#i miss when i would go to the football field in high school and fucking scream
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i need to scream sing unfortunately i have neighbours
#i miss when i would go to the football field in high school and fucking scream#noone was there#i'm like. in the middle of nowhere in my new uni so maybe i should try walking far enough from campus and scream at the top of my lungs#maybe that would fix me#but also it's not just screaming it's scream singing that i need
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📣 Spotter Cheerleader!Abby x Flyer Cheerleader!Reader
ingredients: sugar cubes and honey (fluff!)
a/n: maybe im a bit biased as a former cheerleader (slightly self indulgent) but i need yall to get on the spotter abby cheerleader train with me. let me set the vision for yall PLEASE.
imagine getting TOSSED around like a rag doll like this by abby
ngl im a bit disappointed that after all the times we saw abby lift people in the game, nobody thought of this idea??? smh‼️‼️ fine i’ll do it myselfs in thanos
The minute you started your freshman year of college, joining the cheer team was never a question for you. Cheer has been the primary sport that’s been a part of your life for almost forever. From middle school all the way through high school, you’ve gone from a shy and timid girl who could barely do a cartwheel, to a confident cheerleader who flips and soars through the air as instinctually as a bird would.
You would spend almost as many hours on the football field as you did doing homework. And when applying for college, a big factor in your decision making was influenced by whether or not the university had a commendable cheer team. If oxygen was what you inhaled, cheerleading was what you exhaled.
Now for Abby, the complete opposite was true. For most of her life, Abby was revered for her strength, so it was only natural that she’d gravitate towards brawn emphasized sports such as football or rugby. Not once did cheerleading ever cross her mind.
She, like most people who weren’t familiar with the world of cheer, thought cheerleaders were just there to look pretty for the football or basketball team. She wasn’t even aware that competitive cheerleading was a thing.
It wasn’t until one of her academic meetings with her counselor when she was suggested to branch out of her comfort zone. Out of curiosity, Abby walked past the gymnasium during a cheer practice just to see what cheer was actually about. She had to admit, she was impressed watching you all do complex flips, and throwing other human beings feet into the air. Having an open mind, Abby thought it wouldn’t hurt to try it out.
During her audition, all it took was for the team captain to take one look at Abby and already made up her mind before Abby even opened her mouth. Those arms have spotter written all over them, she thought.
On her first day of practice, Abby walked into the gymnasium and swore she could hear the sound of her own heartbeat with the way everyone got silent. There was only one thing going through each of your heads when you saw her.
God fucking damn.
It’s not that much of a shock that it did not take long at all for Abby to become one of the more popular cheerleaders on the team. Granted, her hulk-adjacent physique is what grabbed most of your attention of course.
Some of the men on the team who may or may not (they absolutely were) intimidated by her tried to get a feel of her energy by doing what men do best— trying to do a one-up on her ego.
“I see you missed the deadline for the football tryouts over the summer?” one of them playfully jeered at her.
Luckily for Abby, she was used to sports banter, so she wasn’t offended at all.
“Got told I was overqualified,” she responded. “What happened to you, though? Didn’t make the cut and that’s why you’re here?”
Taken aback for a moment, he clasps the back of her shoulder with a laugh.
“I like you, Abby.”
But what really sealed the deal was how much of a team player Abby is.
Underneath her initial appearance, she was a very gentle person who somehow knew exactly how to interact with her teammates. Someone messed up during the routine? Abby’s the first person to reassure them that it was just a simple mistake. Someone finally nails their tumble pass that they’ve been struggling to perfectly execute? Abby’s hoisting them into the air and cheering for them. She knew how to make people feel comforted and special, and that’s one of the reasons her team loved her.
The juxtaposition between her physical strength and her emotional gentleness made her all the more attractive to some of the girls on the team who were already eyeing her. You were no different.
Every time a new stunt formation was formed, every flyer secretly hoped it was Abby they would be teamed up with. Who wouldn’t want to get tossed around by her?
At the beginning of the cheer season, the main focus was preparing for homecoming games. But once homecoming finally passed, now your team started to really get to business– preparing for cheer competitions.
Per usual at the start of a new competition season, your captain creates an entirely new routine that’s not only separate from the ones you performed for homecoming, but also meaning that this was the same routine you’ll be using for the rest of the season.
After working on the cheer and tumbling formations, you then moved onto stunts.
Your captain lets you know that you’ll be doing a one man stunt for this part, so you’ll be in pairs instead of your usual groups of 4-5.
She begins calling the pairs up to the floor to take formation, and you don’t miss the way your heart flutters in your chest when yours and Abby’s names are called together.
You and Abby glance at each other for a brief moment before you shyly break eye contact.
You also didn’t miss the way some of the other flyers were glaring daggers at you, wishing it was them that Abby would be effortlessly throwing in the air instead of you.
As you take your stance in front of Abby with your back facing her, your nerves amplify and you struggle to calm them down.
Your captain calls the ready signal, and you feel cool, rough hands grip the sides of your waist from behind. You attempt to push past your dysregulated heartbeat as you grab ahold of Abby’s wrists.
“FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT-”
The planes of your feet transition from the floor to the palms of Abby’s hands in a millisecond as she lifts you up into the air with ease. But as easy as it was to get you up there, it took just as fast for you to come crashing down.
Luckily for you, Abby's arms enveloped your torso before you could meet the floor.
“You okay?” Abby asks.
“Yeah. Thanks,” your face is hot from the embarrassment of falling.
“Let’s go again,” your captain announces to the team.
You go again, and just like the first time, you find yourself in Abby’s arms yet again from not being able to stay in the air.
You go again.
And again.
And each time, the same outcome is met.
Your captain calls for a 5 minute break. You can see that she, along with the other stunt pairs are tired of repeating the same movement over and over again.
Abby’s not the problem here, and you’re aware of this. You don’t know why you can’t seem to get the fucking stunt together. You’re one of the best, if not the best flyer on the team. So why are you suddenly acting like a fish out of water?
Witnessing you getting visibly frustrated at yourself, Abby tries to talk you through it.
“Sorry. I don’t know why I can’t get it the fuck together.”
“It’s okay. I got you. ‘M not letting you fall, yeah?”
As your eyes lock into hues of sincere icy blue, you feel the anxiety in your nerves begin to subside. “Okay...” you softly say as Abby gives you another reassuring nod.
Once the break was over, you try again.
Feeling a bit calmer after Abby’s talk, this time when she hoists you up into the air, you’re back to being your natural self. Once you finish the stunt, you quickly turn around to face Abby with excitement.
Abby was already waiting for you, proudly smiling with both of her hands up. You both high five each other.
“See? I knew you could do it.”
The feeling of your face getting flushed happens yet again, and you hope Abby doesn’t notice.
Oh, fuck. You feel the crush beginning to develop. And knowing that she’ll be your partner for the rest of the season, you know it won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.
As for Abby, after many practices she’s now certain she loves cheerleading. I mean, what better way to put her strength to use than getting the chance to lift pretty girls into the air?
#abby anderson#abby anderson x reader#the last of us#tlou2#tlou2 abby#abby anderson x female reader#abigail anderson#ai’s tea
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((this turned out longer and more in depth then i meant for it to go, tw for abusive families, suicidal ideation, mentions of death, grief, and dismembering of a body))
headcannon that steph and max were best friends as kids. his dads an important man, one that solomon wanted on his side. so he pushed steph to spend time with his son. max was a super happy kid, very exciteable, loved musicals. they were on their own a lot, since neither of their parents really gave a shit, so they’d spend a lot of time at starlight theatre, watching all the different shows and things going on. max would tell her about how shitty his dad was and she’d do the same in return.
when they got to the 7th grade, steph got really depressed and pushed max and everyone else away. and max was little, they both didn’t really know what was going on. after that, they weren’t ever really close like that again. she got on the middle school football team and was deemed a prodigy, got popular, started getting all these friends that would do whatever he said. things with his dad got worse, and without steph to help him he started bullying to corral his emotions. steph knew what he was doing, but also knew it wasn’t serious. he pushed a few people around a little, that’s all. she didn’t think she had to be worried about her friend and now that he was super popular, she needed other people to spend her time with.
she also became cool, just because he said hi to her in the hallways, so she found herself in with his group. but she never truly felt she fit in, skirting along the edges. in high school, her friends all joined the cheer squad as she joined the smoke club and stop giving a shit about school. she never made sense in the “popular kid” crowd, but she assumed they kept her around bc she was the mayor’s daughter and pushing her out wouldn’t fly. it was actually max, making sure she got an invite to every party.
steph sort of floats through high school disassociatedly, in the my-home-life-is-terrible-and-isn’t-gonna-get-better-until-college-so-i-don’t-give-a-shit way, so she doesn’t see the escalation of max knowing no one will stop him doing anything, getting a total god complex, and ruling the school with violence, until pete. she’s probably the only person in hatchetfield high that doesn’t know, but it surprised her so much. bc max? the boy who would geek out over tech production of the musicals? the kid who let her be the captain when they were pirates bc he thought it was more fun to be the first mate? who’d stay up late with her when she had a bad day to read the books their moms were had promised to read to them? that boy is this horrible bully, and she didn’t even know it? it just doesn’t make sense.
she says she’ll go to the principal bc that’s the first instinct one has about this shit, but people started doing that in 8th grade, and all that happens is max has to go to an anti bullying thing every few months. she wants to talk him down, figure out what made him go this far, but she already knows it’s his dad. he wants to be the big impressive football star that his dad wants him to be, so maybe he’ll actually give a shit. he wants his dad to notice and tell him to stop, because then it would mean he was paying attention to what he did. daddy issues recognize daddy issues, and steph sees it in max, even if she did have prior knowledge. she goes along with grace’s plan bc she thinks it’ll be a good ego check to bring him down, but then. then.
she goes home and cries herself to sleep, feeling responsible for the death of her first real friend. she gets sick for weeks with flashes of her dismembering his body with the others, and while every one else’s seems to think the school’s getting better, all stephanie can think is “did no one else fucking care about him? even a little?” all his friends, the football guys, even her friends on the cheer squad, seem to not care about max’s disappearance as much as they care about his missing spot on the field. she starts to skip more until she decides to hang out with pete instead. he must be guilty too, be haunted by these images, but then he says “everything is objectively better.”
which she gets. people are free from his torment, they can do what they want, talk to who they want, etc. the hallways are brighter, people are happier, whatever. but max was still a person. steph wonders if the plan had gone right, maybe he would’ve come back down from his god complex and been more like she remembered him. if he would’ve done the spring musical like he’d always wanted to do but never felt like he could. if he would’ve hated her for it forever. she’d rather he hate her forever than her have helped kill him.
when they have to start talking about what happened, she tries to call him jägerman, tries to disconnect her friend from what happened, because he truly was drastically different, but it was hard. after richie and ruth, shut goes crazy and max is back, but he’s not really max. she feels like the worst friend in the world when she think “he looks like his dad”
because mr jägerman has always been a being full of rage and anger, not one to hide in his own home. she’d seen him scream and yell at max for being a regular little kid, not special at all. not the perfect son he wanted. max, this weird spector of max, is all rage, no heart. even when max was at his worst, he had some heart. he kept her in the “cool group” even though she made no sense there, let grace go unbullied bc he had a crush on her. this wasn’t max. this was a personification of his dying moments, the only thing the waylon place did was preserve, and maybe further his anger.
she wants to beg pete to kill her the way he begs her to kill him. she started all this, even if she denied it at beanies, it’s true, and she is probably the only one who could have helped max stay a regular guy instead of the egomaniac ruler of the school he became. but she can’t get the words off her tongue. so long she’s been thinking about how easier everyone’s lives would be if she just killed herself, and now she can’t even do this. he gets on his knees in the football field, she raises the gun from twenty yards away, and thinks about how many people this thing that isn’t really max has killed.
she forces herself to pull the trigger.
max stops the bullet.
grace fucks the ghost, and all is well. except she’s met gods who seem like they want to eat her, and now her father’s dead too. he was an asshole, he never really cared about her, but she sobs for hours n the big empty house on pinebrook, and wishes desperately that she had made pete do it.
she and pete check on each other, because he also lost two people important to him, and they hold each other up. get each other through it. help each other mourn. she meets his older brother, he helps her clean out her father’s office. they go to funerals together and hold hands, and don’t talk about it.
it takes her a little while to realize his homecoming offer is still up, since things are technically different now. she buys a dress and tells him only the color, and he wears a matching bow tie. it’s such a ridiculously peter thing to do, and it makes her laugh for the first time in a while. they laugh together a lot that night, and she helps him breathe through a panic attack in the bathroom when ruth’s favorite song comes on.
she tells him about the images she can’t get out of her head, maxs body in pieces, the blood everywhere, that she burned the clothes she wore that day bc she couldn’t get the smell of blood and bleach out no matter how often she washed it. he tells her that he’s having flashbacks like that too, and that he wishes he could talk to his therapist about it without being sent to jail or a mental hospital.
she talks to detective shapiro and gets her to send a letter to peters therapist that he’s not gonna be arrested so pete can talk his shit out. at least the non-ghost and demon stuff. the dismembering a guy stuff, though, he can talk about.
it gets her thinking about therapy and getting some. she’s 18, she’s got more money than is necessary from her father, and she thinks she’s going crazy. she looks into it and finds one, starts going once a week. he tells steph he things she has adhd, sends her to a psychiatrist who confirms the diagnosis. she gets some drugs to take, and she feels weird about taking them. she’s done drugs, but like the cool ones. she knows not to do drugs you’re unfamiliar with when your alone, and she feels like she’s a lot of that.
homecoming was fun, but she and pete still haven’t out any label in their relationship. they haven’t said i love you, even though everything that went down means the both know it. she wants to be his girlfriend, but she doesn’t want to ask. wants him to ask. she tells her therapist as much, and then complains that she’s paying him bc she’s got daddy issues and trauma, not to hear about her high school drama.
but miraculously, he does ask her to be his gf. and then they’re dating, and it’s great. she spends more time at his apartment with his brother, less time alone in the big empty house just thinking about max and her hand in who he became. he and her therapist together convince her to start taking the meds, and it helps with some of her problems, but not all of them.
she forces herself to keep living, even when she doesn’t want to, because that’s what max (her best friend, the kid who was too scared tontry out for the musical, the asshole, the boy she knew better than herself, the adult she apparently hardly knew, the spector she could only half recognize) would want from her.
#max jagerman deserved a redemption arc#so im giving it to him#post mortem#bc this is cannon compliant im afraid#steph and max were best friends ik it#nerdy prudes must die#npmd#steph lauter#stephanie lauter#max jagerman#peter spankoffski#brief lautski bc i have no control#starkid#hatchetfield#The Rambles
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I miss my best friend! I think he was screwing around with the Chronivac and got turned into some Junior High 'Gymbro' by someone on your support team! I have no interest in the gym, but I miss him, we grew up together man!
Okay, yes I think I remember that case. It's been a while… I hope that's your pal you're missing:
He graduated junior high some time ago, he's a sophomore in high school now. And one of the most popular lads in school. No wonder, he's really hot. And I regret, he won't remember you as you look today with your not very athletic body in your early 30s. Dating someone like you would be pure social poison in high school. But you want to be his best friend again? I can help you with that. It's Sunday night, get your stuff together, you have to go back to school tomorrow morning.
After dinner, you sit in front of the TV as usual. Actually, you would like to continue watching your favorite series on Netflix. But instead you watch soccer. You don't get what the Europeans think of it. Lame game… But the lads on the field look sexy. So sexy that you jerk off. You like the cool hairstyles, especially when their hair is wet with sweat. The shiny jerseys. The lads are bursting with athleticism. Fast, agile. Not those clumsy bodybuilding hunks. Hehehe, and the jersey shorts damp from precum just feel awesome. You have to pee during the half-time break. In front of the mirror, you think to yourself that maybe you're a little too old for the cool undercut cut you copied from your idol. Well, you've been seriously training at your soccer club after work for a year now. But that doesn't make you a soccer star. Nevertheless, the hairstyle is very cool. You take another non-alcoholic isotonic beer and fever with your team in front of the TV through the super exciting second half. When the redeeming goal is finally scored, you almost spill the rest of the beer over your sofa in your jubilation.
Actually, you could watch your series for another hour or two. But there is still the summary of the last game day to come. You will watch it. With a last beer. It's now almost 22:00. Another round of running before you go to bed? No, you'd rather do a few sit-ups and get up early enough tomorrow to get it done before work. The soccer posters in your bedroom are a bit childish, aren't they? But you are a fan. You even have bed linen from your club. Soccer star… That would be a great life… You think and fall asleep.
At 02:00 o'clock you wake up. Your hard-on is almost painful. You can't remember the dream anymore. But you are thirsty and quietly, so as not to wake your roommates in the frat house, you go to the bathroom and drink a sip of water. Your cock has recovered and dangles magnificently between your worked out thighs. You proudly stroke your six-pack. Yes, you are already rightly a favorite of the spectators. Fuck, actually you would like to jerk off now. But you have to go to bed, you need your sleep.
At 06:00 o'clock your mother sticks her head into your bedroom and whispers "Get up, sweetheart". You hate that. You're almost 17. You're one of the most promising goalies in the state. You're not a sweetheart anymore. But secretly you are grateful to your mother. You would have overslept for sure. And the hour of running before school is a must. Sometimes you envy your pal. Bodybuilding is just less time-consuming. Football is hard work. Still, you prefer it. Gym is just not your thing.
Training today was great. Every word of praise from the coach makes you feel good! Nevertheless, you are now looking forward to the cafeteria. Actually, the lads from the soccer team don't sit with the pumpers. Your best buddy and you are an exception. But hey, you're both some of the cool lads. Have fun and enjoy high school life.
More pics like that at @cutesoccerguys
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Star-Crossed Encounter
Kyle Broflovski x Y/N Oneshot (g/n reader)
Summary- A few days after y/n’s family moves to a remote town in Colorado, they set out to find their own space to escape reality for a while. When they try to replicate the scenario from their old town, a welcome stranger with red hair and green eyes shows just how similar the pair are to each other.
CW- some cursing, nothing major
Word Count- 912
When your parents move around as frequently as yours did, you develop some weird coping mechanisms. Never feeling fully “at home” anywhere, you have to make a space for yourself everywhere you go that gives you the illusion of control that a home provides. For you, you could always rely and find solitude in an empty high school football field. The feeling of damp grass or turf under your head and stars in your eyes was the same from Maine to California.
It’d been about a week since you had first stepped into this mountain town. Not the (seemingly) most exciting place you’ve been dragged to, but sometimes the unsuspecting places were the most enjoyable. You were particularly upset about this most recent move though, after spending the first three years of high school at your last residence, the longest your parents had stayed anywhere. Switching into a new school the first week of your senior year was not something you dreamed about.
The night was chilly, the first fall breezes coming in, perfect for some big sweats and a blanket. At around 12:30 you decided there would be no better time than now to go see what would become your place to think for the foreseeable future. Climbing out the window and making the walk to your school felt so familiar it was the first time you smiled in a week. A hop over the fence, and stroll to the midfield later, you were so busy looking around the bleachers and sidelines you had missed the figure laying there already. Until you tripped over him.
“Jesus fucking christ! Are you okay?” A lanky kid with a huge mop of curls sat up and turned to face you.
“Yeah I’m alright, are you?”
“Yeah, I think you took more damage than I did,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m Kyle by the way. You’re new here, right?”
“Word travels fast here, I’m y/n,”
“Well we don’t see new faces here that often, and I think we had like four classes together. I’d have to be pretty stupid to not notice after that.” He was beginning to flush across his freckled face.
“Well I’m sorry about officially meeting like this Kyle, I swear I’m typically much more graceful when I break into public property in the middle of the night.” You got up onto your knees, starting to leave so not as to disturb the boy any longer. “Enjoy the rest of your night, dude.”
“Oh please don’t think you have to leave because I’m here, there’s plenty of room. And I mean who am I to deny another weirdo of their nighttime football field stargazing time.”
He got you to fully smile with that, so far the only person in this town able to do that. “Well if you insist. At least let me share my blanket with you then, you must be freezing!”
He grinned, his blush deepening, “If you say so,” You both got yourselves comfortable and wrapped up. “So if you don’t mind me asking, what brings you out here?”
You explained your story to him, losing track of how long you were talking, and how open you were to sharing your history with a total stranger. Maybe it was because the moonlight made his curls so shiny and bright red, or maybe it was the intense look in his eyes, as he held onto every word you said.
He also found himself talking more and more, opening up to you as well, although he was definitely less surprised by his openness. The second you walked into class that Monday he instantly clocked you. The fullness of your cheeks. The way your hair tucked behind your ear. The way your eyebrows pulled in when you were annoyed. He was smitten. It was refreshing for him to hear how like-minded you were, not to mention hilariously witty, and enough to give him a run for his money when it came to intelligence.
When the conversation lulled, with you both staring into the heavens and its constellations, more than two hours had passed since you climbed from your window. Neither of you seemed to mind enough to get up.
When the sun began to rise, some more hours later still, Kyle awoke to find your head and arm wrapped around his chest. “Hey, um, y/n?” He gently stroked your hair out of your face.
You slowly began to stir, and apologized profusely when you noticed the positioning you were in.
“Don’t worry about it, we’re just lucky I woke up in time so that we can both get home before our parents notice we’re out.”
“Thank you Kyle, you’re my savior,” you laughed out, meeting his eyes. You both stayed there for a minute, just looking into eachothers eyes.It was only broken when a rare moment of confidence sparked in Kyle. Before he realized what he was doing, he was leaning closer to your face, eyes fluttering shut, pausing an inch before you.
You tilted your head up, closing the gap between you. Again you sat for a minute, unbroken.
After what felt like a million years had passed you pulled away, both of you blushing now this time. “HowaboutIgetyournumberandgiveyouaridehome!” He squeaked out, the momentary confidence evaporated.
“What?”
“How about I get your number and give you a ride home?” He said much more slowly, coherently, and sweaty.
“I’d really like that a lot.”
#fanfiction#fanfic#south park#kyle broflovski#kyle broflovski x reader#kyle broflovski x y/n#high school au#oneshot#fluss#exblondecharm
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Zeiger 3500
Alright, fuck it. Here’s an unedited first draft of a web series I was writing. Feel free to point edits or make suggestions for how to rewrite this story. Enjoy.
EPISODE 1
Char always wondered what was at the bottom of the sea.
When he wasn’t busy helping his father pull massive nets of fish from its depths, he would often stare into the dark waters and imagine giant squids and crabs waging massive battles that would reshape the ocean floor. Sometimes, he wondered if the fables his father told him about underwater cities were real.
Of course, Char had to be careful when he went into these daydreams. The other guys on his father’s ship gave him shit if they caught him fading from reality on the job. One of them, Figgis, would punch him in the arm when he wasn’t paying attention. It was all in good fun but Figgis knew how to lay into him.
“Daydreaming again shit head?” Figgis said, nudging Char as he walked past. “What is it about this time?”
“Fucking your mom, Figgis,” Char replied. It was a shitty joke but it was the best he could come up with.
“Language,” he could hear his father scream from the ship’s control room.
“Yeah bitch, watch your language,” Figgis replied. Char couldn’t help himself from laughing, despite his father’s disapproval.
As the ship, about the size of half a football field, swayed, Char listened to the waves thump against the hull. He closed his eyes and tried to match his breathing with the sway of the ship. As the seconds passed, he could hear the sound of his father coming up beside him.
“What was it this time?” he asked Char.
“Sea battle.”
“Ahhhh, I love the sea battle fantasy. Y’know, they used to make movies like those daydreams you have?”
“Yeah. You tell me at least three or four times a week,” Char laughed.
“Hmmm,” his dad said, scratching the gray beard. “I ever show you one of them?”
“How would we be able to watch one?
“Maybe I know an old war buddy that could hook us up with a projector,” he replied.
“Really?”
“Oh sure, it’s not like a projector is high tech stuff,” his father said. “We don’t have to go to one of the sky cities to get it, though.”
“That would be amazing,” Char looked at his father. His black hair faintly shined in the light, sweat from a long day's work. Char was taller than his dad and often cracked jokes about it.
“I’m thinking we watch an old Kaiju film,” he said, scratching his chin.
“What’s that?”
“An old old old film about a giant monster that fights other giant monsters,” he said looking out into the sea. “It’s amazing, me and your mother used to watch them all the time.”
Char rested his head on his hands.
“What?”
“I miss her.”
Char’s dad looked out to sea. After a few sways of the ship, he rested his hand on Char’s back.
“Me too son.”
Suddenly, an alarm began to ring, let everyone on the ship know a large school of fish was near. As the last ring echoed across the water, the ship’s seven-man crew prepared to go fishing.
Char sighed, taking one last look into the water, wondering if he’d ever been able to explore the ocean. He tucked the thought away and returned to his position operating the ship’s crane. As he climbed the nearly one-story metal pillar that overlooked the ship, painted a dull olive that blended with the ocean, he examined the ship’s condition. There were nicks and rust that decorated the paint, small indents in the floor of the ship where Char accidentally dropped heavy objects served as reminders of how not ro operate the crane. Char felt like all of this added to the ship’s character, though his father would disagree.
He couldn’t believe that this machine served a different purpose twenty years ago. Built at the height of the Last War, it was used to salvage abandoned war suits, robots as tall as skyscrapers that used to roam the earth. When war suits were outlawed, these ships were no longer necessary to some countries and they were auctioned off.
The hull of the ship was made of dense metal and was fitted with propellers on the front and back. Everything, including the crane, was air sealed and had its own air supply, just in case the ship tipped over.
“SCHOOL INCOMING,” his father yelled from the ship’s control room.
Ever since the war, industries like the fishing business had been booming. Most of the planet’s livestock came from the sea after the war nearly destroyed half the planet. Before his father pulled him out of school, Char learned about what happened in his history class, though the exact details always eluded him. He tended not to think about it too much because he rarely had time to do so.
Reaching the top of the crane, he remembered that there was an air tank that sat just above the cockpit door. He cursed, nearly hitting his head on it, it was one of the only things they couldn’t remove from it. The ship was so old, he wasn’t even sure there was air left. Sitting down in the operator seat, he strapped himself in and sealed the cockpit.
Char could see the small crew of men tighten their grasp on ropes that controlled a net on the side of the ship. In just a few minutes, they would begin wrestling with it as the ship’s speed made the fish hit the back of the net like tiny meteors. It wasn’t an easy job but none of the men seemed to complain since the pay was so good.
“CHAR GET READY,” he heard his father scream.
Almost without thinking, he moved the long yellow arm of the crane over to the net. Char waited there for a few minutes until he saw his father swing his arm, signaling to lower the crane and grab the net. When it latched on, it began to raise, showing that it was now filled with what looked like a million pounds of fish.
Char turned the crane and moved the net over a hidden pit that would keep the fish fresh until then got back to shore. Once the pit opened, he dropped the net with the flick of the wrist and watched the men begin removing the fish from the apparatus. He watched for a few minutes before stretching out in the cockpit.
This was the fourth catch of the day and he knew after this it would be time to return home. It wasn’t tedious work but it was tiring because they needed to wake up as soon as the sun rose. Father told him it was to catch the fish off guard though. He hated to admit it, but he was bored and hated helping his dad.
He closed his eyes and dozed off, listening to the sound of the crew begin preparations for returning home. Eventually his breathing slowed and he began dreaming about sea monsters fighting in the ocean once more.
When he woke up, it was as if the dream followed him into real life. Dark clouds ambushed the ship and a fierce rain began pelting the crew. He could hear his father screaming for him to wake up.
The rain hit the crane’s cockpit like hail, loudly thumping against the glass. Like the rest of the ship’s small crew, Char was caught off guard. He always checked the weather forecast for the day before going out to see and it never said anything about a violent rain.
Then something hit the side of the ship, forcing it to rock violently.
Char turned around in his seat to see if everyone was okay. He strained his eyes to see the small group of men huddled over the side of the ship. He noticed one of them, a small portly man that they nicknamed Chubz, was waving his arms frantically. Instantly, Char understood what happened and hit a big red button on the control board on top of the cockpit.
The ship’s giant bell began ringing and every light on the medium-sized vessel turned on as its crew began searching for a man overboard.
Char started to get out of the cockpit but his father signaled him to stay in the crane. He understood why, with the rain beating down as hard as it was, one wrong step, and he could’ve snapped his neck on the way down. So he sat back down, helplessly watching as his father and the crew attempted to rescue the man now floating in the sea.
He sat in the cockpit for what felt like millennia watching. The ship rocked three more times as if it just scraped across solid land. Char could feel his heart pounding out of his chest as he struggled to catch his breath.
Straining his eyes once more, he looked toward where the group was huddled, his father was now down there helping out with a rescue rope. Other than that though, it was no use, he couldn’t tell what the hell was going on from his vantage point. Wanting to help, he began to unbuckle himself when his eyes caught the shadow of something massive looking at them.
He saw two red eyes, cutting through the black clouds.
-
An aging man dressed in a dark military uniform looked down at the monitors tracking his creation’s progress. So far, its vitals looked normal and the only abnormality was that its weather shroud systems were putting out a little more energy than he would have liked.
He made a mental note to find out what was causing the energy surge later.
For now, he was focused on the task at hand. This was the fourth system test for the machine he lovingly dubbed “Chimera,” it was also the most important. Being one of the first machines of its kind, he needed to test how it fared in intense weather conditions, especially if its creating them.
But this was more than a motion test for the behemoth.
“Get ready,” he told the man standing next to him. The man began typing commands in the monitor in front of him, without giving much thought about what was going to happen next.
-
At first, Char thought it was just an illusion.
Because of the tense situation, his eyes decided to play tricks on him. After rubbing them gently with his fists, realized it was real. Something was out there, looking at them.
For a few minutes, Char sat there looking at it, trying to figure out what it possibly could have been. Brief glimpses of light revealed its size. It looked like it had arms, or two large things sticking out of its back. He turned around to see if the commotion outside was settled, hoping that someone else saw what he saw.
It was no use, the fierce waves and rain required his father and the crew to solely focus on rescuing the man. He saw three men hoisting a rope back up to the ship, his father holding a blanket for the sailor. Soon he’d be out of one nightmare and into another.
Char felt helpless, how could he be the only one looking at the thing on the horizon. When would someone else notice? That question was quickly answered when a blood-curdling howl pierced through the chaos. Like metal crunching and twisting against each other- so loud that only the deaf would miss it.
Everyone stood silently as they watched the outline of the best move towards them. Char’s heart felt like it was buried under the ocean floor, his mouth felt like he had been sucking on cotton balls.
Eventually, the monster stopped.
Then something began to grow just to the right of the monster's eyes. A red ball of light, at first the size of a penny, growing on the beast’s shoulder. Char leaned in his chair to see what it could be but he had no idea. Slowly, the ball grew and grew and kept growing until it was more like the size of a small planet.
From below, Char could hear his father issuing commands to the crew. Figgis looked as if he was throwing metal crates containing the day's catch overboard. Chubz helped by throwing shovel loads of their most recent catches overboard. He could feel a slight shift in the boat’s movement, were they turning around, Char wondered?
It was too late. By the time the boat began changing course, another howl boomed, rattling the ocean. The ball of light was now pointed directly at them. He could see two red eyes pierce through the night sky. Char felt as if the eyes of God were staring back at him and all he could do was tremble.
CRACK. VROOM.
The night’s sky lit up as if fireworks traveled at the speed of light. The ball of light zoomed passed the small ship but Char could feel the heat from the beam that followed it. It was as if the sun crashed into the Earth. Being in the cockpit, Char felt like he was being cooked alive for a few minutes before the beam disappeared.
As the beam disappeared into the ocean, the ship rocked violently as the seas began to shift. Char looked to see his father, hanging on to one of the ship’s poles, terror painted on his face. Only three of the ship’s crew could be visible. The ship began to tilt in the direction the beam passed them. It made twisted howls and screams as it moved.
It was going down.
It happened slowly at first, then all at once. The water consumed the ship, swallowing Char’s father and crew including Figgis and Chubz. He watched as his dad extended his arm out to the ship.
“PLEASE GOD NO,” Char screamed at the top of his lungs as he watched the ship go under. He screamed until his voice went hoarse and he could taste something metallic. A few more minutes and he began coughing from overexerting his vocal cords. It felt like he was drowning in the cockpit, watching his father wash away with all of the darkness of the ocean.
He sat there in silence, listening to the water pressure slowly squeeze the specialized metal protecting him. He could hear the air tank system slowly release and filter the oxygen filling the cockpit. Char’s head felt like it was on fire, he couldn’t stop thinking about watching his father die - either by drowning or being crushed by the sea.
He felt like screaming. He felt like crying. No matter what he did though, the tears wouldn’t come and his throat still hurt. The ocean was darker than he imagined it would be. The fish he did see swam up and around the former salvage ship. It was like a drop in a bucket of water, small and insignificant.
A few more minutes passed until he realized that eventually, the pressure of the ocean would crush the ship with him in it. Of course, he also wasn’t sure how much time he had in his oxygen tank. He looked around the cockpit, trying to appreciate the memories he and his father made on the ship.
The first time he ever set foot on it was when they picked it up from his father’s old military pal’s scrapyard. The look on his face made it seem like we had just hit the jackpot, which in a way he guessed they did. After a few months of refurbishing it and repairing the damage, they enlisted a crew and began fishing.
Char no longer cared about what was hiding beneath the waters. He knew that whatever could be down here paled in comparison to what was up there. He closed his eyes and began saying a prayer as the light from the surface got darker and darker. The red eyes of god seared holes into his brain though and suddenly, Char felt a jolt of adrenaline.
He didn’t want to die and was willing to do whatever it took to climb back to the surface. He grabbed the controls of the crane and started frantically looking around to form a plan. As the ship began to compress more and more, he searched for something, anything he could grab on to with the ship’s arm.
The ship continued to compress until Char could hear the metal hull start to crack. Then, as if something from below heard the prayers he couldn’t say, Char saw the dark outline of something within earshot of him.
It was muscle memory that took over next. Char slowly swiveled the crane toward the outline and began to extend the arm. As the crane reached out into the vast unknown, doubt raced across his mind. How far down has he sunk?
THUMP. CUUUHHHHSHHHHHHHH.
His father’s ship began to drift slowly toward the underwater cliff Char had caught on to. Despite feeling like he was floating the entire time, the ship rocketed to one side and slammed into the rock formations. Char hit his head on the side of the cockpit, forgetting to buckle back up after trying to get out to help the crew.
He gently touched the top of his head and felt something warm coming from it. The ship no longer sounded like it was compressing. A wave of relief ironically washed over Char as he slowly dozed off into a black haze. He did not know if help would come, but for now, he was tired.
He didn’t even notice the tears gently running down his cheek.
_
The man stood peering over the observation deck, watching the burst of pure energy disintegrate the area near the small fishing ship. As the seas parted and swallowed the ship, he wrote something down in his notes. He had not planned for a human trial of his weapon but the data he gathered was too valuable to ignore.
“Sir?”
“What is it?”
“What do we do, should we send a crew to look for wreckage?”
“No, there’s no need to waste time here. Turn the Chimera around, I think we’re ready for the next phase.”
-
The sun beat down on Char as he opened his eyes from his long slumber. It took him a few minutes to realize that somehow he was on dry land, the arm of the crane sticking directly into the land. He turned over onto his back to catch his breath and remembered hitting his head. Checking to see if it was okay, he cringed in pain as he felt the small gash that had since clotted and dried. It wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t life-threatening.
Readjusting himself, he quickly scanned his surroundings. Black sharp rocks surrounded him as he laid, suspended two stories above the ground. Any chance for escape on his own was nonexistent.
“Well fuck,” he said under his breath. He quietly apologized to his dad for swearing and felt warm tears swell in his eyes.
As the hours passed, the waves crashed against the jagged outer rock formation of the stone island. Char wondered if this mass had been here before. If that were true, was his father still alive?
He laid on his back for what seemed like hours when he heard a strange sound coming from the distance. He slowly turned around on the glass to make sure he didn’t upset it and fall through. It took him a few minutes to see what looked like four dots cutting through the water growing larger. They were coming toward him.
Char closed his eyes and tried to get some rest. Whatever was coming meant he wouldn’t get sleep for a long time. There would no doubt be swaths of people interested to know what happened to him, his father, the crew and the ship.
After a short slumber, he woke to four metal machines that looked like dragons the way they got thicker in their midsection and tapered off again by the tail. They also had sharp sets of fins on the top of their heads going halfway down their spins and another set on their tails.
One of dragon’s heads popped open and a pilot, whose face was covered by a helmet stepped out and tried calling out to Char. It was no use, not only was the cockpit door still sealed, Char lacked the strength to comprehend what was happening.
The pilot noticed this, said something to the radio attached to his shoulder, and jumped down. The machine to the left of him started moving toward Char. They planned to use the mechanical dragon as a link between the ground and the crane.
He could hear the other pilot try to call out to him to move but Char was frozen.
He could feel something gurgling in his stomach but it wasn’t food or vomit. He tried to think of what it was but the pain in his head slowly crept back as the initial adrenaline of everything began losing its potency.
It took ten minutes for the bridge to be completed and one of the pilots to meet Char face to face. They may have well-been astronauts from a different planet, it felt like they were speaking a different language to him. He was scared, he missed his father and now he got the feeling that he wouldn’t be going home anytime soon.
The pilot reached his hand out. The sound came crashing back into Char’s ears.
“It’s okay,” the pilot said. “We’ll take you somewhere safe.”
Reaching out, Char grabbed the pilot's hands and exited the crane. Eventually, the adrenaline would subside and the weight of the world returned to him. The machine slowly retracted from the cockpit and Char could see what happened.
The ship was torn to pieces, bits and parts thrown around the black rock formations that engulfed the cockpit. When the machine lowered its head, one of the pilots came to him and shined a light into Char’s eyes. He could here the group talk to eachother through the radios.
“There are no other signs of life.”
“Jesus christ, how big is this land mass?”
“What created it?”
“How far off from the coast is this?
“What do we do with the kid?” a voice asked through one of the pilot’s radios.
“Take him to Vector 3.”
FIN.
#Science Fiction#Fanfiction#web series#short story#story#science#zeiger#anime#web comic#alan moore#frank herbert
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Ttpd review?
NEW FAVORITE. may i present to you: meg's official ttpd ranking!
the tortured poets department. 138439343843/10 this song SPOKE TO ME. the bridge??!?!!?!?! as a habitual ring wearer it changed my life. this is like. life changing for me. i've listened 200+ times already. if i were still in college i'd write an essay about it. tbh i might still. i'm not even kidding. + lucy dacus mention!
the black dog. 10000000/10. the structure of this song is so pleasing to me and also the lyrics KILL ME. "i just don't understand how you don't miss me in the shower / and remember how my rain-soaked body was shaking / do you hate me?" ????!!! "I HOPE IT'S SHITTY IN THE BLACK DOG."
guilty as sin. 10/10 self explanatory. this is a BANGER and also? like? i love it i can't i vibe undeniably.
i can do it with a broken heart. 10/10. lyrics are tragic. beat is immaculate. feels like exactly how i have felt for the last few months! i feel very heard and seen! and am thankful i can bop to my depression! lights! camera! bitch! smile!!!
the alchemy. 10/10. i love a good trav song. and it's so catchy??? like yes please when i touch down call the amateurs and cut 'em from the team. the football references are peak. tbh i realllyyyy wanted the alchemy to be about joe (because of gold rush ofc) but i wasn't disappointed by this at alllll.
the smallest man who ever lived. 9.5/10. makes me cry! actually reminds me of my college ex... the parallels between this song and our relationship are kind of insane. also the bridge. without being too too personal, i was constantly paranoid in that relationship for several reasons and often felt like he maybe had an ulterior motive that involved ruining my reputation/hurting me for the pleasure of people who disliked me. which is kinda crazy but was a vvv real fear for me at the time. and this song gets it!
who's afraid of little old me? 9/10. high school meg would have loved this one. "you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me" lol. also sidenote having all my teeth pulled was a recurring childhood nightmare i had!
down bad. 9/10 yeah sounds about right. fuck it if i can't have [her]! (funnily enough She & I were discussing it when it came out and she was like "fuck it if i can't have you... i mean him" and we had The Smirk Moment)
so long, london. 9/10. perfectly describes everything i've been feeling recently (so long [boston] lmao). gets a point knocked because i can't listen unless i want to cry! this song was everything i couldn't say. :) + the peace parallels? crazy.
thanK you aIMee. 9/10. this one gets a 9/10 just for the sheer pettiness. FUC(K) YOU A(IM)EE. + andrea mention!
how did it end? 8.5/10. i sob. every time. without fail. just! the death! the dying! (it did not end well.)
the bolter. 8/10. another little meg song. she did a lotta running. this song is about idina sackville but i feel it in my SOUL. all her fucking lives flashed before her eyessssssssssssssssssssss!
but daddy i love him. 8.5/10. lowkey SO FUN and i love it! there is a field not far from me with lots of flowers and i take a bunch of zyrtec and put on a pretty dress and just go sit there for a few hours on weekends. i love it.
loml. 8/10. this song makes me sob. love of my life to loss of my life. lmao this album came at the PERFECT TIME. i needed it. "you shit talked me under the table talking rings and talking cradles i wish i could unrecall how we almost had it all" !!!! "WHEN YOUR IMPRESSIONIST PAINTINGS OF HEAVEN TURNED OUT TO BE FAKES WELL YOU TOOK ME TO HELL TOO". anyways.
the manuscript. 8/10. yeah this sounds like a little meg song. and also a college meg song (who struggled through being a writer and heartbroken and lovestruck). and a current meg song (who rereads her manuscripts and wonders whose life she is seeing). "he said if the sex was half as good as the conversation was soon they'd be pushing strollers". :') rip.
my boy only breaks his favorite toys. 8/10. it's a bop! i get it!
chloe or sam or sophia or marcus. 8/10. when i listen to this one i kinda just sit there and zone out for a while. it's a moment. i can't listen while driving because i'd crash. but i feel this song on a spiritual level.
fresh out the slammer. 8/10. hehehe i like this song. i don't have a whole lot to say about it except i really like how consistent it is and also how it is Moving On.
robin. 8/10. this song is so sweet and so sad. i'd sing this to my children. i wish i'd heard this when i was a child. it heals some part of me? tbh?
imgonnagetyouback. 7.5/10. this is indeed the kind of psycho we love. imnotgonnagetyouback but it's okay! i will still listen and vibe! #supportingwomen
so high school. 7.5/10. look okay it's silly and it gets shitted on but i like it. it's adolescent and fun and hahahah i like itttt. truth??? dare?????? spin bottles?????? YOU KNOW HOW TO BALL I KNOW ARISTOTLE!!!! brand new! full throttle! TOUCH ME WHILE YOUR BROS PLAY GRAND THEFT AUTO. taylor is CRAZY for that and i love it for her. also the scouts honor line is WILD.
cassandra. 7.5/10. i love this song. i understand what they mean. poor cassandra. this is mad woman's older sister. i get it. women! women women!
the albatross. 7/10. i like this song but the albatross metaphor is one i am Too Familiar With. "cross your thoughtless heart / only liquor anoints you" is kinda genius though!
florida!!! 7/10. maybe this is just my florida hatred showing through or maybe i'm just not super into it yet. it comes above fortnight because of florence welch though. <3
fortnight. 7/10. i found it? kind of mid? still good but the lack of post malone and inherent appeal to mainstream pop media sold it for me. :( music video was immaculate though!
i can fix him (no really i can). 7/10. again, reminds me of little meg but in kind of a painful way. also.... she could not fix him lol. she could not fix any of them for that matter.
peter. 7/10. this one is kinda bittersweet. i enjoy this song but it's got that blue tinge to it. "never to keep"
i look in people's windows. 7/10. more supporting of women! taylor.... you're crazy. i love you. you are kind of a deranged weirdo, but it's okay. personally you could not pay me to admit to stalking people but i love that you do!
i hate it here. 6.5/10. ngl the beginning slaps and i like some of the lines but the song is erratic? i did not grow up precocious (i don't think) but i was hyperlexic and did read a lot. this one just didn't hit like i thought it would as a chronic reader. :(
clara bow. 6/10. i love clara bow and stevie nicks and taylor swift and i understand the importance of this song! i just can't get into it right now :(
the prophecy. 6/10. i don't know why i can't get behind this one! i want to so badly! i just can't!!!!
overall: 1029302848/10. this album was life changing and arrived just when i needed it. i love it.
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maria od
When the school buses stopped routing to Aura's housing she had to start taking the city bus for the next 3 years with short walks to and from the bus stop to school to her house and sometimes that meant missing the bus every now and again.
This scorching end of sprint enter of summer with sprinkles of severe wind blowing not only desert heat but desert sand. If you weren't wearing a pair of sunglasses you were going to be uncomfortable. She had missed the first end of school bus, she knew as soon as far as the football field behind the elementary attached to the high school parking lot soon.
The wait usually kept her from completely looking like a vampire with her knowledge of good skin habits and a strict routine with the bonus of daily sunscreen and a good shade lighter of dream matte mousse makeup looks. But she could unfortunately admit she would sometimes omit her arms from the same treatment, giving her a little glow.
It took 30 minutes for the next bus to come around, 10 for her to take long strides from the bus stop to her house; 15 is she took her time to greet her brothers playing outside in the middle of the suburb off a main road street and fuck knows for Aura to rational what she was seeing. Marie's eyes were rolled back into the back of her head, her loud agape and foamy drool built up and over her lip while her chest and shoulders convulsed and it felt like she was slammed by a train, her blood rushing and her heart jumping from her chest to her mouth to her stomach slowing time down.
Aura rushed to the back of the house to the kitchen where they kept their wireless land line phone and rushed back to Maria, her heart felt like someone was gripping it so hard it was going to pop and flood her eye balls but that might have been the feeling of her eyes flooding with hot tears as she dialed 911. She wished she could say this wasn't something that happened before but it was scary how calm she felt in the moment despite her voice cracking in reply to the operator, "I think my mom is having an overdose, please send help." followed their address.
She pushed Maria from giant spider on the couch saved from the 70's that was Momma's wedding gift from her inlaws to the 'Why the fuck do you do this you selfish dick of a mother.' she muttered out gasping from a sob as she tried to empty her mouth of anything that may make her choke. She could already year the sirens down the street now as she cleaned her off with a crumbled up paper towel, keeping her on her side.
It felt so quick, in three walked in, two helping the dead weight spider from the couch to the stretcher and one trying to give details of where they were going and a piece of paper repeating the same. Where the fuck was Momma? The car was gone from the driveway, she had no idea how long Maria was alone and out or what she was on this time. It felt fucking awful and Aura started going through a Rolodex of guilt and responsibility shame. Like this was somehow her fault or like as if she could have prevented Maria from using like DARE said but the truth was she was the child, Maria was the mom.
When they were gone and the boys could chill out enough to state a full sentence with a mix of baby talk and newly acquired words her brothers gave her a minute to explain the situation and what they needed to do and to stay calm while they wait for Momma to come home. After, Aura called her beloved cousin from her father's side that was just her partner in crime those days. Effy, her 20 year old cousin just got her and all that pent up pain and angst Aura had to go through.
That's when she finally broke down in sobs and whimpers, whisking away to her room to break down. "Okay babes take deep breaths and I'll be there in a literal minute." And it honestly felt like a minute before Effy was in her room, sitting on the edge of her futon bed. Giving Aura a secure hug, giving a safe space to release all that deep emotion and cries. It felt like thousands of utter cut punches to her upper gut, near panic attack level of emotion all out at once and Effy was there to help navigate through those feelings because she was just a 17-year-old girl trying to survive a situation she had no say or choice in.
When Momma came back from a grocery store, after a little mid-day casino game room visit, Effy did the same for her while Aura freshened up from her day and got ready for the weekend night and switched from her school tote to her weekender tote that had all she needed to survive a night out. All Effy had to say was "Get ready and we'll go fuck around and get ice cream."
This was the best part about being an angsty angry troubled teen was her obvious lead to the darkling fashion and moody vibes with a purple trimmed tripp skirt paired of Halloween fishnet tights and heeled booties with a matching tokio hotel shirt since she was in her Bill era, dark purple eye shadows and pop of color eyeliner, lashes that pop and snarled and two curly half pigtails.
When she came out, she found Momma in the entrance of the mall house's kitchen speaking to a nurse at the hospital they took Maria to find out what they needed to do from there. Aura stood beside her Momma and rubbed her shoulder and spine area where she always got tense and out of place. When she was finally off the phone and finished writing the information down she turned to Aura, "You're dealing with this tonight while I watch the boys." Aura gave a nod and knew what all she had to do.
Before the girls really went off on their adventure they would stop by a taco bell to pick up dinner for the family to make sure everyone ate. Despite what you may imagine they weren't too bad all things considered. Effy never actively put Aura in bad situations or hurt her, it was always honest fun on a guy's dime for being so cute and it was usually soothing to her senses and often lead to surprising experiences she wouldn't otherwise have if it wasn't for her being in Aura's life and that was invaluable and necessary for her and something she'd appreciate all her life.
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I'm proud for both of us for getting through such a bad day! thankfully rain didn't ruin our coffee date and it actually took my mind off (both our minds since my friend had a horrible day too - I swear idk what it is about today). definitely a lesson to learn with my invisaligns and I'm going to be triple checking all the time now!
I would actually live a drabble (w Nat since I have a soft spot for her)! you're so sweet and amazing for suggesting it!! it could be anything you want (I would read literally anything from you because everything you write is pure gold).
message of the day is that we got through it today, we got it for tomorrow!! 💪
Yesterday was something else LOL today was even worse I will not lie LMFAO
Alright bestie, let's do a soft Nat drabble 🥺
I've chosen the prompt "What's one little kiss between friends?" set in a College AU.
What's One Little Kiss Between Friends
i: underneath the bleachers
Count: <1k
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"Where's Natasha?"
You look around the canteen to find the redhead missing. It was unlike her with today being tater tot day. You don't understand her obsession with the fried cylinder potato, but it makes the redhead happy, and who are you to say anything about that?
"Hm, I don't know. I didn't see her after having cognitive psych with her. She told me to go on without her because she got stopped outside of class by...fuck, what's his name again? That dude she's seeing." Bucky said after he swallowed his food and looked around.
You frowned.
Sometimes it was hard to keep up with who Natasha was seeing. She was a very popular girl on campus. Everyone wants to date the student council president, captain of the volleyball team, GPA of 3.9, and heiress to the Romanoff conglomerate.
But to you? She was just Natasha Romanoff, the girl you met when you were 15 and insisted on being your friend when your first words to her were, 'Fuck off.'
As you scanned the crowd, you noticed 'said dude' Natasha was dating sitting with his friends, laughing and getting claps on his back.
You sighed as you packed up your things. You wouldn't necessarily say you had a sixth sense of always knowing what was going on with Natasha, but your gut feelings about her were usually always right.
"Where you going?" Bucky asked
"To find Nat."
"She's not answering her phone. She could literally be anywhere on campus," Bucky crinkled his nose.
"I know where she is," you tell Bucky, snapping your bag close.
"What? How?"
"I just do!" You told him as you walked off with a wave.
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Your gut feeling leads you to the football field. Since it was winter, the field was often empty except for a couple of people here and there spread out through the bleachers.
You found Natasha Romanoff under the bleacher, hidden from the world, and everyone else was none the wiser.
You sat down next to her silently, only letting her ignore you for five seconds before you bumped her shoulder with yours.
"How'd you find me?" She gruffed with a frown.
"Find My Friends App," you offer lamely, knowing full well Natasha doesn't have hers on.
"Technology has ruined the modern world," Natasha muttered before she sighed and slouched against your shoulder.
"What's wrong, Nat?" You asked her softly.
Natasha stayed silent for a moment as if debating to tell you, but when she felt you brush your pinky against hers.
"I'm just tired," Natasha sighs.
"Tired?" You repeated with a tilt of your head.
Natasha stares out into the hills that obscure her. "It's stupid, but I guess I just feel envious of others. Other people don't have to worry about if the person they're seeing really likes them for them. They don't have to worry if their kisses and other physical intimacies will be spread around like it's some award to be won."
You frowned because you immediately knew the guy Natasha was seeing had done just that, and that was why he was getting accolades earlier.
You wonder if you should trip him the next time you see him.
"It's dramatic, but I'm starting to feel like loving someone, even just having someone kiss me because I'm me—not the idea of me is something I won't get to have."
No, you'll trip him and then spit on him. It's only justice.
You're so lost in your own thoughts when Natasha starts to shuffle, starting to get up.
"C'mon, some of the classes are about to be let out and people are going to start passing by. We should head back," Natasha said, brushing off what she had just admitted to you.
You immediately pull Natasha back down, getting a yelp from her. It kind of reminds you of the days of high school when you skipped together and huddled in alleyways to avoid being caught.
"What are you—" Natasha started to say but was swiftly cut off by your lips against hers.
The kiss was chaste and quick, but Natasha could taste your chapstick and wondered if you could taste hers. The kiss was so warm that it made her toes curl and her fingers flex.
When you pulled back, you licked your lips as you said, "There. I feel like I'm a pretty solid choice since I never liked the idea of you, anyway. So, stop being all mopey and come to the canteen with me, okay?"
Natasha felt displaced as you helped her up and grabbed her hand to pull her along. How could you just kiss her and move on?
"Oh, uh, you taste like raspberry."
What the fuck was she saying.
You shrug. "Yeah, I stole your chapstick last week."
That brings Natasha out of it as she huffed at you. "Fucking—I was looking for that! I had to open the blueberry one and it's not as good."
You merely laughed, but Natasha was still nervous.
"Thank you," Natasha finally said, and you peer at her for a long moment.
It was rare to catch Natasha so awkward.
"No worries. What's one little kiss between friends?"
Part 2
#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff x y/n#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff fluff#black widow x reader#black widow imagine#mm.drabble.nat
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yandere matt (until dawn) headcanons pls! :)
🪷 ִ ° ⋆ 𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 ˚ ｡ . 🪺
𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 . . .
♫ 𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 ⸺ 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐲
˚ ✩ 🛼 ｡ ˚ ✧ * ｡ 🌑
( 📁 ) . . . 𝗧𝗪! 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗽𝗶𝗲𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝘀. 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗽𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲. 𝘃𝗶𝗲𝘄𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗱𝘃𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱.
( 📁 ) . . . 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗼 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗹! <𝟯
𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘄 𝘁𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 . . .
𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚢, 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎, & 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎
my sweet matt :(
he’s my favorite breed of boyfriend: the soft jock
(he’s also my favorite ud boy but don’t tell the others i said that 🤫🤫)
matts feelings for you are… abnormal, to say the least
you’ve always been a part of the friend group since early high school and you inadvertently caught the eye of this puppy-dog of a man
at first, matt assumed these fervent emotions for you were nothing more than a fleeting crush, but by god, when you look at him like that…
you're such a sweet shock to all of his senses that he can feel his heart practically erupt within his chest
and the entire gang is SO tired of this man drooling over you like some mutt when you’re merely in the same room as him
like what is he supposed to do????? NOT fall in love with you??????? pfft!!!!!!
it’s not his fault that you are completely, utterly, undeniably perfect
mr. meat-for-brains is always caught gazing at you with dreamy sighs and that all-too-familiar lovesick smile
srsly, if you saw that dewy glint in his eyes, you'd think he was staring into the soul of an angel (which he is, might i add)
even if it’s 7 AM during first period and you look like shit, matt will just gaze at you and be like oh my god i love life
(and yes, he may or may not have beat the principal to a bloody pulp to have all the same classes as you, but nobody needs to know that)
and as your beloved author, i must tell you this: please go to his football games
although his performance may waver upon witnessing you cheering for him in the crowds, that electric soul and those heavenly features of yours always push him to victory
and if you wear his jersey, he just !!!!!
his knees nearly lock beneath him when he catches sight of his uniform number engulfing your form
hell, matt would give his own life to see you wear his clothes once more, even if it’s something as mere as some tacky jersey
and the boys of the gang will definitely poke fun at the poor boy for the lengths he’ll travel to impress his sweet, schoolgirl crush
(but we all know it’s much, much more than some ephemeral infatuation, though)
you know that thing that guys do where they lift their shirt to “wipe the sweat off their face” but they just wanna show off their abs? yeah you have seen his full chest at least 83 million times now
the gang had a fucking field day with that one
but at the end of the day, matt is easily the most gentlemen-y gentlemen to ever exist
never misses the chance to give you food off his plate :( covers corner tables when u lean down so you don’t hit your head :( walks you home and texts you later to make sure you got in safe :( always ALWAYS holds open the door for you :( gives you his lettermen jacket when you’re cold :( puts himself closest to the street when you’re walking :( beats a guy to death for touching you :)
every conversation with him basically goes like this: “i’ll carry your bags for you…. i’ll carry you all the way there if you let me... please let me…”
(btw he likes carrying you. makes him feel all strong and mighty. do with that what you will)
will i ever shut up about how much of a sweetheart matthew taylor is for you? definitely not
you have such a delicate presence much like the company of angels, and he just has to prove that he’s good enough for you
remember when lana del rey said “if you hold me without hurting me, you’ll be the first who ever did” yeah that's him :(((
poor sweet thing has never been in a relationship where he was treated with decent propriety (*cough, cough* emily *cough, cough*) so when you ever so kindly gift him compassion, generosity, admiration, warmth, and all the good things this world has to ever, he'd be a fool not to fall
and don’t even get me started on how this man is literally your guard dog
this is literally him when anyone breathes in your general direction
you’re just so sweet and kind, it would practically be criminal not to devote himself to protect you at all costs
however, this nirvana matt was in came to a crashing completion when you took a vacation on the mountain with him, your friends, and the washington kids
upon seeing your close friend race through the doors of the lodge with tears streaming down her cheeks and her sister close behind, pure fury shook within you upon you listening to the roar of laughter from your “friends”
without missing a beat, you immediately bark at them for their immorality, cursing them out for their unrighteous idea of a comic prank
and god, the hatred in your eyes; the venom laced in your voice…
matt’s heart sank into the pit of his stomach as he watched you walk further and further and further away from him
he has lost the only light in his life for the reason of some viral video and a good laugh, and now he can’t get you back
for evident reasons, you distanced yourself from the gang to cope with your grief and to also say goodbye to that friend group cause seriously guys what the fuck was that prank??????
for the entire year of your departure, poor matt has not known a single moment of pure tranquillity
every second of every day is nothing but longing, desperation, grief, desolation, devastation, sorrow
he even thrust himself into the first relationship he could obtain, that being emily davis, who is oblivious to her boyfriends undeniable and immense longing for another person
she’ll just choose to ignore the numerous occasions where he accidentally called her by your name, the ushered attempts for her to change her appearance like yours, the soft cries at night he fails to muffle when you fog up his mind
she’ll just choose to ignore the blatant and utter infatuation her boyfriend still holds dear in his heart for you
i’m so sorry emily ily :(
and as the gang all arrive at washington lodge, for the sake of old times, you arrive in all of your glory with that kind smile, adoring laughter and hair a bit longer than before
and before matt can even process the fact that you’ve returned to him, he falls…
no seriously, he quite literally falls, his knees buckling beneath him as his heart absolutely melts upon the glorious sight of you
and without a mere thought of consciousness, he picks himself up from the snow, races through the brume of winter, and engulfs you in a tenacious embrace
through the muffled whimpers and relieved sighs, you feel matt relax into your arms, which unbeknownst to you has been the first time in over a year he has truly felt at peace
even by clinging to his girlfriend and imagining her arms are yours or pushing his body to its limits to distract himself from the belated longing within him, nothing feels as marvelous as this moment
as you try to soothe the distraught man in your arms and avoid the envious glare of his girlfriend, you sense an intense, dark shift in his voice as he whispers in your ear: “nothing hurt me more than losing you…”
as much as you may fight and thrash, his grip never falters, which brings you to the crackling conclusion: will he ever let you go again?
whether it be mike flirting with you for laughs or demonic creatures roaming washington mountain, matt knows he won't ever let you stray from his side
you and him will always be together
for eternity.
#until dawn#until dawn imagine#until dawn x reader#yandere until dawn#matt taylor#matthew taylor#yandere matthew taylor#yandere matt taylor#matt taylor imagine#matthew taylor imagine#matt taylor x reader#matthew taylor x reader#yandere#yandere imagines#soft yandere#moonfairy
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A Well Rounded Education (2): Grading Boundaries (Fem!Reader x Nanami Kento, 7.5k)
series synopsis: You are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. Gojo does not make things easy for anybody.
chapter synopsis: the father of one of your students requested a meeting to ask about ways of improving his son’s grades. after working with him for a few weeks, nanami wants to thank you for helping yuji out in his own personal way.
NSFW. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. oral sex (male on female and female on male), massage, nanami is just a gentleman after toji tbh.
(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)
1.
You oversleep the next morning and for the first time since beginning your work as Gojo’s teaching aid, the other man is at his desk before you manage to rush into the classroom. He’s relaxed, arms behind his head, feet up on the desk – and when he sees you, he gives you a cheery wave and a grin.
“Found this on the floor this morning!” He says to you, using his thumb to flip you something small and round that you only manage to catch through sheer dumb luck. You stare down at the thing you’re cradling in your palm; one of the round buttons from your blouse, that you guess you missed after Toji had left and you’d had to try and pull yourself together.
““S-sorry about that,” you babble, your mind working eighty miles a minute to think of a proper excuse. “I-it got caught on my jacket when I was getting ready to leave last night, I wondered where it had gotten to--”
“How’d the meeting with Tsumiki go?”
“Huh?” You ask, blinking down at the button still, trying to fight the heat that is crawling up your face as you shove the accusing object into the pocket of your neatly tailored jacket. “Oh! It wasn’t Tsumiki. It was Mr Fushiguro, actually. M-Megumi’s father?”
There’s a pause in the air, almost as if it’s rippling with tension. When you look up, Gojo is staring at you, his eyes implacable behind dark lenses.
“I see,” he says. “That’s unusual.”
“I gave him all the paperwork, explained the probation and everything,” you hurry to say, almost tripping over your words. You don’t like the way he’s staring at you, and you find yourself shifting from foot to foot, hoping you don’t look like someone who let their student’s father rail you over their boss’ desk. “Megumi’ll be back in school next week, and hopefully nothing like this will happen again--”
“Mm,” Gojo says. You’ve never heard him sound that serious before, ignoring the chance to poke a little fun. His voice usually pitches and modulates, laughing, before he cracks some kind of inane joke that makes you and half the class wince. “I’ve got a meeting tonight, by the way. I was hoping you’d sit in with me.”
“Please don’t palm off more of your dirty work on me,” you say to him, as you go over to your own little makeshift table in the corner of your room and begin to rifle through your bag for the things you’ll need for the day. “To-- Mr Fushiguro was kind of scary, honestly.”
“Oh, it’s nothing like that!” Gojo waves your worries away with a hand, immediately dismissing it. “No, it’s Yuji’s dad – he wants to talk about his grades, I think? I said I don’t think it really matters, and he got really quiet and kind of angry on the phone with me.” Gojo shrugs. Of course Gojo said something like that. You’re not sure Gojo himself has ever worried about something in his life. “Honestly, he’s a. . . businessman type. Very serious! I just want someone to diffuse the tension a bit!” Gojo grins at you. “So you’re my human shield!”
Right.
Far be it for you to think that Gojo might have an educational reason for wanting you to sit in on this meeting. Still . . . you really like Yuji. You know that sometimes his inability to understand things frustrates him – he’s constant energy, and his mind just can’t keep up with the pace of the rest of him. You’d like to help where you can! And you know that Gojo’s probably not going to be able to offer any helpful advice – his classes might work for some kids, and Yuji does really like him, but that’s a boy who would probably benefit from some individualised attention and someone a little quieter.
You don’t like the idea of him with a father who pushes him academically and doesn’t care about his other achievements. Biting your lip, you nod, busying yourself with laying out the pens on your desk and flicking through one of your training books to see if there’s anything about meetings with parents. This one, you think and hope, is definitely not going to end up the same way yesterday’s meeting did.
There’s a kind of nervous energy in Yuji all day. He drops his pen, he shoots you agonised looks until you come over to check his work, and as everyone is milling out to go to lunch, he comes to stand in front of you, kicking his toe on the floor. You smile at him, seeing how he’s vibrating, rocking on the balls of his feet – hoping that the smile might at least calm him down some.
“My Dad’s meeting with Mr Gojo tonight,” Yuji eventually blurts. Without Megumi in class to tamper down some of his more bombastic nature, Yuji’s voice pitches and wavers. “I’m-- Mr Gojo doesn’t care about grades, but my Dad’s like, ‘you should apply yourself more, you have it in you’ and . . . and I guess I’m worried?” He brings a finger to his chin, dwelling on the thought. The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s not usually aware of the idea of ‘worry’ – oh, to be a twelve year old boy!
“I know,” you say, after a proper time has elapsed to make Yuji think you’ve really dwelt on the situation. You reach into your own bag to pull out the carefully prepared lunch you have in there – you could go to the staff-room, but honestly, you’re still feeling a bit wobbly after last night’s events and you don’t want to go around into the hum of people who’ll gather you up into bubbles of small talk. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m sitting in on the meeting too.” You hope your smile is reassuring. “It’s not going to be all doom and gloom, I promise.”
That actually . . . does seem to soothe Yuji.
“My grades are really bad,” he says. “I just . . . I’m not smart, y’know? Megumi knows all this stuff, and I’m just . . . dumb.”
“Being good at school stuff isn’t everything,” you say to Yuji. “You’ve got your own talents. Look at you on the sports field!” He blushes in the way young boys do when they’re being complimented by anybody, a kind of awkward ‘oh, shucks, don’t make me think that I’m good at anything’. You smile. “I’m sure your Dad understands that too.”
“Oh, he does!” Yuji’s eyes widen. You feel a little lock around your chest loosen, just a bit. There’s hero worship clear in Yuji’s eyes now. “He just thinks I should live up to my . . . what’s he call it? Full potential!” He twists his lip, and then leans in, conspiratorially. “He doesn’t like Mr Gojo. He doesn’t think he’s serious.”
Despite yourself, your lips curve into a smile. You aren’t going to trash talk your colleague to a kid that you’re in charge of, but all of the other staff just seem to roll their eyes and let Satoru Gojo get on with whatever he’s doing because apparently he was a prodigy at college or something. It’s nice to know at least someone is on your side, even if you’ll hopefully only ever see him once or twice during your whole year here.
“Don’t worry,” you say to Yuji. “I’ll try and handle it. Now, you should go! All the other boys look like they’re about to play a game of football--”
Yuji’s eyes brighten and he grins, turning away immediately, mind quickly flitting to something more pressing. He shouts a goodbye and a thank you to you even as he’s racing out of the door, almost too fast to be believed.
2.
Kento Nanami (Itadori is his ex-wife’s name, he tells you with a sigh, but the name that Yuji was born with and he’s reluctant to have it changed) is very obviously a businessman, in a well-pressed grey suit and a navy shirt, a yellow tie tight to his throat. He’s wearing suspenders beneath the jacket, an expensive watch on his wrist, and a pair of small glasses perched on a sharp nose. A solemn face, sculpted jaw. He has cheekbones that you think could cut fucking diamonds into pieces, a wave of carefully styled blonde hair over a proud forehead--
What the fuck is going on at this school that it seems like all of the dads are so hot? You do your level best not to look at him too much, as Gojo introduces you and he shakes your hand. He looks at you with his eyes narrowed just a touch; you think he’s trying to get the measure of you, and whether you’re just going to be here to back up Gojo. There’s an air of tiredness to this man that suggests he will not take any of your colleague’s nonsense, and that thought bolsters you when he puts down his briefcase and neatly folds his hands on his lap, looking from you to Gojo.
“I want to talk about Yuji’s grades,” he says, “and how we can help him improve them.”
You like him already. The way he says ‘we’ instead of ‘you’ – the withering gaze that he sets on Gojo, as the white-haired man stretches his arms out above him.
“I told you on the phone,” Gojo says. “They’re just grades--”
“Grades that will follow Yuji throughout his career in this school, and eventually to high school, and eventually to college,” Nanami’s voice is very sure of itself, cutting through Gojo with ease. “I just want to ensure that he has the best chance possible. I want to make sure he’s living up to himself.”
Gojo – fucking Gojo – stifles a yawn behind his hand, and you see that Nanami’s hand flexes on his thigh (wow, his hands are big). You cut across before the two of them can come to blows.
“Yuji’s a bright boy,” you say. “He just needs . . . a little extra help. Someone to sit with him and explain what’s going on, maybe just go over the material again.” You give Nanami a nervous smile. “He’s not the only one in the class, honestly. I-- Mr Gojo’s teaching methods can be--”
“Innovative—” (Gojo says).
“Erratic—” (Nanami says).
“Unusual,” you decide on, in the end, “and not every child is going to thrive.”
“He won’t let me ask them to move into Miss Utahime’s class,” Nanami says, wearily. “Yuji is very fond of Mr Gojo.”
(You know that, and so does Gojo; the white-haired man gives a cocky grin to both of you).
“I enjoy teaching Yuji,” you say. “He’s good-hearted, enthusiastic – he throws himself into everything he does.” Nanami’s tired eyes seem to brighten behind the glasses at the compliment to his son, his lips lifting at the corners in the briefest twitch of a smile.
“He does,” Nanami says, and it’s clear from his tone that he’s very proud of Yuji. You feel bad for thinking he might be the kind of pushy, demanding father that you’d been warned you may encounter in this profession. With Nanami in front of you, it’s clear he just wants the best for Yuji and is concerned that Gojo might not be that ‘best’. You can’t blame him. You often think Gojo behaves more like a child than half of the kids in the class. “Yes, those are all of his best qualities.”
You nervously shift your gaze to Gojo, who is waiting for your next move.
“I’d be happy to work with him,” you say, eventually. “Maybe set up some kind of . . . drop-in, for students having trouble with the work, over free periods? I won’t make them, of course, but . . . I think my methods and Mr Gojo’s are very different, Sir.”
Nanami’s shoulders relax just a touch. He stands, nodding, taking your hand to shake it.
“I don’t doubt it, Miss,” he says – and as he touches you, a frisson of electricity seems to pass between the two of you. His hands are big and surprisingly soft, and as he grasps your hand you can suddenly sense strength behind the grasp. You hope that your surprise doesn’t register in your face, as he turns and inclines his head slightly at Gojo (Gojo does not get a handshake, you do not fail to notice).
“I hope that it helps,” Nanami says, as he leaves. And honestly . . . you do too.
3.
Nanami asks to schedule a meeting with you, two weeks after you’ve begun working with some of the lower-achieving children in the class. Yuji’s grades have been improving, slowly and steadily – the boy looking at you with a grin when tests are handed back with letters far higher up in the alphabet than he’s used to getting.
“Ah, I can leave you to deal with that one,” Gojo says, grinning at you when he hears about it. “You’re the one working miracles, after all! I think Mr Nanami would just be displeased to see me sat with you, and I’m not gonna complain about not having to deal with a guy like that!”
You’re inclined to agree. So you watch Gojo leave that afternoon blithely, like he hasn’t got a care in the world – his bag is full of essays that need to be marked over the weekend, but somehow you think you’ll have a stack pressed into your own hands on Monday morning, more than a little crumpled, as Gojo insists you should get used to doing some marking yourself.
You wait for Nanami with your head in a book, steadfastly ignoring Gojo’s desk and sitting by your own table in the corner of the classroom instead. Last time you were alone with a student’s father in this room, you got to know that desk far too intimately.
Nanami is exactly on time, the second hand of the clock just ticking past the twelve as he knocks on the door and you call for him to come in. Gojo does have an office, and he’s said you can use that if you want – but the few times you’ve been in Gojo’s office, you’ve been overwhelmed by the chaotic mess that the man surrounds himself with. The classroom, if nothing else, at least looks peaceful.
Nanami sits across your table, well-mannered and polite, as you put your book down and smile.
“You wanted to talk about how Yuji’s doing?” You ask him. “It’s only been two weeks, but I think we can already see quite a bit of improvement--”
“Yes,” he says. “I think we can.”
Nanami does not heap you with praise; you get the impression that he’s not the kind of man who heaps anybody with praise. You get the impression he’s the kind of man who gives you an approving look, a pat on the shoulder, a nod – you find that you’re craving that approval yourself, looking at him across from you.
“I look at his homework sometimes,” Nanami says. “He’s getting a lot more of it himself, now. Not pulling his hair out at the dining table. You’re . . . you’re really doing a very good job, you know.”
Your insides fizz at the compliment. Gojo doesn’t give them out, either – but you’re the kind of person who occasionally needs to be told they’re doing the right thing, in order to motivate them to carry on. Nanami’s compliment carries a weight in your heart that lodges there like a secret.
You can’t remember the last time someone said you were doing a good job.
You and Nanami talk through the grading rubric, the other topics that are set to be covered before the end of term – how you’re trying to get Gojo to be a little more academic in his lessons, but it’s not working. You mention that lots of the other kids seem to be thriving under having a chance to go back over the material that your mentor occasionally skips and side-steps around, imparting his knowledge in his own particular way. Thoughts of Gojo make your mind swim with fatigue.
You hadn’t realised, until you started talking about it, but you also can’t remember your mind not being consumed by thoughts of your work at any point in the last few weeks. You’re always worrying about something; your mind always rushing from one possible bad outcome to the next. The kids, your training, Gojo, the school, the heavy weight of choosing a career where the next generation depends on you--
“You look tired,” Nanami says, his face twisted in sympathy. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”
You haven’t, really – thoughts of the class, and your work, and whether you’re even cut out for this as a career have been haunting you more and more recently, as you watch Gojo stumble irresponsibly from day to day. You feel like you get home, do some work for the next day, go to sleep, and immediately go to work again with nothing in between. You look at Nanami, who’s all concern, and you know you shouldn’t, but--
“I’m just getting stressed from everything happening all at once,” you say, forcing yourself to smile. “I have a lot of assessments coming up, reports I should be writing, reports that are written about me. Ah, those ones-- those are by Mr Gojo--”
“Ahh,” he looks incredibly sympathetic at that one.
“There’s just,” you falter. “A lot. And if I don’t come to work feeling my best and supporting them all, I feel like I’m letting the kids down, but I also just feel kind of bone-weary aching all of the time—”
Nanami’s hand reaches across the table, taking ahold of yours. His palms are warm and rough, and the thumb that rubs soothing circles against the base of your own is comforting. You sigh, eyelids half flickering closed.
“I shouldn’t have said anything to you,” you murmur, the small moment of intimacy (when you’ve spent the last two weeks feeling like you’re lurching from place to place and nobody is paying attention) sending a much-needed hit of comfort to the marrow of your bones. “You shouldn’t have to listen to my problems.”
Nanami’s lips tilt.
“I’d say it’s the least I could do,” he says, drily, “after everything you’ve done for Yuji – and after you’ve had to deal with Mr Gojo.” The look he gives you is quietly private, a shared in-joke between the two of you that makes you smile in response. His response almost makes you forget that he’s touching you, and though the touch is innocuous, you also know it’s unprofessional--
You stare at his hand on yours. It’s the same arm that he wears his expensive wristwatch on, and the sleeve of his suit jacket has ridden up to reveal just a hint of the shape beneath, a prominently veined wrist. Your throat goes dry looking at it, as you think of how strong he had seemed that time he’d shook your hand--
He’s looking at where the two of you are touching, too – a faint spot of red fading in high on his cheekbones. He coughs, awkward, but doesn’t move his hand. He swallows.
“You’re very pretty, you know,” Nanami says, and your body seems to flood with heat. You should say something about how inappropriate that is, thank him for coming to see you and the sweet words he’d said about how you were helping Yuji along, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to do it when he’s looking at you like that. “It sounds very hypocritical coming from me, because anyone who knows me will tell you that I don’t get enough of it myself– but you should rest more. Relax.”
You can imagine him ramrod straight behind a desk, eyes narrowed behind spreadsheets and numbers. You can definitely imagine him tired and drooping, working too hard. You smile again, helplessly, the look apologetic. You’re not very good at things like that.
“You look stiff,” he says. “Here--”
He stands. You’d forgotten how tall he was, the breadth of him – he unbuttons his jacket neatly, laying it over the back of the chair. Without that, the width of his shoulders is really apparent. You don’t realise you’re staring until he makes a little noise, a ‘hmph’ of amusement, eyes not meeting yours, thumbs unbuttoning his cuffs and pushing the sleeves up to his elbows.
He’s behind you.
“I’ve been told I’m good at this,” he says. “Big hands, I suppose?”
You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when those same big hands are suddenly on your shoulders, the same thumbs that were just rubbing tender circles onto your hand digging into your shoulder-blades in a massage that you feel down to your toes. You don’t realise you’ve let out a noise and relaxed back into the massage until Nanami lets out a low hum that you think is mirth.
The noise you make as he works out that persistent knot in the back of your neck is near-on pornographic, and both of you know it – heat rushing to your face, Nanami clearing his throat. If somebody walking by had heard that – if they came into the classroom, to see you getting a massage from Yuji’s father--
How do you keep getting into these situations? Nobody warned you about this part of working in a school. Why do his hands feel so fucking good on you, fingers digging into your skin – you moan again, rolling back into his touch.
There’s a clipped quality to his voice when he speaks;
“Wait a second.” Your eyes flutter open as his hands leave you, watching in distress as he walks to the door. If you’re expecting him to leave, you’re surprised when what actually happens is that he twists the lock, so nobody can walk in on the two of you doing something so. . . incongruous with both the classroom around you and the knowledge of what exactly the relationship between you is.
He gives you another one of those half-smiles and you feel a familiar throb in your lower half. Oh, this is unfair – he’s so handsome, so unruffled, so gentle as he takes back his position behind you and touches you again.
“This would feel better on your bare skin,” he murmurs, the words ghosting along you as a politely worded request, and obediently your fingers deftly unbutton your blouse without hesitation. This time, you’re glad that there’s no clatter of lost buttons on the floor – this time, you’re able to push it off your shoulders yourself. Nanami sighs as you let the fabric drop, pooling behind you in a crumpled mess. One of his fingertips traces your spine, raising gooseflesh on the sensitive skin.
“Don’t you have someone at home to do this for you?” He asks, voice soft and low like velvet, as he kneads the skin, tension draining out of you more and more with each passing minute. The question is worded carefully, but both of you know what he’s asking.
“Just me,” you say, as his hands slide forward, thumbs digging into your shoulders but fingers resting over your collarbone, his hands so big on you.
“Pity,” Nanami breathes, but it doesn’t sound like he’s particularly unhappy about it. Your breath catches as he moves from your shoulders, further, further, fingertips brushing the swell of your breast in your (sensible, today) bra. He leans forward, his lips against the shell of your ear. “You can tell me to stop if you want me to.”
“I don’t want you to,” you find yourself saying, and his thin lips curve into a smile that you feel.
“I’m glad,” he murmurs – and then, fingers diving beneath the cups of the bra, kneading the soft flesh, the plush of your body. You’re relaxing bonelessly into his touch when one finger brushes your nipple, sending a frisson of electricity right to the place between your thighs. Your bra straps are slipped off your shoulders, a slight lean forward so he can unclip the thing and let it fall onto the ground. Nanami sighs, almost reverent – when he moves his hand from your chest, you feel their absence keenly, a soft noise of dismay escaping you.
“Pull your chair out,” he says. You do; the legs scraping across the floor. Nanami himself moves so he’s no longer behind you, coming around to the front – casually, unhurriedly lowering himself to his knees in front of you. He reaches up to his face and removes his glasses, laying them neatly on the table to one side of him.
His eyes drink you in and you find your skin prickling with heat. You should be embarrassed; you shouldn’t be here at all, actually, alone in your classroom (again!) with someone’s father (again!), willing to let them look at you and touch you and more (again!). But Nanami reaches in, touching you so gently, fingertips and thumbs delicate as feathers as he strokes over your breast and waist and stomach. As he leans forward and licks a slow, agonising lap over your nipple until it hardens and pebbles, your entire body thrumming with desire. As he sucks it into his mouth, teeth nipping just hard enough at the bud that your body lights on fire, before he kisses a line across your sternum to give the other nipple the same treatment.
He slides his hands past your waist, unbuttoning and unzipping your pencil skirt with one hand, the cotton pulled down over your thighs. Nanami sighs again, cupping your hips, nudging your stockinged knee with his cheek.
“You’re lovely,” he says, affectionate, and it feels so intimate that your heart beats too fast against your chest. “Can I--?” Hands against the sides of your underwear, sliding over you in a way that leaves hot trails of fire behind him. You should be embarrassed that he can clearly see the wet patch, the way the sodden fabric clings to the petals of your sex – but when he’s looking at you like that. . . You can’t make yourself feel it. You nod, sighing, lifting your hips from the seat of the chair to assist in the removal of that particular garment. A light touch on your inner thighs has you spreading your legs further for him, his eyes drinking in the slick folds, the needy glint of your wetness.
He brings his face closer, taking a long breath in, inhaling your scent. The wash of his breath across you on the exhale fans across the length of you, your clit aching with need to be touched, paid attention to. Nanami takes his time, though – your thighs are kissed, first, his lips lingering on the soft skin, suckling gentle love-bites into the flesh. Occasionally, the briefest flash of his teeth, scraping across the sensitive area – always followed by a soothe, a kiss, a lick. Every one of them makes your body bloom into warm needy desire; you can feel how wet you are, know it must be soaking the chair beneath you even before Nanami has used his mouth on you properly.
He huffs out a chuckle as you whine, your hips tilting towards his mouth.
“You want me to use my mouth?” He asks you, his tongue gently lapping at one of the places he’s kissed. “On you, sweetheart?”
“Mm—mmhmm,” you say, breathlessly, not entirely sure that your mind is able to form any coherent sentences with Nanami knelt between your thighs. He places a chaste kiss on the mound above your clit, pulling back.
“Use your words,” he encourages you. There’s a stern dominance to him; coated in fondness, yes, but . . . an order, nonetheless. “I can make you feel so good--”
“Please use your mouth on me,” you whimper, soft as a mouse. Your hand flexes onto the seat of the chair beneath your thighs, and Nanami smiles against your soaking cunt.
“Good girl,” he praises, like liquid honey – and when his tongue finally, finally makes contact with your sex, the other hand has no choice but to curl into his hair as you let out a needy mewl, all of the heat that’s been building up within you since the very first moment you laid eyes on Kento Nanami coming to a point in the crux of his lips and tongue lapping hungrily at your slick.
Your lashes flutter closed, your thighs trembling, as Nanami sates himself on the taste of you, making you relax helplessly into his talented mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing; the flat, broad strokes against the folds of your cunt, the lower dip of his tongue as he flirts with stretching your hole open with it, the teasing flick of it as it dances, dallies with the idea of your swollen clit.
You can hear the wet sounds of him between your legs, suckling and kissing and licking and lapping – not all of it’s from your slickness, you know, but an embarrassing amount of it is. His tongue pushes into your hole, thrusting a few times, imitating the actions of fingers or cock – and your thighs flex, almost squeezing him between them, your fingers tugging on his hair with a soft squeal of surprise escaping you.
The noise just spurs him on. He fucks you on his tongue for a few more thrusts, before dragging the flat of the muscle through your folds, forcefully parting them (his mouth feels so hot, there), until he can reach the throb of your clit. He uses his tongue to roll the bud, swirling the tip of the muscle around it, drawing patterns over the place that all of your hot, desperate need is concentrated. Your other hand jerks into his hair too, your hips thrusting against his hungry mouth as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. You almost white out for a minute over the sheer overwhelming sensation of Nanami’s lips sucking on you, the displacement of air – you’re panting out breathy, whimpering noises, Nanami groaning as he edges you further and further towards your peak.
Fingers on your inner thigh. Nanami’s index finger, liberally coating itself in your slick and Nanami’s spit, dragging down the length of you that isn’t currently being utterly ravaged by Nanami’s lips--
He pushes one lone finger into your entrance, and that pushes you over the edge.
Your walls flutter around him, sucking him deeper inside your plush walls. You bite so hard into your lower lip you think that you might bleed, but it only serves to quiet the moan that escapes you by a little. Nanami groans against you, pumping the finger, sucking on your clit, guiding you over the peaks and mounds of your orgasm as he continues to enjoy the taste of you gushing into his mouth, overwhelming with the syrupy sweet stickiness of just how good you taste.
He guides you, too – with careful, slowing licks, lazier pumps – through the weak aftershocks and trembles of your peak, as they come to a slowly twitching halt. Your eyes are glassy, lips swollen from bits, as he places another chaste kiss over your sensitive clit and pulls back. His finger pops out of you with a wet gush that makes you feel so embarrassed at your own neediness you can barely stand it, but between your thighs Nanami is straightening up, a smug glint to his tired eyes.
“There,” he murmurs, standing, drinking in your quivering body, the slick on your thighs, how dark and satisfied your eyes look as you gaze up at him, half-woozy from the pleasure. “Don’t you feel a little more relaxed, now?”
You’re afraid if you speak you will simply slur your words, your tongue feeling unfamiliar in your mouth. You try and focus on Nanami instead – unfairly tranquil, aside from the wet of his chin, the damp spot darkening his collar. He places the finger that was formerly buried inside you into his mouth, the glint of arousal on it consumed by him with a tilt of the head as if he’s savouring the taste.
You can’t help but notice that there’s an outline of something putting pressure on the fabric of his slacks, there, between his thighs – something that looks hard, and stiff, and uncomfortable. You blink at it through a hazy mind as Nanami goes leans over you, gently taking hold of your chin, checking that you’re alright.
“C-can I help with that?” You manage, only a little bit garbled. Nanami’s eyebrows raise in surprise, a light pink flush to his cheeks – what does he take you for? That you’d let him eat you out so well that your toes curl and then just let him leave without seeing to his own issues?
(It’s a confidence boost, honestly – knowing that he’s hard because of you. You know that this isn’t the kind of man who would fuck you on his tongue in his son’s classroom if he didn’t find you attractive, but still . . . Someone like Nanami, with those cheekbones and those lips and those shoulders, wanting somebody like you?)
“I-- ahh--” He seems nervous about it, a little flustered, clearly not expecting you to offer something like that – but then, you raise one hazy hand and gently pet his crotch through the fabric and he whistles through his teeth, the organ giving a welcoming throb beneath your hand. You swallow at how it responds, the size and heat of it.
“Please?” Plump lower lip caught between your teeth. “I’d like to repay the favour.”
He swallows, raising a hand to loosen his tie. You see the bob of his throat as he moves, pulling out the chair he was sat on before, parting his own knees.
“I’d like that,” he says, and that’s all of the encouragement you need to sink from the chair onto your shaking knees, half-crawl towards him until you’re situated between his thighs. Your hands reach up to his waist, undoing his belt buckle carefully. The heat of his cock radiates through the fabric, brushing against your arm as you undo the belt. As you undo the button. As you tug at the zipper, the noise of the teeth indecently loud. He sighs himself, a hand cupping your cheek. “You’re so pretty,” he says, repeating his earlier compliment. His eyes on your face make you feel hot and flushed, the way he watches you eagle-sharp as your smaller hands reach into his underwear to pull out his already hard cock.
He’s not as big as Toji was, but that doesn’t mean he’s not big. His cock is elegant, a light upward curve, the head ruddy pink and slick with precome – and as you lean forward and let your tongue trace the slit of it, as you taste that same precome in your mouth, he groans quietly. He brings the hand not on your cheek up to his mouth to muffle the noise, and you can’t help but pout.
“Please,” you say. “I want to hear you--”
A pause. He drops his hand, taking a chest-deep breath. His fingers slide across the apple of your cheeks – you know he must be able to sense how warm you are, how shameless and brazen you feel.
You give the head of his cock dainty kitten licks, getting used to feel of him – getting used to the soft breaths he keeps making, the way that the hand on your cheek moves to knit into your hair. You know you’re teasing him, but the way he looks down at you like you’re the one doing him a favour has you all giddy and light headed.
You envelope the head in your waiting mouth, tongue messily lapping at it. It’s been a long time since you’ve done something like this – judging from the sigh escaping Nanami’s lips, the light thrust of his hips, though, you’re not doing too bad of a job on it.
You take him a little further, willing your mouth to open wider. Your tongue is still moving against him sloppily – tracing the veins of his shaft, licking fat stripes where you can manage to get it around. You feel a trickle of drool escape your lips as you widen your mouth a bit more, so much you can feel a light ache in your jaw.
“Fuck,” Nanami breathes, deep and ragged. “Fuck, that’s a good girl.”
The praise just eggs you on further, makes you want to take him deeper – makes you want to win more noises said by that dark, low voice. You push too far and have to pull back a little, your makeup smearing (you’re glad you’d foregone a darker lipstick today), your eyes watering. But you’re determined, and after you’ve managed to draw a choked breath around the cock in your mouth, you’re back on it, kissing and sucking and licking as best you can. Every so often, Nanami will groan from above you, his hips jerking, the hand in your hair guiding you just a little to the left. The other hand comes to cradle your face, so tender and careful with you.
“You feel so good,” he says, soft, like he can barely believe where you are. “Your mouth is so good, sweetheart--”
The flat of your tongue is dragged over the slit, his taste flooding your senses. You squeeze your thighs together, the friction thrilling even considering how slick your cunt still is (you’re grateful that your skirt is dark, because you know you must have soaked through your underwear).
His hips are moving more regularly now, but you can tell that he’s still holding back – that he doesn’t want to roughly fuck your throat, though he easily could. You look up at him with your eyes dark and wide, your lashes trembling, trying to get across that it’s alright for him to do that without having to stop hungrily licking and sucking at his cock. He sees your gaze, your lips wrapped around him, your cheeks hollowed in your attempts to impress, and he breathes out a shaking exhale.
“Is it really okay?” He asks you. “I don’t want to hurt you--”
You hum your affirmative around his cock and his eyes roll back into his head for just a moment, groan escaping his parted lips again, as he begins to rock his hips into your mouth. You gag around it at first – so big, so thick, even though he’s not going that fast yet – but as he begins to pick up his pace, your mouth gets used to moving in tandem with his thrusts and the tugs on your hair.
The ache in your jaw begins to be pleasant; you begin to feel like you’re meant to have it open that wide, that the bump of his cockhead against the back of your throat is right and perfect. His face is flushing, his breath getting shaky – whistling in his chest.
His chest. You stare at the bare collar above the buttons of his shirt, the lean shadows of his collarbone – you think, judging by the broadness of his shoulders, he’s probably built beneath there. You’d love to find out. You’d love to be somewhere other than in the classroom with this man, somewhere where you could learn his body by heart, where the floor beneath your knees isn’t quite so hard--
“Fuck,” he hisses, fingers tightening so hard that you groan, your throat vibrating around his cock. “Sweetheart, my good girl, I’m gonna--”
You hear the warning in his voice and you suck harder, swirl your tongue faster, coaxing him forward – his abdomen flexes under the shirt, his cock juddering in your mouth, pulsing as your mouth suddenly fills with the hot, wet, salty and unmistakable taste of Nanami’s come--
You keep sucking. You keep licking, swallowing pump after pump, draining forth every single drop of his release that you can until he’s shuddering and his cock is softening, his head thrown over the back of the chair to reveal the tempting column of his throat.
He’s taking deep breaths, great heaving ones that his shoulders move in time with, as the last few thunderbolts of his release travel through his body and he groans in the pleasured way that someone who has orgasmed their worries away does.
Nanami’s hand in your hair eases, his breaths evening out from the shakes and groans. His fingers are quiet and affectionate, as you pull back, swallowing the final few drops of his release. He looks down at you with those intense eyes half-lidded, his face briefly free of lines and stress and worry. He sighs, hand diving into the jacket still hung on the chair behind him – when the hand emerges, he’s holding a handkerchief, that he brings up to your face like a lover.
Tenderly, he wipes a bead of his come from the corner of your mouth. The action is so warm, so fond, that you can barely breathe for looking up at him. You feel like you’re knelt at some kind of altar – that Nanami had prayed to you, and now you are responding with your own supplication.
“Are you alright?” He asks you. “Your knees? Your mouth?” He’s so gorgeous; unfairly picked out under the classroom lights, like he doesn’t belong here at all. In another world, he’s avenging like an angel with a weapon in his hand. Now, he’s softly rumpled with his shirt unbuttoned and one of his suspenders fallen down his shoulder, his knees spread wide.
“Yes,” you breathe. He smiles again – he does not grin. His mouth is just a light uptilt, as he leans forward and brushes his lips over your own.
“Good girl,” he murmurs again, the words sending another shiver down your spine. “Do you need some help getting dressed?”
You rise onto unsteady legs and Nanami is there, supporting you carefully, rising with you. He rescues your skirt, your bra – deft fingers re-doing buttons, catching eyes with hooks, zipping up until you look – if not immaculate – at least presentable. Someone who had seen you this morning would probably recognise that your skirt is creased and your blouse is crumpled, that your hair is falling around your face--
Nanami’s fingers capture those strands too, tucking them back behind your ear, smoothing them out. Every single sweep and caress of his fingers makes you feel like you’re about to break into pieces from how soft you feel, how cherished. It’s a stark difference to how you had felt after Toji had swung out of your classroom, leaving you prone and leaking his come.
He leaves you, after you’ve regained your balance, to get your bag and coat, to grab the book you had been reading before this meeting had commenced – and he sets himself to rights with a calm, assured aura. If someone looked closely at him, you think perhaps they’d notice the tie not quite as tight, the hair not quite as neatly swept from his brow – you yourself can barely take your eyes off him. Is there something in the water in this town?
He grasps his briefcase, clips his glasses into the top pocket of his suit jacket instead of placing them back on his nose. His entire being seems to have lost tension, his eyes not quite as tired, his shoulders not quite as strained. As he finished, he comes to stand beside you – an arm gallantly curving around your waist just loosely enough that the touch could be read as friendly and not romantic. As the two of you walk across the classroom, he says quietly;
“You really should relax, you know. You don’t have anything to worry about. Yuji adores you, and I’m sure the rest of the children do too.”
(Your cheeks heat, the compliment warm and convincing in the sonorous bass of Nanami’s voice).
“Even Gojo isn’t permanent,” he says. “Anybody would be lucky to end up with you.” A cough. “That’s . . . as a teacher and in other ways.”
He pauses at the door, unlocking it with a final click that feels like he is saying that this little adventure has truly come to its natural end. His eyes linger affectionately on your face, a brief touch of hesitation colouring his features – before, once more, he leans in and brushes his lips against yours with a feather-soft touch that has you gasping in surprise against his mouth. The hand not on the briefcase takes your own hand, fingers entangling, and if you had thought your face was warm before, you’re quickly taught that you didn’t know what heat was.
He draws back a little breathlessly.
“I hope you’ll continue working with Yuji,” he says, sincerely. “And perhaps, if it’s agreeable to you-- perhaps we could schedule a catch-up meeting in a few weeks? So I may see. . . how things are progressing?”
“Of course, Sir,” you say, words very breathy.
When you get home tonight, and probably for the next few weeks, you’ll take a really good look at the grading rubric. You know. For the kids. Not because of Nanami’s sharp cheekbones and wicked tongue and the glint that had been in his eye when he had pressed his mouth against your heated core – not because of how his cock had felt heavy and thick in your mouth, and how it would feel pressed inside of you--
Nope. Not at all.
Definitely for Nanami’s son.
#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#nanami x reader#kento nanami x reader#nanami smut#nanami x you#jjk x reader#afab reader#fem pronouns#writing#jjk teacher aid au#jjk writing tag
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hello rooney, i am unfortunately too late to request prompt 28, but i would love to see what you do with prompt 21 🤩✨
Hi Cor! Thanks for this gorgeous prompt - have an absolutely chaotic high school AU.
number ten from love confessions prompts list here.
for all the americans here: when i say football, i mean soccer. i'm too gay to know anything about other sports.
21. “This was not how I wanted you to find out, but I also don’t want to take it back.”
Until this point in Harry's short life, there have been three days he will never forget: his eleventh birthday, when Sirius and Remus' petition for custody had been granted by the court; a few weeks later, when Ron and Hermione sat down next to him in the cafeteria; and the day Teddy was born.
Today is the fourth day.
Harry's team is all around him, running warm ups and drills, and he's standing in the middle of the field like a lunatic with his jaw hanging open and too-hopeful dick rapidly filling out.
Because sitting next to Hermione, helping her hold up a sign that says POTTER AND WEASLEY ARE OUR KINGS, is Draco Malfoy.
He's got honest-to-god red and gold face paint streaked across his cheeks and he's wearing one of the school's football jerseys. Harry wonders if he's died and gone to heaven.
'Mate, what---oh my god.' Ron jogs to a halt beside him, staring into the crowd. 'Is that...'
'Yep.'
'But he's never come to a game---'
'No,' Harry can't think of anything beyond why is my mouth so dry, and Ron barks a laugh and claps him on the shoulder, leaning in.
'I told you he liked you!'
'I mean...he might just have...I dunno, come with Hermione?'
Ron gives him A Look. 'Later, I will explain to you exactly why that is the stupidest thing you've ever said, but for now we have a game to win, Captain.'
Harry shakes his head, coming back to earth slightly. 'Yeah. Okay. Let's go.'
~
Miraculously, Harry manages to stay focussed enough to score two goals and set up another, and the roar as the whistle goes is deafening. He's swamped with furious hugs from his teammates, and Hermione is running out onto the field and flinging her arms around Ron, and McGonagall and Hooch both look like they're about to burst into tears.
A microphone is flung in front of Harry's face, and Colin Creevey beams at him.
'Harry, you've just led our football team to their first regional win in fifteen years - how do you feel?'
'Brilliant,' Harry replies immediately. 'The boys have worked so hard all year, and they really deserve this.'
'You scored two of the four goals today - how did you set aside nerves and focus on the game?'
The interview goes on, and Harry barely notices the commotion around him, his mind a buzz of win and team and football, and he almost misses Colin's last question when Dean and Seamus holler and leap on him.
'Sorry,' Harry laughs, trying to disentangle himself. 'What was that?'
'Anyone special you were thinking of out there?'
'Er,' Harry replies, his mind going blank just as Seamus sniggers, looks at Dean and says too loudly, 'Malfoy.'
Harry's blood runs cold as the commotion around them falters, and Seamus mutters, 'oh, fuck.' There's a small choked sound to Harry's right, and he turns to see Draco - still in that jersey, painted cheeks flushed - standing next to Hermione and gaping at him.
Colin turns back to Harry, eyes gleaming with new information.
'Can you confirm this, Captain?'
'Um.' Harry looks back at Draco.
'Harry?' Draco's voice is so soft, so hopeful, and Harry summons every last bit of courage he possesses.
'Er, yeah,' he finally says. Draco's tentative smile grows, and Hermione looks practically beside herself with joy. Ron's got Seamus in a headlock, otherwise completely focussed on the unfolding scene.
'Really?' Draco murmurs, eyes wide with disbelief.
'Yeah. This was...not how I wanted you to find out, but I also don’t want to take it back. Because you're special. To me.'
The crowd erupts into whoops and cheers as Draco moves to meet Harry, and Harry slides his arms around his waist and picks him up as their lips meet. When they break apart, Ron is bodily stopping Hermione from beating the shit out of Seamus, and Colin is yelling into the microphone, and there are multiple cameras pointed at them, and Harry doesn't care about any of it.
'I never want you to wear anything but this shirt,' he mumbles, tracing his fingers over Draco's collarbone. Draco smiles.
'Alright, Captain.'
#drarry#high school au#jock harry is my lifeblood ok#draco x harry#drarry ficlet#drarry fic#for: moonstruckwytch#rooney writes
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flashing lights — bill denbrough
pairing: bill denbrough x fem! reader
warning(s): smut, eighteen! bill denbrough, is it choking if he doesn’t squeeze?, fingering, piv sex, cursing, ig kinda degrading idk tho judge for yourself, unedited
summary: bill, the star baseball player of derry, and you, from another high school, meet in the locker room and get to know each other.
words: 3.1k
note: don’t say i never gave you anything i am a woman of my word
sitting here in the bleachers adjacent to the baseball field, with the setting sun in your gaze and the feeling of newly spring wind on your skin, you had high hopes that your schools baseball team would win. out of all the schools in lieu with your own, bangor high school, derry’s team was the most anticipated of in the season. where most high schools in the nation favored the fall sport of football, the central part of maine where you lived actually liked baseball more, so when the first sprouts of spring showed, everyone was excited for the next season.
you were a senior, almost finished with school and personally tasked yourself and your group of friends with trying to go to every single baseball game that you all could make it to - whether they were at home or away.
“look, he’s up to bat,” your friend marcella said, catching your attention by lightly tapping your shoulder and motioning to the field. there you saw your close friend owen, who was the star player of your school’s team and one of your friends since you were a little kid. he was the person who introduced you to the group that you were here with now, here specifically to cheer him on.
you saw him walk to home plate, bat in hand and getting into position to swing. your eyes took you across from him to the pitcher of the other team, who you didn’t know but could see the name displayed on the back of his shirt. denbrough. you raised your eyebrow at the last name, it didn’t ring a bell.
the crowd started to cheer for your friend, waiting for denbrough to throw the first pitch. everything became silent, and the ball was thrown with stellar accuracy. whoever this denbrough boy was, he was seemingly a really good pitcher. when the second ball was thrown and owen missed yet again, your hand ran through your hair nervously. you could hear people whispering all around you, wondering if he was going to strike out.
just as if someone of the heavens was listening to the anxious worries of your fellow classmates, denbrough went to throw the ball and owen swung and the ball went flying, going straight for the outfield as owen ran with all his might to first base. you cheered with your friends, yelling words of encouragement and praise towards your team.
the game, from that point, was in your high schools favor. it was seemingly decided almost halfway through that bangor high school had it in the bag, which did nothing for any person in your crowds ego. just as the last inning was finished, your school came out victorious.
“hopefully this means that we’re going to the championships this year,” you heard people say. “and maybe we can host it at our school so we don’t have to drive all the way out here again.”
you were anxious to see your friend, running down the stairs of the bleachers and shouting his name, but owen didn’t hear you. sighing, you turned to your group to say, “should we get back home?” the team would have to come back by bus anyways, which sucked, because you wanted to congratulate your friend on such a good win.
“yeah, probably before it gets too late, you know how bad those backroads are,” jake stated. “do you want to catch a ride with me? im sure marcella can take your car back.”
half of you wanted to go with them and just see owen later, but to you, it felt like poor taste to make him wait that long. plus, maybe you could catch him before he left. you shook your head, “no, i’ll stay. i want to see the team. go without me, I'll see you tomorrow.”
jake laughed. “okay, just don’t get lost.” he wiggled his eyebrows in a teasing manner and walked away, taking your friends with him and leaving you alone in the front of derry high school.
you had been here once before, just for a short while and after a baseball game like right now. but that was all the way back during freshman year when you were trying to find the bathroom, you really had no idea where the locker rooms were.
opening the large door, you started along the main hallway, looking at the posters that aligned the wall that reminded you of your own school. derry was really similar in layout, so perhaps it wouldn’t be that hard. turning the corner, you saw a sign that pointed to the gym and the locker rooms. in no time you were there, but there was no one coming out of the doors. had they already left and you missed them? it was silent.
you put your ear to the door and listened, hearing some rustling. you knocked, but there was no answer, making you raise your eyebrow. and you don’t exactly know what prompted you to open the wooden door and make your way inside, but you did, and along the array of closed lockers, your eyes took you to the one person who was in there.
it was the denbrough pitcher.
you got a good look of him now, with his honeyed locks that fell messy on his forehead, standing taller than you. his back was slightly turned to you and through his jersey you could see his toned back muscles, making you lose yourself for a moment and send you almost stumbling over your feet. you knew that he was attractive from the moment you set your eyes on him but you didn’t know that he was this attractive.
he turned around now and immediately those dazzling cerulean blue eyes landed on you, making your face heat up in realizing that this was not the visitors locker room like you had intended on trying to find.
“sorry,” you fumbled out after a moment of shameless staring. “I was looking for my friend.” denbrough tilted his head to the side and you watched him take out a bag and push his locker door closed. instead of walking out like you should’ve, you just stood there watching him. it was in poor taste, since the longer you looked at him, you could see clearly that he was angry.
a tiny grin came to his face. “it’s fine, no one’s in here except me anyways.” a silent moment passed and then a quizzical look came to his face, eyes falling back on you. “wait . . . weren’t you cheering on the other team?” he had noticed you, just as you were now noticing him. the room seemed a lot smaller than it had earlier and you ignored the fluttering feeling in your stomach the longer he stared at you. you didn’t even know his name.
“yeah, it was a good game,” you shrugged your shoulders.
“we should’ve won that game.”
a cocky grin splayed on your features. “well, im sure you’ll get another shot next time.” you would have to play them again to secure a spot in the championships, it was still rather early in the season anyways.
“will you be at the next game?” denbrough asked, he walked closer to you now, and there was a look in his eyes that was not easy to mistake. he was looking at you like you were a full course meal and he was the hungriest man on earth. and you liked the way that he looked at you, this gorgeous boy that you had barely met, and you wanted him to keep looking at you like that. well, you would rather him be doing other things. “maybe we could go do something together afterwards.” now you were certain of his likeness for you.
you gave him a smirk. “well, i don’t know about that, i wouldn’t want to get involved with the opposing team.” when he noticed you were directly giving back the same energy he was giving, his feet stopped so he was just inches away from you. it took everything in you to keep yourself from grabbing him by those large muscles and -
in a moment of weakness or just pure idiocy, you did exactly as you thought, lunging yourself forward, hands reaching for his face and pulling him into a searing kiss. when he reciprocated your movements, you had to stop another smirk from rising to your face, pushing it down and focusing on your hands that made it’s way to his soft hair.
your kiss was unexpected by denbrough, though seemingly not unwelcome since his hands found their place exploring your sides, not being exactly gentle with his touches which you didn’t mind. this was so unlike you, doing something like this with someone you didn’t know. and to be honest, it was unlike him, too.
but both of you were giving each other the ‘fuck me’ eyes and well, you only live once, right?
as the kiss became more sloppy and he broke it to press kisses to your jawline and trailing down your neck, you breathed out and closed your eyes. “I don’t even know your name.” you sighed into his touches though, not really caring what his name was but knowing that it would probably be useful sometime soon.
denbrough came back up to meet your gaze. “it’s bill,” he gave you a grin. “pleasure to meet you.” there was a sense of teasing in his tone, which you would’ve laughed at if his hands weren't reaching for where your shirt met your pants.
“y/n,” you said weakly, already feeling your legs start to give out by the way that he was looking at you. you reached out to bill, wanting to feel his body pressed against yours again. he chuckled at your eagerness, giving you what you wanted by slowly pushing you against the lockers behind you. you felt the cool metal through your shirt and instantly realized how hot it was getting in this locker room, your skin was already on fire.
bill reattached his lips to your skin and you spent the time trying to undo the belt that was around his pants that nicely accentuated everything that you wanted from him. thank god for baseball pants.
tentatively, you pressed your hips against his and you heard a groan leave his throat, his lips stalling for a moment and then going back to his earlier movements. you were well aware of how excited he was, taking a moment to note that you could feel that he was absolutely fucking enormous.
of course he was.
as if he had enough of this teasing, his hand reached down and went straight under the band of your pants, being met with the wetness that was gathering in your panties. you bucked your hips forward into his hand and he smirked at how compliant you seemed to be with him. his other hand was gripping your side, keeping you close to him while the other pushed your panties to the side and the pad of his pointer finger came into contact with your slit.
you moaned out and bill covered your mouth with his own, not kissing you but keeping it there. “so tell me,” he said, breath hot against you, finger tracing a line from your slick folds to your clit, making you almost keel over if it hadn’t been for his hand keeping you up and body pressing you farther into the locker. “this friend of yours, he was on your team wasn’t he?”
you nodded, not trusting your voice. but he didn’t seem to like that, his hand stalling and not moving no matter how much you tried to gain friction.
“answer me with words,” the hand on your side coming up to the bottom of your throat so you were forced to look at him in the face, those blue eyes on him seemingly had become darker.
you took in a sharp breath. “yes,” you answered. his movements started again, but this time he took one finger and pushed it inside you till he was knuckle deep in, a large moan falling off of your tongue, eyes rolling to the back of your skull.
“and how do you think he would feel seeing you like this for me? the star player of the other team?” bill’s tone was condescending and you wondered if he was normally like this, or he was just angry about the outcome of the game. his finger sped up, soon being joined with another one that slipped in with ease. you were so wet for him already. “but you wouldn’t care, would you?”
it was seemingly rhetorical, because he didn’t wait for you to answer and instead attached his lips to your throat, teeth grazing a point that had you gasping, hand coming and tugging on those locks of his, the other falling to his neck.
“bill,” you muttered. “please just-” you were cut off by a moan, gripping him close as his thumb came into contact with your clit and rubbed tight circles against it.
he looked up at you from the mess he was creating on your neck. “please what?”
“just fuck me.”
you were really in no position to be making such requests since bill seemed to be in control (which really, you didn’t mind if it meant that he was making you feel good in the process), but at this point you were too strung out to care what he thought of the rather forward request. you knew that you needed him and you needed him now.
bill pulled away from you and you took in his now ragged features, noticing the tint of red in his cheeks and the freckles that dotted them, and the goldenness that he seems to radiate. in some ways you hoped that this wouldn’t be your only encounter with the denbrough boy, but that was something to worry about later, since his hands were undoing the rest of his belt and you knew that was your cue to do the same with your own pants.
soon enough you were back in the same position, one of his hands next to your head on the locker behind you as he moved to position his cock at your entrance, eyes meeting with yours as he pushed in to look at your reaction. and it was everything that he hoped to see, your mouth opening into an ‘o’ shape, lips parted and eyes never leaving his own.
once he bottomed out, he already started a fast rhythm, giving you little to no time to adjust. but you were so needy you didn’t care, not one bit because he was making you feel so good that you wished for this moment to last forever. and you were already so wet and willing, bill couldn’t wait a second longer.
your hands gripped onto his forearms, steadying yourself, but it was hard to keep your legs from giving out. bill must've noticed your struggle and leaned down, grabbing you by the back of your thighs and hoisting you up in his arms, using the leverage of the locker to fuck into you.
the change in position made you quiver in his arms like putty, arms wrapping around his neck and caging him close to you. incoherent words fell from your mouth that wouldn’t close no matter how hard you tried, while his pace became fast, rough, and unrelenting. you didn’t know bill well but you could tell that he was adamant about making you feel good, which fueled the fire inside of you even more.
if he was tired from playing the game, he didn’t even show it. bill fucked into you with such a frenzy that it was almost animalistic, which made you wonder how much energy this boy possibly had. what you didn’t know was it was your moans what were spurring him on, your moans that kept him going. bill had already been to point of exhaustion from the game but you were able to give him a second wind and he was not fucking up this one like he had fucked up in the game. his determination both of the field and in this moment caught up with him and well, he was bringing all of his emotion out.
and you loved it so much that you couldn’t think straight. all you could do was try and keep yourself still, words stringing together into barely put together sentences of oh fuck yes and that feels so good.
it was a moment of pure bliss that you didn’t even feel yourself start to clench around him, noticing it finally when you felt every inch of him scrape against your willing walls, bringing you closer to that cliff into a sea of pleasure that only he could give you. what finally made you break was the groans that he was making, which were hot and heavy and like heaven to your ears that you knew you would be playing on repeat before you went to sleep tonight.
and then his hand slipped between your legs, pressing up against your swollen clit and that was it. you were sent into a state of pure, fucked out bliss as you came around him, your moans everything but silent. luckily there seemed to be no one around to hear, and if they did they didn’t bother with stopping it.
a few thrusts afterwards and with an insistent command from you to cum inside you because you were on the pill, bill came undone and it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen in his life. as if this boy couldn’t get more perfect, haven been basically sent to you on a gift from god himself. he pulled out and you could feel the evidence slightly dripping out of you and onto your thighs.
there was a moment of cleaning up, where he actually grabbed a towel from his locker and helped you wipe away everything and eventually sit down onto the bench between the sides of lockers. where you thought would be awkwardness, there wasn’t, a few words passed between the two of you and then you told him that you should go, you had to drive home.
surprisingly, he asked if you needed help and then you remembered you barely knew him and shook your head. it was late anyways, he probably had things to do.
and when you got control of your limbs again (which bill cheekily smirked at), you walked out of the high school, him trailing behind you. you gave him one last look before parting ways, and in the heat of the moment, you told him your number and to call him if he ever wanted to get together again.
#bill denbrough#bill denbrough imagine#bill denbrough x reader#bill denbrough smut#it#IT movie#it movie 2017#it movie imagine#it movie x reader#it movie 2019#it smut#bill denbrough x you#stanley uris#eddie kaspbrak#richie tozier#beverly marsh#ben hanscom#mike hanlon
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Kurt Kelly x Fem!Bitch!Reader || Oneshot
Title: Someone Gets Hurt
Plot: Some little wannabe steals away your boyfriend, Kurt, while also batting her big ass lashes and winning over your friends, too... until you've had enough. No one out bitches you.
Notes:
Obviously, this is inspired by Someone Gets Hurt from Mean Girls except with Regina (The reader) as the heroine.
Warnings: Overall bitchiness, possessiveness (You about Kurt), break ups (Make ups too though so its not too bad ^^), the ruining of another persons relationship (Random girl Lizzie and Kurt's), rapeiness (Ram), sexual references, underage drinking, overage drinking, just LOTS of debauchery over all, a smut bit near the end (Not full), etc.
Was I too proud with you?
Was I too cold and forbidding?
And you chose her over me
Are you kidding?
Watching Kurt and Lizzie together this week has been torture. Terrible, burning, squeezing, not-at-all sexy torture.
Because Kurt, is yours.
He has always been yours. He was yours in kindergarten, he was yours in middle school, and he was yours all through highschool until this, unfortunate and butt fucking ugly, snag. Crossing your arms now and poisoning them with your eyes, you sit in the cafeteria... and think.
Just, think.
You don't gossip with your minions about all the bullshit going on in school, you don't discuss what you're going to do to the freshmen this year, no. Nothing. You're too busy... plotting.
There is no way in hell, that this pee-brained virgin bitch is going to steal your boyfriend, and not get paid back in turn. Its only fair- and you include interest, in your transactions like this.
One eye actually twitches, when Lizzie... the pee brained virgin bitch in question, gives Kurt a peck on the nose - oh so cute, but you don't even have to look at Kurt to see the disappointment flash in his eyes, - and hops off his lap when the bell rings. He has a free period now, you know because so do you and you usually spend it at the back of the football field together, but she has Chemistry, a thing you also know because hell- you just know everything. That's a basic fact. The whole school knows it and love that you never have to explain how you just fucking know shit.
But even being all knowing does not make you feel better, knowing that itty bitty roach-cunt has her claws embedded in your poor, weak-willed... ex boyfriends,... heart. Or his penis, more likely. Metaphorically speaking, obviously, because Lizzie's the 'Mary'est whore in the land of Westerberg High.
That doesn't really matter though. Either way, he's with her now and not you, and that just wont do.
Maggie, your right hand babe, gets up from your lunch table and leaves for her next class, too. And its only until she's out of sight, that you notice the piece of paper she left behind. Rolling your eyes, a growl of annoyance escapes you and you sigh- turning away from Kurt and Ram's table to see what the fuck it is. The reprieve is almost palpable, not looking at him anymore. It feels a little better- but not by much. And certainly not enough for you to forget what fuckery is going on.
Picking up the piece of paper in one perfectly manicured hand, you see that its an invitation. "Hmm... " Worrying the inside of your cheek, you think; This is interesting.
A Halloween party...
A gleeful smirk quirks slightly at the corners of your lips.
Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween.
~
And what you meant by 'Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween'- is 'Kurt always did have a boner for your Halloween costumes'. For the past several years, since the two of you blossomed with the help of puberty, you have used your assets as an advantage - because why else have them? - ; With the help of lace tights, push up bra's, winged eyeliner and red lipstick.
This year you've pulled together your favourite costume yet, which is fitting for the task at hand and the fact that its senior year- this may be your last chance to put these bottom dwelling highschool chuckleheads in their place.
I mean, you hope not but its basically a given.
Looking around the party as you walk in, you figure its just the same as any party Ram has thrown before. And his house is perfect for it, you'll give him that. The lights a turned down low enough that everyone looks a little hot, cooler's full of ice and alcohol are set up so you're never too far from a fix and thanks to his houses sound system the music is loud enough to make you think for a couple hours that you're in a place between reality and your dreams; A perfect set up for mistakes and one wild night.
But you aren't here to get drunk and kiss a loser, except for Kurt; You're here to take back the goddamn crown. Which getting Kurt back, will do. It'll humiliate Lizzie, and that's really all you want out of life right now.
Prowling through the crowd - which still knows to part for you, despite your current, slightly lower social standing, - in your knee high, shiny black leather boots, you look for someone to talk to. You know Maggie's here somewhere but that bitch is on her last life with you, after she said Lizzie's hair looked nice the other day. And you think some silent treatment will set her straight.
"Oh- Hi Ram." You find the host in the backyard, about to push an unsuspecting demoness into in a very sheer red blouse into the pool - which would doubtlessly make the blouse more of a red tint to her skin rather then any kind of coverage, which Ram well knows, - , and he double takes when he sees you. A sleazy, mischievous grin slops over his face at the sight, which makes you roll your eyes.
Deeply.
"Ohhh, heyyyy, Y/N!" He has to yell over the sound of the music and the other party-goers, not that you would mind if you didn't hear anything he said. He hasn't got a whole lot of substance, Ram, so you can basically assume that rolling your eyes is always the answer to anything he's saying. His eyes shift back, anxiously, to the girl he's currently got a hit out on, but you just raise your eyebrows sharply at him and he's at attention. "I didn't know you were gonna come! You know, with the state of things... "
Oh, he's so obnoxious. And dumb! So, so dumb. He doesn't know the half of your shit. Yet he still runs his mouth... Rolling your eyes once again, you flip some hair behind your head. "Oh don't worry your pretty little head about that, Ram." Eyes flickering around the party some more, searching for your own target, you rest your hands on your hips that are tightly bound, in various layers of violet georgette cloth. The witches hat on your head is pinned down, so theirs no chance of it flying off. You have a train of thinner fabric hanging down the back of your short-short skirt, and your tight tube top reveals exactly the shapes you require it to. "I'll be perfectly fine- oh, have you seen Kurt anywhere?"
"Uhhhhhhhhhhh I think I saw him and Liz against a wall earlier- but by the looks of Liz, I doubt they're in a situation like that anymore." He chuckles, dumbly. The stupid boy has a slur in his voice that you hadn't noticed before but probably should've known would be there. But you're sure focusing in on him now, jealousy burning in your eyes at his description. What does that mean??
"What?"
A geek walks by, toting a bottle in his hands that Ram snatches for himself. As the kid continues by, faster now due to the angry look in Ram's eyes and the animalistic growl that slips from the footballers lips, you continue to glare bullets at Ram. He takes a messy swig of his beer before continuing. "Just sayin', Y/N. Your friend's a prude. Won' even let Kurt get to second base with 'er or anything. So I'd say Kurt's, probably, uhhh... by the pool table, now." He shrugs big round shoulders then, as relief and mirth wash over you. So he didn't mean they'd have moved their dirty little adventure to somewhere they could really get down, or anything. He means quite the opposite.
A smirk graces your red painted lips.
"Well- enjoy your party." You shrug, not really caring as his eyes shine... turning back to the demon girl who's just laughing with her friends; He sure will. Eyes narrowing, you mutter a bitter "Dick." under your breath, as a final bid to Ram.
Turning on your heel, you head back into the house. You've been here plenty of times with Kurt and know exactly where the pool table is (And how uncomfortable it is to be bent over) and sure enough- there he is.
Your boyfriend.
Or, soon-to-be, once-again boyfriend.
He's standing back with a stick, waiting for his turn as he laughs with some over football boneheads. Lizzie isn't here, but you suppose she could have gone to get a drink or talk to one her - your, - friends, but where she is actually doesn't concern your in this moment. All you can do right now, is stand and stare.
God, he's hot.
You miss him; You really do. And, admittedly- not just because he can fuck you like no one else.
But your moment passes, and you gather your wits. Ready.
You're hot, you're smart, and you're ruthless. You can do this.
Saddling up beside Kurt, a genuine smile slips across your face as you look up at him; Running a hand back through your hair. "Hey, Kurt." Slightly widening your eyes, you raise a brow as he turns to look down at you. "What's up?"
Like- its been a while. What have I missed?
Immediate 'Oooooh's and 'Oh no the ex- Kurt watch out!'s erupt from his meathead athlete friends, but what you care about is how Kurt struggles for a moment to tear his eyes away from yours, like the eyeliner you perfected and the colour and the just- you, has hypnotised him. He flashes his friends a wicked grin, waiving them off as he turns to put his body between you, and the group. It puts you so close together- and you sure don't step back any.
Then his eyes flicker down to the rest of you- and he really has a problem looking away. "Oh, uh, hey Y/N. N-nothing much. Uh... you look... "
A gentle chuckle flutters out of you, resting a hand on your right hip. "What? Black cat caught your tongue?"
Jesus- even the mention of that particular muscle reference to him does something to you. And being this close to him again, and seeing his reaction to your outfit... its all just so right. The way things should be.
He opens his mouth to say something else, but immediately closes it again on remembering something. A seriously awkward hm sound escapes him which you don't quite get yet, but you decide that you don't need to.
"So... " You start, getting rid of the tough bravado suddenly... letting awkwardness seep into your tone; Your appearance. On purpose. Eyes downcast, you let your arms slide down to your sides again, lacing your fingers together in front of you for a moment, pretending you're at a loss for words. "Um... maybe this is... weird... "
"What?" A big hand ghosts over your hip- you can just feel his skin graze against you.
You look up to catch his gaze again suddenly, lips and eyebrows scrunching after a moment, unsurely. "Uh, well... " Chewing innocently on your bottom lip, you hold your arms behind your back; not-at-all meaning to push out your chest more. No, not at all... "Me coming up to talk to you... since the break up... "
A hiss escapes him, as he suddenly, seemingly, like just seeing you had him returning to old habits, remembers that fact himself and takes a step back from you. Your brows knit together, up at him- perfectly pitiful.
"Oh man- yeah. Maybe. Fuck!" He runs a hand up through his hair, looking convincingly tortured.
Already!
You could rejoice.
Oh, Kurt... we've only just started.
Sighing, you look away again. "Look, I'm sorry. I just... well, Kurt, I've missed you!"
Suddenly his eyes, still and focused, turn more sternly down on you and your insides squirm at it. Like muscle memory, your body screams for you to back up; Get on your knees, bat your lashes. Ask what's wrong, Daddy?
His eyes narrow, and you resist the temptation to smirk. "Oh- no. No, Y/N. I know what you're doing, okay? I'm not dumb! This is all just too... too... " The fact that he cant even really speak, even as he's trying to be all tough and put up walls between you two, really gives you confidence. You must still really have an effect on him- as you should. Of course you do. One week with a little lily livered slut bag does not erase an entire lifetime between two people. Kurts lips curl into a scowl. "You're not like this." He states, and you raise your brows. Oh? "You're manipulating me, aren't you? Come on, Y/N!"
His tone is pleading. He's begging, you.
Damn, he must really want Miss Lizzie's little ass.
After a moment, you shrug. "Okay, whatever, you got me." Shedding the innocent act, you lean back on the pool table as the boys continue to play; Laying yourself out for him. "Does that mean I was lying? No, I really do miss you."
He scoffs. "Yeah, right." Rolling his own eyes, he focuses his gaze off somewhere else in the party- rather then on you. "All you care about is your reign of terror."
Oh... he knows that's not true.
But still, if he's going to play that way- "Yeah, sure- and all you care about is pussy." Shrugging, you drum your fingers bordly against the edge of the table on either side of you. "I guess we're a pair."
"Fuck, Y/N... you know you're... y-you're... Damn, that I love you. You fucking know that." He hisses, getting mad. And you inwardly smirk.
There it is...
Tightening your grip now, you look up at him to see he's once again looking at you. And for a moment, amongst all the madness that party's are- it feels like its just you two. "And you know... I love you."
Pushing off the pool table, you stalk towards him and trace your hands up his chest; Locking your arms around his neck lazily, and resting your chest against his. And you can see it. You can see, the struggle inside him about whether to just give into you- and your tits and your lips and your hips, and- just, you! Or to stay away. Because you're poison; Even you're well aware of that fact.
You're like a boa constrictor. You get yourself wrapped around your victim and you squeeze, and squeeze, and squeeze... until you have them just how you want them. Moulded into a shape that works well, for you.
But he's a lion. Imposing, and selfish, and self serving. And too big for you to ruin.
Its like you said; You're a pair.
And you cannot give him up.
"Kurt... come on." Leaning up, and talking in a quiet, just-for-him voice now, your lips brush against his and he lets out a shuddering breath. "We belong together, don't we? Its us- forever. You've known it since second grade. Sure, it took me a few more years to realise it too, but we're here now." Sincerity bleeds into your tone; Something you can't help when he looks like he wants to kiss you so badly, like that. "It can't be you and her." It cant. Tilting your head to the side, teasingly, you smirk mischievously; Just for him. "Is she going to fuck you like I do?"
"Shit... " Kurt mutters, eyes stuck on your lips. His hands find your waist, gathering you up against him roughly like he always does when he just wants you. Animalistically, wherever you are- whoever sees be fucking damned.
But he still isn't taking you. And that's a problem.
Brushing a thumb over his bottom lip, you turn your head like your making out to kiss him- but don't. Furrowing your eyebrows, you look pleading at him for an answer. "Was it all a lie, then? With us? Were we?- "
And that does it- he's had enough- he's at boiling point- Lips smash into yours, crossing the centimetre of space between them and he doesn't fuss around at all, to warm up. Your tongues connect almost instantly, and in 0.2 seconds, you two are that moaning, making out mess couple that every party has.
Through your lust filled haze, you can just about feel victorious.
A few moments after that your back hits the closest wall, and your legs wrap around his waist as he holds you up- you two know the drill by now. Kurt's grinding his raging hard on deliciously through his jeans into your bare cunt- moaning and muttering something into your cheek as he sloppily makes his way down to your breasts about you being such a slut.
You REALLY don't mind.
Eyes half lidded, you catch sight of Lizzie in the crowd behind Kurt. The crowd that, apart from her, doesn't care at all what the two of you are doing.
You smirk absolutely evilly towards her, before mouthing 'mine'.
#Kurt Kelly x Reader#Kurt Kelly x Fem!Reader#Bitch Reader#Mean Girl Reader#Mean Girls#Mean Girls the Musical#Heathers#Heathers x Reader#Kurt Kelly x Reader Oneshot#Ram Sweeney
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Seasons of PD: Season 2: Will’s Back...and There’s a Bomb (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister! Imagine)
Your age: 14
Jay's age: 28
Will's age: 30
"Spoke to Dad," Will said to Jay as the two brothers were sat in Jay's apartment sipping their respective beers. "Said you two barely talk. Said if it wasn't for Y/N, you probably wouldn't see him at all."
"I mean, he's not wrong." Jay shrugged.
"Care to elaborate on that?"
"Not really, but you should've been here. You should've been home. Mom was dyin'. You were off partyin'."
"You left," Will said as he set his beer down and leaned forward on the couch.
"I left to fight a war. I came home. And you know why that was?" he asked rhetorically. "It was because my humvee hit an IED and me and Mouse were the only two who survived! And because Mom was sick! I came back for Mom and I came back traumatized! Nothing bad even happened to you in New York and you left two fucking days after her funeral, man!"
Luckily Will hadn't been holding his beer or he would've dropped it right then and there. "Jay, I- I never knew it was so hard for you to come Stateside again."
"Forget it. You weren't there then, what makes me think you're gonna be here now? You're probably taking off in another few days anyway, am I right? Not even gonna go see Y/N? Even though she always wants help on her math homework from you and you don't even have the decency to answer her phone calls!"
"I'm sorry that I don't have my phone on me when I'm performing surgeries, Jay!"
Jay's phone rang, stopping the argument in its tracks. "Speak of the devil," Jay mumbled and then answered the call. "Hey, Y/N, what's up?"
"I don't understand this stupid homework," you groaned from your desk in your bedroom at home. "Why do I even need to know the equation of a line, anyway? It's not like I'm even gonna use it in life anyway."
"Y/N, like I've told you numerous times, I can help you if it's a single variable problem, but anything more than that, I forgot how to do it. Not really helping your teacher's case for actually using this in life, am I?"
"Yeah, not at all. I guess I'll just try and call Will...he's not gonna answer anyway, but I guess it's worth a shot."
"Wait, how about you FaceTime me?" Jay suggested.
"Why? You already admitted that you can't help me."
"Just do it."
"Okay, gimme a few minutes. I gotta switch devices."
"Oh yeah. You don't have an iPhone yet, only an iPod and a slide phone. Sucks to be you."
"Well, I'm sorry that I don't have a grown-up job and can buy my own stuff, Jay."
"And with buying your own stuff and having a grown-up job comes bills. So, be glad you can't legally work yet."
You rolled your eyes. "I'll call you back in a few minutes. And, whatever this is, better be able to help me with this homework since math is my first class tomorrow."
"It'll help. I promise."
"Hmmm, sure." Then, you hung up and switched to your iPod, and hit the FaceTime icon.
"You look like- you look tired," Jay said when he accepted the FaceTime call. He almost said that you looked like hell, but he figured he shouldn't say that.
"Thanks," you replied sarcastically. "You would be, too, if you've been staring at the same problem on your homework for the past hour."
"What's the equation you have to work with?" Jay asked.
"Y=mx+b," you answered.
"Yeah, vaguely remember that. Don't know what it means, just remember hearing it a bunch. Will, you know what that equation is and how to do it?"
"Will's at your house? I thought he wasn't getting back for another week."
"I thought so, too. And then I got called to a bar today because he was being stupid--"
"Hey, I was not stupid!" Will protested.
"Fine. He was being dumb and tried to break up a fight. And, now I think he's got a job at Chicago Med because he got fired in New York--"
"Y/N," Will butted in, "you said you needed help with your homework?"
"Yeah."
"Jay, can you please give me the phone so I can help our little sister with her homework please?"
"Uh, fine. She'll know why you left New York eventually," Jay said as he passed his phone to his older brother.
"Eventually. But not tonight." He turned to Jay. "Can you get me a piece of paper? I'd grab it but I have no idea where you keep stuff in this little bachelor pad of yours."
"Like you didn't snoop through my stuff when I was at work," Jay joked and stood up to get Will a piece of paper.
"Y/N, for Christmas I'm getting you a subscription to Chegg so you don't need to call me for this."
"I'm holding you to that one."
***
God, I hate running on the track. It's literally just running in circles and seeing the same things over and over, no variety in the scenery whatsoever. I wish I could run with Emma, but she's way faster than me, so she's ahead of me by like one or two laps. Uh, this song sucks! I gotta skip--
"Run lockdown! Run lockdown!"
What? Run lockdown? What is the high school cross country coach talking about? Maybe it's just something that the high schoolers have to do for their drills because I sure have never heard of that one.
But then, you saw Emma jogging toward the bathrooms a few yards away from the track.
What the hell?
You ran towards the bathrooms a few yards away from the track and didn't stop until you'd caught up with Emma. "What's going on?"
"No idea. Something about a lockdown."
Once all of you and your coach, Mrs. Rivers, were safely in the bathroom with the door locked, did you get any closure about what was going on.
"There's been a bomb threat."
"What? A bomb threat?"
"What?!"
"So we can't leave?"
"Girls, I need you to be quiet, okay? The police are looking into it, but for now, the campus is on lockdown and we can't leave here until I get the all-clear. The school's already notified parents, so if someone else is picking you up today other than your parents, you need to call them. Just ask and you can use my phone. Everything's going to be okay, though. We have nothing to worry about. We just need to sit tight until I'm told we can leave." Her phone buzzed and you all held your breath. "Looks like Miss G got stuck in the boys' bathroom with all the stinky football boys."
"What if we walk home?" you asked quietly.
"If you walk home, a parent or someone else will have to pick you up since they don't want anybody walking home because, as of right now, they have no idea who did this."
***
"How's your brother doing?" Erin asked as she and Jay were standing around the coffee pot in the break room.
"Pretty sure he's going to quit the new job he just got at Med even though it's his first day," Jay answered.
"What? He got a job at Med?"
"Yeah. Apparently, they were looking for ER docs and he got the job. But, for some reason, now he wants to quit. And, he was late today. Decided to bitch to me about only having almond milk and not having any regular milk in my fridge. Like, dude, you're staying with me. You can deal with a bit of almond milk."
"I don't blame him," Erin laughed. "Almond milk is disgusting."
"But it's better for you...and cheaper."
"Of course that's your reason for getting it."
"Halstead!" Antonio yelled. "Your phone's been ringing off the hook for the last minute. I think it's important."
"Be right there!" Jay quickly poured himself a cup of coffee and then rushed over to his desk.
"Shit," he muttered.
"Who was it?" Erin asked as she emerged from the breakroom, holding her own cup of coffee.
"Y/N," he answered as he fiddled with his phone. "Called me three times in the past minute."
"Any idea what it's about?"
"No, but I'm about to find out."
"Jay!" you whisper-yelled from the other end of the line.
"Y/N, what's wrong? Why are you calling me so much? Are you sick? Do you need me to--"
"There's a bomb."
Jay almost dropped his phone. "A bomb? Are you sure?"
At the mention of a bomb, everyone's heads snapped towards him.
"Yeah, we're hiding out in the bathrooms near the football field right now until they get the all-clear," you told him. "But, they can't let people walk home from school today and Dad's not answering and it's Will's first day, so I was wondering if you could pick me up?"
"Yeah, yeah, I can do that. Do you mind if I put you on speaker for a quick second?"
"Why? I'm fine Jay, really. Just needed to know if you can pick me up."
Innocent fourteen-year-olds, Jay thought to himself. Of course, she just called to pick to see if you'd pick her up. She hasn't grasped the gravity of the situation, and she's probably thinking that this is just another story to tell. Not that if there's actually a bomb at her school that she could be dead any second if it goes off.
"You're sure you don't want me to stay on the phone with you?"
"You can go."
"Okay. Just, listen to the adult that's in there with you, okay?"
"Okay, okay. Bye."
"Bye I love--" He was cut off by the beep which signaled that you had hung up. "--you."
"What's going on? A bomb?" Erin asked, but Jay was already making his way down the stairs.
"Sarge!" Jay yelled as he made his way to the front desk.
"Well, hello to you too, Chuckles. If you're looking for Voight, he's just meeting with a CI and should back soon," Platt told him.
"Sargeant, all due respect, I don't give a damn about Voight right now. I just need to know if you have any idea about the bomb threat at Central Chicago's high school and middle school campuses?"
"I know that they sent someone from bomb squad and some patrolmen over there to see if there's anyone who seems suspicious--"
"Why wasn't Intelligence notified?"
Platt's jaw dropped and she stared at Jay for a second before speaking. "Because last I checked, detective, those schools weren't in our district--"
Jay slammed his hand down on the desk. "Jay," Erin said and grabbed her partner's arm. "I need you to calm down for a second, okay?"
"I don't need to calm down, Erin," Jay spat. "I have every reason--"
"I understand, but being pissed at Platt here isn't going to fix anything. Go back upstairs and I'll be there in a second."
Jay ripped his arm from Erin's grip and stalked upstairs, not without slamming the gate when he was safely inside the Intelligence Unit's area of the 21st District.
"What's his deal?" Platt asked. "I have half a mind to write him up for insubordination for that little scene he just caused."
"Sarge," Erin started, "the school that called in the bomb threat, that's the school Y/N goes to, Jay's little sister."
"What? I thought that only elementary school kids were at school right now?"
"That's true unless there are sports practices."
"And Y/N's in a sport, so she's at school right now." Platt put the pieces together.
"Yeah. And, I know that family isn't supposed to work cases, but could you maybe make an--"
"Erin, go grab Halstead and Dawson, get down to the school. I'll send the information upstairs to Atwater and Ruzek and they can see what they can get. I'll also call Voight and tell him to meet you there."
"Thank you, Sargeant!"
Erin jogged upstairs and into the bullpen. "Jay, Antonio, we're heading to the school! Kev and Adam, Platt said that you're working the case from up here. Voight will meet us there."
"Copy that," Kevin answered.
Jay holstered his gun and was halfway down the stairs before Kevin even finished his sentence.
***
"Kev, what do we know?" Jay asked as they were driving over to your school.
"Uh, I pulled footage from the high school's office and apparently an unknown dude walked in, asked a question, and then walked out all in the span of less than a minute," he answered.
"Can you run facial rec?"
"Nah, not a good enough angle."
"Description?"
"Dude looks Indian or Middle-Eastern to me. He's got short, black hair. Some stubble, not a ton, but it's enough that you can see it even with the bad angle I got. He's kinda chubby, too. Wearing a tan jacket. That's all I got."
"Thanks, man. That helps. Anything from bomb squad?"
"They haven't located a bomb yet, so I guess that's a good sign, right?"
"It is if there's no bomb," Jay replied. "But, just because they haven't found it, doesn't mean there's not a bomb. Whoever the hell did this could've just hid it really well or do whatever a psycho does when they want to blow up a school full of kids."
Jay relayed the information to Erin and Antonio who were also in the car and then hung up his phone. "Any word from Voight or anyone else when I was on the phone?"
"No, you want me to go to the middle school or the high school?" Erin asked.
"Wherever you can get in."
"Jay, we have badges, we can get in anywhere."
"Middle school then. I'm assuming that's where Y/N is."
"Okay."
"Wait!" Jay exclaimed, almost causing Erin to slam on the brakes. "When I was talking to Y/N earlier, she said that she was in the bathrooms near the football field so we need to go to the high school."
"You're sure it's that field? Isn't there a football field at the middle school, too?"
"That's just a shitty practice field," he answered. "Anyway, the high school football field is the only one that has bathrooms near it so that spectators can go to the bathroom when they go to the football games."
"I shouldn't have to tell you this, Jay," Antonio started, "But you can't just burst into the locker rooms and try to get Y/N out of there. No parents are allowed in or out to pick up their kids. And, you're no different. You have to wait for the all-clear to get her out of there."
Jay hated it, but Antonio was right. No matter how much he wanted to get you as far away from this campus as possible, he couldn't until the bomb squad made sure that there wasn't a bomb anywhere near here. If his time in the Rangers had taught him anything, it was that one misstep, and the whole place could get blown up in a nanosecond.
Erin started to pull into the parking lot of the high school near all the cop cars, when one turned on their sirens and pulled in front of them, effectively stopping them from getting any further.
"I know you're worried about your kids," the patrolman said once Erin rolled down her window, "But we can't let anyone in or out until this is all sorted."
"We're not parents." Erin pulled out her badge. "Detectives Lindsay, Dawson, and Halstead from the 21st District's Intelligence Unit."
He looked at the officer next to him. "Desk Sergeant from the 21st said that there'd be some detectives coming." He pushed the button on his radio before anybody could tell him otherwise. "I got the detectives from the 21st here right now."
"Copy," the person on the other end said.
Jay wanted to jump out of the vehicle and strangle that patrolman with his bare hands. "Are you fucking insane?" he yelled.
The one who keyed his radio stepped out of the patrol car, and Jay did the same. "Are you Dawson or Halstead?"
"Halstead. But you, you must be new here because if there is one thing you absolutely do not do when there's even the mention of a bomb is key your radios."
"No offense, detective," the patrolman in the driver's seat started, "but everyone here has been using their radios since we stepped onto this campus."
"There's no bomb," Erin muttered.
They all knew what the patrolman's statement meant: if they had been using their radios the entire time they were here and a bomb hadn't gone off, then there was no bomb to begin with.
Antonio and Erin both stepped out of the car now.
"Who's your sergeant?" Antonio yelled.
"Why? Why do you care?"
"Because of what he just said! You can't key your radios when there might be a bomb, so I think your whole district might need to go back in for a mandatory re-training!"
"I'll call Voight," Erin said.
"Fucking idiots," Jay muttered as he pulled out his phone.
As soon as he was about to dial your number, a call came in from Kevin. "There's no bomb," Jay said as soon as he answered, not even giving Kevin time to tell him anything.
"I mean, yeah, I was callin' to tell you that the bomb squad just declared an all-clear."
"Thanks."
"How'd you know before we even got the call here at the district?"
"They were keying their radios the entire time and nothing happened."
"Yeah, that'll do it."
"We should be back at the district soon."
Jay hung up and made his way to the bathrooms.
You were sitting in silence with Emma next to you when a banging was heard coming from outside causing you to jump.
What if that's the bomber and he's got a gun and wants to kill us before the bomb can get to us? It was irrational, yes, but it was still possible.
"Chicago PD! This is the all-clear."
It was as if everyone in the bathroom let out a collective breath at hearing that there was no bomb or that the bomb had been dismantled.
"Alright girls, you heard the man, we are good to go," Mrs. Rivers said. "Let's head back to the middle school so you can grab your stuff and start getting back to your parents. Was everyone able to get ahold of someone to pick them up? Because I can bring people home if necessary."
All of you filed out of the bathrooms and into the crisp fall air. You were barely onto the sidewalk when you got pulled into a bone-crushing hug.
"Who the--" You looked up. "Hi, Jay."
"Oh my God, you're okay. You don't know how worried I was--"
"Jay, I'm fine," you squeaked out. "But please let go. You're crushing me."
"Sorry, sorry," he apologized and then let go, not without looking you over for injuries even though you promised him that you were in fact fine.
"50-21 George, 50-21 Lincoln, 50-21 Frank, and 50-21 Squad, assistance is requested at Chicago Med for a 10-34. Are you able to assist?"
Jay's eyes went wide and his breath caught in his throat.
"Jay? Jay?" you asked. "You gonna answer that?"
"This is 50-21 Lincoln, hold us down on that 10-34 at Chicago Med," Erin's voice said through the radio.
"Halstead! We gotta go now!" Antonio yelled.
"Jay, what's going on? Will's at Med. What's happening?"
"Come with me," Jay said and then started ushering you towards the car.
"Shit," Erin said when she saw you. "Antonio, you wanna go with Voight, and then me and Jay will drop her off at home? We can't exactly bring her with us."
"Yeah, good idea." Antonio turned to you. "Glad you're safe, kid."
You nodded as he jogged off to find Voight. Then, you turned back to Jay. "Why are you going to Med? Whatever it is, I wanna go with you because what if Will's hurt? I wanna go!"
Jay got in the passenger seat without answering you and you got in the backseat. Erin started driving to the middle school so that you could go get your backpack from your locker.
Once inside school and connected to the wifi, you took out your iPod and pulled up google.
What does 10-34 mean?
The answer almost caused you to drop your iPod on the tiled floor.
10-34 is a police radio signal that means that a bomb threat has been called in.
You ran to your locker and with shaking hands, put in the combination. How was Jay so calm? How was he so calm when you were silently freaking out? And, to make matters worse, he got to work the case while you were going to be stuck going home and just waiting to see if Will (and Jay for the matter since he would no doubt be in the vicinity of the blast zone) was safe, just waiting to see if your oldest brother, who you just got back, would make it out of his new workplace alive.
You hustled out of school and then got into the backseat of Erin and Jay's car. "There's a bomb threat at Med?"
"Who told you that?" Erin asked, turning around in her seat.
"I googled what 10-34 meant. Jay, please, I wanna go with you. I don't wanna go home!"
"No! I know you wanna make sure that Will's safe, and I do too, but you gotta understand that it's not safe for you there, Y/N," he pleaded.
"It's not safe for you to be there, either!" you argued.
"Y/N, I know you're scared, but I'm trained for this kind of stuff. You are not."
"Please," you begged as your lip began to tremble. "I-It'd be faster for you to just go to Med from-from here instead of dropping me off at home."
"She's got a point, Jay," Erin said.
"What? No way, Er! There is no way in hell she is going in there with us!"
"She doesn't have to go past the tape with us. Just somewhere close by." Erin turned back to you. "Would that make you feel better, Y/N? Being somewhere close by?"
You nodded as you wiped away a tear.
Jay sighed. "Fine," he relented. "We'll drop you off at Mama Garcia's to get your homework done since it's a half-block away from the hospital."
"Will's okay, right? You checked in with him?" you asked.
"I haven't yet, but I promise you when I do, I will text you. I just need you to stay calm and focus on yourself right now. It's no use worrying about Will when you can't do anything about it."
"That's what Mom used to tell me when I was worried about you when you were in Afghanistan. She always told me that it's no use worrying about it since none of us were there with you."
"See, you gotta trust what Mom always told you, kiddo. She was a smart lady after all."
***
"Tell me you're not in there," Jay spoke into his phone as he and Erin walked into the police tent-like structure equipped with fancy tech gear outside of Chicago Med's emergency department.
"I am," Will answered, causing Jay's stomach to drop. "Listen, the guy who blew himself up in here, said he had something worse than Ebola."
"What, like he's spreading it since he blew himself up?"
"Yeah, so essentially, every single one of us in here has been in contact with him."
"Who was he?"
"No idea. But do us all a favor and find out."
"Son of a bitch," Jay muttered as he pocketed his phone and entered the tent-like structure where a bunch of people, including the FBI, were sitting at computers.
"Talk to Will?" Erin asked.
"Uh, yeah," Jay answered, "he says he's in there. Apparently whoever the hell blew himself up in there was infected with something that he said was worse than Ebola."
"So if these people get out before we figure out what it is and if it's treatable, we could have an epidemic on our hands?"
"Exactly. Damn, Er. With that mind of yours, you should've gone to med school."
"Very funny, Halstead. You're looking at someone who barely graduated high school and didn't even go to the academy because being in the back of cop cars on the eastside for half my childhood was more than enough experience to qualify me for this job right here."
"I'm gonna start making some calls." Jay turned his attention back to the situation at hand. "Apparently traffic was a mess earlier and Voight and Antonio got called to headquarters to brief some higher-ups about this."
"Fat chance of them knowing anything right now. They've gotta just be trying to keep all the info away from the press." Erin's phone rang. "Speak of the devil."
"I'll call HQ and try to get some more back up to control the situation," Jay said to no one in particular.
***
You kept fiddling with your slide phone, just opening and closing it as you tried--and failed--to focus on your homework as you sat in one of the far back booths at Mama Gracia's. The news was of course playing on the tv in front of you and all the headlines were about what was happening at Med.
"Again we have word of an event at Chicago Med," the news anchor read from her script. "The CFD was able to contain the victims to the ER, but Ebola was mentioned."
Ebola? That was the disease that wreaked havoc on Africa last year.
You knew Will was a doctor and that he was smart, but if he became infected and it was in fact Ebola, what if he died? What if, since Jay was close to Med that he somehow became infected and he died, too? What if you lost both your big brothers in the same amount of time because of some psychopath who decided it was a good idea to blow himself up and put innocent people--innocent first responders--in danger.
"Ay, cariña. ¿A dónde vayas?" Mama Garcia asked as you stood up and made your way to the door, intent on exiting the small restaurant.
"¿Qúe? No entiendo," you answered. You had started taking Spanish this year, so you only understood one word of what she had said to you.
"Sorry, honey. Where are you going? Your brother said to make sure you stayed here."
You and Jay were both pretty close with Mama Garcia. Seeing as it was very close to Med, when your mom had been hospitalized for cancer years ago, you'd always come in here to get dinner. It was here that Mama Garcia had taught you all the words of the toppings that one could put on their tamales, tacos, or burritos, shocking your Spanish teacher when you told her you could tell her in Spanish exactly what you would put on your tamale when you learned about food in class.
"I'm just going for a walk," you answered. "I need some fresh air."
"Okay, don't go far," she warned.
Once out the door, you breathed a sigh of relief and started to walk towards Chicago Med.
When you got close enough, you saw a big white tent and a bunch of fire trucks. You crept to the side and started walking around the side of the building, where there were barely any people and only one cop to keep people at bay. You smiled at him and watched the scene in front of you.
You had seen of those firefighters before on a rare day that you were at the district waiting for Jay and one of them had to walk the firehouse dog, Pouch. He was super cute and all the firefighters were really nice and let you pet him!
"What is it Casey?" a deep voice bellowed.
You knew Casey! Well, you knew of him at least. He was the one that Hermann always said would write him up if he was gone too long with Pouch, so that was always the excuse he gave you when he had to leave the district to go back to the firehouse.
You couldn't hear what Casey said on the other end, but you could hear whoever this guy was talking to Casey. "Okay, we're gonna need to get some CO2 extinguishers inside."
"You mean you're out of fire extinguishers?" a woman next to the firefighters asked.
"Afraid so."
You turned on your heels and sprinted back towards Mama Garcia's. You were a girl on a mission.
"Mama Garcia! Mama Garcia!" you shouted as soon as you were inside.
"Y/N, ¿Qúe pasa?" she asked as she stuck her head out of the kitchen where she was preparing a bunch of batches of tamales.
"They're out of fire extinguishers at the hospital, do you have any that I can bring over there?"
"You are just like your brother," she said, "super sneaky."
"When you live with older brothers and have to steal their Halloween candy, you learn how to be sneaky, Mama Garcia," you joked.
"I'm not even gonna ask how you know this. There's one fire extinguisher back by the bathrooms and I've got two back here I can give you. Esperes un minuto."
You went and grabbed the fire extinguisher from the spot where it was stored in the back by the bathrooms and waited for Mama Garcia to come out with the other two.
"Thank you!" you exclaimed as you took the big bag from her which contained the two other ones. She had put them in a bag for you since they were super heavy.
You slung the bag over your shoulder and carried the other one in your hand. You knew you couldn't run because these were really heavy, but you knew you had to get to Med to help them. Both your brothers were there! And you'd get there, even if it was a lot slower than you had originally planned when you formulated this plan when you were sprinting back to the restaurant five minutes ago.
***
"Is there a detective Halstead here?" a patrolman walked into the tent-like structure and asked.
"That'd be me," Jay answered as he raised his hand and turned away from the computer screen he had been looking at.
"There's a girl outside, Y/N I think she said her name was. Said you're her brother and that she's looking for you. Said she might be able to help."
Jay turned to Erin. "Go," she urged him.
Jay followed the patrol officer to where you were standing and to say he didn't look happy would be an understatement.
"I thought I told you to stay at Mama Garcia's!" he yelled over the crowd of people and the firefighters shouting out orders to each other. "It's dangerous for you here!"
"I know and I'm sorry! But, I came here to see if Will was outside, and I heard that one firefighter talking into his radio thingy, and then the lady next to him said that they were out of fire extinguishers."
Jay crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was not impressed.
"So I ran back to Mama Garcia's and I grabbed these." You held up the fire extinguisher that you had set on the ground next to you because you had been carrying it for a while now and you thought it was going to rip your arm off because of how heavy it was.
"Let her in," Jay declared.
He grabbed the extinguisher from you and then made his way over to the firefighters.
"Chief!" he yelled. "I've got some fire extinguishers here!"
Chief Boden cocked his head to the side. "How?"
"Apparently my little sister was here and she heard Ms. Goodwin say that you were out of extinguishers. So, she ran to Mama Garcia's and these are from her restaurant."
You set down the bag that contained the two fire extinguishers. "Geez, those things are heavy!"
"That they are. Thank you for these..." Chief Boden trailed off, not knowing your name.
"Y/N," you answered.
"Well, thank you Y/N."
"You're welcome, Chief. Please get my brother out of there safely."
"We're doing our best. And, call me Wallace."
He nodded at Jay and Jay placed a hand on your shoulder to lead you back to where he had been working alongside everyone else who wanted to figure out what the hell had gone on in there. Behind you, you heard the other firefighters volunteering to go inside the hospital.
"You're not making me go back to Mama Garcia's?" you asked Jay as you walked.
"No," he answered. "It's gonna get dark soon and I don't need you sneaking off from there again."
"So, I'm staying here so you can keep an eye on me?"
"Precisely."
***
You were sitting in a metal folding chair, scrolling through your iPod--wifi courtesy of Jay's hotspot--when three people entered the tent-like structure.
"Detective," Sharon Goodwin said as she entered the area where everyone was working. Jay looked up from the computer he was working at. "The parents of..." she trailed off, allowing you to assume that these were the parents of the man who had blown himself up.
"Alright," Jay said as he walked over to them. "Please, have a seat."
His voice was monotonous, not soft like when he was talking to child victims and not angry like when he was trying to get a hardened criminal to break. His voice, it was just...there.
"Is there anything you can tell us?" he asked once the parents had sat down.
"He was a smart boy," the man started, "always nice...and helpful. This country has given us so much. How could this have happened?"
"He claimed to be infected with something similar to Ebola."
You felt like you couldn't breathe. So, what the woman on the news had said was true. Your brother--and everyone else in the hospital for that matter--could be infected with something similar--or god forbid, worse--than Ebola.
You couldn't take another funeral. You couldn't take losing another family member before you even learned how to drive, hell before you even got to high school.
Your mind flashed back to when you were four years old. Will was in college and Jay was in his senior year of high school. It was springtime and the weather was just starting to get nice out.
You woke up from sleeping and realized you were thirsty. Seeing as you didn't think it was super late yet, you hoped that maybe Jay or Will would still be up and they'd give you a cup of juice. They were on babysitting duty tonight because your parents had gone out for a date night and knew they wouldn't be back until the early hours of the morning.
With Beary gripped tightly in your hand, you walked down the hallway and towards the kitchen. You saw the living room light on, and then it was quickly turned off.
"Mommy? Daddy?" you asked.
The only light now was from the hallway and you were starting to get scared. Monsters would come out if it was too dark!
Suddenly, the light was flicked back on.
"Y/N, what are you doing up?" Jay asked as he walked towards you.
"I want juice," you told him. But, then you looked at what he was wearing. He was wearing one of those shirts that he had to wear when you and your mom went to his soccer games at other schools. Jay always said that if he didn't wear this type of nice shirt, that he and his team would have to run suicides. You didn't know what those were, but they didn't sound nice. "Why you not in your 'jamas?" you asked. "You have a game? In the dark?"
"Uh," Jay blanched. He couldn't exactly tell his little, very talkative sister, that he was sneaking out to go to a party. "Let's get you some juice."
"Okay!"
Jay got you some juice and started to take your hand to walk you back to your room and tuck you back in when you turned to look at him. "So you going to play soccer? Or you going to see Allie?" He always wore those kinds of shirts when she came over in one of her really fancy dresses. And, Jay would give Allie a flower bracelet, too!
Jay crouched down so he was eye-level with you. "Y/N, you know what a secret is?"
"Yeah! It's when you can't tell somethin' to somebody. Mommy said secrets are bad," you told him, while you swung Beary back and forth in your little hand.
"Well, they're not all bad," he told you. "So, if I told you a secret, you'd be able to keep it?"
"And not tell Mommy or Daddy?" He nodded. "I dunno. I don't wanna get in trouble and have to go in time-out, Jay Jay."
"You won't get in trouble, I promise. And, if you promise not to tell Mommy and Daddy and Will, I'll get you a big pack of Oreos."
"I get Oreos for not telling Mommy and Daddy and Will?"
"Yes, you get Oreos if you don't tell them."
You'd do just about anything for Oreos!
"Okay, I keep it a secret. Where you going?"
"I am going to a friend's house to hang out."
"Okay." You didn't know what was so bad about that, but you wanted to get your Oreos, so you'd keep your mouth shut.
"Alrighty then, let's get you back to bed. Because, if I'm not mistaken, princesses need their beauty sleep."
He tucked you back into bed and got out of the house safely. Now all Jay had to do was to entrust you with the secret that he had snuck and went to a "friend's house", which was code for going to a party.
You had almost fallen back asleep when your door creaked open.
"Y/N," Will whispered.
"Will?"
"Yeah, it's Will," he answered and flicked on your bedside lamp.
"Were you talking to Jay a few minutes ago?"
"No," you lied. You wanted your Oreos!
"Are you sure about that? Because I could've sworn I heard you say Jay Jay."
"You wrong," you told him defiantly.
"Oh yeah? Because I heard him mention Oreos."
"No, no Oreos. He only got me juice."
"So you did talk to him."
"No, I didn't."
"Then who got you the juice?" Will knew you couldn't pour yourself a glass of juice without spilling it everywhere. He also knew that the glasses were up high enough in the cupboard that you needed someone else to reach them for you.
"Uh, uh, the-the juice fairy!"
"The juice fairy, huh? I've never heard of her. Because I could've sworn I heard you ask him if he was going to play soccer and he told you that he was going to a friend's house."
"No, he didn't!" you protested.
"Tell you what, kiddo, if you tell me where Jay went, I will give you Oreos, too."
You furrowed your eyebrows. Will was gonna give you the same thing and Jay might be mad at you. You needed something more. "Oreos and Sour Patch."
"Deal. Sour Patch Kids or watermelons?"
"Kids," you answered.
"Okay, it's a deal. Now, where is Jay going?"
"He went to a friend's house. But he was wearing one of those shirts he wears when he has to go to other schools for soccer," you answered.
"He's going to a party," Will muttered.
"A party? Like my tea parties?"
"Something like that." Where the tea is beer, Will thought to himself. "But, now you have to wait for Jay to give you your Oreos, and then I'll give you your Sour Patch Kids and Oreos."
"Then I have two Oreos?"
"Exactly. Now, time to go back to sleep."
The next day, Jay gave you a family sized-pack of Oreos that you hid in your room. The day after that, Will came home from studying at the library with a family-sized pack of Oreos and a big bag of Sour Patch Kids for you that you also ended up hiding in your room. And, that night at dinner, Will told your parents that Jay had gone to a party. He was grounded until the end of soccer season. But, Will had successfully taught you how to blackmail someone.
"Y/N." Erin's voice broke through your memories of being a little kid and being taught blackmail by your oldest brother. "I need you to breathe for me. Can you do that?"
"W-What if Will-- What if he gets the--"
"Y/N, match my breathing."
She took a deep breath in and you tried to follow. It took a few tries, but your breathing eventually evened out and returned to normal.
"Will," you heard Jay say.
Before you could even think, you had jumped off your chair and were barrelling towards Jay. "Will? You're talking to Will? Is he okay? Is he gonna come out soon?"
"Y/N," Jay spoke calmly, "we just need to ask him some medical questions. Go back to where you were."
"Is he okay?"
"Y/N's here?" Will asked from his spot in the ED. "Why? How?"
"It's a long story. But, I'm gonna put you on speaker so that you can tell her that you're okay and then I need you to answer some questions."
Jay put the phone on speaker.
"I'm fine, kiddo. Really. You wouldn't want to see me right now anyway. You wouldn't want to come in here either because it smells really bad."
"You promise you're fine?"
"I promise. Now, I think I need to answer some questions?"
"Yeah, yeah," you heard Jay say as you walked back towards Erin. It was quiet in there now, as everyone was listening intently to what Will was saying.
Apparently, Antonio and Voight had looked up where this psycho worked and had figured out that he was the same guy who had walked into the high school's office earlier that day, which he probably did for a distraction. Now, they just had Will on the other end telling the infectious disease specialist in the ED all the chemicals that he had been working with so that she could test for them.
***
"Jay! Why'd you turn off your hotspot?" you whined as you pulled up google.
"Because you heard the bacteria and the strain and I know you. I am not letting you go down a google rabbit hole to look this up and try and figure out if Will's gonna die."
You sighed and put your head in your hands. Jay was right, of course, he was right, he's a detective for crying out loud!
"But what if Will's gonna die?"
"Y/N." Jay walked up to you. "He's not gonna die. He's gonna be just fine."
"But you don't know that!"
Jay's phone rang. "It's Will."
"Put it on speaker."
"It's not contagious," Will said.
If you weren't sitting down, you would've fallen to the ground in pure relief.
"So, you're good?"
"Yeah, I'm good. Everyone's good. Whatever he had, it died with him. I've got some patients that need work, but I'll be out soon."
***
Everyone from the hospital, the police, and the firefighters were all currently packed into Mama Garcia's. You, Will, and Jay had snagged a booth because your backpack and homework were still there from earlier.
"That's one good thing about being the middle child I guess," Jay stated after he had taken a bite of a tamale. "Not having to be the victim in one of these bomb situations."
You knew he meant, here, today, in Chicago and not overseas. And, you weren't about to wreck his joke by mentioning that.
"Yeah, but you had to work it," Will pointed out.
"Technically, you did, too, man. I think Y/N was the only one who got out of this without a payday."
Jay's phone rang. "Why's Dad calling me?" His eyes went wide. "Oh shit! I didn't tell him that I picked you up from practice." He threw his phone to Will, who narrowly caught it. "You talk to him!"
"Me? Why me?"
"Because he likes you better!"
"But he's calling you!"
You swiped the phone from Will's hand and answered it. "Jay? Do you know where Y/N is? I came home from work and--"
"Dad, it's Y/N. I'm fine. Jay picked me up from practice and I'm assuming you got a phone call about what happened at school and then he had to go to Med to work that case."
"Med? As in Chicago Med? Where Will just started working?"
"Yes, Dad, Chicago Med. And, we're fine. We're just a Mama Garcia's getting dinner."
"It's ten o'clock at night!"
"I know, and we should be home soon. I promise I won't complain about getting up in the morning."
"Okay, well, I'm glad you three are safe. Just next time, tell Jay to call me."
"Okay, Dad. Bye, love you."
"Love you, too."
You hung up the phone and passed it back to Jay. "He didn't disown me, did he?"
You laughed. "No, no he did not."
"Y/N, right?"
You looked up at the sound of your name to be met with a firefighter.
"Yes, and you are...?"
"Matt Casey." He stuck out his hand for you to shake and you did so. Despite hearing about him, you'd never actually met the lieutenant. "Chief Boden mentioned that you were the one who ran down to Med with all those extinguishers."
"Oh, it was no big deal," you told him shyly. "They're actually Mama Garcia's. I just heard you needed them, so I asked if I could run them over to you guys. It's her you should be thanking."
"Well, you played a big part in that. So, if you want a dessert, on behalf of me and all the guys at 51, it's on me tonight."
He handed you a ten-dollar bill. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it. You made up for your brother almost black-tagging Severide."
"You did what?" Jay practically yelled.
As for you, you had no idea what they were talking about. "What? What's black-tagging?"
"You know what? Never mind," Casey said. "Thanks for all your help today, you guys."
"You were the ones who got them extra fire extinguishers?" Will asked, flabbergasted after Casey walked away.
"Yeah. Jay here wasn't too happy about seeing me over there, but when I told him why he calmed down a bit."
Erin slid into the booth next to Jay and he gave her a kiss.
"Ew, guys! Child in the room!"
Jay stuck his tongue out at you.
"I think he's the child in the room, Y/N," Erin said as she thumbed at Jay.
"So, Y/N, anything else interesting happen today? How'd you do on that math homework I helped you with last night?" Will asked.
"I did really well on it, but that's not even the craziest thing that happened at school today."
"Oh, yeah? Then what was?"
Oh man," you sighed. "Where do I begin? I think to tell you that story I'm gonna need to go get me some Flan."
You picked up the ten-dollar bill Casey had given you and slid out of the booth. If someone would've told you that you'd be buying Flan at Mama Garcia's at ten o'clock at night on a school night, you wouldn't believe them, but it would be plausible at least. The rest of the day? Well, you weren't sure that anyone would believe that you and Jay had been at the location of not one, but two bomb threats in the span of a few hours.
Once you got your Flan, you settled back into the booth. "So, it started out like any normal practice except we had to go to the high school to use the track..."
A/N: Guess who cranked out more than 5k words to get this finished today? That's right, me! Anyway, thank you for almost 8k reads! I know this technically wasn't a PD episode (It was Chicago Fire Season 3 Ep 19), but it had both Will and Jay, and the timeline made it so that it was season 2 of PD, so I thought it was fitting. Finally, please reblog/like and comment and tell me what you think about this one!
If you’re in the taglist, please tell me if it worked, I’m new at this!
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ATEEZ San- Confessions (oneshot)
Genre: Angst, fluff, suggestive, high school au, enemies to lovers au.
Pairing: San x Reader (fem)
Warnings: profanities, alcohol.
On a scale of one to ten, you'd rate your life at your prestigious boarding school a nine.
You loved KQ Academy: a boarding school for the rich, spoiled brats of the country. The teachers were highly experienced and the other staff were really nice. The cafeteria food was great and the vending machines always had your favorite drinks. The bathrooms were clean and the classrooms, laboratories, and other activity rooms were large and spacious. There were three different sports fields, a large swimming pool, and a large athletics field. The dormitories were also really comfortable and overall impressive. Basically, your school was lit.
So why did you rate your great life here a nine? Two words: Choi San.
San was the only person here who got on your nerves. Not only was he a rich, spoiled brat, but he was also the most popular guy at school and the captain of the volleyball team. His pretty face screamed of nothing but trouble... for you.
You don't understand why San doesn't like you; ever since he joined your school in ninth grade, you both never got along despite being in the same friend group. Your friends tried their best to make you both decently talk to each other, but they gave up eventually when it clearly wasn't working; you both always argued about the smallest, stupidest things.
"Should I get another piercing?" Hongjoong asked, opening his strawberry yogurt.
"Where?" Yunho questioned. "Please, not on your ear! Let the poor thing breathe!" You chuckled, glancing at the many piercings on your twin brother's ears.
"I swear Hongjoong hyung is a masochist," Yeosang stated, making Mingi and Wooyoung burst out laughing.
"And he likes exhibitionism," Seonghwa said. Hongjoong rolled his eyes, quietly eating his yogurt; he was used to everyone teasing him.
"Hey guys!" you heard Choi San greet before he took his usual seat beside Wooyoung. You glanced at him, immediately noticing his disheveled hair and swollen lips.
"Oh god, San, who was it now?" Eunhee, Hongjoong's girlfriend, questioned.
"Na Yuri," San said with a smirk. "She took me behind the auditorium. There were no cameras there." You heard Jiwoo mumble a 'not surprise' from beside you, making you chuckle.
"And you managed to get off in less than five minutes?" Wooyoung asked, raising an eyebrow.
San fake gasped in shock. "What! Wooyoung, you know I don't fuck these girls. I've only made out with them."
"What, really?" Jongho asked in surprise.
"Yeah, I haven't slept with anyone other than my ex, Jina," San said, taking a bite of Yeosang's ice cream sandwich, earning a glare from the boy. You were quite surprised at this new information; the entire school thought San fucked a new chick every week. You wondered why he never said anything about it despite all the false claims.
"Y/N," you heard someone call you, catching all your friends' attention. You saw Kim Yonghee approach you with the sweetest smile on his face. He handed you your notebook that you had given him two days ago. "Thank you so much. Your notes really helped."
"You aced your test?"
He smirked. "Of course." He opened his mouth to say something, but one of his friends called him for football practice. "Well, I'll see you in math," he said with a wink before walking away.
"Oh, someone's blushing!" Eunhee teased.
Yunho chuckled. "Wow, Y/N, I wonder what's got you all pink."
"Yonghee is so fucking cute! I kinda want to date him," you squealed, earning a scoff from an unamused San. Yeosang raised an eyebrow at San who only shrugged. "Do you have an issue, San?" you asked, annoyed by his reaction.
"No, why would I?"
"Well, your reaction doesn't seem like it."
"Why would I care about you and that piece of shit?" he spat, looking away.
"You don't even know him!" your voice was raising.
"Here we go again," Yeosang muttered under his breath.
San glared at you. "As if you know about the way he screws around with—"
"So what? I'd rather be with someone like him than with someone like you," you stated in a cold tone. San's face fell, but he immediately put his pokerface on.
Seonghwa sighed. "Can you two stop fighting for once?"
"It's his fault," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.
"No, it's yours," San retorted. "You could've ignored me."
You were about to say something, but the bell rang. You glared at San before dragging Wooyoung and Mingi with you to your next class.
A month later, you ended up in an FWB relationship with Kim Yonghee. So far, things were going really well.
You were at Seonghwa and Hongjoong's dorm with everyone. You noticed how San has been really quiet and sulky these past few days. Despite always arguing with him, you felt worried for him. You wanted to ask him if he was all right, but you knew he'd just roll his eyes or make a sarcastic comment.
You nudged Yunho who was sitting beside you. "Is San all right?" you whispered in his ear.
Yunho shook his head. "No, he's not okay. I don't know what happened, and he said he doesn't want to talk about it." You nodded, but you felt like Yunho was lying to you.
"Y/N, how are things going on between you and Yonghee?" Mingi asked.
"Good," you answered with a smile. "He's an absolute gentleman."
"Yeah, I could tell from last night," Eunhee teased, making you choke on nothing in particular, wondering how she found out about you sneaking Yonghee into your suite style dorm. "You're not as sneaky as you think you are, Y/N."
San slammed his can of sprite on the table, startling a few of you. "Sorry, I'm a little tired," he mumbled. "Yunho, I'm going to our room. I'll see you all tomorrow." You noticed Wooyoung and Seonghwa share a glance before Seonghwa nodded.
"I'm heading back as well. Good night guys," Seonghwa said, quickly getting up and following San. There was clearly something up with San and you really wanted to find out.
-
While you were having lunch with your friends, Yonghee came to your table. He kissed you gently, earning an 'aww' from Eunhee and Jiwoo.
"Hey, hey, hey, no kissing in front of her older brother," Hongjoong said sternly. You rolled your eyes; he was only older by eight minutes.
"Sorry, man," Yonghee chuckled. "Here," he handed you a few sheets. "Seunghun told me to give this to you. It's his part of the assignment you both are working on. He said you can arrange it however you'd like."
"Ah, tell him I said thanks," you said.
"Will do, doll." he kissed your head before leaving.
San witnessed the entire scene and he lost his appetite. He pushed his food around with his spoon, feeling heartbroken.
"Step up your game, bro," Mingi said to San in a low tone so that the others couldn't hear.
"What do you mean?" San questioned.
Mingi rolled his eyes. "We all know you like Y/N. Don't give her up easily."
"Well, she likes Yonghee."
"They're only friends with benefits," Hongjoong said, joining the conversation. "They're just fooling around. I know it might seem like she has feelings for him, but trust me, she doesn't."
San bit his lip anxiously. "But she hates me."
Hongjoong rolled his eyes. "I know my sister well enough to say that she doesn't hate you, Sannie. In fact, she was really hurt 'cause she thinks you hate her. You both should really stop fighting and assuming shit."
"She doesn't hate me?" San asked in surprise.
"No, she doesn't, you idiot," Mingi muttered with a sigh. "Now step up your game, San, before someone else sweeps her off her feet."
You were watching the volleyball team practice for an upcoming inter-school match. San and Yeosang were on the team, so your entire group was here as well, watching them practice 'cause there was nothing else to do.
You had to admit, San was a great captain. He was so sweet to them and hyped them up every time they did well. It was even more fascinating to watch him play. When the team decided to take a break, he approached you, taking his water bottle from where you were sitting.
You couldn't help but check him out in the team uniform. The blue tank top and shorts exposed the muscles on his arms and thighs. He titled his head back, pouring the water into his mouth. You watched his Adam's apple bob with every gulp, and the way a few drops of water rolled down his lips and chin. His jawline looked sharper, and you saw a bead of sweat travelling down the side of his face. San looked undeniably attractive, especially with his new eyebrow piercing and dyed black hair; he already looked so good with his previous brown hair, and now he looked irresistible.
"Y/N, I asked you something," San said, snapping you out of your thoughts.
"Oh, uh, I'm sorry, what were you saying?" you hoped he didn't notice you checking him out. San and you have surprisingly not had any fights recently, and he wasn't making any comments to piss you off either. You wondered why he suddenly changed his behavior towards you after years of getting on your nerves.
He smirked, pointing to his little red bag. "Could you open my bag and give me the green towel?" You did as he said, unkowingly blushing. San noticed everything, but he didn't say anything about it yet. He wiped the sweat off his face with the towel, suddenly leaning in close to your face. Your eyes darted between his eyes and his lips, and your heartbeat sped up. San reached behind you to take his bag, shoving the towel and his water bottle inside. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, mentally reminding yourself to get your shit together. You glanced at your friends, relieved that they were too busy talking to notice the little scene between you and San; you knew they would tease the shit out of you if they saw what happened.
"Y/N," Yeosang called out. "You're coming for the party tomorrow night, no?"
"Of course," you said, a little confused as to why he suddenly asked. "Jiwoo would kill me if I missed it."
Jiwoo turned her head at the mention of her name. "Damn right, I would," she said with a nod.
Yeosang smirked. "You're coming in my car."
-
"I have to sit on San's lap?!" you half-yelled at Yeosang.
"Yeah, Yunho is sitting in the front with the Pegasus glass figurine he got for Jiwoo. The painting I got is in the backseat, and our bags are in the trunk. So you don't have a choice."
You bit your lip. "Fine."
You waited outside the car until San and Yunho came from their dorm. You wondered why San wasn't surprised when you told him you had to sit on his lap, but you brushed it off, assuming Yeosang would've told him earlier.
San was dressed in all black: ripped jeans, a leather jacket and a black t-shirt underneath it. You sat on his lap, closing the car door. He looked irresistible and his Chanel perfume made him smell so good, you didn't know how you'd survive the half an hour long car ride to Jiwoo's mansion without him noticing you inhaling his scent like air.
San gently wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him so that you could sit comfortably. Yeosang started driving and you hoped time would go really fast.
Unfortunately, time seemed to be going really slow for you.
San pushed your hair to one side, making you lean back a little so that your back was pressed against his chest. "Sit comfortably, I don't bite," he whispered in your ear.
Yunho was talking about something, but you paid no attention. The only thing you could focus on was San's beautiful voice and laughs while you blankly stared out the window.
San noticed you weren't paying attention. He leaned forward a little, his lips coming in contact with the bare skin of your shoulder, making goosebumps arise on your skin. "Are you cold?" San teased when he saw the goosebumps on your bare thighs; you cursed yourself for wearing a short off-shoulder dress.
"Yeah, I am," you lied. San rubbed his palms together before placing them on your thighs. You gasped softly at his warm touch. He gently rubbed your thighs, trying to warm you up like as if he didn't know why you got goosebumps in the first place.
"We're here, guys," Yeosang announced, pulling up into Jiwoo's mansion that was lit up with a lot of LED lights.
You quickly got out of the car once Yeosang parked, running to hug Jiwoo.
"Happy eighteenth, Jiwoo!"
She chuckled. "Thank you, Y/N!"
"I can't wait to see you drunk!" you said with a giggle, excited that your friend could finally drink. She playfully rolled her eyes, dragging you inside to where half your school was while she told you which room you would be staying in. You were sure there were nearly two hundred people here, but you weren't surprised; Jiwoo's birthday parties were always like this.
"By the way, you're sharing a room with San tonight," Jiwoo said.
Your eyes widened. "What?! Why? Wasn't I supposed to be sleeping in your room?"
"Yeah," she said. "But, um... Yunho might be there and I don't think you'd want to witness us—"
"Okay, okay!" you half-yelled. "Why can't I sleep in Eunhee's room?"
"Ask Hongjoong if he's willing to switch with you," she chuckled and you groaned, knowing very well your twin brother would rather sleep next to his girlfriend than next to his friend.
But maybe he would agree? After all, he's quite protective of you and he wouldn't let you sleep next to a guy.
"Absolutely not," Hongjoong replied when you asked him to switch places with you.
"Joong! How can you let your baby sister sleep with a guy?" you whined.
He shrugged. "I trust San more than any other guy here. Besides, I need some privacy with my girl, you know? The dorms aren't a very great place to—"
You slammed your palm over his mouth, shutting him up. "I get it! I'll just deal with it."
You walked over to the bar, getting a whiskey and coke. You didn't have an issue with sleeping next to San; you just didn't know how you'd control yourself around him, especially after what happened hardly an hour ago.
After Jiwoo cut her huge birthday cake and popped a bottle of Champagne, some people from your grade sat down in one of the rooms to play truth or dare. Wooyoung and Mingi literally begged you to play and of course, you couldn't refuse.
"All right, I'm gonna spin it," Jongho said, spinning an empty beer bottle. It landed on Yeosang. "Truth or dare, hyung?" Jongho asked.
"Truth," he answered.
"I got one!" Seonghwa said, turning to smirk at Yeosang. "Do you like a certain Japanese girl who's in your economics class?" You chuckled, glancing at the Japanese girl who was sitting right across Yeosang.
Yeosang smirked. "Of course I like my girlfriend." Your jaw dropped and so did many other's. You glanced at Mayumi who was clearly blushing; she reminded you so much of Yeosang.
"Kang Yeosang! You sly shit!" Wooyoung yelled, playfully tackling his friend to the ground.
"I knew something was happening between them!" Hongjoong stated with a laugh, making Mayumi turn pinker than she already was.
After a few more rounds, some people left, making the circle of people smaller. Eunhee spun the bottle and it landed on herself.
"Truth or dare?" Mingi asked.
"Truth."
"Is Hongjoong hyung a dom or a sub?" Mingi asked with a smirk.
"Both, but mostly a dom," she answered, unbothered.
"I'm not even surprised," Wooyoung said before spinning the bottle. It landed on you.
"Truth or dare, Y/N?" Wooyoung asked, a smile dancing on his lips.
"I'll go with dare."
Wooyoung grinned mischievously. "I dare you to . . . give San a hickey." You choked on nothing in particular.
"In front of you all?"
"Obviously not!" Hongjoong said in disgust. "I'd rather not witness that."
Your friends cheered for you when you got up and dragged San along with you to the room you both had to share tonight. Your heart raced with every step you took, and when he closed the door, the only sound you could hear was your pounding heartbeat.
San removed his shoes before sitting on the middle of the bed. You took off your heels, getting on the bed as well.
"Where do you want it?" you asked, avoiding eye-contact.
"Below my collarbone or here," he pointed to an area of the left side of his neck. You decided to give it on his neck because you've never given a collarbone hickey, so you didn't want to screw it up and embarrass yourself in front of the man who was currently driving you crazy.
San sat against the headboard of the bed, letting you straddle his lap. You placed a hand at his nape and the other at his shoulder, leaning in to place your lips on his neck. You gently brushed your lips against his skin before kissing around the area for a while. Your hand at his nape moved into his hair, tugging on it. San groaned softly, hands gripping your waist while he tilted his head to give you more access. You started to suck on his skin, making sure you bit him gently and gave him a few little licks. San's hands pushed you down on his growing bulge, making you moan against his skin. You pulled away from his neck, eyes instantly locking with his. You glanced between his eyes and his lips, unknowingly biting your own. San freed your bottom lip with his thumb, running it over your lip.
"I'd like to bite that lip," San said in a low tone. You couldn't control yourself anymore. You crashed your lips onto his and he responded just as eagerly as you. San took your bottom lip in between his teeth, gently pulling and biting on it, making you moan. He smirked, pulling away. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this."
"Don't you hate me?" you asked, shocked by his little confession.
San flipped you onto your back, hovering over you. He pressed his bulge against you. "What do you think?" he whispered, making you blush. "Y/N, you drive me absolutely crazy. I've liked you ever since ninth grade." Your eyes widened; he has liked you ever since he joined your school?!
"But— Then why were you always fighting with me?" you couldn't help but ask, even though right now wasn't a very... appropriate time.
"Remember how I was back then? I was so nerdy and you liked guys who were the complete opposite of that," he said, cupping your cheek. "No matter how hard I tried to get you to like someone like me, it just never worked. You always liked seniors and dated playboys. And then when I started screwing around, you still didn't like me. I guess... I guess that's why I fought with you a lot and it got worse over the years."
"San, you were perfect," you murmured. "I always thought you were way too good for me, that's why I never really bothered." you ran your hand through his hair. "I'm sorry for making you change yourself..."
San shook his head, lying beside you on the bed. "It's not your fault. I was fifteen and stupid, Y/N. Besides, I'm used to being like this now." You bit your lip, not knowing what to say. "Y/N, I hated seeing you with Yonghee. I know you guys aren't dating, but the thought of you with him or with anyone else... I really hate it," he looked like he wanted to say something, but he was hesitating a lot. You cupped his cheek, giving him an encouraging smile.
San took a deep breath. "Um, Y/N, do you... feel the same way about me?" You immediately kissed him as an answer, making him blush and sigh in relief.
"Well, my dare is complete," you murmured, fingers running over the hickey you had given him. You leaned in, placing a soft kiss on it. "How about we continue from where we left off?" you whispered in his ear.
San smirked, pulling you close to his body by your waist. "Mhmm, I'd like that."
#ateez#ateez imagines#ateez reactions#ateez oneshots#ateez fluff#ateez angst#ateez smut#ateez suggestive#ateez san#san#choi san#san x reader#san angst#san fluff#san imagines#woosan#Yeosang#Wooyoung#Hongjoong#jongho#mingi#Seonghwa#yunho#ateez san imagines#choi san imagines#jeong yunho#kang yeosang#kim Hongjoong#park Seonghwa#song mingi
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