you detach yourself from Lash. You got out the pizza, and he offers to tell the other two that it’s done.

“Wait!” You stop him. “Wait wait wait, I need to check on something.” You get behind the wall that looks into the living room, and observe. You don't have the best spying skills, but their backs are turned, so it’s fairly easy to see what's going on and to hear their conversation. You feel Lash shuffle behind you, resting an arm around your waist as he peers around the corner.

“What are you doing?’ he whispers in your ear.

“Hush. I can’t hear what they’re saying.”

Unfortunately for you, Will is rambling on about something incredibly boring, Layla giving him her undivided attention as always, so you huff in annoyance and leave them alone.

“Is it just me or is that green chick totally in love with your brother?” Lash asks, unprepared for the can of worms he just opened.

You whirl around to face him. “Yes!” You whisper-scream, him reeling back at your reaction. “Will is an idiot! Layla isn’t subtle at all, oh my god. I can’t believe how oblivious Will is.”

“Maybe it’s a Stronghold trait,” he mutters under his breath, luckily for him, you’re too focused on the tween romance in the next room to catch that.

“She’s been pining after him for so long, it’s reaching a point where something has to be done.”

“Probably best to let them work it out,” he advises.

You nod. “Probably. Doesn’t mean I’m not keeping an eye out for any developments, though. They belong together, mark my words.”

“They’re marked.”

You shove his shoulder. “Oh stop. Hey, we should probably tell them dinner is ready.”

The rest of the evening is relaxing, you and Lash messing around, teasing each other’s eating habits, and stealing bites of pizza. The four of you watch a movie but Will kicks you and Lash out for being too loud, so you grab his hand and haul him away, finishing dinner on the floor of your room, doing nothing but talking and talking and talking. It’s the best night you’ve had in a long time.

Later, Lash lingers in the doorway as you’re saying goodnight. He hesitates in the threshold, opening then closing his mouth, not daring to speak his mind. He’s absolutely adorable like this, face flushed red and glowing under the fluorescent porchlight.

“Yes?” you ask.

He ducks his head down, eyes avoiding yours before ultimately spitting it out. “Can I—uh. Can I have a goodbye kiss?” God, the way his voice was so shy and scared, like you’d ever say no to that, like you’d ever want Lash to be insecure around you. Like he thinks he can’t have you.

“Yes,” you reply, and kiss him.

He whimpers against your mouth, his emotions being nearly too much to contain. He cups one of your cheeks, guiding your head where you both like it. It’s slow and soft. You find the tenderness he was talking about earlier, finding the new sensitivity all-encompassing and everything.

As you stand there watching him leave, you press your fingers to your lips to chase the impression of his mouth, memorizing and wanting.

It’s almost sickening how sweet the two of you were with each other from that point on. You still spit fire and he tugs on your pigtails, this syrupy flavor just another addition to the zest of your relationship. These soft and vulnerable moments you keep allowing each other to see and to show off becomes like second nature the more you do it. You find it easy when it’s him.

You’re on your bed, panting after Lash left you breathless. From your perch on his hips, you watch as his chest heaves, similarly gasping. You run your hands up and down his torso, needing to feel the heat of his skin through the fabric as you both decompress from that intense session. When you reach the top of his sternum, he snatches your hand up and presses his burning lips to your wrist. Then, he laces your hands together and tugs you down. You fold, and peck his lips once, twice, three times before murmuring against his lips,

“Have you seen Pinocchio?”

Lash’s body stiffens under you. “I really, really don’t like where you’re going with this.”

“Please,” you whine, squeezing the hand that never let yours go. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to know. I’m talking years. Literal years, Lash. I’m sorry if you get asked this all the time, but I need to know: can you stretch your nose like Pinocchio?”

“No one,” Lash says flatly, “has ever asked me that. I knew this is where you were going with that question, I just knew it, you absolute weirdo.”

You cross your arms and level him with an unimpressed glare. You end up in a staring contest, neither willing to back down. You’ve played this game before and won, never mind that you and Lash always seem to tie. This time, you would not be the one to crack. You know him, you know what makes him fold like a deck of cards, and as the dealer you’re not above a little manipulation to satisfy your curiosity.

Slowly, you let your expression shift to one of hope, eyes shiny and brows furrowed, not quite begging but rather expectant that he would sacrifice something small like his dignity to show you a party trick. Then, you bat your eyelashes at him, not quick enough for him to think you’re doing it knowingly and on purpose like he rightfully accused you of before, but innocent, fluttering blinks timed perfectly enough apart to seem genuine.

Lash sighs heavily, looking like he regretted every decision he ever made, and you try to not look half as pleased with yourself as you felt.

Slowly, Lash’s nose stretches out a few inches. He doesn’t hold it for long, but just long enough for you to get a good look before quickly retracting it, his face back to normal, frown and all.

You cover your mouth with your hands briefly, eyes bugging. “Oh my god. That is the most amazing thing I have ever seen.”

Lash huffs, his bottom lip sticking out, and he twists his head away from you.

“Hey, no,” you say, easy and comforting. You reach out and grab his jaw, turning it back towards you. “I wasn’t making fun of you, promise. I think that’s really cool. Thank you for showing me.” To prove you meant no harm to his ego, you smack a kiss on the button of his nose.

His eyes blow wide, and for a second your heart starts to sink, believing what you did was a mistake. Lash proves you wrong, again, when his mouth stretches into a goofy grin. You light up again, and don’t think before falling forward to leave a lingering peck on his lips.

He pulls back, just barely, and asks with complete adoration flooding his voice, “How are you real?”

This is when you know your heart belongs to him.

For a while, neither of you take the next step. Cross the next boundary. You know what you want, and you’re almost positive he wants it too, but the thing is, you never stopped being each other. You’ve always been the same people since the beginning. There are only two ways it could end, and you weren’t ready to cross the finish line only to find out he isn’t the prize. That’s not winning to you.

Speaking of winning, it’s something you plan on doing as the monthly Save the Citizen game was announced for P.E.

They didn’t participate every game, but Lash and Speed have been an undefeated team since freshman year, everyone dreaded going up against the powerful duo. Few came close to winning, but they were ultimately unstoppable. This time though, Coach Boomer threw in a twist.

“I’ve been feeling a little bored, so I’m changing it up this time. Lash, Speed; as the undefeated victors, you will not be on the same team today.” The sea of students began to whisper, wondering what Boomer was doing. “You two will be on opposite teams and, because I’ve been spending too much time with Medulla, I’m feeling a little evil, so you will choose each other’s partner. Lash, you first.”

Lash deliberates for a second before choosing freshman hero student Brittney Wilson, AKA Freeze Girl. Interesting choice, you think, and wonder how Lash plans on winning when she has a stronger power than him. He’s pretty clever in a pinch and that’s how he and Speed keep winning, but sometimes brute force is all it takes. He does have two more years worth of experience than she does, and Speed isn’t known for being much of a tactician, so Lash isn't totally without an advantage. You continue to think of possible strategies Lash could use to combat this when you hear Speed say your name loud and clear.

Suddenly, whispers rise all around the gym room, heads turning to look at you and gossiping immediately. You hear many students speculate about the easy win Speed and Freeze Girl are sure to have, because there’s no way you and Lash can work together long enough to win, your rivalry is sure to get in the way. Even Boomer and the other teachers looked surprised at Speed's choice, albeit also unable to hide their curiosity. Speed, the asshole, is smirking to himself. Good thing losing is not an option for you.

A coin flip determines that you and Lash are the villains. You make your way to the changing room to get into your gear, passing Lash on the way, and you can’t resist an opportunity like this.

“We’re winning, so I would really appreciate it if you don’t fuck this up,” you say to him, not that anyone but Lash can tell you’re teasing him.

He’s got an eyebrow quirked and a very bad poker face on as he peers down at you. “If you break my winning streak I’ll make sure you’ll regret it, Stronghold.” The you of a few months ago would take this as a threat, but you now see it as the promise it is. Whatever the results of the game are, you know you and Lash are gonna end it in your own way later.

In typical high school fashion, the students around you “ooh” as you and Lash exchange barbs. You’re not paying them much attention though, now focused on nothing but winning.

Soon, you’re inside the arena and you begin to strategize with Lash at your side.

“You should take Speed, you know his moves better than I do. I can hold him off if he tries anything, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to face Freeze Girl alone,” you say, observing your opponents across the room. If you recall correctly, this is Brittney’s first game participating.

“Yeah,” Lash says. “That’s what I was thinking. I don’t think beating Speed will be too hard, he’s too fast and too impulsive: he won’t stop and I can get him then. And he pretty much only has one move.”

You cut in, “You’re right, but you’ve never been his opponent before. You’ve never seen him from the other side. Don’t underestimate him, that’s a good way to lose.”

“Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll keep an eye on him. So Freeze Girl. She’s powerful and quick, but if she exerts herself too fast then she’s basically powerless. You have more stamina than her, so if you keep hitting her and don’t let up, she won’t have a chance to fight back. She’s also too mild—even if she does freeze us it won’t be enough to hurt.”

You nod along. “Exactly. She won’t dare try something that could seriously injure us, she’ll hold herself back. Try to stay as far away from her as you can, you won’t be able to stretch if she freezes you, but I’ll still be able to use my power. Also, I think she’s afraid of her powers, I’ve seen her use them in training. She’s prone to hesitating under pressure. I doubt she’ll think straight while worrying about us and the citizen. She doesn’t have the best control, either.”

“That could be dangerous,” Lash points out. “If she’s that untrained you need to be careful.”

You smile at him. “I know. I’m just hoping she hesitates enough for us to win. She’s not thinking about this as a battle between heroes and villains.”

“She’s thinking of it as a game in gym class,” Lash finishes.

You stare at each other then with half hidden smiles and mischievous twinkles in your eyes, silently appraising the other and thinking about how good you are at this teamwork thing. It goes unspoken: you’re a team and you’re unstoppable. There’s no other way, not when you’re together.

The game still hasn't started yet, and you take this opportunity to put your hair up. Fighting is much easier when there aren’t flyaways blocking your view. Only, the hair tie you had this morning is missing and there’s only one place it can be.

“Hey,” you say, grabbing his attention (as if you ever lost it). “I need to put my hair up.” You hold your hand out, and Lash rolls up a sleeve, revealing your signature purple hair tie sitting snug on his wrist. He slips it off and hands it to you.

As you’re gathering your hair in a ponytail, you can’t help but think of that morning when he took it from you, your memories filled with hot kisses and sharp nips, Lash’s fingers threading through your hair and making a mess so bad you needed to brush it again. He’s taken possession of so many of your hair ties because of his insatiable fixation. You don’t mind one bit. Over the last few months, you became accustomed to putting your hair up for the sole purpose of letting Lash take it down, still in awe of the way your hair cascades down and around you.

“Good?” you ask him, showing off your hair. You hate when it isn’t smooth and he knows this.

He pinches his lips together and hums in agreement. Despite that, Lash reaches up to flatten some stray baby hairs, shaping your face.

Neither of you notice the whispered exchanges all throughout the gym, starting when the two of you emerged from the changing rooms without biting each other’s heads off. Rumors began to circulate quickly with you and Lash accidentally fueling the fire as you interacted.

Boomer takes his place. You see Speed whisper to Freeze Girl, she looks scared and unsure as Speed flattens his hands and gestures to the floor then to you and Lash, but then she nods, seemingly reluctant but agreeing with whatever he suggested. An uneasy feeling coils in your gut.

Boomer is about to start the countdown, so you lean over to Lash and whisper, “The second the timer starts, jump. We need to stay off the ground.” Lash gives you a confused look, but it only lasts for a second as the timer blares, beginning the countdown.

He trusts you, and when he sees that Speed doesn’t take off immediately, he knows why.

The two of you jump, Lash stretching his arms up to hang from the rafters, and you use your powers to hover above the ground, looking like you’re standing in midair.

Your instincts were right, because a few feet under you lay a sheet of ice, right where you and Lash were just standing. They were gonna freeze you to the floor.

It was silent for a few seconds. Then, the crowd went wild.

Lash drops down next to you, knowing you’d keep him off the floor.

“You,” he says seriously, “are so hot.”

“So not the time,” you respond, not being able to wipe the grin off your face, and he beams at you. Then, together, you charge into battle.

The thing is, no one knows exactly how powerful you are. Most people know that you’re telekinetic, but not what you’re truly capable of. Your parents think you’re the most powerful person in the world. You think you’re just a teenager. They made sure you were trained properly, and through that, you found out just how strong you are.

You deter Speed every time he comes at you, apparently not caring that he was supposed to save the citizen. At one point, as you’re blocking a rapid attack from Freeze Girl, you feel an arm wrap around you and drag you to the side. You realize it was Lash moving you out of Speed’s way as he attempted to catch you off guard. He didn’t account for Lash watching your back. You lock eyes with him, giving him a nod of thanks.

Eventually, after you threw him back and knocked him on his ass a few dozen times, he stopped going for you and focused on Lash.

Brittney, bless her heart, tries her best. It’s almost enough, but if her opponent was anyone other than you, she most likely would have won instantly. She attempted to freeze you, make you fall, grab the citizen with her ice, but it didn’t work. Her ice just wasn't strong enough to combat your powers, so you broke through everytime. In the beginning, it was harder to do, but as she exerted herself more and more in a short span of time, she exhausted herself and her ice became weaker.

Once, she attempted to freeze Lash while his back was turned, but you shattered the ice before it could go anywhere near him. She was a good fighter though, full of potential and capable of greatness if she applied herself.

Lash and Speed were engaged in a game of cat and mouse. At the one minute mark when it became clear to Speed that Freeze Girl was no closer to the citizen than when the game started, he became desperate. Every move becoming wild and sloppy as the timer counted down. He attempted to jump to the citizen, something that would have been easier for him as the mannequin lowered, but Lash would slingshot or smack him away, even tripping him a few times. He did get close at the 15 second mark when he managed to knock Lash down, but you simultaneously defended yourself against Freeze Girl’s desperate attack of ice shards and used your powers to move the dummy just out of his reach.

You and Lash won.

Exhilaration flowed through you, hearing your classmates cheer, seeing Lash’s face light up at you, and that was an adrenaline rush in of itself. You were gonna run to Lash, not knowing exactly what you would do when you got to him, but all you were thinking about was celebrating your win.

Unfortunately, Speed had other plans. You forgot he was a sore loser.

The game was over, you weren't watching him, so when he ran past you at full speed, he shoulder checked you. Before you knew what was happening, the coupled momentum sent you flying, and you cracked your head against a wall of ice.

You don’t fall, but you stumble, head dizzy and incredibly nauseous. The impact distorted all your senses, everything too loud yet muffled at the same time. Your skull felt like it was vibrating in your head, and the side of your head where the impact hit throbbed agonizingly, the ache clearly not dulling anytime soon. You feel something wet on your hair, so you reach up and immediately hiss in pain as you touch the tender spot. You pull your hand back, vision blurry and darkness creeping in, but what you can see is bright red staining your fingertips.

You think you hear someone call your name, but you pass out before you can process anything.

You didn’t expect to wake up in the nurse's office hours later, your entire body pulsing in pain. Nurse Spex began a series of inspections on you, testing your memory, motor functions, and everything she couldn’t while you were unconscious. She let you know that your parents were on the way, give or take a possible European villain detour.

Turns out you have a mild concussion, and she advises you to take it slow for the next few weeks. You’d have routine check ups to monitor for brain damage, but she’s positive there won’t be any. Then, she asks if you’re up for a visitor.

Your heart races as you nod your head yes, then you groan and clutch your head as you realize how stupid that was. She gives you a tylenol and lets someone in.

To say you were disappointed it wasn’t Lash was an understatement. Brittney bounced in, one part freshman perkiness and the other incredibly and unnecessarily apologetic. Nurse Spex leaves you two alone, saying that she’s going to update the staff on your condition and how they can best help.

After she finishes apologizing for creating the ice that hurt you and you assure her multiple times that it wasn’t her fault, you ask Brittney what happened after you blacked out.

She blushes and needlessly fixes her glasses. Then she practically gushes her next words. “Well, Lash caught you. You fell right into his arms like a princess! It was like seeing a fairytale play out right in front of my eyes! He was so worried about you. People tried to help when they realized what happened, but he wouldn't let anyone near you, only the teachers. I didn’t know he could be so sweet.” She sighs dreamily.

“I do,” you say quietly, smiling to yourself.

She blinks. “Oh. We were all wondering, I mean, his reaction was so unexpected but it all makes sense now. The hair and the jump and the way you saved each other. Like, it was all there.”

Her words are absolute gibberish to you. You ask her to explain.

“It’s just, everyone saw how well you work together, even though it seems like you hate him. No one thinks that anymore about either of you. You were strategizing, and he had your hair tie, and the way he fixed your hair, I mean, you know what they say about hindsight. Oh! Not to mention the fight with Speed.”

You sit up. “What fight with Speed?”

Brittney’s eyes widened. “Um. Lash probably would have been here instead of me, but he’s in detention because he got into a fight with Speed. About you. And he said—well, he said…” she trails off and bites her lip, looking down.

“What did he say,” you urged.

“I really shouldn’t be the one to say it, you should hear it from Lash. He kind of yelled about his feelings for you at Speed, but there were so many people there, I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who doesn’t know.”

You were tired. So, so tired. “Yell what.”

Brittney waves her hands frantically. “No, seriously, ask Lash. I heard the teachers talking earlier, apparently he was begging to see you and they said they’re gonna let him soon. Ask him then.”

You calm down, regretting losing your cool on her. She stays and talks for a few minutes and you promise to help her with her powers, but leaves when you begin to feel droopy. You’re asleep again soon after.

This time, waking up was less painful. Your head still hurts like a bitch, but you felt more steady. You wake up slowly, feeling incredibly groggy, when you feel a squeeze on your hand. You open your eyes and see Lash next to your bed. Head resting in the mattress and sitting on the chair Brittney was in last.

You squeeze back, his head shooting up near comically. His face shifts in a multitude of expressions going from shock to relief to worry to fear to joy and to a million others before settling on something soft, something just for you. He looks you up and down, assessing your well-being and making sure you’re okay.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi.”

“How long have you been here?” you ask. His clothes are rumpled and his eyes have dark circles under them.

“A few hours. It’s late, so they’re keeping you here until your parents come back in the morning.”

You hum. “Will?”

“With the green chick,” he assures.

You giggle softly. “I know you know her name.”

He shakes his head at you, eyes crinkling as he smiles. “Whatever.”

You two stay like that, staring and drinking each other in.

Against all odds, you’ve become absolutely intertwined and fully enamored with him. He’s Lash, and he’s yours. You know what you do to him, how you drive him insane and obsessive and he’s completely fine with it because he’s nothing if not addicted to you. You are his too.

“I love you,” you tell him.

He gasps, all sharp and hopeful. He looks at you, really looks. He’s looking for a lie, a deception, a meaningless babble because of your concussion. The search is quick; he knows as soon as he starts looking that he’ll find nothing.

“I love you too,” he admits softly.

You wish he could kiss you, but you know he won’t risk anything right now. That’s okay though, you think. You’ve kissed him in almost every way that matters. You can wait a little longer for the last few if it means being with him. Here, as victors, having crossed the finish line together.

#lash sky high #lash x reader #lash sky high x reader #sky high 2005 #x reader #if you read this whole thing THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! please let me know what you think!#im honestly not expecting any readers but i wanted to post it anyway. this is probably my most favorite thing ive ever written.#i put a LOT of care into this oop

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aziawow · 8 months

Text

being in love sucks (rodrick heffley x f!reader) 2.9k words

summary: you're in love with your best friend, but all he can talk about is heather hills.

warnings: language, discussions of loss of virginity of a minor (17), brief self sexualization

notes: she/her pronouns, no use of y/n. reblogs, comments, and likes appreciated! interact with me!

You’ve been friends with Rodrick your entire life. There isn’t a time you can’t remember without him being there. Your parents are lifelong friends and it was only natural that they raised you two together. There’s hundreds of pictures of you both in matching onesies, in the bath, at playdates, in your Halloween costumes, every first day of school, and so much more.

Your lives are so intertwined and have been from the very beginning that it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. Out of everyone, you and Rodrick knew each other the best because you spent every second together and talked about anything and everything. Sometimes, you didn’t even need to do that to know.

You knew everything about each other.

Mostly everything, at least.

See, there was this thing. This one thing you kept secret from Rodrick for years. The longest you’ve ever kept a secret from him. The secret that could destroy your friendship of almost 18 years.

You’ve known Rodrick all your life and have been in love with him for half of it.

You’re not sure when the “love” part happened, but it hit you suddenly and all at once one day when you were 13.

Rodrick was doing something stupid and Rodrick-like, making you laugh and laugh and laugh until your insides hurt. When you settled down you looked at him. That’s all it took. Just one look. His eyes were dark and shining, a light you’d give everything to see on his face for as long as possible. You noticed his mouth, the way his big, pouty lips curved in the aftermath of a smile. And you knew.

You were totally gone for this boy.

You didn’t want to be the typical girl who fell in love with her boy best friend, but that’s what happened.

You weren’t immune to him and his charm, and no matter how much they pretend otherwise, neither were other girls you went to school with or random ones you saw in gas station lines late at night. Girls either liked him or they didn’t, and you felt like baring your teeth at everyone who crushed on him or flirted with him because jealousy isn’t a feeling you are exempt from, their infatuation is always brief, and they don’t know him—and never will—like you do.

At the same time, you wanted to wax poetic about Rodrick to those who thought he was a weird emo loser who would never get anywhere in life because they couldn’t be more wrong, and how could they not see the amazing guy right in front of them for who he is?

But you kept quiet. You silenced all the contrasting, confusing, and utterly stupid thoughts in your head and tried to move on.

You tried dating, never stuck with a guy for too long because either they hated Rodrick or Rodrick hated them. “You deserve the best kind of love, and he’s not it,” he’d say. And you’d think, “fuck” because he makes it so goddamn difficult not to love him. But he’s not an option, so forward you continue.

You had your firsts, and so did he, and the aches kept coming.

When you lost your virginity a few months ago (a stupid decision with someone you connected with in your history class just to get it over with) he grew quiet. Scarily, worryingly so. He asked a few questions—who was it, how far did you go, did he wear a condom, did you enjoy it, are you going to see him again? You answered his questions tentatively, not liking this mood shift.

The atmosphere in his room where you were (previously studying) was cold and tense, and you hesitated on your answer when he asked if it hurt. This was uncharted territory—how would he react to the truth? But because you promised to only save one secret for yourself, you told him the truth. When it came to Rodrick, lying was never easy.

It did hurt. At first anyway, and it took you a while to adjust to it. There was pain and pleasure and the guy was kind and gentle with you, and after you couldn’t walk for a good while. You were still sore during this conversation.

He was still quiet, though there was a spark of anger behind his eyes. He tried to hide it, but you know him too well for that. He got up and left the room for a few minutes. When he came back, he brought an ice pack, a towel, an extra pillow, and a bottle of ibuprofen. He gave it to you, face burning, and your heart skipped several beats as you were reminded of how sweet he can be.

You never discussed it again, and it’s like that day never happened. No hesitancy, no awkwardness. Just you and Rodrick. Best friends forever.

Now though, his newest obsession was getting on your nerves.

Heather Hills. Heather fucking Hills.

What were you compared to this beautiful prom queen that had Rodrick practically eating out of the palm of her hand? She’s everything Rodrick wants, and what else could you do about that? You tried being supportive of his crush (thinking of Heather being the love of his life made the ache grow stronger, so you chose not to think about it) but it was hard when Heather made it perfectly clear what she thought about Rodrick. But your sweet, naive, lovestruck best friend was too blinded by her shiny blonde hair and skin tight clothes to see the truth.

It was really annoying. Seriously. You’re not narcissistic, but your hair is fucking amazing even on bad days and you’ve been know to rock form fitting and revealing clothes from time to time. You had enough respect for yourself to dress how you like and not for boys, especially for Rodrick, but it would be nice if he noticed you for once.

Like, you didn’t custom make Löded Diper merch on a tight crop top that showed off your asset really well because you love the mispelt words for what happens when babies defecate displayed on your chest. You’re really supportive and just a bit hormonal, okay? Totally normal.

The thing is, you can deal with it when he says he made out with some girl under the bleachers or got a number from someone in his bio class (“How, Rodrick, you don’t even take biology!”) because they mean nothing to him. Just a one off to relieve stress.

Except, Heather Hills? This crush wasn’t going away anytime soon and you struggled to be okay with it.

Currently, you’re in his room, listening to an album of the latest indie band he found when he brought her up yet again. Just as you were really starting to get into the band, too.

“She is so beautiful, don’t you think?” You refuse, refuse, to glance over at him because if you saw the stars in his eyes you’re sure you’d throw up all over the clean laundry Susan had brought up for him a bit ago. You think, slightly vindictive, that at least she stopped folding his clothes for him and that he’s gonna lose his mind with that task later.

You “uh-huh” at him noncommittally and try to listen to the music.

He sighs, disgusting and dream-like. “Like, I know she wears makeup, and I’ve never seen her without it, but I just know her natural face is just as beautiful. Maybe even better. Definitely better, right?”

Jesus Christ.

You hum again.

“She always wears lip gloss, though. It makes her lips so glittery. I wonder what flavor it is. Cherry? Watermelon? Strawberry? I hope it’s strawberry.” You roll your eyes knowing he can’t see but hold in a sigh. You’ve been wearing strawberry lip gloss since you were, like, 10, which he would've known if ever paid any attention to your lips. “God, I want to kiss it off so bad,” he whines, and that, for some reason over all the others, is what breaks you.

“I have to go home,” you blurt and roll off his bed. You reach over to the music player, pop out the CD, and secure it in the case before stuffing it in your bag. You were gonna go home, enjoy the album, and maybe (probably) ((definitely)) have a good cry. What you were not going to do is sit there and listen to the boy you’re in love with declare it oh so passionately for another girl.

“Wait, what?” he asks, shooting to his feet. You make quick work of gathering your stuff and sliding on your shoes, ignoring him.

He follows you out his door and down the stairs, grabbing at you and asking you to slow down. You brush him off and repeat your excuse.

“Hey, wait. C’mon, what’s wrong? You're just gonna take my CD and dip?” He genuinely sounds upset, and you hate that it’s your fault, but you have to look after yourself.

“Yes,” you hiss, and you hear him make a sound so wounded and entirely unlike him that you stop just before reaching for the handle of the front door. You turn and face him, dying a little when you see his wet, confused eyes.

You try to say something, but Susan’s voice cuts in.

“Oh no, are you leaving? I just finished dinner! It’s barbeque chicken wings,” she sing-songs, and shit, it’s your favorite meal that Susan makes. It might even be your favorite meal ever. It has been since you were little and you and Rodrick had a food fight with the sauce. You got in so much trouble, but you wouldn’t give that memory for anything.

It was your favorite and Susan knew that. Rodrick knows that. Even Greg, who you had a good relationship with because you don’t tolerate Rodrick bullying him, and Frank, who couldn't be assed to pay attention to his sons unless they fucked up, knows it’s your favorite. It’s your favorite, but…

“I’m sorry, I have to go home. Next time, though,” you add after seeing the shock on their faces.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Rodrick!” Susan scolds.

“One minute we’re fine then the next you don’t want to be around me,” and no, your heart does not break a little more hearing the crack in his voice, absolutely not. “I’m so lost. What’s wrong?”

Something in you snaps. It’s the something holding back the secret you’ve kept from him for years and all the other tiny secrets buried within that one. It’s the something in you that aches, and you just want it to stop.

“You are!” You practically yell at him. Now it’s out, everything else escapes too, whether you want it too or not. “Heather Hills is! You can’t go five minutes without bringing her up! It’s actually kind of pathetic how gone on her you are. She won’t give you the time of day no matter how hard you try. She doesn’t care about you or your music and she thinks you’re a loser and you know that but you’ve successfully deluded yourself into thinking she sees you as anything more than a walking Hot Topic advertisement. That is, if she even knows you exist.”

The look on Rodrick’s face as you rant turns to shock then to a kind of sadness you’ve never seen on him before. You see in real time as you break his heart, but he broke yours first, so the pain between you is shared like everything else.

He tries to speak but you cut him off. “I know you exist. I care about you and your passions. I am probably one of the only people in this world who believes in your dream of having a music career and supports it.”

“What does that have to do with Heather?” he asks, and you want to scream.

“You once told me that I deserve the best kind of love, do you remember that?” He nods. “So do you. That is something I believe in strongly, and I can’t pretend Heather is what you deserve. She doesn’t know you, she doesn’t see you. I’m not going to go on feeding into this fantasy you have because I can’t watch this thing you have with her anymore.”

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, looking frustratingly cute as he does so. He shakes his head.

“I don’t understand. Why can’t you watch?”

“Because it hurts, Rodrick! It hurts me and I can’t stop it.” You sigh and tear your gaze away from him. You think back on your shared past, the jokes, the situations, the good, the bad. Every memory pours in, and you know you ruined what was left of forever. Tears spring to your eyes.

“I can’t do this,” you say quietly, “I really can’t.”

Rodrick stays frozen in place as you open the door and leave. He stands there even after you’re gone.

“Wow,” says an irritating voice next to him. “You’re an idiot.”

“Greg! Don’t talk about your brother like that, he’s clearly going through something!” Rodrick, who can’t feel much of anything right now, feels a smidge grateful for his scolding mother. Until— “Except, Rodrick, honey. You are being a little bit of an idiot.”

He whirls around, hope for everything completely gone.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, and when the only response he gets is his mom and Greg sharing a look with a meaning Rodrick can’t define, he loses it.

“What just happened? What does she mean ‘I can’t do this’ and why did she bring up Heather a million times? She refused barbeque chicken! She loves barbecue chicken! What is with that!?” he sits at the table and groans. “I’m so confused. Nothing in this world makes sense.”

“Oh my god, Rodrick, are you serious? I know you’re kinda dumb but you can't seriously be that oblivious,” Greg says.

“What,” Rodrick bites.

“I’m gonna tell you this, not because you’re my brother and I love you, but because the best thing about your life just walked out that door and I don’t want to risk her never coming back.”

“Tell me what,” Rodrick grounds out.

Greg sighs, very much put upon and done with stupid teenagers. “Dude, she’s in love with you.”

Rodrick stops. His whole world comes to a standstill. He can’t think, he can’t breathe, he can't be. That’s not true, right? His little brother is just yanking his chain. Pay back for when Rodrick let Greg believe he used his toothbrush to scrub the toilet bowl last week. Just a prank. A joke.

Right?

Because if it’s not…

“How do you know that?” he asks, and hates how small his voice is.

“How do you not?” Greg retorts.

The rest of dinner is spent in silence, only broken occasionally by Manny, but Rodrick doesn't even make it halfway through. He’s too busy thinking about you and what to do. He sat with his thoughts and absentmindedly started to eat a piece of chicken, but found he couldn’t even take a bite without every memory you two shared filling his every sense. He abruptly leaves the table and suspects the only his mom let him skip family dinner is because he had a great fucking excuse.

This, to him, is life changing news. The most important news he’s ever gotten and will probably ever get. This is something he has to consider, and consider very seriously or he’s screwed forever. The decision is so easy to make.

You're in love with him.

Him, though? Christ, of course he loves you back. How can he not? Heather is whatever, a distraction, something fun, but you? You’re his whole world, you’re forever.

Time to get his girl.

***

There’s a tiny clink at your window. You thought you imagined it at first but it happened again. And again. And again. It kept happening until—

“Rodrick!” You whispered-shout, half hanging out your window. You’re on the first floor, and right in his face. Whoops. “Knock it off, you’ll wake my parents up!”

“Sorry!” he whisper-shouts back. He takes in what you look like, rumpled clothes, red eyes, and tear stained cheeks. “Hey, have you been crying?” He decides fuck it, and leans close to you and takes your face in his hands. He’s gentle, so you let him. Distantly, he can hear the stolen CD playing behind you.

He wipes away the tears and crust, and when he’s done, he brings your foreheads together. You close your eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for not seeing it before,” he apologies softly.

You let out a gentle huff. “The only secret I’ve ever kept from you,” you admit. He chuckles lightly, you can feel his breath on your skin and you shiver. Your heart beat is wild, always wild around him. But there’s a sense of calm and peace between you two now, and you don’t feel nervous. With him, you feel safe and content, even now after everything.

He pulls back and you open your eyes.

“God,” he says, breathless. “I’m so fucking in love with you.”

And the way he looks at you right now, in this moment, tells you everything you need to know. He never looked at Heather like this, not at any girl except you. He would never lie to you. Hope and love and longing soar through your entire body.

Your eyes are wet and your heart is full. “I love you too.”

When you kiss, it’s everything.

He pulls back abruptly, eyes wide. “Strawberry?” he asks, voice in awe.

“Shut up,” you say, and pull him in for another kiss.

#rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley x y/n #rodrick heffley x you #rodrick heffley x fem!reader #rodrick heffley fic #rodrick heffley reader insert #diary of a wimpy kid #doawk #lmk what you think!

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