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itsbeeble · 5 months

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TRY HARD

SUMMARY: Need to get rid of some junk? Well these college hunks will haul YOUR junk! Give us a call at xxx-xxx-JUNK and we’ll haul YOUR junk for FREE! (limited time offer)

GENRE: smut, crack, fluff, minimal angst

PAIRING: Lee Juyeon x afab!reader (ft. sangyeon, sunwoo, and chanhee)

WC: 8.7k (oops)

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @winterchimez @juyeonszn

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: name calling (reader calls Juyeon stripper boy, baby, and pretty boy. Juyeon calls reader pretty girl), swearing, mentions of college parties, Y/N roasts Juyeon like a lot, Juyeon stops a door with his foot, one bed trope (for like two seconds), sunwoo slander (learning from Fawn <3) Juyeon is not god's strongest soldier, masturbation (m and kinda f), p in v sex, implied unprotected sex, restraints are used, dom!reader kinda, bratty!Juyo kinda, really poor attempts at humor, i think there's more but that covers the big stuff

A/N: This was NOT supposed to be almost 9k. It was supposed to be 3k at MOST but i will not lie i will prolly end up doing this again for most of the fics I'm putting out for this collab oops. Anywayyyyy let's kick off the collab with arguably my funniest fic.

The first time you meet Lee Juyeon, you’re dressed in sleep shorts and the biggest sweatshirt in your closet. He’s standing at your door, and for a moment you can’t help but be confused by the fact that yes, there is a hot man in a white tank top and cargo pants leaning against your doorframe. And yes, he is, in fact, there for you and not the girls living down the hall from you.

And, to be fair, it wasn’t your fault that you thought he was a stripper. Really, it wasn’t. It’s not every day that you see a guy with a body to die for and the face of an angel.

“Are you some sort of stripper?” For a moment, the two of you are quiet. There’s a look of pure astonishment on his face that eventually turns into him fighting back a grin.

“Do you want me to be?” His tongue brushes over his lower lip while he scans you up and down and you scoff.

“No. The girls you’re probably looking for are down the hall, the last door on the right.” You begin to shut the door. “Have fun.”

“Wait!” His foot catches in the door before you can slam it shut and you hear him swear loudly. “Shit, that did not feel good.”

“Are you fucking stupid?” You swing the door open again, scowling at him. “Why would you try to catch this heavy ass door with your foot?”

“I thought it would look cool!” He winces, one hand gripping your door frame and the other cradling his aching foot. “Like in the movies!”

“I don’t know if you know this…” you trail off, squinting at him and realizing you have no idea who this man is. “Stripper boy,—”

“Juyeon,” you can practically hear his teeth grinding as he speaks. You hum.

“Stripper boy,” you bob your head. “That’s what I’m gonna call you.”

“Please don’t—”

“Anyway,” you interrupt again. “I don’t know if you know this, but romance movies are fictional. Of course, it’s not gonna look like the prop door and they’re gonna catch it like it’s nothing. This, however,” you hit your fist against your door, “is solid metal. Not gonna feel good when you catch this shit, dumbass.”

“Whatever,” Juyeon rolls his eyes and straightens his body out. “I was just making my rounds across campus, wanted to see if you’d be interested in supporting your local fraternity.”

You raise an eyebrow, reaching your hand out to take the flier from his hand.

College Hunks Hauling Junk!

Need to get rid of some junk? Well, these college hunks will haul YOUR junk! Give us a call at xxx-xxx-JUNK and we’ll haul YOUR junk for FREE! (limited-time offer)

Scan HERE to book your appointment!

“College hunks hauling junk,” you can’t help but laugh at the name and take the flier from Juyeon’s hands. He grins at you. “People are actually paying you guys to haul their shit away?”

He shrugs. “It’s free, technically. You’re allowed to donate, but we’re really just doing it for free. You know, help out fellow students and spread the word.”

“You sure it wouldn’t be easier to just do some stripping if you can’t pay the rent?” You ask. “Also, what do you mean spread the word?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Juyeon points a finger at the bottom of the flier, completely disregarding the first part of your sentence. Fuck, his hands are big.

This ad also doubles as your invitation to Tau Beta Zeta’s parties for the rest of the semester. Cash this in at any time and get into ANY parties for free! (Code word will be given at the time of flier being cashed in) (Girls get in for free, Guys $5 @ the door)

“We’re having a little competition with the sorority down the road from us,” Juyeon explains. “Whoever has more people by the end of the semester gets to host the end-of-the-year party and the other frat or sorority has to buy food and drinks.”

You stare at the paper for a second, pondering your options. Then you smile, look up at the man that you are still pretty damn sure is a stripper, and hand back the flier.

“I’m good, thanks.”

The door shuts, and you turn to go back to bed. The sound of paper sliding across the ground stops you, and you can see in the faint light that streams under your door that Juyeon slipped the flier into your room.

Fucking try hard.

The second time you see Lee Juyeon, he’s handing out fliers again. Only he isn’t walking around random apartment buildings with a weird seductive look that you honestly don’t doubt was working. This time, he’s in a hoodie and jeans and walking around the center of campus with people that you can only assume are his frat brothers.

At first, you almost don’t recognize him, but then his eyes meet yours, and you can see the corners wrinkle when he smiles. Again, you’re confused. Is he smiling at you?

Your head whips around, trying to find someone around you that he might be looking at, and when you turn around again, Juyeon is approaching you.

“Have you thought about it, pretty girl?” He asked and you stared at him dumbly for a moment. Did he just call you pretty girl?

“Thought about what?” He holds up that flier again, placing it in your hands similarly to the other night. “Oh.”

“Did you think I was kidding?” He leans down slightly, keeping eye contact. Your free hand places itself on his chest— which you hadn’t realized before was very solid— and pushes him back. He barely moves. In fact, you are the one who gets pushed back.

“Listen, stripper boy—”

“Juyeon—”

“Stripper boy,” you mimic the exasperated tone he uses with you. “If I wanted an invitation to a stereotypical frat party with a bunch of drunk 20-somethings and cheap beer and bad pizza and try-hard men like yourself, I would’ve gone by now.” You fold up the flier, smoothing out the edges before holding it out to him. He doesn’t take it, and you can see the gears turning in his brain.

“So what you’re saying,” he starts to smile and steps toward you again.”

“Stripper boy,” you warn.

“…is that there’s a chance?”

“Absolutely not, there is not a chance in hell that I’m gonna call some college hunks to haul junk out of my college apartment that I can barely afford to live in let alone pay you to take things out of.” Juyeon shrugs.

“Like I said, payment is optional and can come in…” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, “many different forms, pretty girl.”

“That’s gross, stripper boy.” You scrunch up your nose and he laughs. “Also, why are you calling me that?”

“Calling you what?” his smile only grows and you huff.

“Pretty girl.”

“Because you are a pretty girl.”

“No, I’m—” You catch yourself in the sentence when he leans forward onto the tips of his toes, ready to stop you. “You know what, fuck you. I know that was a dirty little trick and I’m not gonna fall for it just so you can swoop in and say something like oh nooo, don’t say that about yourself! You’re so pretty! And then you’ll tuck my hair behind my ear and you’ll try to kiss me and then—” You stop yourself again. Juyeon’s smile is almost scary at this point, stretching all the way across his face as if this had been his plan all along and you walked right into it.

“And then…?” He teases.

“…fuck you and your frat, stripper boy. God, you guys are such try-hards.”

You hold onto the flier this time, whether too embarrassed to give it back or genuine curiosity, you aren’t sure. You do know that you can’t stop the pounding in your chest, or the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Who was that?” Sunwoo slings an arm over Juyeon’s shoulder, both men watching you walk away with the flier held tightly in your hand. Juyeon smiles.

“Just someone I know.”

“Didn’t look like she was too happy to see you.” Sunwoo snickers and drops his arm down to stand straight. Juyeon turns to the younger man, the smile he had when standing with you now gone and replaced with a permanent scowl.

“Who even asked you, Sunwoo?”

The younger raises his hands in defense. “I’m just saying! It looked like she hated you. Oooh, maybe you’re finally gonna get that enemies-to-lovers arc that Eric is always— WHOA, HEY—” Sunwoo nearly trips over himself trying to get away from Juyeon as the older frat brother swings his arm out in his direction. “Don’t hurt this pretty face! How else is the soccer team gonna get their funds?” A hand in the shape of a finger gun finds its way under Sunwoo’s chin, and the star soccer player smirks.

“I think they’ll manage,” Juyeon swings his arm out again, wincing when Sunwoo lets out an ear-piercing squeal.

It’s like you’re seeing him everywhere. Every class you go to, it’s like he’s always there handing out fliers or chatting with his friends. And, unfortunately, every time you see him, he sees you too. He animatedly waves at you, calling your name or running over to you. Every time, you somehow end up with another flier to add to your collection.

For weeks you’ve been seeing him in places that you swear you’d never seen him in before. You swear that he’s not in your environmental course. You swear that he’s not in your sociology course. He just has to be following you.

That, or you just have shitty luck with Lee Juyeon.

It must be bad luck, you think as you watch the fire department evacuate your flooded building. It must be, you tell yourself as you stand there in the pouring rain in pajama shorts and a sweater, sans an umbrella. There’s nothing else it could be.

Your eyes narrow at the sight of Juyeon standing near a group of girls with those damned fliers in one hand and some umbrellas around the wrist of the other. Your hands tighten around your arms, body shaking from the cold of the rain. Your lips twist into a deep frown when he approaches you, his eyebrows knit together and his lips pursed at the sight of you. His mouth opens to say something, and you hold your hand up to stop him.

“Save it, stripper boy. I don’t want your fucking spiel right now.” His shoulders slump a little.

“I was just going to ask if you wanted an umbrella.” He holds one out, the last one on his arm. “You have to be freezing right now, and you’re absolutely soaked.” Your hand wraps around the umbrella, your eyes still narrowed with suspicion.

“Thanks…” he smiles and backs up to give you space to open it. You would never admit to his face that he was right. That you were freezing your ass off in this godforsaken weather.

“Are you okay?” You look up at him, sniff, and shrug.

“I mean, my home is currently flooding which leaves me homeless for at least a few days. It’s piss-pouring rain out here, I’m in my pajamas with all my clothing inside the flooded building, and now here you are probably trying to get me to buy from your stupid fundraiser thing.” You take a deep breath, finally looking him in the eye. “So no, I don’t think I’m okay, Juyeon. Thanks for asking.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then a small smile breaks onto his face.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve called me Juyeon.” You bite your tongue and turn to walk away from him. “Wait, fuck, Y/N it was a joke. I’m sorry.” He grabs your arm, pulling you back to him. You can see a little bit of panic in his gaze.

“Yeah, well it was a shitty joke.” You scoff.

“I know, poor taste, I was just trying to lighten the mood.” He pulls his hand from your arm, and you almost feel bad. It’s quiet between you two, and you think that this is the first time it’s ever been completely silent. Well, save for the chatter of other tenants and incoming sirens and the yells of officers.

“This fucking sucks,” you grumble, and Juyeon huffs out a laugh.

“Do you have anywhere that you go?”

You shake your head. “Nah, none of my friends have space for another person in their apartment or dorm.”

“You could stay with me.” He says it so fast, so suddenly, that you thought you misheard him at first.

“Excuse me?” Juyeon clears his throat, his cheeks and ears flushing and you can’t tell if it’s from the cold or embarrassment.

“I— I mean you— I’m just—” he stumbles over his words and you smile.

“Is the Lee Juyeon embarrassed right now? In front of little ol’ me, nonetheless?”

“I’m not embarrassed,” he snaps, pressing the back of one of his hands to his neck in a poor attempt to cool himself down. “I’m just— I—”

“Juyeon,” your hand comes up to his arm and he flinches. You let your arm drop down to your side. “Are you trying to ask me to stay with you while the building is being repaired?”

You’re smiling at him, and it’s like that tiny action brings back all of his previous confidence. He’s smirking again, leaning down under the tiny umbrella he gave you. It’s your turn to blush now, but your eyes don’t leave his.

“Because,” your voice nearly betrays you. “That would be a little…odd…wouldn’t it? A girl living with, what, ten men? People would talk.” He hums.

“But they would also find it odd if I just…left you to live in your car for god knows how long, wouldn’t they?” His hand is on your waist, and the breath in your lungs hitches.

“That’s true…” you hum and pull away from him. “I don’t have any clothes, though. I’d need to find some before doing anything.” Juyeon clicks his tongue and leans back, a thoughtful look taking over the previous…you don’t even know what to call what you were doing. Was he flirting with you? Were you flirting with him?

“That’s true,” he nods his head. “We can grab some from the store tomorrow? And for now, you can borrow some of my stuff— I mean, if you’re comfortable with that.” He stumbles over his words again, and you can’t help but laugh. “Kevin’s clothes might fit you better but— you’re laughing. Why are— why are you laughing at me.”

“You’re just—” You break into another fit of giggles, covering your mouth with your hand to try and muffle the noise. “God, you’re so dumb.”

“How am I dumb?” Juyeon pouts at you, and you know he just wants you to be comfortable.

“Never mind,” you wave him off, “let’s just get going. I’m tired and wet.” Juyeon raises an eyebrow, and you roll your eyes. “Not like that, stripper boy.”

“I know,” he grins at you and tugs you by the sleeve to get you to start walking. “I just wanted to mess with you a little bit.”

“Seems like that’s all you do.” You roll your eyes. “And please tell me you drove here. I am not walking to the house in shorts and slippers.” Juyeon clicks his tongue.

“As if I would walk anywhere in this weather.” He reaches into his pocket and you hear the click of a button, and then the lights of a car in front of you light up. He jogs forward, grabbing the handle of the passenger side door for you with a bright smile on his face. “After you, m’lady.”

“What a gentleman,” you shut the umbrella and duck into the vehicle.

“Only for you, pretty girl.” He winks at you and shuts the door.

Juyeon is quiet when you exit his bathroom. Your hair is wrapped in a towel, your body swamped in Juyeon’s clothes. He’s lying flat on his back on his mattress, his legs dangling off the edge and his fingers drumming on his stomach. Your feet shuffle against the ground, the fabric of his sweatpants covering your feet entirely and dragging behind you. His t-shirt is almost like a dress on you, hanging down to your thighs and the sleeves baggy along your arms where it would be formfitting on him.

“Where should I put these?” Juyeon lifts his head, and you hear a sharp inhale. He’s staring at you, and the gaze is heavy with something you can’t place.

“You—” his voice cracks and he sits up fully, resting his elbows on his knees. “You can just toss them in the basket next to you. I’ll— I’ll wash it tomorrow.” You hum, doing as he says and tossing your clothing into the basket.

His room is…weirdly clean. At least, it’s cleaner than you expected it to be for a frat boy. There’s a bit of laundry scattered across the room, sure, but you don’t feel gross just standing there. The floor is clean, the bed is made.

The bed.

The one bed in the room.

“Where— where should I set up a spot to sleep?” You wring your hands behind your back.

“What?” Juyeon stares at you dumbly, his eyes blank and jaw dropped slightly. If you look closely, you swear you can see a puddle of drool on the floor in front of him. Unintentionally, you snort and immediately slap a hand over your mouth.

“I just— I mean this is your room, stripper boy.” You shrug, trying to keep the air as light as possible. “Where should I set up camp for the next three days?”

“You are not sleeping on the floor.” Juyeon shakes his head and pushes off the edge of his bed.

“Then where am I gonna sleep?”

“The bed?” He says it as if it’s obvious. “The fuck? You really thought I was gonna make you sleep on the floor?”

“Stripper boy, I am not sleeping in your bed.” You click your tongue.

“Yes, you are, pretty girl.” He takes a step toward you. “I’m not gonna let you sleep on the floor! First of all, you’re a guest. Second of all, I’m a gentleman. Third of all, I’m—” he cuts himself short again and you raise an eyebrow.

“Well, then I’ll sleep on the couch downstairs. That’ll solve it.” You move to the door, but he grabs your upper arm and pulls you toward him. “Dude, you have got to stop grabbing me like that. It’s kind of annoying.”

“Sorry.” He exhales and lets go of your arm, brushing his hand across the skin he grabbed as if to soothe it. It sends sparks of heat through your arm, and you fight back a shiver. “I just— what if we share my bed?”

You stare at him for a moment.

Then another.

And then another.

And then Juyeon is wincing and stepping away from you.

“I was just— that was stupid. I’m sorry.”

“I mean…” you purse your lips. “If it solves the problem, then sure.”

“Wait seriously?” His eyes bug out of his head and you laugh. “You’re comfortable with that?”

“Stripper boy, if you thought I was gonna kick you out of your bed, then you have a whole new thing coming.” He rolls his eyes. “We can just…I dunno. Put pillows between us?”

“Yeah, that works. That works just fine.” He sighs heavily. Just fine. He’s gonna be just fine these next few days.

Juyeon realizes very quickly that it will not, in fact, be fine. He realizes this when he wakes up in the middle of the night, the pillows between the two of you thrown to the edge of the bed and your body wrapped around his like a vice. One of your legs is hooked around his, the other strewn across his hip to lock him down. You have one arm tucked under his, holding his shoulder while your free arm has slipped around his waist, under his shirt so your fingers are splayed across his abdomen. Your head is seemingly strategically placed on his chest, and he can feel every breath you release. He can feel every pulse of your heartbeat against his leg—

Wait.

…

Oh, this arrangement is not going to be good for his heart.

He tries desperately to shift away from you, to gently pry you off of him, anything to get the pounding in his chest to go away. Anything to stop the blood from rushing to his dick like some goddamn virgin. It’s a normal thing. It’s not something to get fucking hard over, Lee Juyeon. Pull yourself together.

It feels like ages before he’s able to pull himself free, nearly falling out of his bed to get away from you. He freezes in place when he hears you shift, a quiet moan leaving you when your sleeping self finds the spot Juyeon once lay frozen is now empty. His heart is pounding, his feet padding quickly against the floor to get to his bathroom. He’s quick to shut the door, cringing at the squeak of the hinges. Gotta get those fixed, he notes. For future reference, of course.

He’s hard in his sweats, his dick straining against the fabric, and his body feels like it’s on fire. Juyeon leans against the counter, tapping his foot anxiously while he stares at himself in the mirror. His cheeks are flushed, his hair a mess, and his pupils are blown out. He grips the marble counter, squeezing his eyes shut and praying to god that he softens soon because he cannot and will not jerk off to you. Not when you’re right there, one thin wall over.

Thinking that was a mistake. His dick twitches in his pants at the thought of you waking up and finding him in the bathroom, cock in hand, and frantically trying to rub one out.

Oh, he’s so fucked, he squeezes his eyes shut as he shoves his sweatpants down just enough to be able to grab himself. Just enough for him to spring free and let the cold air wash over him.

Juyeon is completely, royally fucked, and he knows it as he spits on his hand. He knows it when he wraps his hand around his cock. Juyeon knows it when his body shudders from the first pump of his hand, the brush of his thumb across his tip. He knows it when he fights the whine trying to erupt from his throat.

He knows it when he cums in his hand, ropes of white covering his palm when he places his hand over his tip to minimize the mess. He knows it when all he thought about was you. You and your pretty face. You who calls him stripper boy, who hasn't hesitated to shoot him down every chance you get. You who he’s pretty damn sure is into him in the same way he’s into you.

It’s hard for Juyeon to get back in his bed and lie down next to you knowing that just a few minutes ago he came in his hand to the thought of you. It’s even harder for him to fall back to sleep when you wrap yourself around him again, relaxing against his body and releasing a contented sigh. He tries so, so hard to relax with you, to steady his pounding heart.

God, he’s so fucked.

"When did you get here?” There’s a boy— a man, really— standing at the counter when you and Juyeon walk into the kitchen in the morning. The man is holding a ceramic Garfield mug that you assume is filled with coffee, and he’s got his phone in his free hand. You give him a short wave, and he nods back at you.

Juyeon had been odd the whole morning. Or, at least, the two hours you had been awake and the one hour since he’d woken up and immediately rolled to his feet to get away from you. Something about morning wood. Since then, he’d been keeping a healthy distance from you, flinching away from your touch and giving short responses to your questions and statements. It makes you nervous. Were you intruding? Did he regret asking you to stay?

“Last night,” Juyeon answers for you, leading you to the bar counter and pulling out a chair for you to sit in. “Y/N, this is Sangyeon. He’s the Tau Beta Zeta president. Sangyeon, this is Y/N. She’s gonna be staying with us for the next couple of days.”

Sangyeon squints at you, gnawing at his lip in thought.

“And you guys are…what? Friends? Lovers? Fuck buddies?” You scoff and Juyeon whips his head around, nearly spilling coffee onto his hand.

“None of the above,” you wave your hand and almost miss the flash of emotion in Juyeon’s eyes. “Just someone who needed a hand, and strip- Juyeon happened to be there.” Sangyeon turns to Juyeon with an inquisitive look on his face. Juyeon shakes his head and turns back to you with two mugs in his hand.

“I didn’t know how you take your coffee so I just threw some cream and a bit of sugar in there.” The mug he slides over to you is shaped like a ladybug, and you can’t help the laugh that escapes you at the sight of his mug. Normal, compared to yours. Just plain white with text that says ‘Stupid people shouldn’t breed!’. “What’s so funny?”

“Just the…interesting arrangement of mugs you all have here.” You smile at Juyeon, but he just scoffs. Sangyeon excuses himself and pats Juyeon on the shoulder before making his exit up the stairs.

“I’ll have you know that I picked these all out.” He defends, but you can see the embarrassment in the flush of his cheeks, the dark color spreading to the tips of his ears. “You got a problem with them?”

“No, no,” you smile into your mug and take a sip. It’s bitter, and a bit watered down, but you’re grateful for the caffeine boost. “It’s cute, really. You made some great choices, stripper boy.”

“That sounded sarcastic,” Juyeon pouts at you and you shake your head.

“It wasn’t!” You reassure him, leaning your torso onto the counter. Juyeon stands near you now, on the shorter edge of the counter and he scoffs.

“Sure it wasn’t. Because you’re the most supportive person in the world of my decisions.” He turns away from you, staring at the magnetic words on the refrigerator instead of at you and you rise from your seat to stand by his side.

“Juyooo,” your voice is sing-song in tone and Juyeon fights every instinct inside of him that screams to pin you to the counter and fuck you senseless. “Are you mad at me?”

“Of course I am,” he rolls his eyes and tilts his chin up when you come to stand in front of him.

“Why?” You frown, but the corners of your lips fight to turn up.

“You made fun of me!”

“Yeah, but it was all in good fun!” You protest. “I think your choice of mugs was cute!”

“No you don’t,” he scoffs and crosses his arms. “You think they’re stupid.”

“No,” you shake your head. “I think they’re adorable.”

“Bullshit,” Juyeon says. “You think they’re stupid.”

“I do not.” You groan.

“You do!”

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

“Do no—”

Juyeon’s lips are on yours, and you let out a startled gasp, your hand flying up and finding purchase on his chest.

You try to push him off, you really do! You think about it, you tell your body to push him off, and then somehow you end up pulling him closer, allowing your eyes to slip closed. Isn’t it so weird how that happens?

Your hand is holding his shirt tightly, keeping him close to you while your lips mesh in a sloppy kiss. His lips are rough against yours, his teeth nipping at your lower lip and then his tongue slips out and soothes the bites. The repeated actions have your legs trembling, your breathing becoming shaky, and your hand that isn’t in his shirt rises to the back of his neck to tangle in his hair and pull him impossibly closer to you.

His hands are all over you. They run up and down your waist, brushing under the waistband of the sweatpants he lent you, pushing into your back to keep you close to him. They run under your shirt, grazing the underside of your shirt, and he smiles when he feels you exhale shakily against him.

You hesitantly, and ever so slowly, push your tongue out, letting it run across his lower lip and you’re a bit too pleased when he opens up for you immediately. He lets you push your tongue into his mouth, lets you explore, and is ever so patient with your hesitance.

Gently, oh so gently, he sucks on your tongue while you try to pull it back into your mouth and you release the tiniest, almost inaudible whine.

Apparently, to your complete dismay, this snaps Juyeon back into reality and he pulls away from you. He pulls away quickly, almost stumbling back and into some of the bar stools. You’re standing there, almost in a daze, and both of you just stare at each other for a moment. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, and Juyeon can tell that you’re regretting what the two of you just did.

And it hurts. It really hurts when you open your mouth, going to speak and nothing comes out. He smiles sadly.

“I should find a way to get to the store. You’re gonna need some clothes for the next few days.”

“Juyeon, wait—” You reach for him, but he just shakes his head.

“It’s fine, pretty girl.” He reassures you, but his voice breaks and betrays him. “No hard feelings. Let’s just forget it happened.”

“I don’t want to forget that!” You protest, but Juyeon just shakes his head.

“Like I said, pretty girl,” He grabs his mug and smiles at you. There’s no emotion behind it, at least not one that you want to recognize. “We gotta get you some clothes for the next three days.”

It’s infuriating how quickly he seems to move on. Three days pass by, and not once has he even hinted about talking about what happened. It was almost like he’d forgotten about it entirely.

Which, to your dismay, was exactly what he wanted you to do. It wasn’t as if you regretted the kiss, at least not in the way he thought. The regret that you knew you had let slip was from pulling away in the first place. You had only meant to come up for air, knowing that you would likely drown in him had you given yourself the chance. Now, due to your own stupid mistakes, the tables have turned for you.

He’d been avoiding you since you moved back into your apartment two days ago. He’d avoided you in the classes you were now all too aware that you shared. It stung that he no longer sought you out, no longer yelled your name from across the room, and drew unwanted attention to you. He no longer pressured you to call the number on that damn flier that sat untouched on your desk.

“You could always just, I dunno,” Chanhee is lying on your bed, scrolling on his phone while you rant about his frat brother. “Call the number? I’m pretty sure it’s his number anyway.”

“Wait seriously?” You spin around in your desk chair, turning away from the project you two are supposed to be working on together.

“Yeah, it just happened to be really convenient that the last four digits of his phone number spelled junk. What do you think of this?” He flips his phone around to show you a coat. A black trench coat, nothing too fancy about it.

“Eh. You have plenty of those, don’t you?”

“True.” He nods and lays back down.

“Should I really call him?” You lean your head back on your chair, lacing your fingers together on your lap. “What if he hates me, Chanhee?”

“Trust me, Y/N,” Chanhee exhales heavily, “that man does not hate you.”

“But how do you know that?” You ask. “If he told you that, he could be lying to you!”

“Girl,” Chanhee throws his phone down onto your mattress and sits up straight. “If a man hates you, he is not going to jack off at 3 in the goddamn morning— with his frat brothers in the other room that connects to his bathroom, mind you— to the thought of you. Trust me. He doesn’t hate you.”

“You don’t— I’m sorry, what?” Your eyes are bugging out of your head and Chanhee grimaces in a way that tells you that he was not supposed to tell you that.

“Oops…”

“What do you mean he— Chanhee, what are you talking about?” Chanhee is already rising from your bed, grabbing his laptop, and sliding his shoes on.

“I think it’s time for me to get out of here,” he tells you with a tight smile on his face. He comes toward you though, holding the flier in his hand. “But, I really think you should call this number. Could really help you both, I think.”

When the door shuts behind your classmate, you sit in silence for a moment. A few moments, really, just holding the first flier that Juyeon ever gave you in your hand. There’s a little bit of water damage from the flooding, but the number in the middle of the page is still there. It’s almost ironic that Juyeon’s phone number is the only part of the advertisement that isn’t ruined, like something was telling you that you needed to call Juyeon.

Your phone rings once, then twice, and you hear the line click on the other side.

“Thank you for calling College Hunks, what junk can we haul for you today?”

It takes Juyeon a little over an hour to get to your apartment. By that point, you’d gathered anything that you didn’t want into trash bags and set them in your living room. Each bag is organized to an extent. Things to be recycled, to be donated, or just thrown away. Most of the items that needed to be thrown away were damaged when your apartment building flooded, each damaged beyond repair. Almost like fate, isn’t it?

There’s a knock on your door. One, two, three. Your hands are shaking a bit when you grab the door handle. One, two, th—

You practically rip the door open before Juyeon can finish knocking. He’s standing there, wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open. The outfit he’s wearing is the same as the day he first showed up at your door. White tank top, cargo pants, and some worn-out sneakers. For once, his hair isn’t styled. He’s parted it down the middle, a little bit of gel used to keep it from falling into his face too much.

“Hi,” you breathe out. It’s like Juyeon is stuck in a trance, his hand still frozen mid-knock and his mouth opening and closing like a damn fish. “You— do you want to come in?” Juyeon blinks.

“Uh…yeah, yeah sure.” You step to the side, allowing him to walk into your apartment. It’s awkward, to say the least. When you shut your door, the click makes both of you flinch and suddenly you’ve forgotten everything that you wanted to say to him.

“Is this—” Juyeon’s voice cracks a little bit, and he turns to face you but he doesn’t look you in the eye. “Is this everything?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “yeah it is. Needed to get rid of some stuff after the building flooded, you know?” You laugh, but he doesn’t and you’re quick to shut your mouth. Say something, dammit. Anything. Your mind is screaming, whether at you or Juyeon you aren’t entirely sure. “Juyeon, can we ta—”

“I should get started then,” he cuts you off and you grimace. “Got a couple of appointments today, so I can’t linger for long.”

“Right…” your voice trails off. “Yeah, I’ll get out of your way then.”

Plan A is a bust, then.

Juyeon moves quickly. You don’t know if it’s work ethic or if he wants to get away from you as fast as possible, but it stings. You don’t say anything to each other the whole time, not that you staying in your bedroom the whole time did anything to help the situation. You can hear him moving around, carrying bag after bag down to his car, but not once does he come to talk to you. Not even about the junk he’s carrying out.

Your forehead is against your desk, your eyes shut tightly as you try to block out the noise, knowing that he’ll be carrying out the last bag soon. The sound of your feet tapping on the ground is almost enough to drown out Juyeon, but not quite enough to drown out the knocking at your bedroom door.

Your head snaps up, and you spin around to face Juyeon.

“Hi,” he gives you a tight smile. “I just— I brought out the last bag so I guess— I guess I should go, huh?”

Don’t, you want to tell him, don’t leave yet.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You stand up and clear your throat. “Here, what’s your Venmo? I can send you some money.”

Juyeon shakes his head. “I already told you that you don’t have to pay me.”

“Yeah, you did,” you agree. “But I’d feel bad if I let you leave empty-handed.”

“I’m not leaving emptyhanded, though!” He argues. “I have your junk! Which, surprisingly, all fit into the trunk of my car.”

“Go you,” you cheer halfheartedly. “That’s not gonna stop me from paying you.”

“Pretty girl,” he warns. “I’m not gonna let you pay me.”

“Then I’ll get Chanhee to tell me your Venmo.” You grin and Juyeon rolls his eyes.

“You’re not gonna let this go, will you?”

“Nope,” you let the sound of the p pop when you say it and Juyeon lets out a dry laugh.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that right?”

“That’s the plan.” you look at him, and this time he’s looking right back at you. The awkward air has cleared, and it almost feels normal. Like it was prior to the kiss. God, please let Plan B work. “Are you gonna tell me what your account is, or am I gonna have to find some other way to pay you?”

There’s a spark of something in Juyeon’s eyes, and his eyebrows knit together. Please get it, please get it, please get it. C’mon Juyeon, don’t be dense.

“Some other way?” He echoes, and you mentally cheer when he steps toward you.

“Mhm!” You bob your head. “Like you said, there are other ways to pay you, aren’t there?”

He’s right in front of you now, and you swear you see him start to reach for you before he’s forcing his hands back down to his sides.

“You’re not—” he inhales and squeezes his eyes shut. “Please tell me I’m not misinterpreting this.”

“Depends on what you think I’m saying.” You smirk, and Juyeon starts to lean down, his eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips.

“What I think you’re offering,” he speaks slowly and you can feel his breath on your lips. “Is not exactly…appropriate, pretty girl.”

“And I think you’re right.” You’re practically whispering, every movement from your mouth causes your lips to brush against his and you’re so close to caving and just yanking him down to crush his lips against yours.

Thankfully, Juyeon moves fast and he’s grabbing you by the waist to yank you to him and your hands are in his hair by the time his lips are on your.

This kiss is heavier than the first. It’s messier and sloppier and his tongue is in your mouth, pushing at yours and licking at every nook and cranny that he can reach. You walk him backward to your bed. You don’t separate your mouths, not when you push him down onto your mattress, not when you sit on his lap with your legs on either side of him. Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving little crescents indented into his skin.

Juyeon groans at the stinging feeling, sliding his hands under your shirt and gently pushing it up. He does it slowly, giving you time to stop him, but you get impatient and shove him back until he’s lying down. His hands are still on your waist, and he’s watching with a hazy gaze as you lift your shirt over your head and throw it somewhere across the room.

“Shit, pretty girl,” he breathes out and tries to slide his hands up to your chest. You’re smirking when you slap his hands away.

“No touching yet,” you tell him and he groans in response.

“You can’t just do this and not let me touch you!” He whines. “It’s not fair!”

“You should’ve thought about that before you ignored me for a week,” you retort and he falls silent. “It’s fine, though. I’ll just get you back with this.” Your hands reach behind your back and you swiftly unclip your bra and throw that in the direction you’d thrown your shirt in. Juyeon’s hands lurch up to touch you again but you’re faster, grabbing his wrists and pinning them down to his sides with a click of your tongue.

“Y/N please,” Juyeon begs, his breath hitching in his throat when you leave him completely, and he can only watch as you unbutton your jeans and tug the rest of your clothing off. He’s practically drooling as he sits up, watching you undress for him. He watches you walk to your dresser, digging through your drawers for a moment before returning with a long piece of silk. “Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking joking.”

You laugh at his reaction and toss the silk onto the mattress behind him.

“Why would I be joking, Juyeon?” You stand between his legs, and you grin when he doesn’t even try to touch you this time. You can see the tent in his cargo pants and let your hands trace up and down his thighs. “Take off your shirt for me?”

There’s a dangerous look in your eye, one that Juyeon can’t find himself wanting to disobey and he’s lifting his shirt over his head without a second thought. Your eyes widen ever so slightly and Juyeon can’t help but smirk. He knows he’s attractive, knows that his body catches people’s attention and he’s proud of that.

With you, however, there’s something different about how you look at him. Something primal, like a predator looking at her prey and he shifts in his spot.

“Pants too.” He nods and rises to his feet again, tensing when you raise your hands. “What are you stopping for? Get moving, don’t you have other appointments to get to?” Your hands are tracing the lines of his abs, feeling the way he flinches at your touch. You continue to trace his body as he bends down to lower his pants and boxers to the ground. Your hands raise to the backs of his shoulders, to the back of his neck, and let them slip down to his pecs when he stands straight again.

You almost let yourself falter when you see his cock for the first time. It’s big, bigger than any you’ve taken in the past, and you can’t help but imagine what he’d looked like when he was thinking of you. Did he look as messy as he does now, eyes practically crazed, his breathing labored as he fisted himself? Did he watch himself in the mirror, imagining it was your hand instead of his own?

“So pretty, baby.” You breathe out, letting your hand drop down to wrap around his cock. He sucks in a breath, letting it out when he whines at the feeling of you running your hand up and down, squeezing at the base, and rubbing your thumb along the tip. “So pretty.”

You push him back again, releasing him from your grasp and following him as he slides up your bed. You take the silk in your hand, gesturing for him to put his hands above his head, tying the silk tightly around his wrists so he can’t get loose. Juyeon lets out another broken whine when you straddle him, running your fingers over your core and gathering the wetness on your fingers. You allow yourself to moan quietly, gauging Juyeon’s reaction to you touching yourself. He’s staring with his mouth hanging open, his cock twitching against his abdomen as he watches you sink two fingers into your core. He whines when your body shudders against him, when you curl your fingers up into you.

“Is this what you think about, Juyeon?” You try your best to keep your voice steady when you speak. “Do you think about this when you touch yourself? When you lock yourself in the bathroom, jacking off to the thought of me like some little virgin?” He doesn’t respond, too lost in the sight of you riding your own hand.

He doesn’t see you reach your free hand up, gasping when he feels you squeeze your fingers around his throat. Not too tightly, but enough to get his attention back on you.

“I asked you a question, baby.” You pull your fingers out of your dripping pussy, gazing at the arousal covering your hand and humming in thought. “I guess I should give a reason to not answer, shouldn’t I?”

“Please,” Juyeon whispers out, and you smile when you raise your fingers to his mouth.

“Go on then,” you tell him, “suck.”

His head lurches forward, taking your fingers into his mouth and moaning at the taste of you. He runs his tongue along your fingers, and you inhale sharply, your eyelids drooping when he tries to open his eyes, trying to watch and gauge your reaction.

“Cleanin’ me up good, hm?” You pull your fingers from his mouth and Juyeon takes this time to catch his breath, to gather himself. You don’t give him long though, no more than a few moments before you’re grabbing his cock in your dainty hand and lining it up with your pussy.

“Fuck,” Juyeon throws his head back, his hands curling into fists, and groaning as you sink down on him. Your walls are squeezing so tightly around him, and he knows it has to be a stretch for you but you act as if it was nothing for you, as if he didn’t hit that sweet spot inside of you just by you sinking down on him. You let your eyes drift shut, fighting back the urge to start riding him until he has nothing left to give you. You can feel him twitching inside of you, knowing that he’s close just from your warm walls squeezing around him. “Fuck, pretty girl, please.”

“Please what, baby?” You coo, the hand on his throat squeezing gently. He whines and you grin. “Use those words, pretty boy. You can do it.”

“Let me fuck you,” he gasps out and you let out a yelp when he thrusts his hips up and sends you falling over his body.

Your breasts are in his face now, and he doesn’t give you the chance to do anything before he’s bringing his arms down and trapping you against him as best he can. He thrusts his hips up, driving his cock into you at a pace that you couldn’t keep up with if you tried. He reaches his head up, his teeth latching onto one of your nipples and practically forcing you to follow him as he brings his head back down. Juyeon sucks at your breast, pinning your chest against his face with his arms that he’s brought to rest between your shoulder blades. Every one of his thrusts sends you up his body, but he does his damn best to keep you in place, sucking and licking and biting at both of your tits, groaning every time your cunt clenches around him.

You feel like you can’t breathe, the air being punched out of you in broken moans and pitched whines. Juyeon is in about the same state as you, the noises he’s letting out are louder than yours, more frequent, and it brings a fresh wave of arousal washing over you.

“Are you close, pretty boy?” You gasp out. “Gonna— gonna cum for me?”

“Fuck, yes,” He throws his head back, his hips stuttering against yours. You bring one of your hands down to your clit, rubbing furious circles into it, letting your walls flutter around him and drawing both of you closer to your orgasms.

When you cum, it has you seeing stars. Your orgasm has you crying out his name, has you clenching around him so tightly that he’s finishing not long after you. You sink your body back, rolling your hips gently over his and placing a firm kiss on his lips. Your tongue pushes into his mouth, swallowing the sounds he makes as he pumps white hot cum into your core. It’s less of a kiss this time, though, and more teeth gnashing together and biting at each other’s lips.

His hips slow down after a minute or two, and you let your body relax against his, reaching up to untie the silk around his wrists.

“Fucking finally,” he groans and lets his hands roam your sweaty body. “Thought I was gonna die if you kept me tied up any longer.” You laugh, letting your head drop to his chest.

“That’s what you get for making me wait.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes at you. “And you called me a try-hard.”

“Because you are, Juyeon.” You roll off of him, staring at your ceiling while you lay next to him on your mattress.

“Whatever you say, pretty girl,” he rolls his head to look at you with a cheeky grin on his face.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Your eyebrows knit together. He just keeps smiling. “What, stripper boy.”

“You know what all this means, right?” You shrug.

“That I have to go to all your parties now or you’re gonna hunt me down?” He laughs and you smile a bit.

“That, and I get to call you my girlfriend.”

“I never agreed to that.” You deny, turning on your side and facing him fully.

“Sure you did! It was at the very bottom of the flier I gave you.” He tells you.

“No, it wasn’t.” You frown.

“Yeah, it was!” He sits up, reaching for the second flier he gave you that had been placed on your bedside table. “See? Right there at the bottom in tiny font that I knew you wouldn’t pay attention to!” You squint at the words he’s pointing at and let out a scoff.

“Seriously, stripper boy? If your name is Y/N L/N and you redeem this offer, you are legally obligated to become Lee Juyeon’s boyfriend, whether you like it or not. Xoxo.” You push the paper back into his hands. "When did you even put this on there? We hardly knew each other when you gave me this flier."

“I told you!” He beams and lays back down. “You’re my girlfriend now.”

"Cute, but that doesn't answer my question, stripper boy." He digs his fingers into your side, pulling you closer to him, and grins.

"Does it matter?"

"I mean...I guess not?"

"Exactly."

“Does this mean that when we break up, I get half of all your assets?” He glares at you playfully.

“Fuck, no.”

“Damn…” you sigh and lay down with your head on his chest. “I guess I’ll have to put up with you for life then, huh?”

“Mhm.” He cards his hands through your hair, gently combing through the knots. “You excited to spend the next 75 years with me, girlfriend?”

“Not at all, boyfriend.”

“Yes, you are.”

“…Try-hard.”

1K notes · View notes

disneyprincemuke · 4 months

Text

is it just platonic?

alternatively: please stop flirting

in which she and logan can’t help but flirt with each other in public, but it’s always disregarded as them being mega best friends

(series masterlist)

“how has the weekend gone for you so far? have you visited any local ice cream parlours yet with oscar and logan?”

she smiles, pressing her lips together. “the weekend, as you can see, isn’t going that well for me. the car is feeling like it’s also a little under the weather, but hopefully it all comes together tomorrow in the third practice,” she sighs. “but no, i haven’t found the time to visit ice cream parlours yet. it’s been a pretty busy week.”

logan, who’s doing an interview next to her, pauses his own interview. he scooches closer to her and pokes his head towards her mic. “that’s because she was preoccupied with her sponsorship with dolce and gabbana!”

“oh, she’s the reason you’re deprived of the goodness of some local gelato goodness?”

“exactly.”

“yeah,” she laughs, rolling her eyes. “but, i’ve got to be looking good somehow — dolce and gabbana have got some of the best clothes!”

“oh, what are you wearing?” logan smiles, flicking his hands to get her to take a step back. “a good relationship’s been fostered after all your hard work, i see.”

“of course! i’m wearing their garden print — i just love flowers,” she beams, twirling around when logan makes the gesture with her hand. she takes a step forward and leans into the microphone. “thank you, dolce and gabbana for sponsoring me. if rihanna is watching this, i’m also begging for a sponsorship; your makeup lasts me entire races.”

“wow, the sponsor is sponsoring!” logan laughs. “she looks so pretty, doesn’t she?”

he looks away briefly, bending down to pet the black cat that has decided to walk up to him with its chin up, begging for some attention. when he looks back at his phone, comments continue to flood in as he livestreams.

“oh, you guys want to see (y/n)!” he beams, slowly getting up from his seat on the couch. “she’s been getting ready for media day for like… an hour now. she’s in her room.”

he knocks on her door, humming when she yells for him to come in. he flips the camera, showcasing his secret girlfriend in all her half-ready glory for the day they’ve got ahead of them.

“look at this pretty girl trying to be prettier!” logan compliments her, his hand darting out to squeeze her shoulder. “tell her to leave some ‘pretty’ for other girls, please!”

“oh, hey!” she smiles, her makeup brush in hand as she swipes on her cheek. she puts her hands down. “you’re live on instagram?”

“yeah.”

“oh, hi, you guys!” she shrieks, puckering her lips out to give the camera a kiss. “as you can see, logan’s being useless when he can simply just be in here with me helping me curl my hair.”

“don’t tell people i know how to do that!” logan frowns, flipping the camera back to him. he sighs when comments start flooding in about how sweet that gesture is. “don’t be fooled — she forced oscar and i to learn how to do her hair when she had a shoulder injury when she was 14. that’s the only reason i do her hair sometimes.”

“yeah! only when we’re late!” she giggles away from the camera. “he’s so thoughtful like that.”

the camera shakes, slowly being pulled away from logan with his confused stare. “show them your outfit too; give the people what they came for.”

she flips the camera, pointing it at logan who holds his arms out. “wow, look at this absolute fashionista for media day!” she jokes. “all the girls will be so all over him!”

“you’d be one of them, right?”

“of course! i’ve got priority in line, remember?”

kidy/n

🎵 taylor swift - king of my heart

liked by logansargeant, sebastianvettel and 49,967 others

kidy/n people don’t even ask to hang out anymore, they just barge into your room and take pictures of you and sit there in silence for hours

view 2,789 comments…

oscarpiastri people don’t even ask me to hang out anymore (i’m talking about you and logan)

user1 this is my thirteenth reason

oscarpiastri same lol

logansargeant MAAAAAYBE if u answered ur phone every once in a while idk

lilyzneimer they always ask me to hang out though

user2 hello song choice?

user3 i swear she’s dating someone but i just can’t place a finger on it

user4 wdym she’s dating logan (i’m delusional)

user5 nurse help

user6 no cause i need them to start dating for the betterment of my mental health

logansargeant lol but i take the best pics so like ???

kidy/n true u should quit f1 and be my fulltime photographer

logansargeant sending my resignation letter rn brb

williamsracing literally don’t do that

logansargeant i only take pics of things i find pretty

kidy/n k

user7 im guna need u to reciprocate the energy maam

user8 logan shooting nothing but airballs

user9 go girl give us nothing

user10 mOVE, white man, i saw hER FIRST

logansargeant photogenic people should always get their pictures taken

user11 thank u for ur service

user12 moving in with my best friend rn hoping they take pictures of me as good as this

kidy/n dont do it its a trap

logansargeant

🎵 5 seconds of summer - lover of mine

liked by kidy/n, oscarpiastri, alex_albon and 38,997 others

logansargeant people don’t even ask to hang out anymore, they just barge into your room and tell you to get up and be ready in 5 minutes

view 1,589 comments…

oscarpiastri yay i was invited this time

kidy/n by default

logansargeant i beat ur ass so bad u wished u hadnt come along

lilyzneimer i was on the winning team hehe

user1 thats a very y/n thing to do actually

logansargeant i know it’s just annoying becauseit’s her

kidy/n i know u didnt just say that

user2 oooooo the girls are fighting!!

oscarpiastri i brought my camera im ready

user3 the matching captions? sus 👁️

user4 ahh the voices are winning

user5 i cant do this again with u rn

kidy/n yeah he’s not original enough to come up with his own

kidy/n omg wow!! so athletic of u!!!

logansargeant if f1 ever doesnt work out 🤨

kidy/n not padel bc i kinda crushed u on the court lol

user6 i need video evidence of this happening

logansargeant I LET YOU WIN STOP TELLING PEOPLE U CRUSHED ME

kidy/n omg how do u still look so cute sweating and all!! a true superpower imo

user7 can u fight?

kidy/n no but u can have him if u want

user8 easier than i thought

kidy/n looking for hot single ladies in ur area?

alex_albon ?

user9 pick mE choose me love me

kidy/n look no further i’m right here baby girl

alex_albon did u just call a grown ass man baby girl

lilymhe romance isn’t dead

#logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #female driver #fem!driver #f1 female driver #f1 x you #f1 #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke ial #disneyprincemuke vr

458 notes · View notes

shewrites444 · 1 year

Text

over [xavier thorpe x reader smut]

[written by me and only me. i have been super busy so it's a little shorter than usual, but i hope you still enjoy lovies ( •̯́ ₃ •̯̀)]

PART 2 LINKED HERE

word count - 1.4k

[summary: the reader, a normie, works with xavier during his shift at their local coffeeshop, where she learns about his crush on his classmate, wednesday, and intends to help him forget about it.]

[warnings: risky, public, dirty talk, oral, fingering]

"yeah, he never shuts up about her. it's kind of cute, honestly. tyler likes her a lot."

"what, no way! i don't know how she can like such an asshole!" xavier shouts in frustration, rubbing his forehead and leaning his elbows against the counter while i watch with a giggle, setting down one of the mobile orders on the endpiece.

i shake my head and walk past him to grab the next ticket, playfully nudging at his side. the lovesick boy was fairly attractive, i'd admit, but he was head over heels for this girl, considering he was already drooling over her to me, his coworker during his pilgrim world volunteer hours.

"don't get so fed up about it, dude. if she wanted you, she'd make it clear. tyler said she can be confusing, so i'm sure she is probably messing with the both of you." i explain, grabbing the cold brew from the fridge. "you may have to play the long game and wait. i'd suggest not doing that though, to save your mental health, you know."

xavier sighed, handing me a lid for the plastic cup after i poured the ice in. "i don't understand how you're so casual, and brutally honest, about all of this. haven't you had a crush before, just one you can't forget about?"

"obviously, we all do." i say, placing the new drink next to the other. i turn to face him, crossing my arms and shrugging. "but i just forget about guys. they're either too emotional, or have no emotions at all. it's better to just be single, and alone. you should try it - you look miserable."

"gee, thanks, [y/n]. best coworker ever. can't wait to spend two more hours with such a nice, lovely girl." xavier rolls his eyes, pressing the back of his body against the counter and looking down.

i smirk, walking over to the boy and lean against the counter aside him. i glance down, laughing softly. "you'd be a pretty cool dude to talk to for the next two hours if you weren't so down bad for a girl who just uses you for that sherlock homes shit she's trying to do."

"she doesn't use me."

i quirk my brow, tilting my head and crosses my arms at his statement.

"okay, at times. but that doesn't make her a bad girl!"

i sigh, throwing my arms into the air playfully. "here we go again! xavier picking the worst girl to like."

"shut up." xavier grins, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned back up. "let me live in my fantasy to help me feel better. like you said, long game."

"mhm. have fun with that." i tease, as i watch another paper print for a mobile order and walk past xavier, grazing my side against him as i lean up to reach for the sheet. i can feel a heat in my body from what i just did, biting my bottom lip as i grab the sheet and press it against the cup, feeling a presence behind me and seeing a shadow formulating aside me.

i turn around to see him standing infront of me, his hands both pinned against the counter on each side of me. i scoff, rolling my eyes with a grin. "so you'll try to use me, like wednesday does to you, as a distraction for your overall goal, because you're bored. funny."

"and you'll try to use me, like every other guy, so that you're a little less lonely every now and then. funny." xavier tilts his head, looking down at me with a smirk. "and i bet you find it kinky or some shit that i'm an outcast, too."

i set the cup down, moving one hand down to press against his pants. "if that's what you think my definition of kinky is, then i'm honestly a bit offended."

"then what's your definition?" he says as he leans himself down, pressing his lips against the top of my ear. "why don't you show me."

"why don't you get on your knees then." i snap back, moving one of my hands to hold the back of his head and nudge him down, watching as he followed what i asked.

i watch his khaki pants hit the tile floor as he tucks his hair behind his ears before reaching over to my shorts, unzipping them and sliding them down to my ankles, before he sticks one of his fingers into his mouth and into my entrance. i gasp, moving one hand to his head to guide him more towards me.

his tongue attaches to my clit as he begins to suck on it, one finger pumping itself in and out of me while he looks up to me, our eyes locking before i look up to the ceiling, closing my own while he stimulates me. one of my hands holds his hair as the other rests on the counter, which reminds me of where i actually am.

my eyes widen and i look around, noting that no one is in the coffee shop but in a way, it turned me on to know xavier was willing to do this regardless of where we were. i feel him slide another finger inside, snapping me out of thoughts and back to the knot that was forming in my stomach.

"you like that, [y/n]?" xavier pulls away from my clit, leaning himself back up to face me, now towering over me, while he pushes my body against the counter, helping me get on top of it, my ass pressed against the cold counter while he pumps his fingers into my warmth.

i lean my head against the cabinet and nod, a grin on my lips. "maybe, but that doesn't matter. it's not enough for me."

he smirks, looking down to push a third finger inside without hesitation, taking his free hand to hold the side of my face while he begins to rapidly pick up his pace, glancing down at me with the same stupid smile printed across his face from cheek to cheek.

i grip the counter with both of my hands, leaning up to press my lips against his for the first time during this entire encounter. i open my mouth to allow his tongue in, feeling my own juices touch my tongue while we continue to make out.

he persists, obviously trying to get me to reach my climax, as he aggressively finger fucks me against the counter. i bite his bottom lip, letting a small moan slip between our lips, which causes xavier to grin immediately upon my slip up. i earn one back from xavier as i reach over to his pants, unbuckling the buckle with one hand and sliding my hand into to rub against his hard length through his black boxers. i feel the boy sink against me, weak from any form of my touch.

"you don't know what i'd do for you to fuck me, [y/n].. you're so fucking hot.. fucking hell..." he moans against my lips as he slows down his pace, pulling his fingers out of my slowly, and attaching his thumb to my clit as he begins to rub, pulling his lips away from mine and looking down to lock out eyes. "do you want me to fuck you? hm? i'd fuck you right here, i don't care who sees. you're so fucking hot."

i tilt my head, slowly closing my legs enough to where his thumb was still able to remain attached to my clit. if there was anything that turned me on, it was playing games. if he really wanted me, he wouldn't give up.

"i think we both have work to get to, xavier. don't you think?"

he pulls his hand away a few seconds after my words, his eyes wide as he watches me shut my legs and slide off the counter, leaning down to pull my pants back up.

"no way." he buckles his belt back, leaning against the opposite side of the counter as he crosses one leg over to hide the erection straining from his pants.

i grin, walking back over to grab a cup for the order that i was supposed to make who knows how long ago. as i scoop the ice, i glance to xavier. "you like teases, clearly. but if it makes you feel any better, your girl is definitely missing out. so act the way you acted with me, with her."

xavier stands up, walking towards me and handing me the milk for the drink, watching me pour it as he wraps one arm around my waist, leaning down to peck the side of my forehead.

"i think my interests lie somewhere else at the moment." he grins, his other hand snaking behind me to grab me by the jaw, moving my head towards him to meet our eyes. "so this isn't over."

#xavier thorpe smut #x yn #xavier thorpe #x reader #wednesday #wednesday series #netflix wednesday #smut writing #fanfic #wednesday fanfic #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe x reader

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thecutepoison · 1 month

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Guys, I'm kinda freaking out... we learned last episode that in the abscence of the previously estipulated successors, the position of principal of aguefort would fall upon the student's council president, right?

I'm going to state the obvious for a second. It's a given that Kipperlily is trying to win the election for more reasons than a personal achievement. She was 100% aware of the gap in the rules, which would mean Aguerfort's joke would be interpreted as the only manifestation of his will. This is the girl who said she's busy studying the student government and takes active joy in finding loopholes in the rules (like acing the year bc the rogue teacher found her).

But what is her angle here? It's a powerful position for sure, but the Rat Grinder's must be after something specific. So I started asking myself what specifically would help them in the plan of raising this Forgotten God from the dead. Aguefort's office must have dangerous items aplenty given the incident with the crown and his general personality. Do they want access to that?

Then it dawned on me.

Lydia Barkrock's body is under the fucking school.

For those who don't remember, in sophomore year it was revealed that Arthur Aguefort cloned Lydia while she was sleeping and placed her soul into a new body, hiding her original one in the depths beneath the school. Crazy ass move bc he did that without warning her, but that's what prevented Kalina from permanently killing Lydia in season 2 - upon the clone's death, she gained consciousness in her original body.

It's only fair to assume that Aguefort made this precaution again after sophomore year for the same reason: Lydia's death would entail Bakur's escape. And if Kipperlily is elected and becomes the principal... it's very likely she would have access to Lydia's original body since it's on school ground. Her vulnerable, unconscious body, the only thing preventing the fiend from escaping.

That's really bad, guys. Bakur knows how to do the divine ressurection ritual, he only failed because he picked the wrong place. But the Rat Grinders do know a place that would work!! Kipperlily specifically asked Jawbone about Yes! and he did tell her that this god was created by Kristen when she died in Prom and went to corn heaven. So, a god was born in corn heaven - that's why the Rat Grinders personally requested Buddy Dawn, a cleric of Helio. Maybe by using him, they can pass through the pearly gates to perform the ritual. After all, Arthur Aguefort did the same thing using Kristen.

Basically, if Lydia dies, all pieces fall in place for them. Together with Bakur, they have all the info necessary to pull this God from the Astral Plane back to existence. They would just have to kill her unconscious body and slay the clone holding her soul. What they lack right now is the access, which solved by gaining the position of principal.

PS: Also, there's a rat society under the school?? Perhaps it's close to where Lydia's body is localized?? Idk Brennan is insane

#maybe im just paranoid #i hope so #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #fh #d20 #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy theory #kipperlilly copperkettle #lydia barkrock #rat grinders

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seresinhangmanjake · 1 month

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Not Your Type: Part 2

Jake Seresin x goth girl!reader

Summary: Jake Seresin doesn’t usually have to try hard to get women, but the only woman to catch his attention in a long time doesn’t want anything to do with him.

Written in the form of sharing milestones of their relationship as it develops. For example - Day 1: the day they meet; Day 3x: the day they (...); Day 5xx: the day they (...); and so on.

Notes/Warnings: Jake being annoying but also desperate. Cursing.

Words: 2990

Full Masterlist

Day 14:

“What do we want for this round, girls?” Gemma asks. She stands, albeit a tad unsteadily, at the edge of your booth with her hands on her hips, ready to take your order as if the Hard Deck provides her with biweekly paychecks.

She’s been in California all of three days; she and Lola—friends from your hometown who were in desperate need of a change of scenery and accepted the offer of your extra bedrooms. And as usual, Gemma effortlessly embraced her new environment within the first twenty-four hours of her arrival. To onlookers, you imagine that of the three of you, she would be the assumed local.

“More of this fruity stuff, whatever it is,” Lola says around the thin straw clenched between her teeth as she nurses the current ‘fruity stuff’ in her glass.

Gemma looks to you with a raised brow, but you shake your head, tapping your nail against your soda cup. “I’m good.”

“Party pooper,” she playfully sighs, flipping a section of deep purple hair over her shoulder and turning in the direction of the bar.

Getting the drinks was meant to be your job—a welcoming treat after their exhausting move—but Gemma got a peek at the bartender, and by exercising the magical abilities that come with her smile, has spent half the night providing the three of you with free alcohol and fountain sodas.

“I’m the DD!” you call after her, but as is the case on most Friday nights at the Hard Deck, the volume of the room devours your voice before it can reach her.

“She’s gonna go after that bartender the second his shift is over,” Lola tells you. “Poor guy has no idea who he’s dealing with.”

“No,” you agree, chuckling and rapidly recalling the string of heartbroken men who would reach out to you or Lola in the hopes of getting ahold of Gemma after she’d ghosted them. “But they never do, and unfortunately, they never learn.”

“You know, I’ve been told I’m a phenomenal learner,” you hear, but it’s a much deeper sound than the curly-haired woman at your side is able to produce. The unexpected addition makes the sip of soda in your mouth travel down the wrong pipe, throwing you into a coughing fit.

“Oh, shit,” the voice rushes out, snatching a napkin from the next booth and thrusting it in your face. You take it to muffle the sharp choking noises fighting their way out of your windpipe. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You scold yourself for not realizing he was here before he made himself known. It was almost two hours ago that you began feeling that same burning sensation from a couple of weeks ago, but you thought little of it, having scanned the room for him when you first arrived at the bar. You even opted to sit facing the front door, figuring you wouldn’t miss it if he entered, but he still managed to sneak in. He still found you. He still affects you.

As you recover your breathing, he extends his hand past you toward Lola. “I’m Jake.”

“Lola,” she replies, shaking his hand as she glances at you.

You let out a final cough, dabbing a napkin at the corner of your mouth then wiping it just under your waterline to pick up your tears. “Fuck,” you mumble.

“Name a time and a place, sweetheart, and I’m all yours.”

Lola snorts with her lips around her straw. Her following giggle makes air bubbles burst from her shallow glass. Stray droplets splash onto the table, a few soaking into the sleeve of your top.

You have no time to decide who is more deserving of your glare—Traitor Friend or Ken Doll—before Gemma’s return. As she slides into the seat opposite yours, she’s so focused on keeping liquids from sloshing over rims that she doesn’t notice the intruder.

“Fruity thing for Lo,” she pushes the glass to Lola who eagerly accepts a fresh drink, “spicy thing for me, and, tragically, nothing for the DD.”

When she finally senses the vibe at the table—greatly altered from what she left behind a few minutes prior—she turns her head. The surprise in her expression settles into subtle excitement as she rakes her eyes up Jake’s body to his face. With that wicked smile of hers, she plants her elbow on the wooden surface and rests her chin atop the back of her hand.

“And what would you like?” she teases in a low, seductive tone.

“Just a chance to talk with your verbally vicious friend,” he says, jutting his chin in your direction.

“This is Jake,” Lola informs her.

“Jake?” Gemma questions you, cocking her head in genuine curiosity. “You’ve never mentioned a Jake.”

“He isn’t worth mentioning.”

Jake smirks through the jab. “You know, you don’t have to repeatedly stab me in the chest.”

“You’re the one who keeps standing in front of my knife,” you shoot back, crossing your arms.

There’s not a single uttering from the group of four as Lola and Gemma stare at you and Jake staring at each other. Neither of you is willing to break eye contact, and the tension becomes heavy, like rich honey—thick enough to drag your finger through.

“Can we talk privately?” Jake then asks, that smirk still in place. He looks away from you only to address your friends. “You ladies don’t mind if I borrow her, do you?”

“Not at all,” Gemma answers, each word out of her mouth a little less crisp than the last. “As long as you borrow me next.”

“Gemma!” you snap. “Not this one.”

“But he’s so hot,” she whines.

“I’ll cut you off.”

She gasps. Then her bottom lip protrudes in a pout, and her hands cradle her glass as she pulls it closer to her chest protectively.

“That’s a very flattering offer, if we can call it that,” Jake says. “However, that guy over there, the one with the outdated mustache,” he steps aside and points to the friend you recognize from the other night. The brunet’s cheeks redden and he quickly jerks his head in the opposite direction of Gemma’s prying gaze. “He’s been having a hell of a time trying to keep his eyes off you tonight. Just can’t help himself.”

Jake shakes his head, clicks his tongue, and faces your table again. “Honestly, I know the feeling,” he says. His eyes connect with yours, puzzle pieces locking together until the burn starts to sear too deep and you have to look away. “It’s a tough spot to be in,” he continues. “And I can’t in good conscience move in on the girl whose laugh has made another man blush three times within the last hour.”

Just like that, Gemma is over Jake. Other than the pang of relief you feel, you don’t think anything of her swift attention shift until five seconds, then ten, then fifteen pass without her ceasing her careful examination of Jake’s friend.

“Will you come with me?” Jake asks you. “I promise I won’t keep you long.”

You chew on your lip, trying to ignore his pull.

“Lola, you think she should come with me, right?” he says.

Lola doesn’t glance his way as she runs her finger along the rim of her glass to collect the leftover grains of sugar. “Secondary locations are very suspicious, Jake,” she says before pressing her fingertip onto her tongue.

“We won't go far.”

Lola raises a brow at you and you sigh. “He's annoying but I'm pretty sure he's safe,” you tell her.

Jake smiles; another thing you don’t have to see to know it’s there. You feel that grin just from its power alone.

Standing, you straighten out your skirt, your fingers running down the dark material that flares from mid-waist to mid-thighs. Your belt is purely decorative, with consecutive overlapping chains that wrap around the band of your skirt and a tiny, crescent moon charm that dangles a bit lower than the rest. As you adjust the belt so the charm rests where it is supposed to at your hip, you catch Jake’s fixed stare on your movements.

You don’t know what he’s thinking. You remind yourself that you don’t care.

“I'll be back in a minute, Lo,” you promise. “Gem, do you intend to blink any time soon?”

Gemma doesn’t turn. Jake’s friend has found a bit of boldness and no longer avoids her eyes. “No,” she says, waving you off. “Have fun.”

Jake tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I was thinking the deck since it's on the beach.”

Ignoring his suggestion, you begin to walk in the direction of the front door. He follows into the chill of Evening’s breeze and you suck in a refreshing breath. Was it always so suffocating in there?

“Ok, what do you want?” you ask once you’ve walked far enough to avoid blocking the entrance.

Jake remains a good six feet from you. His hands haven’t left his pockets. “To apologize, for starters,” he says.

“For?”

“Bothering you the other night.”

“So you decided to bother me again tonight?”

Jake’s lips part to respond, but he pauses, mouth snapping shut. Glancing down at the gravel by your boots, his brow pinches as his actions sink in. “Ok, ‘bother’ wasn't really what I was going for a second time around, but in hindsight–”

“If that was just your starter, what’s the rest?”

He looks at you with a tick of false innocence that rapidly dies under the weight of mischievousness, and you prepare yourself for what he’s about to deliver. “Maybe I shouldn’t say,” he teases, smile budding, teeth showing. “Maybe I should prolong the suspense.”

You fold your arms over your chest. “Do you remember what I said about wasting my time?”

“Something about my ego suffering the consequences,” he replies. “Even though you’ve had my ego in a choke-hold since you threw around that whole ‘I’ve noticed you but you’ve never noticed me’ thing.”

That, you didn’t expect. You didn’t expect him to remember everything you’d said, or care. But neither did you expect him to approach you after that night, so you suppose he’s full of surprises. You're just not sure if you like them.

“Oh?”

He nods. “Yea, that one…that one was a thinker, for sure. Haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, actually.”

“Why?”

He sighs and drops eye contact. Like it’s too hard to maintain. Like he’s ashamed or confused or contemplating, or all three. Then he wets his bottom lip with a dart of his tongue; he draws that lip between his teeth, biting down; he barely shakes his head before he rejoins your gazes.

“Because I look at you now, and I don’t understand how it was possible,” he admits.

Your breath hitches. Your heartbeat trips, tumbling over itself, and you will it to find its proper pace before you dare open your mouth.

“Anyway,” Jake says to fill the gap that was meant for your response, “I also wanted to ask you out. On a date.”

You blink hard. Long beats snail along as you process the lunacy of that statement. “Has anything I've said to you indicated that I would ever agree to a date?”

He shrugs. “No, but it was either try once more and see if I have a chance with you, or don't try at all.”

For a man you’ve witnessed succeed in his every attempt at wooing women until you, you won’t deny that what he’s doing is gutsy and, you suppose, unworthy of being shamed. He’s resilient, determined, and you have great respect for perseverance, but in this case, it's not sufficient to rearrange your perception of him.

“Do you even know my name?” you ask. “I never told you.”

He smiles; not broadly, not boastfully, but gently, sweetly, as if reliving a memory. “I asked Penny after you left that night,” he tells you. “It’s beautiful. Suits you.”

Your woven arms tighten, pointed nails digging into your bicep. Don’t shiver, you command your body. Don’t show the tingling chill he just shot up your spine and through your limbs. You try swallowing through the ghost-like grip he suddenly has on your throat. The light grasp of wispy fingers that don’t aim to choke, but simply rest around the column. Possessive but not controlling. Also not really there. And you don’t appreciate the growing strength of his power to touch you without you being within reaching distance.

The problem is, men don’t compliment you. Well, they do, but not like this. They compliment tits and ass and legs and face. They compliment clothes that they imagine ripping off, and makeup they hope they can ruin by the end of the night. Your name doesn’t often come to mind, and the ones who do ask for it, don’t ever use it again. That’s part of why you didn’t give it to Jake when he had asked.

And then he went over your head. Fuck this guy.

“Before you say anything else—I’m willing to earn it.”

Your brows raise halfway up your forehead. “You're willing to earn it,” you repeat. “Why? You don't know me, and I have a feeling you understand that using me to prove some kind of point to yourself or your friends will only get you castrated.”

“I wouldn't have guessed castration, specifically, but that does seem in character,” he says.

He steps closer. His arm moves toward you, hand prepared to plant itself on your forearm, but at the last second, he thinks better of it and drops that limb back to his side. His fingers ball into a fist that tightens and loosens and tightens and loosens. He doesn’t know that you see him doing it, and then it stops. “Look, when you said that you're not my type, you were right. You were right. You're not right anymore. You only weren't my type because I'd never seen you before.” He takes a breath. “But I know I could swear that up and down, right here, right now, and you wouldn't believe me; not really; maybe not at all. So I have to prove it, don't I? I have to earn it.”

He seems to have forgotten that you know, and have known, who he is for months. Observation reveals more about a person than getting to know them firsthand. The Observed can’t pick and choose what they share with you to aid their desires and goals. In their cluelessness, they lose all defenses, all illusions, and Jake is no exception.

You’ve watched him pursue and flirt and conquer. You’ve watched him in the aftermath of the pursuing and flirting and conquering. You’ve watched his strategy of radiating cockiness to draw them in. There are the laughs, the winks, the tamed touches that bring out blushes, all of which join together until it’s the woman—and all of the near carbon copies of that woman—who takes the lead, pulling him into the bathroom or onto the back deck or out the front door. He’s tricky like that, but you’re not easily tricked.

“Have you considered that maybe you are not my type?” you ask.

“I have, actually. It was a very troubling thirty seconds.”

“Thirty seconds of consideration?” Your head tilts. “Is that all?”

Jake acknowledges the offense you’ve taken. He doesn’t apologize but the disappointment in himself is palpable enough to satisfy you. But then he says, “Would you have come out here if you weren't attracted to me?”

And now you’re disappointed in yourself, because, no, you wouldn’t have come with him if you weren’t attracted to him. Attraction and curiosity convinced you more than his words, and therein lies the problem. One problem. One of many.

“I shouldn't have.”

“But you did,” he says. His tone is low but it packs the punch of an exclamation point. You’re going to be hearing it for days. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

You sigh and let your arms unweave, falling at your sides. “I…” you begin, but you shake your head. You need to say this right. “Attraction is basic. It’s human. It’s all up in our personal space at all times. If that counted for anything, I’d be dating half of the usuals in the bar.”

You know the same goes for him. He finds a new woman to be attracted to whenever he walks into the Hard Deck and you’d be hard-pressed to believe that doesn’t extend to every room he enters. So you leave it at that and twist on your heel to head back inside.

You hear a crunch of gravel as he takes a step after you. “Will you at least think about it? Please.”

Not stopping to answer, you reach for the handle of the door. “Have a good night, Jake,” you toss over your shoulder.

Being inside the bar does not stop your heart from thumping or your mind from racing through a jumble of thoughts that are no easier untangled than the voices around you, and it’s too much. So to avoid exhausting yourself, you shove those thoughts aside in favor of directing your attention to more important things, like one-third of your trio missing from the booth.

“Where’s Gem?”

Lola nods her head and you follow.

Across the bar, Gemma has Jake’s dark-haired friend leaning against the wall, her palms braced on his chest. One of his hands rests at her waist and the other is at the side of her neck just under her jaw, his fingers hidden by the curtain of her hair. There’s an oddness to their kissing. It is very non-Gemma kissing. They kiss freely like no one is around, but it’s not an attack of teeth and lip tugging or sloppy tongues; it’s slow, sensual. It clashes with the room.

“I was gone for five minutes,” you say.

Lola shrugs. “She only needed four.”

---

tags: @kmc1989 @wkndwlff @dempy @sagittarius-flowerchild @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @averyhotchner @rosedurin @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @ssa-sadboi @buckysteveloki-me @whatislovevavy @dreamlandcreations @memoriesat30 @harrysgothicbitch @yvonneeeee @gg-trini

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #jake seresin x goth girl!reader #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fanfiction #tgm #tgm fic

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plotsignificanthaircut555 · 20 days

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Bad First Impression

dealer! reader x first time stoner! Choso SMUT, 18+ MDNI

Choso makes a really bad first impression on you after catching you selling to his younger brother. When he finally apologizes, he reveals he has never gotten high. You two change that. and then....ya know....

8.9k words of pure filth. I wrote this because I was horny and high and reminiscing about my dealing days. support your local drug dealer. Enjoy. ao3

content warnings- SEX, drug use, subby choso, kind of in charge reader, choso has a tongue piercing because i made it up, riding, eating pussy, a lot of talk about spit, like a lot, also a lot of talking about smell, again its nasty (im kind of on my high horse about weed, sorry, )

You met Choso a few weeks back. The air was hot and thick inside of the long ranch house. Bodies packed together, music blaring, lights of all colors and strobe speeds dancing through the space. You had been invited by the party's hosts to help “supply” the partiers with anything and everything that could keep them going all night. You didn’t deal in anything that hard, mostly weed, mushrooms, you could get acid easily if it were requested of you, occasionally you helped distribute the stray gram or two of coke for nights like this. But you tried to cap your work in hard drugs there. That night you were only holding ten or so pre rolls, and a quarter of unground flower, ready to help any first timers learn the process of smoking all the way from the beginning. You had already sold the single gram of coke you had been asked to bring with you, mostly to the wilder of the pair, who was currently grinding so hard with his boyfriend, the other host, that you were beginning to worry they’d lose their clothes soon. A few other lines had gone out earlier in the night, their users sweating away on the dance floor in front of you. You didn’t partake yourself, but you enjoyed seeing the results of your labor in their smiling, energized faces.

You kept to the side for now, sipping a warm light beer out of a flimsy solo cup. A hand tapped your shoulder and you turned to face a fresh faced girl with a cute auburn bob.

“Hey you’re the …..dealer….?” She kept her voice low when she uttered the street name of your profession

You matched her hushed whisper, “yeah. But you don’t have to whisper. Everyone here is already pretty fucked up. Anyone undercover would certainly have incriminated themselves.”

You were intending to make her laugh and put her at ease but she looked a bit panicked, smiling wryly with big wild eyes.

“I’m joking, babe.” You smiled at her, “what do you need?”

She giggled a bit, exhaling her anxiety, “I was hoping you had some more pre rolls for my friends and I?”

She gestured behind her to a pink haired guy and a taller black haired guy standing off to the side. The two of them were watching her nervously, but trying to remain cool, turning away quickly when you looked, one of them even whistling to convey his faux nonchalance. These kids are freshmen for sure.

“Sure.”, you nodded at her friends and at her before opening your bag and pulling the jar of pre rolls you kept sealed, for maximum freshness.

You picked through them briefly, “how many do y’all want? Are you guys pretty heavy smokers or still getting the hang of it?”

“We’ll-uh— I guess just whatever you smoke? I’m sure that’s good.” She shrugged, clueless.

No chance they could take what you take.

You pulled two of your lowest level strains. These kids were for sure just figuring out what they liked and you didn’t want them greening out in the middle of the party. Both because you had your own memories of over serving yourself and spending the subsequent eighteen hours truly and utterly miserable and you didn’t want to potentially cheat yourself out of three eager new customers.

“Why don’t you start with this, I’ll give you the second one as a freebie for your first time. it’s Zelato, mid strength hybrid strain, you won’t be too up but you won’t be couch-locked either. I think you guys will like it. If you do, you come back and see me, okay?”, you offered her the two pretty pink pre rolls along with your contact info and she gave you a clean crisp bill in exchange before fluttering back to her friends.

You watched the trio excitedly hurry out to the backyard, like kids on Christmas wanting to play with a shiny new toy fresh out of the box. You liked the job, you enjoyed gathering more and more knowledge about strains and terpenes and sharing what you had learned with your customers. Patients felt like a better term, but it also felt a bit self congratulatory. But it felt true, you loved how natural weed was, it made you feel more like a botanist or a healer than a pharmacist. Still helping people manage anxiety, pain, depression, or just to have a fun night and relax, but without all the side effects and the regulation.

You hoped she and her friends would call on you again. They seemed nice and like they could use someone like you. Especially if they were already experimenting with drugs and partying, it helps to have a dealer you can trust. One that isn’t just wanting to make money, but wanting to educate as well.

You were considering heading outside to smoke a joint of your own, a treat after a job well done. You would probably bail soon, the party seemed to be declining from its apex, and soon your services would no longer be needed. Before you could turn to head to the back yard you felt a strong hand clap around your shoulder. This was so different from the timid shoulder tap of your earlier customer, it almost made you laugh. You didn’t laugh, however, at the grip that stayed on your shoulder, pale knuckles clasped tight around your bone.

You followed the hand up the arm and finally turned to face your assailant. Dark, angry eyes ringed with smudgy purple eyeshadow met yours. A large black bar was tattooed across the bridge of his nose, in the dim, colored party lights you thought it almost looked red. His dark hair was messily tied up in two knots on either side of his head, you thought you could see piercings up along the sides of his ears and he was irate, staring right into your eyes, his lips were moving but you were so stunned and the music was already so loud, you couldn’t hear what he said. You found yourself opting to watch his mouth move for a moment, admiring the fullness of his lips, and the wicked snarl they held.

He was hot. Like really hot. But who the fuck did he think he was grabbing you like this?

You came back to your senses and smacked at his wrist, “back off, dude.”

“Did you sell drugs to my little brother?” He repeated, and this time you heard him. His voice was rough and low, he didn’t release your arm, instead gripping tighter.

“I don’t know who your brother is, I don’t know who you are. Get your fucking hand off of me, asshole.” You gripped his wrist tight and tried to pull it from you. Your touch was like nothing to him, this guy was strong.

He didn’t let up, gesturing behind him with his other hand to the pink haired boy from earlier, red faced with embarrassment,“The fucking kid that you sold drugs to. He’s not even twenty and you’re trying to dope him up?”

“Dope him up? What are you, ninety? Get the fuck off of me” Finally you pulled his hand off of you and pushed him back, hard.

“He’s still a kid, he doesn’t need your shit. Stay away from him.”

He had stepped too far by insulting your craft.

“I never even spoke to your brother, his friend is the one who bought it. Take it up with them if you have a fucking problem.”

The boy, the brother you now knew, and his two friends rushed up, trying to deescalate the quickly rising situation. People around you were starting to take notice.

“Choso, come on relax, we were just experimenting a little. It’s not anything crazy! Everyone smokes weed in college!” Little Brother tried to laugh off the stakes of the situation but his trembling voice betrayed him.

The man in front of you hadn’t stopped glaring at you, he seemed to be calming down a bit, but you could practically hear his blood boiling.

“Yuji, I told you not to come here. You’re here to study, not to mess around and get high.” He barked at his younger brother, who seemed to crumple lightly.

You were seeing an opportunity for a somewhat graceful exit so you started to withdraw, “sounds like this is a family affair, so I’m gonna head. Fuck you, don’t grab random women you don’t know. Kid, your friend has my card if your cop brother decides to let up.”

With your last comment you glared back at the older brother, before turning and leaving the party, Choso seething in your wake, anger now directed at the trio instead of you.

You figured that would be the end of it. That asshole ruining your night and probably never getting another sale out of those three. It was a week later that you got a message from the girl, Nobara, who you had spoken to. She wanted to buy again and you set up a date with her to come by your place and pick up from you. She seemed apologetic in her texts, but you couldn’t blame the girl, you were just thankful she reached out again.

It wasn’t until you opened the door that you realized why she had sounded so sorry. Swinging open your front door you were met with the same asshole who had been bouncing around in your mind making you furious again and again, it was a set up.

“Fuck off.” You slammed the door in his face, locking it loudly.

He knocked before speaking through the thick wood of the door, “I’m here to apologize.”

Yeah, right.

“Don’t care. You can go.” You were already retreating from the door, pissed that not only did you have to see this clown again, but you wouldn’t be getting the money from the deal you had lined up.

“Please let me apologize. I was way out of line. Yuji asked me to come here. Yuji’s my brother, from the party, please I want to apologize.” His voice came muffled from the other side of the thick wooden front door.

He sounded…..desperate. Embarrassed, maybe even ashamed. It wasn’t okay that he grabbed you, yelling at you without even knowing what had happened, but you couldn’t help but think he sounded genuine.

Kicking yourself already, you unlocked the door and opened it. He looked pitiful; big, brown eyes that once were so angry, now turned down giving him the look of a hurt dog. You could see now, in the light, that he had dark bags under his eyes as well, he looked like he had barely slept. His hair was down instead of pulled up like the other night, it hung in loose waves, stopping right at his shoulders. The black tattoo across his face was somehow less threatening, it looked almost like a bandage. The makeup from the other night was present again but softer somehow. You should have been so mad, you should have yelled at him for putting his hands on you and demeaning your work. But seeing him like this, you couldn’t help feeling bad for him. You opened the door and he looked down at you. He was taller than you remembered, a head or so above you. You met his eyeline and leaned against your door frame, crossing your arms in an attempt to maintain your cold demeanor despite how quickly you were forgetting why you had been angry.

“I never went to college.” He blurted, your face must have betrayed your confusion because he elaborated, “I don’t really know how it’s supposed to work. I guess drugs and parties and whatever are part of it. I overreacted. I want to make sure Yuji has a future and a good one, he was the one who deserved to go to college and I didn’t want him to mess up his chance. But that’s not fair. He deserves to have the full experience and I can take that from him.” He huffed out the last part quickly.

You raised your eyebrows. His admission was wandering and full of half offerings that you could piece together to create a clear-ish picture of an older brother pushing his younger brother to try his best and remain undistracted. You could empathize with that, but it doesn’t give him a pass to put his hands on you.

“I told him not to go to that party, I know the guys who were throwing it and I don’t want them taking advantage of him. Yuji’s a really great kid and he’ll go out of his way for pretty much anyone, and I didn’t want to see him get involved with people who don’t care about him. So I went to the party to bring him home, but when I saw him and his friends smoking I figured they had already started working him over and I took it out of you instead of them. I should never have grabbed you like that, or spoken to you like that. I’m sorry.” The words spilled out of him like a boiling over pot, fast and bubbly, quickly falling back to a simmer once out.

Choso looked lighter, still hanging on anxiously at the prospect of forgiveness, but lighter after bearing part of his soul to you. His hands that had been clenched into fists at his sides now hung freely, shoulders dropping slightly with less tension pinning them back. You felt lighter too, clearly the other night had been a misstep, and he obviously felt terrible.

Now that you felt saited in your week old anger, you could finally allow yourself to acknowledge how hot he was. Your anger towards being harassed had distorted your memory of him, he was tall and toned. You would have guessed he was a swimmer or did some kind of daily work that kept him in such incredible shape. The T-shirt hanging loosely over him was cropped enough to end right at his hips, a small sliver of skin peeking out underneath. He wore a simple pair of dark jeans and boots, nearly identical to what he had been wearing at the party. In the daylight you could see he did have a few piercings in each ear, hoops through his earlobes, silver barbells riddling asymmetrically along each ear's cartilage. His nose was strong and structured, lips full and pouted. You had never seen a tattoo like his before, obstructive and obvious right across the bridge of his nose, pure blackout work.

God that had to hurt.

“Why didn’t you go to college?” You pried, resting the top of your head on the doorframe as you looked up at him.

He looked surprised but shrugged, tucking his hands into his pants pockets, “Families are….complicated, I guess. When our parents died, I wanted to be there to look out for Yuji. He was always special, if either of us deserved to have an education, he would have been the one to do something with it.”

You couldn’t help but feel moved. This guy had quite the sob story, dead parents, a younger brother he was the caretaker of, it was noble for him to have sacrificed his own aspirations to support those of his brother. You admired it. A silence settled in between the two of you, wind rustled the trees outside of your house, you could see the chill set over Choso, he had turned his gaze to the ground, jaw set, hands still in his pockets.

“You want to come inside?” You opened the door more, allowing him to see inside.

He cocked his head a bit at you. You couldn’t blame him, you had told him to fuck off the moment he got here, and now you were inviting him inside. Still confused he nodded finally and you moved aside to let him in. He stepped in tentatively, as he passed you you could smell something metallic and organic, like wood stain or metal grease. He stood awkwardly in front of your door as you closed it.

“The smell is kind of…intense in here.” He cleared his throat.

“Right, I’ve gone a little nose blind to it. I hope it doesn’t bother you too much. Would you like anything? Water, coffee, I don’t know if you like tea. I have some beer or something like that if you’re feeling like drinking at 2pm.” You offered, realizing you didn’t actually know why you had invited him inside. Sure, he had looked cold but really you didn’t want him to leave yet.

“Coffee, if you have it.” He perked up a bit.

“Always.” You walked over to your small kitchenette.

You lived in a one bedroom. It really should have been considered a studio, but technically your bedroom did have a door. The living area, entryway, and kitchen were basically all one large room. You had a brown couch along the wall next to the door facing the tv, an afghan blanket draped over the back, a low coffee table in the middle covered in various hobbies of yours: books, your bong, half done crafts. A two chair dining set sat mostly unused against the far window across from the front door, you never sat there unless you were working, you took nearly all your meals in front of the tv. A bad habit you knew you should avoid, but just couldn’t bring yourself to break.

Your bedroom was off to the left, with the bathroom attached behind the door. It was a pain to have guests over, knowing they would have to walk through your bedroom in order to use the restroom. But it was a good incentive to keep your room tidy! You were suddenly thankful your anger had fired you up to do some cleaning this week, grumbling to yourself while folding laundry, “another thing-s” and “if he fucking tries again-s” leaving you as your scrubbed the bathroom and made your bed.

Choso was still standing, watching you, hands in his pockets.

“You can sit down if you like,” you nodded towards the couch, pulling two mugs down from where they hung above your sink.

You heard the sounds of his clothes rustling, some jewelry jingling, and the creek of your old couch adjusting to new weight. You tried to stay focused on pouring the coffee, pulling some sugar packets from a small drawer beside your coffee maker.

“Black is fine for me.” He piped up from the couch, he was sitting so stiffly, hands folded in his lap, back straight, thighs rigid as if just his presence would break something.

You dressed your coffee how you liked and grabbed his black cup and brought them over to the coffee table, sitting next to him. You sipped your coffee, watching him take his time doing the same.

“So if you didn’t go to college…” you started carefully, “how do you know Geto and Gojo?”

“Geto and I used to work together. Before he went back to school. He’s not a bad guy, neither of them are.” Choso held his mug close to his lips, he was being so honest, you got the sense he struggled with hiding his feelings. Hence the temper.

“Earlier, when I said I didn’t want Yuji around them. It’s not about them. They’re fine guys. I just don’t want Yuji getting distracted.” His voice was even and firm, he really did sound like someone’s parent.

“I get that. Those two…they’re kind of their own breed. I know what you mean.” You leaned back a little on the couch, letting one leg cross over the other.

Gojo and Geto were intense, and they had a reputation for throwing wild parties and nearly getting kicked out every year. You let the camaraderie of shared secrets hang between the two of you before pressing further.

“So I take it you and Yuji had a talk about casual drug use?” You couldn’t help but smirk a little, taking a mental tally of the bong on the table, the joints rolled and packaged on your dining table, the bag of flower tucked beside your tv.

Choso let out a strangled laugh, clearly an unfamiliar sound for him, “yeah he uh…he kinda let me have it. I know I made an ass of myself, but I didn’t realize how much I had embarrassed him.”

You joined his laugh thinking of the smiley, awkward kid laying into his much more intense older brother.

Choso turned his body toward you, “look, it’s not you. It’s not even the drugs. I just don’t want him losing himself to anything before he has the chance to figure out who he is and what he wants. I don’t want him stuck with something when he’s just barely starting his life.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that left you. Quickly it progressed to a fit of laughter. Choso was not laughing, he was watching you laugh at him. Something serious that he had shared with you, a real fear and concern of his that you were now cackling at. You could see the hurt in his face start to give way to anger again, and you came down from your fit.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I get what you’re saying, but don’t you think you’re kind of overreacting. It’s just weed, he’s not shooting up in alleyways. He’s not dedicating his life to anything, he’s just relaxing and having a little fun with his friends.”

“It’s my job to make sure he stays focused and I don’t see how smoking is going to help him.” He crossed his arms, starting to get agitated.

“Seriously? A little weed, a big cup of coffee, and you feel like you could knock out all the work you’ve been putting off for weeks. It can help you get rid of all that noise in your head that makes little tasks feel big and scary. You know what I mean?” You were a little on your soapbox now, but when he shook his head silently it dawned on you.

“You’ve never tried it?” You marveled at him. He had to be 26 or 27, and he hadn’t tried it once?

He shrugged again, “I don't really have a lot of free time, I guess?”

You gasped happily, suddenly all the anger was erased under a new beautiful light of discovery.

“Choso, you have to try it. If anyone needs it, it’s you. All that responsibility, you’ve got to be stressed out, give yourself an hour or two to get away from it. You’ll love it.” You had moved onto your knees now, energy shooting up your body.

“I don’t know…”He was smiling despite himself, hesitation in his voice but excitement leading the charge.

“ If you try it, and really try it, right now and afterwards tell me you hate it, we can forget all about this and we’ll be square and I won’t sell to Yuji and his friends anymore.” You offered already thinking about whether a joint or glass would be better for him, “but if I’m right and you like it, I get a new customer and you get completely forgiven for the other night.”

Choso looked into your winde, eager eyes and felt his reservations melt, how could he say no.

“Okay. Just a little.” He agreed, finally cracking a smile onto that stern, beautiful face.

An hour later, one coughing fit from him attempting to use a bong, and half of a joint later, you and Choso sat side by side on your couch beautifully high. Smoke hung thick in the room, his head was leaned back against the back of your couch, his ropey neck on full display, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed again and again trying to wet his dry mouth.

You rested your head on your wrist, watching him grapple with the high for the first time. You had turned some music on, something low and vibey, just to keep up the ambience and avoid any paranoia brought on by old house noises or -god forbid- silence itself.

“Did you want some more water?” You offered, gesturing to his mostly full cup that he had kept forgetting about.

He sat up slowly, “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Leaning forward, he grabbed the cup and drank it down furiously, wayward droplets spilling out of the sides of his mouth. You watched closely as the little stream of water slipped between his lips, down the side of his chin, across the cut of his jaw, and down the column of his throat, passing the chain he wore and trailing underneath the neckline of his t-shirt. Your mind raced before you could catch it, you imagined how it would feel to slide your tongue up its wake, the cool water contrasting against his hot, flushed skin.

Quickly blinking away the fantasy, you saw he was looking back at you. He had been watching you, his dark brown eyes moving all over your face in an unreadable expression.

Could he read your mind? Could he tell how you had been imagining him?

He finally blinked and looked away, drawing in a breath and leaning forward to place the glass back on the coffee table, “Sorry.”

Before you could brush away the apology he continued.

“So how long have you been…..doing this?” he settled back down against the couch, the weed soothing any lingering nerves.

“A couple years, it's a good way to keep myself in school and avoid any debt. Plus you get to make your own hours, it's flexible.” You shrugged, “and, I don't know, I guess I like that it helps people. To have fun and relax or like, helping them just get through the day. I like that I can help people feel better.”

He looked surprised at you, and you shrugged again, feeling your face burn slightly.

“I get it's a dumb thing to say, and I know I'm really patting myself on the back here, but that's why I like it.” you pulled slightly at a loose thread on the hemline of the couch cushion underneath you, avoiding his gaze, avoiding his judgment.

“I dont think it's dumb. I know what you mean.” the sincerity in his voice was so simple, as though thinking anything else hadn't even crossed his mind, “I already feel more relaxed than I have in years. I didn’t know it was like this, so you helped me. I like that you want to help people.”

You smiled, you couldn't believe this was the same guy you had met so poorly the other night. He smiled back at you, a crooked, unpracticed smile that seemed as shocking to him as it was to you. You let the smoke linger between the two of you, both inside and outside.

“So obviously you know my job, but what is it you do?” you scooted a little closer on the couch.

He slumped a little, “a couple things, I do tattoos, piercings, that sort of thing..I’ve been working at an auto shop for the last few months, on days where I don't have appointments.”

“Do you do your own?” you asked, you had only seen the one across his bridge, you weren't sure if he had anymore.

“A few. I didn't do this one,” he gestures to his nose, “Not the one on my back, but a few others, yeah”

“Do you like it?”

“I do. I always liked to draw,” he stretched to scratch the back of his neck, “a buddy of mine let me into his shop a few years ago. I only started the car stuff when Yuji went to school, it's a good skill to know, helps me feel useful.” he shrugged, “I like working with my hands, it keeps me out of my head.”

“Are you in your head right now?” you asked, hoping being with you was relaxing him as much as the weed had.

“No.” He smiles just to himself, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths, enjoying how clear and simple his usually racing mind felt, “I kind of forgot it's supposed to feel like this.”

You laughed a bit, “It can be.”

He laughed too, a calming, easy chuckle.

“I’m glad you came by today, Choso.” You said softly

“Me too. I know I said Yuji asked me too, but I wanted to come and apologize. I was out of line, the over protective big brother act is so lame, I know. We’re just…all each other has.”

He suddenly was struggling to find the right words, he didn’t usually talk this much. The drugs had made him chatty, you had made him relaxed. Choso realized he hadn’t been alone with a woman in months, going on a full year. He spent nearly all of his time working, rarely went out with his few friends, and almost never went out on dates. He hadn’t even thought of being interested in a woman in weeks, choosing to rely on himself whenever the rare sexual urge did arise. He wasn’t a man without libido, but he was usually so focused—stressed out— sex just kind of lost priority. But here, sitting next to you, nerves hazy, voices soft, it was quickly climbing back up his priority ladder. He hadn’t noticed the first night how beautiful your eyes were, now they were slightly lidded and sensual as they looked over him, pupils wide and hungry. Your lips were full and shapely, a little dry from the smoke, but your wet tongue would dart out occasionally to moisten them again. His neck grew hot thinking about how soft your tongue looked. He bet you tasted so good, the lingering taste of coffee and smoke in your mouth, sliding your soft tongue against his, running your skilled hands over his body. He had watched you rolling the joint earlier, it was so routine, so ritual for you, but it was so intricate. You had clearly perfected it, nimble fingers filling, rolling, and sealing the flower inside of the pretty pink paper. Looking at them now, he wanted to put them in his mouth, to suck on them, to feel them tangle in his hair while you rode him right here on your couch.

He thought he would burst into flame when your fingertips touched the top off his hand, derailing his perverse train of thought from continuing.

“Choso?” Your voice was so soft when you said his name, it sounded right coming out of your mouth. You liked the way the letters tasted, he liked the way your tongue slipped around each sound, directly into his ear.

“Thank you, for giving me another chance.” He said finally.

Neither of you were sure when or how, but you had become very close. You could smell the sting of tea tree oil on his skin, now identifiable, and see every little crack in his glossy lips. You were staring into his bottom lip, as if summoned he drew it in, whetting it before releasing it again. He could see you watching him, he was watching you right back, he could feel your hot breath against his face, he could smell your shampoo, he could see the small coffee stain on the corner of your mouth, he wanted to be the napkin or shirt sleeve you’d use to wipe it away. Before he realized it, he was leaning closer to your lips. Your heart raced as he came closer, you weren’t sure how you had gotten here, just minutes ago the conversation was so benign and so casual, and now there was this…heat… between the two of you. You watching his mouth, him watching yours, you felt the electricity in your body ignite. The fingers that had been on the back of his hand trembled slightly as he leaned forward. He was moving so slow, being so careful to not push you. You gripped his hand tightly and pulled him closer, connecting your lips.

Your eyes were closed tightly, or else you would have seen the way his flew open before rolling back in his head. The same hand that had first grabbed you a week ago now moved up your arm and up to your jaw, pulling your lips harder against his. His kisses were hungry and desperate, yours were just as fevered as you felt his spit combine with yours.You moaned, lips parting enough for him to slip his tongue inside of your mouth. To your shock and delight you felt a small metal ball slide against your tongue, his tongue was pierced. You shivered, already thinking of how that cold metal would feel along your body, across your nipples, flicking against your clit. You thought you might faint as he pulled you over his lap.

He was faring no better, his hand pulling at you desperately, your jaw, your hair, your waist, your back, anywhere he could reach. He felt clumsy and a little pathetic, but he was too desperate to care. You were so hot, you smelled so good, your lips were so soft, he couldn't stop himself if he wanted to. When you finally did pull away, needing to catch your breath, he followed your lips eagerly, opting to kiss your chin or the underside of your jaw instead.

“Choso” you whimpered, pulling lightly at the hair at the back of his neck.

He continued kissing along your neck, moaning happily at the feeling of your nails against his nape. The sun had set outside, leaving the two of you in warm lamp light, the amber auras setting the deep brown of his eyes ablaze as he gazed up at you. Once your breath returned he moved one hand over the side of your face and pulled you in for another, softer but still passionate kiss. You relaxed into him, moving your hands over his chest, feeling the taught muscle and pleasure heated skin.

“I want you to tell me what you like.” He muttered against your lips in the form of a lover's secret, “I want to make it up to you. I want to please you.”

You felt yourself start to drip at his words, so devoid of the ego you were so familiar with in other men. A fast learner, too, his hands were carefully tracking your reactions, already finding erogenous zones that you usually had to demonstrate, tongue matching pace with yours. Kissing him deeply, tongues tangling, saliva and moans losing their origins points in the mess of shared wetness, you rocked your hips against his. He jerked up, unwillingly, a long, throaty moan leaving his lips as he threw his head back against the back of the couch, his hands on your hips gripping tighter.

“Baby….fuck”, he was getting hard so fast just from kissing you, it was embarrassing.

“You feel so big, Choso.” You rocked against him more, grinding into his erection over and over.

He blushed, the bar on his face doing nothing to hide the deep red settling across his cheeks. Feeling emboldened by the effect you had on him, you pulled your shirt off, leaving you bare chested on top of him. He was awestruck at the sight of your nearly naked body, his shock only growing when you grabbed his hands and brought them up to your breasts,squeezing them through his hands.

“Touch me here, like this.” You showed him how you liked to be squeezed and groped, all while keeping up your gyration on his lap.

He followed your lead immediately, mouth watering at how your breasts moved in his hands as you moved. He wanted to put them in his mouth, he wanted you completely naked, his own clothes felt so stiff and tight now. Choso removed his hands from your chest in a flash to quickly remove his own shirt before putting his hands on you once again, groping and squeezing the mounds freely. You moaned both at the sight of him bare and at how well he was following your directions.

“Fuck Choso… you look so good.” You marveled at him through your heavy lashes.

He was so toned, so well cultivated. His body was like that of a swimmer or a rock climber, lean and muscled, clearly focusing on mobility and functional strength above vanity. Tattoos littered his body, classic things, sigils and birds and quotes you couldn't quite read. All in due time.

In a move surprising you he sat up, abdominals rippling, keeping one strong forearm around your waist to hold you firm against him and he brought one of your nipples into his mouth. Even the fatty flesh couldn't muffle the haughty moan that escaped him, nor could it hide the way his eyes rolled back in his head. Your hands pulled at his hair, bringing him as close as possible, letting loose mewls of pleasure at his sucking. His tongue piercing circled around your areola, teeth quickly following to bite lightly at the rising peak. His dark eyes, now almost entirely black from blown out pleasure, looked up at you. The pornographic display in front of you was enough to have you whimpering already, the feeling of him so solid and throbbing underneath your hips wasn't helping, or was it, you supposed it depends on the goal; Longevity or absolute pleasure. Choso moved his mouth over to your other breast, repeating the same routine of circling and biting and suckling, he was completely blissed out, barely registering anything beyond the taste of your skin and the weight of your body on his. When you pulled at his hair to get him to face you again, you had to pull harder than you expected to get his attention. When you finally did, his head tipped back dramatically, a drunken smile across his wet, swollen lips.

“Take your pants off,” you whimpered breathily, “please.”

You stood up in front of him, feeling a slight ache in your hip hinges from your previous position and quickly rid yourself of your pants. He did the same, removing his belt, and kicking his shoes off before pulling his jeans off and tossing them aside. You stood in front of each other, in only your panties, him in black boxer briefs, length straining against the fabric. Breathing hard, you took each other in, it was so simple, but so sexy to be just standing before each other nearly completely naked. Not touching, not distracted by embracing hands or mouths, just taking a moment to appreciate the unguarded form of one another.

He was so taken by you, the swell of your hips, the curved lines of your silhouette, scars and lines and tattoos adorning your skin in a completely unique and deeply personal pattern. He liked the panties you were wearing, he wanted to keep them, maybe you would let him. They were a dark purple mesh fabric, his favorite color. There was no way you could have known, but it felt like fate. Your neck was starting to show little bruises from his kisses earlier, soon they would be purple too, he couldn't wait to see. Finally, he stepped toward you, his strong hands finding yours, bringing them to his body just as you had earlier. Your hands followed down the lines of his body, the muscles so hard under your touch. He moaned at your touch, chills rocking through his body, he was so reactive for you, every twitch of your fingers being amplified through his body like an electric current.

“You want to stay out here, or do I get to see your bedroom?”

“I’m a little partial to riding you right here, what do you think?” you flirted up at him, pushing on his stomach lightly, he was practically drooling.

You had chosen his exact fantasy from earlier and once again he found himself thinking that it was impossible you could have known, but it had to be fate. He kissed your lips again, the fever from earlier returning as you pushed him back down onto the couch, following him closely to keep your lips connected. Before you could move to straddle him, he gripped your hips.

“Please. Wanna taste you first, please baby, please.” He begged. He sounded so good when he begged.

You weren't one to argue with someone asking so nicely, so you did as he asked, sitting where he had been earlier, loving the feeling of the warmth he had left behind embedded in the cushion. Choso moved between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs and pulling your panties away from your aching sex. He couldn't stop himself from bringing the panties to his face and taking in your scent, he didn't care if it made him a pervert, he loved the smell of a good, wet pussy, and yours may be the best he had ever had. Your jaw dropped at the unabashed display, catching his eye as he exhaled luxuriously.

“Fuuuuck, can I keep these?” It was like he was high all over again, one hit of you knocking him on his heels more than your highest testing strain ever could.

You nodded slowly, too shocked to speak. You didn't even care that you liked that pair, they were comfortable and sexy, nothing could compare to the thought of Choso keeping a pair of your used panties for himself.

He set them on top of his pants on the floor, before resuming his migration across the sensitive skin of your inner legs. You could feel yourself dripping onto the couch, you didn't care, you were too turned on to care about anything except him. Lying on his stomach on your couch, he was finally face to face with your bare pussy. He could feel himself starting to rut into the couch cushion, aching cock desperate for relief. Finally, with one last cautious look up at you, Choso slid his fore and middle fingers between your lower lips, separating them slightly to look right at your weeping folds. Even the light brush of his fingertips separating you had you ready to arch your back, you were so wet, his long tongue swiped up your slit, and a strangled gasp ripped itself from your throat.

One hand flew to his hair, struggling to decide if you wanted to push him away or pull him in deeper, opting to just pull. Choso was completely lost within you, your taste, your smell, the feeling of how wet you had gotten already, he wanted to drink up everything you had. He moaned into your dripping pussy as you pulled his hair harder, loud squelching and slurping sounds filled the room alongside your gasping, frantic moans of curses garbled with his name.

“You taste so good, baby,” he complimented, his round tongue piercing flicking so deliciously against your clit as he spoke, “I knew you would. Fuck, you’re too good to me.”

You could barely hear him. Too fixated on rocking your hips against his face, trying desperately to amplify the pleasure he was giving you. Choso kissed your pussy with long, flat tongued laps, his piercing circling your clit in a delicious rhythm that had you wailing. You had never been so thankful to live alone, one of your hands left his hair so you could bite hard on your knuckles, a foolish attempt to stifle your moans. Wisps of his bangs fell in his face, blocking you from his eyeline, he attempted to blow the strands out of his way, needing to see you struggle to quiet yourself. You were putting on such a beautiful show for him, panting and moaning above him, showing him exactly how good he was making you feel, he didn't want to miss a second of it. Breaking away only momentarily to brush his hair away from his face, only to have them fall back in their place, Choso huffed in frustration, his hot, irritated breath sending tingles across your slippery folds. You looked down at him, feeling him pull away briefly to pull a black hair tie from one wrist and hand it to you. Your instructions were clear as he dove back in, once again devouring you; you pulled his hair into a small bun, tying it quickly and returning your hand to cover your mouth. His own hands were clasped around your thighs, bringing them into his ears and diving in even further.

The lower half of his face, from top of nose to under his jaw, was shimmering, he was losing all sense of himself. He wanted to die between your legs, he wanted your thighs to crush him, he wanted to drown in your cum, he wanted the last sound he ever heard to be your squeaking whimpers of his name. His cock was pulsing against your couch, swollen nearly to the point of pain, with every lap it was getting harder. He didn’t think he would ever stop, your hands in his hair, nails against his neck and shoulders, your smell in his nose, your taste on his tongue, he could have stayed there forever. It wasn't until you started to pull him away by his roots that he finally came up for air again.

You shuddered as you peeled Choso away from your pussy. A thin, glistening string of spit and your arousal joined his wet lips to your sex, it was so erotic. He was panting as well, eyes wild with pleasure, damp face, swollen lips, looking to you for why you would have deprived him of his meal.

“Please, Choso, please let me fuck you,” you begged.

He protested weakly, “But I want you to--”

“Please, baby. I need you inside so badly.” You pointed out, moving your hand over the side of his face.

He pressed his cheek into your palm and nodded, sighing hard trying to catch his breath. You pulled him up to you, he followed, crawling on his hands up to your lips. Your kisses were now wet after his pleasuring you, you could taste yourself at the deepest part of his mouth you could reach. Choso ground his erection into you, sliding his length across your slick pussy and panting into your mouth. Gathering all your strength back you sat up, moving to assume the position from before. In the movements, he had finally freed his aching cock, gripping it hard at the base as you climbed over his lap. You slotted your lips against his over and over, tongues tangling, hands moving over hot, prickled skin. You rocked your hips up and down your slit, drenching him and building your anticipation. Choso pressed his forehead against yours, you could feel the sweat of his skin and the sweat of yours combining in between your skin. He angled his now dripping cock right at your entrance, you hissed as you made your way down his length. Moans escaped both of you as your tight walls sucked him in, head still pressed together, his hand bruising your waist. It had become so intimate, he filled you so entirely, pushing hard against the barrier of your cervix. You started to grind against him, moving your hips up and down, whimpering pathetically, arching your back. Your hands settled on his shoulders and stomach as you rode him faster and faster.

“Fuck, yes, you feel so good. Thank you.” Choso’s eyes were locked on your bouncing breasts. He leaned forward and caught one of your puffy nipples in his mouth again, sucking hard.

The feeling of him so deep inside of you, your increased sensitivity from him eating you out, and now his hot mouth teething and pulling at your chest had you so close already. You were almost embarrassed, but you couldn't keep yourself from bouncing more and more, grinding right up against his pelvis. Your hands moved up the back of his neck, keeping his head buried in your breasts, he switched to suck on your other nipple, moaning against your hot skin. One of his big hands squeezed at the fat of your ass, he couldn't get enough of you; he wanted to keep his hands and his mouth full of you, his cock buried inside of you forever. Your moans rose in pitch quickly, the hair at the base of his cock rubbing right against your clit. You pulled away, arching into his hand on your lower back, and humping against him even faster.

“Cho-Fuck baby, I…” You mewl out.

“Cum, please cum for me, baby. Make a mess on me please, cum on my cock, pleasepleaseplease.” he babbled, holding your hips in a bruising vice and helping you to raise and lower yourself.

He planted his feet on the ground, thrusting up to meet you halfway. You were so tight and hot, he could feel your wetness dripping down his balls, he could taste your sweat on the backs of his lips. Your cries started becoming intense and your body was shuddering against him, you could barely string together any thoughts beyond your desire to cum. FInally it all became too much, the hot pleasure that had been building all bursting out from you at once.

“Choso! I-- I--I’m cumming!” You cried against him, his thrusts under you were relentless, not stopping even as your orgasm peaked and valleyed before him.

“Fuck baby, yes. More more, please, fuck please, im--,” Choso’s own orgasm ripped through his body with nearly no warning, finally slowing his thrust, opting to press as deep as he could and dropping his head back against the couch. He moaned your name scrambled with curses and his throaty raspy groans.

Coming down from your shared high, Choso thrust up into you a few more times, shuttering at the feeling of spilling long spurts of cum inside of your hot, wet walls. You stilled your motions completely, hips aching, sweat dripping down your body, you pressed your head against his again, trying to catch your breath as quickly as possible. Choso kissed your jaw, your neck, your lips, your cheek, your temple, anywhere his lips could reach, sturdy hands massaging your hips and ass as he did. You smiled down at him, his face was tinted pink, his eyes were wet and full, he looked so fucked out, and so beautiful. The bun you had styled for him was barely hanging on,his bangs now stuck to his damp forehead. You dipped your head down and kissed him, the kiss now lazy but just as wet. Slippery mouths joining again and again as he rubbed your back. Once you felt you could move again, you moved off of his lap, his softening cock sliding out of you and flopping against his stomach. He panted in recovery once you had taken your place on the couch next to him, he pulled your legs into his lap, wanting to keep as good a hold on you as he could while still inside this bubble of intimacy you had created. He moved the back of his knuckles up and down your shin, turning his face toward you and gazing at you.

“That was…” He started, trailing off as words failed him once again.

You nodded blissfully, reaching over to grab his hand. He kissed the back of your hand.

“You’re….” this time he found his finishing words, “wow.”

You chuckled, “You too. I’m really glad you came over.”

“Me too.” he laughed a bit as well, gesturing to the half joint on the table, “You’re a bad influence on me.”

“I think you liked it.” you sat up taking the joint between your fingers and taking a lighter from the table.

You held the pink joint in between your lips, lighting it and puffing once before passing it over to Choso. He accepted and took a hit, then another, exhaling happily.

“I did. I do.” he answered finally.

You took the joint back, sitting up to his eye level as you puffed.

“I hope you don't think I’ll be giving you a discount because of this, I’m not that kind of dealer.” you joked.

A flirtatious smirk pulled at his lips, “If you had let me finish making you cum in my mouth, I think I could change your mind.”

You rolled your eyes, already feeling your pussy dampen and your nipples harden at his candor. He slid one arm around you, pulling you close and kissing your smoke warmed lips.

“Could I, maybe, come over again?” he asked against your lips, “Without needing to apologize to you for making a total ass of myself?”

Your heart squeezed, you had not yet started to worry that this was a one and done, his expert work leaving you already craving more. Everything that had happened was so unexpected, you started the day still seething from the first impression, but he had melted your icy demeanor instantly. You did want to see Choso again, you wanted him to make you feel like that again, you wanted to spoil him the way he had spoiled you. You wanted a chance to show him how good he had made you feel, and now you had the chance. You knew his situation, you knew yours, it was incredibly likely that this would be temporary, but even one more chance to share a night with him was enough for now.

I hope you guys enjoyed! As always, i did! Remember to use drugs responsibly and not give in to peer pressure, unless you think itll make people like you, then succumb. (im joking). alright bye! -- <3 Doodle

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thewulf · 17 days

Text

The Price of Protection || Captain John Price

Summary: Request -Recently I was SA. Now I wasn't R@ped. But I was peer pressured/manipulated and intoxicated to verbally consenting to things I didn't want to do. I'm not asking for it to be relived but rather comfort. Everyone always talks about feeling disgusted but I want comfort for the guilt and second thoughts... Read Rest Here

A/N: THIS ONE IS HEAVY. Please read the trigger warnings below. Thank you anon for trusting me with this. I hope you like it.

Pairing: Captain John Price x Female Reader, TF 141 x Platonic Female Reader

Word Count: 4.8k +

TW: MENTIONS OF SA (Not outright but hints), Heavy Angst, general COD warnings.

You had always admired your Captain for as long as you’ve known him. It wasn’t but almost three years ago now that you were assigned to Task Force 141. They were skeptical at first, as you would be too. Who was this little American girl infiltrating their ranks? This was a Task Force with the most brilliant minds and somehow you were there. Yet, you had proven yourself one of the most valuable assets to the team time and time again. You were good, great even, at your job. You could hack into anything, take over any camera you wanted, reroute rockets if you had the time allotted. You were the genius behind some of the missions that could’ve gone south fast. You were Captain Price’s secret weapon that he kept well hidden.

It took you a while to open up to the guys. But leave it to Soap to get you talking. After a year of trying your best to maintain the Ghost persona, Soap had successfully broken you down. They learned of your past, how you came to be so freakishly good with computers and hacking, where you went to school and where you grew up. You were an enigma to the team. And they grew to love you. It was slow until it wasn’t. You were an outcast until you weren’t. You found yourself laughing and bantering with John, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost time and time again. Suddenly, you were a part of the team, a true member of TF141.

Most times you would head out with the team to help them out. But sometimes you could do the job right from your home base. And this mission turned out to be one of those times. You didn’t hate that you didn’t get to go; you just felt a little left out when you stayed back. But Price always assured you it was for your safety above all else. Sometimes these missions were a little too dangerous for even you. Which of course led you to be more nervous than ever. If it was too dangerous for you, then what was it for them? Surely no walk in the park.

You walked with Price out to the chopper trying one last time. “Captain, are you sure? I can help with logistics once you get there.”

He gave you that signature soft Price smile before shaking his head softly. “I’m sure. It’s a quick in and out. No need to put you in the line of fire for it.”

“But…”

He cut you off. “I know you want to go. I really do. But it’s not worth the risk. You’re too valuable to this team.”

You let out a sigh before nodding. “I understand. Please be safe. Make sure everybody comes back in one piece.”

He gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Like we always do. We land at 0800 local time. Soap will be giving you a call then. We’ll see you soon.”

Pressing your lips together you forced a smile to him. “You better.” With a quick nod, you watched as he hopped in the chopper with the rest of the team. Soap flipped you off before the pilot ascended, leaving you in a fit of laughter, always the shit he was.

You had forgotten how much you disliked being away from the team. You felt so far, so disengaged. Even with MacTavish swearing like a sailor in your ear. You felt totally helpless but tried your best to do whatever you could for the team. The mission was successful but not without hiccup. Gaz had been shot, fortunately, it was just a small graze to the shoulder but nevertheless it reminded you of how fragile their lives were. How one misstep could take a best friend away from you. How crucial you really were to their livelihood.

The stress was getting to you tonight though. The thought of mortality was becoming too much. So, you found yourself at the bar just outside of base. What better way to bury your stresses away than to drink your worries away right with it? You weren’t usually so careless. But the worry and the helplessness got the better of you. One beer turned to two. Turned to a few shots bought by a man across the bar who was giving you the eyes. You’d seen him around base. Maybe even chatted for a brief time. But you chose to never give these men the time of day, until tonight. You knew the type and usually stayed far away. But it was a moment of weakness that got to you.

As the night wore on and the drinks kept coming, the edges of your worries dulled. For a fleeting moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders. It was a temporary reprieve, a fleeting sense of freedom from the constant pressure of your responsibilities. In the chatter and clinking of glasses you felt an unwanted hand on your shoulder, and you turned to see the man who had been buying you drinks. His smile was charming, but there was a hint of something predatory in his gaze. Instinctively you tensed as your senses were on high alert in your inebriated state.

You forced a polite smile, but you felt uneasy. The alcohol had clouded your judgment, leaving you vulnerable and exposed. You knew you should’ve left right then and there. Find your way back to the safety of base, but a part of you hesitated. Maybe it was the loneliness or the desire to forget, but you entertained the idea of staying just a little longer.

As the minutes ticked on, you found yourself ensnared in a web of conversation with the soldier. His words were like honeyed poison, dripping with false charm and manipulation. He seemed to know just what to say. But beneath the surface there was a darkness lurking. A predatory intent masked by the guise of friendly banter. The alcohol eventually dulled your senses, clouding your judgment as you struggled to keep up with the rapid pace of the conversation. His words became a blur as each syllable merged into the next until they lost all meaning. But still you listened captivated by the illusion of connection he wove around you.

His touch was insistent. His hands lingering where they shouldn't have been sending shivers of discomfort down your spine. You tried to pull away, to put some distance between you and this stranger who seemed to know too much about you. But he only tightened his grip, his fingers leaving marks in their wake.

As the night wore on, the line between consent and coercion blurred. Your protests drowned out by the relentless onslaught of alcohol and manipulation. You knew deep down that you didn't want this, that every fiber of your being screamed for you to escape. But you felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of his expectations. And so, with a soul weighed down by guilt and shame, you surrendered to his advances. Your body moving on autopilot as you sought refuge in the temporary oblivion of physical pleasure. But even as you gave in a part of you screamed in silent agony you mourned the loss of you usual control.

In the aftermath as the harsh light of reality pierced through the haze of alcohol and regret, you were left grappling with the devastating truth of what had transpired. You had been used, manipulated, reduced to nothing more than a pawn in someone else's twisted game. The guilt threatened to consume you, gnawing at your insides as you struggled to come to terms with what had happened. You blamed yourself, berating your own weakness and naivety. Wishing you had been stronger, smarter, better able to protect yourself. But deep down you knew the truth. You were not to blame. You were a victim of his manipulation, preyed upon by someone who saw you as nothing more than a means to an end.

The next day dawned with a heavy burden that seemed to press down upon your shoulders, weighing you down with the crushing weight of guilt and shame. As the TF141 team returned from their mission, the atmosphere in the base shifted. You left the air thick with an unspoken tension that hung over the corridors.

Alone in your room, you felt as though you were drowning in a sea of despair, the walls closing in around you with every passing moment. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, leaving salty trails in their wake as you grappled with the overwhelming flood of emotions. Each sob that wracked your body felt like a physical manifestation of the agony that churned within you. A relentless reminder of the betrayal of your own body and the violation of your trust. Every breath was a struggle, a battle against the suffocating weight of shame that threatened to crush you beneath its relentless onslaught.

Outside your door, the sounds of laughter from Soap and Gaz only served to deepen your anguish. You could hear Price and the others talking, their footsteps echoing through the corridors as they made their way back to their quarters. But despite the familiarity of their presence, you couldn't bring yourself to face them. You couldn't bear the thought of meeting their eyes and seeing the disappointment and judgment reflected back at you. Instead, you remained sequestered in your room. You isolated yourself from the world outside as you struggled to come to terms with what had actually happened.

As the hours passed and the weight of your guilt continued to bear down on you, your phone buzzed incessantly with messages from Soap, Gaz and even Ghost. Each notification felt like a sharp jab to your already fragile psyche, a painful reminder of the concern and judgment you knew awaited you on the other end of the line. Soap's messages were filled with words of worry and encouragement, his concern evident in the way he repeatedly asked if you were okay. Gaz's messages were more subdued, but no less concerned, his terse inquiries betraying the depth of his worry for your well-being.

You ignored their messages, unable to fake it to them. Instead, you buried yourself deeper in the cocoon of your own despair, the silence of your room offering little solace in the midst of your turmoil. But as the day wore on and hunger gnawed at your stomach, you reluctantly dragged yourself out of bed and made your way to the cafeteria. It was late, far later than anyone else would-be getting dinner, or so you thought.

As you entered the desolate cafeteria, your heart sank at the sight of Ghost sitting alone at a table in the corner. Despite the emptiness of the room his presence felt suffocating, casting a harsh spotlight on the turmoil brewing within you. With a sigh you ignored him and walked up to serve yourself the usual dull military food. You felt Ghost's gaze boring into you. His eyes a mixture of concern and confusion as they lingered on your tear-stained face.

You filled your plate with food, your hands shaking as you struggled to maintain your composure. The weight of Ghost's scrutiny felt like a physical burden. But as you made your way past Ghost's table, you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. Instead, you kept your gaze fixed on the floor. Your cheeks burned with shame as you tried to hide the evidence of your recent breakdown.

With a quick nod of acknowledgment, you hurried away from Ghost's table. Your steps quickening as you sought refuge in the farthest corner of the room. You found an empty table and sat down keeping your head bowed as you focused on your food, desperate to avoid any further scrutiny. But despite your best efforts, you could still feel Ghost's gaze burning into you. His concern was a palpable presence in the empty room. You felt exposed, vulnerable, as if every inch of your skin was laid bare for him to see. And as you picked at your food, your appetite all but forgotten in the wake of your turbulent emotions. You couldn't help but wonder how long you could keep up the charade. How long before the facade you had constructed came crashing down around you?

As Ghost approached your table, his presence a calming anchor in the midst of your turbulent emotions, he gave a curt nod of acknowledgment. "Hey, kid," he greeted you in his trademark gruff tone, his voice carrying a note of concern beneath its rough exterior. "You alright?"

You tried to mask the evidence of your tears with a feeble attempt at a smile, but Ghost saw right through that. His keen eyes bore into yours, his gaze unwavering as he waited for your response.

"Yeah, just allergies acting up," you replied, your voice betraying the strain of your attempts to deflect his concern.

But Ghost wasn't fooled. He knew you better than that, could see the pain etched into every line of your face. With a grunt of acknowledgment, he accepted your explanation, though you could tell he wasn't entirely convinced.

"I won't push ya," he said with his gravelly voice, his tone softened by a rare display of empathy. "But if you ever wanna talk about it, I'm here." With a grateful nod, you thanked him and watched as he walked out of the room leaving you to your thoughts.

As the morning sun filtered through the curtains you found yourself ensnared in a labyrinth of restless thoughts. Each beam of sunlight seemed to illuminate the tangled mess of emotions that swirled within you, highlighting the heavy shroud of guilt that enveloped your very being. You had spent the night tossing and turning, your pillow dampened by tears that ebbed and flowed.

Just as you had managed to drift into a fitful slumber the persistent knocking at your door shattered the fragile semblance of peace you had managed to find. Each rap on the door felt like a blow to your already fragile composure jolting you awake from the fleeting respite of sleep. Groggy and disoriented you stumbled across the room, every step a struggle against the weight of exhaustion that hung heavy upon your shoulders.

With a heavy heart Captain John Price stood on the other side of the door, his hand hovering tentatively over the handle as he took in the sight before him. His breath caught in his throat, a pang of concern twisting in his chest at the sight of you. The vibrant energy that usually radiated from you had been replaced by a sadness he rarely saw from you. A shadow of your former self. His heart clenched with a mixture of empathy and apprehension as he took in your fragile state. Every instinct urged him to gather you into his arms, to shield you from the pain that etched lines of sorrow upon your face. But he held back, knowing that you needed space to unravel the tangled threads of your emotions in your own time. With a silent prayer on his lips, Price waited for you to acknowledge him.

"Captain, what are you doing here?" you greeted him with a ghost of a smile, though it failed to reach your eyes, which still held traces of the turbulent night you had endured.

Price's gaze softened at the sight of you, his concern etched into every line of his expression. "Hey love," he greeted softly, his voice carrying a gentle warmth that offered solace in the midst of your turmoil. "Missed you this morning at PT. Everything alright?"

You forced a tight-lipped smile, the effort of masking your inner turmoil nearly unbearable. Every word you spoke felt like a weight upon your chest, each syllable a struggle against the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to engulf you. "Yeah, just feeling a bit under the weather," you replied, your voice strained with the weight of the unspoken troubles that gnawed at your conscience. Price's brow furrowed deeper in concern as he studied your haggard appearance. His gaze lingered on you, searching for answers in the depths of your tired eyes, his intuition telling him that there was more to your distress than a simple case of illness.

"You sure that's all it is?" he pressed gently, his voice laced with a mixture of concern and skepticism. He had known you long enough to recognize when something weighed heavily on your mind, and the mask you wore now couldn't conceal the truth from him.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to respond. The weight of your secrets threatened to suffocate you, but you clung to the fragile facade you had constructed, unwilling to burden him with the weight of your troubles. "Yeah, just... a rough night," you murmured, the words tasting bitter on your tongue as you forced them past the lump that lodged there.

Price had always treated you differently, with a softness he never seemed to reserve for the others. From the moment you joined Task Force 141, he recognized the weight of the horrors that came with the job. He made it his mission to be there for you in a way that went beyond mere professional obligation. He became your confidant, your sounding board, the one person you could turn to when the darkness threatened to overwhelm you. His gentle demeanor and unwavering kindness provided a safe haven in the chaos of missions and the toll they took on your spirit.

Price's gaze softened with understanding as he reached out to gently squeeze your arm. His touch was a far cry from the man a few nights ago. He was that comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions.

"You don't have to face it alone, you know," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your weary soul. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me. You can always talk to me, love."

Indeed, Price's tenderness towards you was unmistakable. While you were every bit a soldier like the rest, he recognized that you were different. The things you witnessed and the actions you took on these missions slowly started eating away at you long ago. But Price was there offering solace and understanding. His affection for you growing deeper with each shared moment of vulnerability.

Over the three years of working together Price found himself drawn to more than just your skills and abilities. It was your spirit, your unwavering determination, and your unique personality that captivated him. At first it was subtle, just a flicker of admiration for the way you handled yourself under pressure, the way you never backed down from a challenge. But as time went on and he got to know you better, that admiration blossomed into something deeper. He found himself enchanted by the fire in your eyes when you spoke passionately about something you believed in. He admired the way you never lost your humanity, even in the midst of the darkest missions. Your compassion and empathy for others in the face of danger touched something within him that he hadn't realized was missing.

Price began to notice the small things about you, the adorable quirks that made you uniquely yourself. He found himself smiling at your jokes, laughing at your antics, and feeling a sense of peace whenever you were around. He cherished the moments when you let your guard down and allowed him to see the vulnerable side of you. He felt honored that you trusted him with your fears and insecurities.

As the years went by, Price realized that his feelings for you had evolved beyond mere admiration. He was in love with you. He loved the way you made him feel alive, the way you challenged him to be a better man, and the way you brought light into his dark world. But even as his feelings grew, Price knew that he could never act on them. Not while he was your Captain and the stakes of their missions remained so high. So, he buried his feelings deep inside. He was content to love you from afar and grateful for the opportunity to know you. Even if it meant keeping his emotions hidden.

Soap, Ghost, and Gaz were like a finely tuned unit, attuned not only to the dynamics of the battlefield but also to the subtleties of their comrades' interactions. They noticed the way Price's demeanor would shift whenever you entered the room. The slight softening of his usually stern expression, the warmth that crept into his eyes as they lingered on you, and the way his voice would adopt a gentler tone when he spoke to you. It was unmistakable to them though they never openly acknowledged it.

In their downtime when the mission chatter had quieted, and they found themselves lounging around the base, the guys would exchange knowing glances whenever Price's attention seemed to linger on you a little longer than necessary. Soap might chuckle and nudge Ghost, raising an eyebrow in silent communication that spoke volumes about Price's apparent fondness for you. Ghost, ever the silent observer, would offer a small smirk in return, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched Price navigate the delicate balance between professionalism and the undeniable affection he held for you.

Gaz, always one for a bit of banter, wouldn't hesitate to make playful remarks whenever the opportunity presented itself. He'd tease Price about being extra protective of you during missions, jokingly suggesting that Price had a soft spot for you that he couldn't quite hide. Price would roll his eyes in response, brushing off Gaz's comments with a gruff retort. But the slight flush that colored his cheeks betrayed the truth behind Gaz's jests.

Despite their teasing, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz respected the unspoken boundaries that surrounded Price's feelings for you. They knew that his affection for you was genuine and deep-rooted, and they never pushed him to confront it unless he was ready. As for you, you might have been the only one oblivious to the undercurrent of emotions swirling around Price. To you he remained the steadfast leader, unwavering in his commitment to the mission and the safety of his team. His true feelings were well hidden behind a mask of professionalism and duty.

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to find the courage to vocalize the turmoil that had been devouring you from within. The weight of your confession hung heavy upon your shoulders. Each word feeling like a jagged stone forced from your chest. "I... I had a little too much to drink while everyone was gone," you confessed, your voice barely rising above a whisper, as if you were afraid the words themselves would shatter the fragile sanctuary you had built around yourself. "And... I did things... things I didn't want to do."

As you spoke, the air in the room seemed to thicken with a suffocating sense of shame. You couldn't bring yourself to meet Price's gaze. You feared the judgment you were sure would reflect in his eyes. But when you finally summoned the courage to glance up, the expression etched on Price's face was not one of condemnation but of utmost concern. His features tightened with an intensity that mirrored the turmoil raging within him. His heart twisted with a potent blend of anger and sorrow at the thought of someone exploiting your vulnerability in such a despicable manner. But despite the roiling emotions churning beneath the surface, he remained stoically composed. He understood that now was not the time for upsetting you even further.

"Coerced..." you added, your voice trembling with shame as you unveiled the truth that had festered within you like a poison, eating away at your sense of self-worth with every passing moment. "I tried to resist, but... he wouldn't listen. He wouldn’t take no for an answer."

As the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air between you, you couldn't help but feel a surge of relief wash over you. As if the simple act of vocalizing your pain had lifted a burden that had threatened to crush you. Despite the shame that threatened to consume you there was a profound sense of solace in knowing that you were no longer bearing this burden alone. That you had finally allowed yourself to be vulnerable in front of the one person you trusted implicitly.

In that moment of raw honesty, you couldn't help but wonder if Price understood the depth of your feelings for him. If he could see beyond the facade you presented to the world and glimpse the tangled mess of emotions that lay hidden beneath the surface. As you spoke you couldn't deny the palpable sense of comfort that enveloped you. It was as if in allowing yourself to be vulnerable with Price you had discovered a sanctuary where judgment held no power, where acceptance reigned supreme. Captain John Price was the best of men.

And as Price listened his gaze never wavering from yours, you couldn't shake the feeling that he knew on some level the depth of your affection for him. Perhaps it was the gentleness in his touch, the understanding in his eyes, or the unwavering support he offered without hesitation. Whatever the reason, you found yourself daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way. As the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air between you, you realized with startling clarity that Price was more than just a trusted confidant. He was your rock, your pillar of strength in a world filled with uncertainty and doubt. And as the realization settled deep within your heart, you couldn't help but acknowledge the truth that had been staring you in the face all along: you loved him, in a way that transcended mere friendship.

With each passing moment, the bond between you and Price grew stronger, forged in the chaos of shared experiences and unwavering support. And as you looked into his eyes seeing the reflection of your own emotions mirrored back at you, you knew without a doubt that you could tell him anything, and he would be right there for you, no matter what.

Price's grip on your arm tightened ever so slightly as you made your confession. His touch both grounding and reassuring in its strength. His resolve hardened as he fought back the surge of protectiveness that threatened to consume him. "I'm here for you," he reassured you, his voice unwavering in its conviction. "Whatever you need, I'll do everything in my power to help you through this."

As Price listened to your trembling words a whirlwind of emotions roiled within him. Anger burned hot in his chest at the thought of someone taking advantage of you. His fists clenched with the urge to seek retribution. But beneath the rage a deeper sense of sorrow welled up aching with empathy for the pain you had endured alone. "I will always be here for you," he murmured again. As the weight of your confession settled upon you both Price felt a swell of tenderness wash over him, mingling with the fierce determination that burned within him. He wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms, to shield you from the pain that gnawed at your soul.

With a gentle hand he lifted your chin, meeting your tear-filled gaze with unwavering reassurance. His heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability, and he couldn't help but brush away the tears that traced delicate paths down your cheeks. "You're not alone. I promise you that," he whispered, his voice infused with a quiet strength that resonated deep within you. "I'll be right here, every step of the way." And as he spoke those words you felt a sense of solace wash over you. You knew that you could lean on him, trust in him.

Against his better judgment, Price drew you into his embrace. His arms encircling you with a tenderness that concealed the strength of his resolve. He held you close as you surrendered to the flood of tears that just kept coming. "It's okay," he murmured softly, his voice a gentle reassurance in the midst of your turmoil. "I've got you. You're safe now."

His heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability. He couldn't help but brush his hand through your hair. His touch a comforting caress that made you shiver. With each stroke he hoped to ease the burden that weighed so heavily upon your shoulders.

"You're not alone love," he whispered in reassurance. His voice a quiet promise against the chaos of your emotions. "I'm here for you, always." He said once more letting you know that he wasn’t going anywhere. He continued to hold you as the tears slowly subsided. His silent grasp on you a vow to stand by your side through every trial and tribulation that may lay ahead.

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ratcash-wasgud · 26 days

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𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎𝙼𝚘𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝙼𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗!𝙼𝚒𝚣𝚞

Hey heyyyy. I know I'm not doing the shit I'm supposed to, but this has been on my mind for so long, and I CANNOT get it out.

Mizu hated her job. Working in a busy restaurant as a waitress is honestly exhausting, especially when someone is kind of masculine presenting. Sometimes she thinks that college isn't worth enough to suffer through this. Rude comments from middle aged customers about how she's not feminine enough, no tips from men since they usually think she's one of them until she speaks up, and little kids asking "are you a boy or a girl" are part of her daily rutine. But still, there is one good thing about her job. You.

She usually shares a shift with you, and you happen to be her polar opposite. You're cheery, optimistic and seem to be always shining. You're always there when she drops a plate, apologize in her place, and help her clean it up. You seem to be young too, almost her age. During some of the shared breaks, you told her you're four years older than her, and never managed to finish college. Why? You got pregnant.

You briefly told her about it once. You did really well on an exam, and went out to celebrate. You got really, reaaaaly drunk. Since there was this guy, who was paying for your drinks, you went all out. The next thing though was that you woke up in an unfamiliar apartment, naked. You did a test the moment you got home, and found out you were pregnant. You dropped out to get a full time job, to afford this baby, because you weren't able to get rid of it, and when your snob parents found out, they cut contact with you. Now you're still raising your two year old daughter, Charlie.

You're stronger than anyone Mizu ever met. When she learned that you're a mother, she suddenly understood why are you so motherly. Why are you so warm. You have practice in treating children, and even if Mizu doesn't know it, she is still one on the inside. And an angry one at that.

And with the though that you are a mother, she fell in love with you. Your gentleness, your kind nature, the way you unintentionally coo at her when she's grumpy...it all just made her crave your presence. You never gave her more than a hug though aside from those rare pets on her head her when she does something really well.

She knows she shouldn't think about stuff like this, and it's not even her place to even have the though, but...you were with a man once. You never talked about anything else that could give her a hint about any of your previous or ongoing romantic interests, and that frustrates her. Akemi always tells her when she meets a guy, or Taigen when he manages to hook up with a girl...even Ringo told her about this pretty girl at the local bakery he really likes visiting. So why not you? Do you not have anyone? Ever? You probably don't like raising your kid alone, so why don't you try dating? Or dating her, to be specific. But, to cut this short, as far as she knows, you're straight.

"Oh God, we're sorry." You give a customer an apologetic smile as you kneel down on the ground to pick up pieces of a cup Mizu had just dropped. "The next drink is on the house. Again, we're sorry."

Mizu crouches down beside you, and she starts collecting shards too in silence. When the both of retreat to the kitchen, Mizu stops your hand when you're about to add a drink to your own tab. "What are you doing?"

"I told them the next drink is on the house." You say, raising an eyebrow. Mizu feels your pulse as she holds your wrist.

"Yeah, so why are you writing it to your name? I dropped the cup." She says, her tone harsh and unfriendly as ever.

"Because you already had to pay for that rude man's stew the other night. I can't let your paycheck get reduced to a single penny." You give her a slight smile and a small chuckle. You're too good to her. She keeps messing up, and you're the one cleanig up her mess.

Still, Mizu takes the pen from you and writes the drink under her name. "Buy Charlie something on your way home instead. Tell her it's from the weird woman from work." She sighs.

It's worth it. Completely. The smile on your face after she does that is just too much for Mizu to handle. "Why don't you give her the treat yourself? The daycare is close to the bus top you usually wait at, so you could come with me to pick her up."

So, that's how she ended up here, holding Charlie's small little right hand as you hold the left while the little girl literally toddles, on your way to your apartment.

Mizu was never good with children. She found them annoying and useless. But she had to admit...Charlie was adorable. The little girl was really your kid. She had the same mannerisms, even if she was barely able to speak.

"Then, the bug...got on my face. And then, I was screaming. Mean bug." Charlie mumbles endlessly as they walk. You, on the other hand, seemed to be really invested in the story, as you smile oh so sweetly at Charlie, and nod along to the story.

After that, Mizu ended up at your place somehow. She didn't want the moment to stop, so she just...kept walking with the two of you. It was so comforting, she couldn't let it go.

She watched you coo at your child as you fed her, waited obedientlyin the living room when you gave her a bath, helped you pick up her toys, and even did the day's dishes.

But it has gotten late. She should go home now...home. She feels like she found home tho. She doesn't want to leave.

"Hey..." Mizu starts as she picks up her bag. "Thanks for...you know, introducing me to Charlie." She murmurs.

You chuckle at her. "She really likes you. She was even more chatty from usual."

...

"What about you?"

"Hm?"

"Do you like me?"

She slowly takes your hand. She can't stand this endless longing anymore. She wants to be by your side, to help you raise Charlie, to make your life just a little easier. She wants that more than anything.

"It's okay if you don't like me yet...I should earn your love." Mizu says, looking down at the ground.

"Mizu..." Your gaze softens, your fingers wrapping around hers.

"But I will earn it." She says, now determination filling her eyes. "I will show you how good I'd be for you. And for Charlie. So wait for me, until I can prove myself. But be ready for me."

And with that, she's out the door. Her steps are light and fast as she enjoy's the night breeze hit her face. She can't help but smile. She feels free.

She now, has something in her life...something to look forward to. She can't wait to be part of that family.

You look at the now closed door that she just walked through, and smile softly to yourself.

"What a child..." You whisper to yourself with a small chuckle.

#blue eye samurai #bes mizu #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu x reader #bes x reader #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu fanfic #fanfiction

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harringtonstilinski · 2 months

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You're So Dense - Steve Harrington

Author: @harringtonstilinski Characters: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader Word Count: 3,239 Warnings: fluff, flashback, use your imagination for steve explaining what he likes about this "mystery girl", Requested: no | yes; came from this prompt list Smut: no | yes; A/N: Hi, friends! If you like this chapter, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

steve harrington playlist

steve harrington masterlist

Dense. That’s the only word you could use to describe your best friend. Your best friend you’ve had since Sophomore year of high school. The very same best friend that was always late for school, who came into class with a freaking bagel from the local bakery. That same best friend who never wore a watch until both of your Senior year.

Who is this best friend? None other than Steve The Hair Harrington. The two of you bonded over your love of music, specifically all the pop music that was constantly playing on the radio, as well as all the music your parents listened to when they were young. Your favorite songs being (They Long To Be) Close To You by The Carpenters and Baby by Styx.

Steve had kept his distance from you, though, when Will Byers went missing, your little brother’s best friend. You were a part of the search parties to look for the little boy, Steve having his own drama with Nancy Wheeler, and eventually, somewhat defeating one of the Demogorgons that had come through from the Upside Down.

Steve and Dustin’s attempts at keeping you away from the tunnels and the Demodogs were fruitless. Steve especially tried to keep you away, but you weren’t having any of it after learning just months before that Dustin was almost Demogorgon food. All you wanted to do was protect Dustin, since you didn’t get the opportunity the first time, and that’s exactly what you did.

You protected Dustin, along with your new friend Robin and Lucas’ little sister Erica, against the Russians that were hiding under Starcourt Mall, as well as the big ass 30 foot Mind Flayer last Summer, and now you’re currently trying to figure out how you all can defeat a new monster by the name of Vecna.

Your little group that consisted of yourself, Steve, Dustin, Robin, Nancy, Erica, Lucas and Max Mayfield were all at the Creel House to get clues on how to defeat Vecna. After Robin threw a brick through the front door window, which was beautiful, by the way, Steve reached his arm inside, unlocking and opening the door.

Steve whistled as he looked back at you before moving to his left, letting the rest of you enter the house, Lucas going to the lamp by the door, trying to turn it on before he said, “Looks like someone forgot to pay their electric bill.”

Snickering, you covered your mouth, concealing the laugh that was begging to be released as you and Dustin held up your flashlights, turning them on.

“Where’d everyone get those?” Steve asked.

Turning around, Dustin faced your best friend before eyeing you. He turned his sights back to Steve, saying, “Do you need to be told everything?”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you grabbed his attention, saying, “You’re not a child, Steve.”

After his eyes danced between yours for a moment, he said, “Thank you,” as you reached into Dustin’s backpack, retrieving the extra flashlight from the back pocket.

“There ya go, big guy,” you whispered, following Dustin as he dropped the backpack.

What you didn’t know was that Steve’s eyes stayed on your back as you moved, confused as to why you called him that. But what he didn’t know was that your cheeks grew hot at your use of the nickname.

“They just… left… everything,” Nancy said.

“I guess a triple homicide isn’t good for resale value,” Robin added.

Silently agreeing with her as you slowly approached the two girls, you smiled a little to yourself, Robin’s humor your favorite part about her. Your attention was brought from the two of them to Max as she said, “Hey, guys.”

Turning to face Max, you looked at the back of her head before moving your eyes to the clock she was standing in front of, light pointed towards it as she asked, “You all see that, right?”

You moved closer to her, standing between her and Dustin as he and Steve answered, “Yeah.”

“Is this what you saw? In your… visions?” Nancy asked, the redhead nodding her head in confirmation.

“I’m sure this is just an ordinary grandfather clock, Nancy Drew,” you answered, moving the clock and running your hand over the glass covering the face to reveal a small part of it before looking back at Max, to say in a reassuring tone, “It’s just a regular old clock.”

As you softly smiled at her, Steve asked, “Why is this wizard obsessed with clocks? Is he like a… a clockmaker or something?”

Sighing, you walked back over to him, placing your hand on his chest to look into his eyes as you said, “ I think you cracked the case there, Harrington.”

Nancy’s voice grabbed your attention as your breathing hitched a little at Steve’s eyes on yours as she said, “All I know is the answers are here… somewhere. Okay, everyone stay in groups of two. Henderson, stay with your brother and Steve. Robin, upstairs.”

Max walked towards Lucas, putting her hand on his arm as she passed him, saying, “Come on, let’s go.”

You and your brother looked at each other before looking at Steve, the both of you giving him a smile in unison before he sighed. “Was that a sigh?” Dustin asked.

“Yup, totally sounded like it,” you voiced.

“No, I did not sigh,” Steve answered, going around you two to the stairs.

“Why’d you sigh, Steve?” you asked, deciding to pester him.

Climbing the stairs, Steve said, “I didn’t sigh. Just come on, guys.”

“We heard you,” you and Dustin said in unison.

“W-we’re always partners, okay?”

“And what’s wrong with that?” you asked, trying very hard to not look at his ass that was currently in your face.

“It’d just be nice to, I don’t know, mix it up a little,” Steve said.

“Are you we boring you, Harrington? Because I would seriously like to know if you wanna be partners with us or with Nancy.”

When you three made it to the top of the stairs, he turned to face you, a slightly confused look on his face as he asked, “Wait, what? Why would you think–”

Breaking the connection between your eyes, you walked off to the nearest room, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, releasing it as you heard footsteps behind you, Steve’s voice coming into your ears a few seconds later as he asked, “Hey, Henderson?”

“Which one?” Dustin asked.

“Either.”

Sighing, you asked, “What, Steve?”

“Could you maybe, uh… clarify what sort of clues we’re supposed to be looking for?”

Turning to face him, you answered Steve by saying, “The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes,” in your best British accent, Steve giving you a look as you smiled at him. “Sherlock Holmes,” you said.

When his look didn’t change, you sighed and rolled your eyes, turning and walking to the floor vent on your left as Steve said, “That’s great.”

Bending down, you opened it, picking up a jar and looking at the contents inside, immediately wishing you hadn’t upon seeing a spider inside the glass. Seeing something crawling on your arm from your periphery, you dropped the jar and started running backwards out of the room, screaming while trying to brush the arachnid off of you.

“Henderson, Henderson–”

“Get it off, get it off!!” you screamed, hands landing on Steve’s arms as Nancy’s voice sounded, the girl asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Spi-spider,” you breathed, closing your eyes. “There was a spider. A-a-a black widow.”

Feeling Steve’s arms disappear from your hands, you quickly opened your eyes, watching as he closed the door and came back to stand in front of you, looking above your head as he said, “Don’t go in there.”

Sighing, you closed your eyes again before feeling Nancy’s hand in your hair as she said, “Oh, oh. Wait–”

“What? Is it still on me?” you asked, moving the mirror that was only a few feet away.

Steve and Nancy followed you, the latter saying, “Stop moving, let me–”

“I can get them, Nance,” Steve said, carding his fingers through your hair as Nancy moved to stand beside you. “I got it,” he whispered.

“Thanks, Steve,” you whispered back.

Robin’s voice almost sent you into panic mode as she said, “If there’s a spider nesting in there, you’re never gonna find it until it lays eggs and all the babies spill out.”

“Robin Buckley, you shut your mouth,” you said, sternly. “What’s wrong with you?”

She chuckled as she walked past you three, Steve’s sigh bringing you back to the moment, feeling as if you two were the only ones in the house… or in the world.

“She’s got problems,” he whispered, eyes glued to your hair as he fished the webs out.

Taking a deep breath, you released it, saying, “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“I like that you two are friends. Maybe after we find Vecna, kill him, save the world and stuff, maybe we can all go out or something.”

A smile danced across your lips, Nancy coming in your peripheral as her own smile tried to form. It was no surprise to you that she still might’ve had feelings for Steve, even though she was with Jonathan.

Or maybe it was her way of being friendly with him. You couldn’t exactly remember what it was like with them when they were together, but what you could remember was the fact that she always had a smile on her face any time she was around him… except when Barbra Holland went missing.

Steve’s voice brought you back to the present as he said, “Ya’know, me, you, Nancy, Jonathan when he’s back, maybe Robin, too.”

“And Eddie,” you said, softly. “Can’t forget him. He’s pretty much part of this friend group now.”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not like we’re dating,” he added. “Me and Robin, it’s not like we’re dating. She told you? That we’re not?”

You started laughing, resting your hand on the table next to you. “Yes, Steven. I know that you two aren’t dating. I know all about Robin, remember? I was there in that mall bathroom when she explained everything. I know that you two are platonic.”

“Platonic with a capital P,” Robin added.

“Yes, ma’am, thank you.”

Using a softer voice that was almost a whisper, Steve said, “I mean… I would date her… it’s just… she’s…”

Your face fell, all the humor dissolving away as he tried to continue explaining, “We’re friends… nevermind… you know… we’re just friends.”

Nancy had moved to stand in front of you, grabbing your hands in hers to give you comfort. She knew about your crush on Steve, and she was happy when you had told her about it a few weeks ago.

“Nancy!” you whisper exclaimed, looking down at her from your spot on the couch. “I need to talk to you. Like, now.”

She nodded her head, getting up from her spot on the floor, to the two of you walking up the stairs of Steve’s house and into his bedroom, where she closed the door behind you. “What’s up?” she asked.

“I think I like Steve,” you blurted out, hand covering your mouth.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she put a hand on her chest. “Well, that’s a relief! I’m glad you finally came to your senses.”

“Wait,” you said, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “You knew?” Chuckling, she said, “It’s kind of obvious to everyone but Steve. The way you look at him, the way you were just sitting next to him.”

“H-how was I sitting?”

“You’re trying not to lean into him. His arm is resting on the back of the couch behind your head! That’s an open invitation.”

Suddenly feeling your cheeks heat up, you quickly decided to come up with an excuse to everyone else downstairs as to why you needed to leave. “I have to go home. I-I can’t be around him right now when I just realized that I like him and-and I just–”

“It’s okay,” Nancy said, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Just tell everyone you weren’t feeling good. I’ll make sure Dustin gets home.”

Giving her a hug, you sighed, “Thanks, Nance.”

You both went back downstairs and you gave your excuse of not feeling well that you’d see everyone the next day after some rest. Steve had offered to take you home, even though you drove yourself and Dustin, to which you kindly rejected.

After arriving home that night, you talked with your mom about your feelings before you went off to your room to lay down, getting a decent night’s sleep before hanging out with the group the following day.

Feeling Steve’s hands on your shoulders, you were brought back to the present, yet again, as he said, “There. All better.”

Turning to face him, you softly smiled at him and said, “Thanks, Steve.”

Softly chuckling, he looked into your eyes before casting them down to look toward his shoes before he whispered, “Guess we should, uh, get back to the investigation.”

“Right.”

Without missing a beat, he said, “The obvious things are not what people observe.” Snorting, you covered your mouth as he continued, “Or… do… don’t observe… or… whatever the hell you- well… Sherlock Holmes.”

“You get credit for trying.”

“Thanks,” he whispered before turning around and walking into the room that was behind him, leaving you to stand there confused before you turned to face Nancy, the two of you whispering, “What?”

~~~

After everyone found Vecna in the attic with the flashlights and they all burst in your hands, you all left the Creel House and went back to the Wheeler house, where you, Dustin and Steve collected his car.

Once the three of you made it back to yours and Dustin’s house, the latter got out of the car, yawning and made his way inside as you and Steve stayed in the vehicle.

“Hey, Henderson?” Steve said.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Sighing, you responded, “You can ask me anything, Steve. You know that.”

Looking at him as he nodded, you couldn’t help but think to yourself that he was going to ask about Nancy. That’s where your mind always went to when he needed to ask you a question.

“Do you, uhm… do you like anyone?” he asked, tentatively. Steve was afraid that you’d say yes but not say that it was him. He liked you, that much was certain. The very same night a few weeks ago after you left, he talked with Robin about his feelings for you, the girl simply telling him, “If you like her that much, just talk to her. The worst she could say is no.” So, he decided as the two of you sat in his car that he was going to ask you about it.

“Uhm, yeah. I do.” You smile while giving your answer, wanting so badly to tell him that it was him you liked.

Sighing, he softly nodded his head, looking down at a spot on his jeans. “Do I… do I know him?”

“Very much so.” Looking over at him, you could see the defeat in his eyes and on his face. “Do you like anyone?”

Steve looked at you, a look in his eyes that you should recognize, but was choosing not to read into like you normally did. “Yeah. I do.”

“What do you like about her?”

“What do you like about him?”

Steve thought you had a crush on Eddie, which is what really prompted him to ask you. Was he a fan of Eddie’s? Not particularly, no. Along with everyone in town, Steve thought Eddie was a freak because he liked to play D&D.

You, on the other hand, didn’t think he was a freak. Since Dustin joined Hellfire, your friendship with Eddie grew to the point where it’s like Steve and Robin’s friendship; strictly platonic. Eddie was a sweet soul, not this demonic satan worshiper that the whole town thought he was.

“Uhm,” you said, taking a deep breath. “I like the fact that he makes me smile. He’s not someone I thought I’d be friends with.”

“What was he like?” Steve asked, his curiosity piqued.

Chuckling, you looked out of the windshield towards your house as you said, “A complete asshole. I don’t wanna give too much away, though.”

“No, I wanna know.”

Shaking your head, you looked at him, a small smile on your face. “Tell me about this girl.”

Mimicking your movements, he looked out of the windshield, saying, “She’s amazing. She’s not afraid to speak her mind.” As he started listing off all of the things he liked about this mystery girl, you couldn’t help but feel a little sad.

Tears started to prick your eyes, so that was your cue to get out of the car, Steve’s voice stopping mid sentence.

“Hey, where ya going?”

“Inside,” you said, closing the car door.

Getting out of his seat, Steve said, “Wait, why?”

Your movements stopped as you sighed and closed your eyes. “Because I really don’t wanna hear about this mystery girl.”

What you had failed to realize, in Steve’s eyes, that the mystery girl… was you. But, in your eyes, the mystery girl was Nancy.

“Okay, well… same for the mystery boy you mentioned,” he said, arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh, my god,” you whispered. Turning to face him, you said, “Okay, so I guess I’m just going to have to spell everything out for you because you clearly think I don’t like you when that could not be more wrong.”

Steve’s eyes went as wide as saucers at hearing the words that just escaped from your lips.

“I. Like. You. Steve.” You moved toward him with each word you spoke. “You, Steve. Not some mystery guy. You. You make me smile, you make me laugh. You’re my shoulder to cry on, my protector, even though I don’t need it.

“You’re everything I’ve looked for in a guy, despite the fact that you were a complete asshole Junior year. I like to think I had something to do with that change in you, but we all know it was Nancy that changed you.

“You’re sweet, and caring, and I love the way you’ve protected the Party. I especially love the way you’ve taken Dustin under your wing. He’s needed a brotherly figure since our dad just up and left.”

The two of you hadn’t realized that you were so close to each other, getting lost in the other’s eyes as you had walked towards him during your explanation.

“But most importantly, Steve… I like you because you’re you. Not to mention, you’re hot as hell–”

Your words were interrupted by Steve’s hands cupping your cheeks, his own voice saying, “Shut up, Henderson,” before kissing you. Shock ran through your system for a split second before you kissed him back.

With your lips moving in sync, you got lost in the being that was Steve Harrington.

Pulling away from you for a moment before resting his forehead against yours, Steve took a deep breath before saying, “You’re so dense.”

You chuckled, closing your eyes as your arms came to rest on his shoulders, your fingers lightly playing with the hair at the base of his neck as you replied, “No, Steve. You’re dense."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2: hi, friends! let me know what you thought about! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Notes: i'm so sorry if this sucks major balls... i don't know how to write dense characters... kbye!! <3

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak

Steve Harrington Taglist: @madaboutjoe

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

Italics wouldn’t let me tag!

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on March 7, 2024

#steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #joe keery x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader

156 notes · View notes

wishmaster · 3 months

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Father Knows Best

Martin was headed to his son's room as he passed his sons girlfriend leaving, as she wandered past Martin had noticed his son's cum dripping down her face, Martin had always thought Jake was too damn good looking to be wasting his time on the girls and knew he had been wasting his youth, especially when his best friends were so damn sexy.

He decided he needed to teach him a lesson.

Martin shook his head as he saw his son standing there in the afterglow of his blowjob.

Think fast. his dad said as he tossed him a ring.

What's this? Jake asked. Just a little something, he hadn't noticed his dad had on the same thing. Go head try it on. martin insisted, so Jake did, never imagining what was about to happen. As he did he felt his father being pulled towards him, no into him as the rings were combining the father and son together. Suddenly within seconds Jake and Martin were no more, but the new Phoenix emerged.

His sexy toned 20 something body leaned against his new home, this new stud not only was older than Jake but had inherited Martins love of leather and it showed in his closet full of nothing but leather outfits, his relaxed sportswear look now graced his new form. Inside Martin told Jake he was wasting his life as a straight jock and was going to show him just how much he could enjoy being gay, but in a twist Phoenix hadn't turned out 100 percent gay but combining the two had turned him bi sexual.

Phoenix decided they needed to hit the clubs and find a good piece of ass to fuck, so they changed into a more appropriate outfit.

Phoenix pulled out a cigar once he was dressed, Jake hadn't been a fan but now in his new combo form he was nearly salivating over lighting that thing up. After a good drag on the cigar Phoenix bean dreaming of wrapping his lips around a nice fat cock just as big as this smoke and who knows maybe he'd get luck tonight. He headed out the new father and son hybrid headed to the local gay bar anxious to find something they'd enjoy

When they first arrived, Phoenix was hoping to submit, but when a certain stud caught his eye. His idea for the night changed.

Standing there on display was the perfect ass and it happened to be attached to a sexy twink. Phoenix's tastes quickly changed as he headed over and introduced himself, though not being very different in age the twink kept calling Phoenix Daddy and that made his dick twitch.

They headed into a backroom and the young twink presented himself, this would indeed be Jakes first time fucking a guy and after an bit of foreplay and eating his ass out, which Phoenix seemed to be a huge fan of they fucked, but alas the twink was only interested in one go with his leather daddy, which left Phoenix a bit depressed, he left the club and wandered into the straight leather bar next door. By the end of that night BiSexual Phoenix, unbeknownst to Martin had fallen for a beautiful young woman.

The next morning it seemed father and son had learned a valuable lesson as the combined Phoenix, bot showing the other the benefits of the others sex life. As Phoenix went to remove the ring to change back into Martin and Jake, They found it had vanished, a small tattooed version had replaced it on Phoenix's finger. Seems Martin and Jake were now gone forever and the new sexually charged Phoenix was going to be sticking around for good.

He checked himself in the mirror as his changes adjusted and his final look came in to view. Adjusting his rock hard cock, he headed out again the next day longing to be the one being fucked today. Life was going to definitely be interesting from now on.

#body transformation #male transformation #cursed object #father and son #merged

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foone · 3 months

Text

So I watched @atopfourthwall 's latest (and possibly last!) History of Power Rangers (Cosmic Fury) and I have to say that I'm very happy to learn that Power Rangers said Trans Rights.

But... It seems like they could have definitely done it better, easily: just make the alien who hates being in a human body have a different gender of human body (than their alien form). Then you don't need to do anything extra in the dialogue, but now the "trans rights" subtext is much clearer.

Or hey, remember that you're a show about TEENAGERS THAT TRANSFORM INTO NEW BODIES. You've basically had a built in trans allegory, you just need to use it.

Introduce a new side character in the ranger's civilian life. A coworker or fellow student or something. Then you introduce a Sixth Ranger character: mysterious and powerful! And you have them be different genders... And then when the rangers finally befriend them, you reveal that they're the same person! A teenage girl who morphs into a man, or a teenage boy who morphs into a woman.

You could even have someone ask if it's weird that they switch genders when morphing, and they go "at first, but then I realized I really like it. Now it feels weird to not be morphed."

And then in the finale you tie it all together: they make a big sacrifice in the fight against the bad guy, and then get restored by The Morphing Grid or whatever. Except now their unmorphed form matches their morphed gender, they got a magic transition.

Bonus points if you brought this up beforehand in the penultimate episode: have them say that they're gonna miss being able to morph after they finally defeat the local gravely-voiced bad guy, since then they'll have to give up their morpher and won't get to be their morphed form anymore. The ranger they're talking to goes like "yeah... I'm gonna kinda miss being this powerful!" because they don't get why they like being morphed.

Extra bonus points: in your season requisite clip show, have it be dream-based... And show that, a la Batman in Batman Beyond not calling themselves "Bruce" in their head, their dream self is the morphed form, while the other rangers are in their civilian mode. You could even use this as part of the plot: they're attacked by some kind of dream monster, which is trying to defeat them in their dreams like Freddy Krueger. The rangers are powerless in their dreams, until they manage to meet up with the sixth ranger, who is morphed in their dream, and thus able to fight the monster, while the other rangers use their dreams to help out: flashing back to great moments in the season, with the dream monster greenscreened in.

(Help, I'm writing fanfic for a show I don't watch!)

Anyway... It just seems they could have easily done quite a bit better without making it too obvious to the point where it feels like a PSA.

#Power Rangers #trans rights

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yourclumsyguardianangel · 7 months

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the seven + a few others future headcanons

percy:

becomes a high school teacher

teaches high school marine biology (idk how it is in other schools but when we hit sophomore year we got to choose different bio classes ie: marine bio, ag bio, med bio + regular bio)

also teaches the mythology elective and is the swim team coach

annabeth:

we already know this queen is an architect with obvious inspiration from greek architecture

learns how to make blue food for percy and their kids from sally

has traveled all over the world looking at different architecture

learns the basics of many languages so shes able to communicate with the locals

her and leo team up to build a small school near camp half-blood for year rounders so everyone can learn consistently but dw they get summers off

piper:

love her but shes a nepo baby

she doesnt act like it tho

”are you tristan mcleans daughter?” “who?”

loves her dad to bits but does not like being seen out in public by the paparazzi

marries shel, they dont have kids tho, neither of them want to bring any into the world especially with america’s downfall and the government erasing women and poc rights

is basically leos big sister atp

leo:

him and calypso dont last, maybe a year and a half in they split bc calypso wants to explore the world and leo is very emotionally unstable and calypso has a hard time understanding

they end on good terms but dont ever talk unless its with a group of friends

he goes into a trade to become a mechanic and owns his own shop

starts smoking cigarettes/vaping

his friends dont really approve but they understand he cant quit just yet as hes not in a mental space to do so

goes to therapy with a psychologist whos a demigod that specializes in grieving and war trauma

they all go to therapy but hes the last one to do it

he’s still the ‘happy go lucky’ guy hes always been but as he gets closer w the others they start to see the true sadness in him

piper and him grow a lot closer after jason died and have a big sister little brother relationship

hazel:

my girl stays at camp jupiter

takes nicos place at camp

horse trainer

her and frank also dont work out as a romantic relationship, they felt that the age gap was too much after frank turned 18 and hazel was 15 theyre still friends tho

hazel often visits leo in his shop

as much as leo reminds her of sammy, through therapy she has recognized that theyre separate people and to not push all her past feelings for sammy onto leo

not only does she train horses but she also teaches little kids basic math, science, and history to the younger kids

they all call her ms. hazel

she prefers to teach the really young kids (age 4-7)

wears her hair in different braid styles after BOO

frank:

my friggin HOMIE

i relate to frank a lot personality wise

therefore i think hed be a 4/20 fanatic after BOO

hes not stoned during training or during important camp duties

but otherwise you try talkin to him and you dont really notice until you look and see the far off look and red eyes and he just goes “huh?”

other than that hes a great leader

after he gets his cool new look from mars he takes really good care of his body including consistent exercise and eating really healthily (maybe he has a soft spot for fast food when hes hi)

him joining the military does not make sense to me

he lost his mom to war, and he was in one himself, idk about you but i would not wanna join the military after being the main character in a war

he studies to be a veterinarian for exotic animals

when no one is around he shifts into the animal to find out whats wrong

”dr. zhang prefers to work by himself” “why” “idk but hes always right, if it aint broke dont fix it”

jason:

rip home-slice

nico:

my other homie

my guy does not get taller than 5’8

stays at camp during the summer to train the new and old kids

him and will get a house together

teaches history at the camp school

cat dad (5 cats and counting)

will:

takes nicos last name when they marry bc its cooler

him being a doctor doesnt click w me i more picture him being an EMT

EMTs are hotter anyways

does med training with new apollo kids whenever he gets time

if he’s not busy during working hours he drops by nicos classroom w his fav drink from dutch bros (starbucks is MID) and hangs out with him and his students

#percy jackson #pjo #jason grace #hazel levesque #frank zhang #leo valdez #piper mclean #annabeth chase #nico di angelo #will solace #heroes of olympus #solangelo #percabeth

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kneelingshadowsalome · 5 months

Note

OK, I know you just re-opened ur asks (but please take a break if you need it!!) But the thought of Girl dad König has plagued my mind ever since that one post.

He's super protective. He's one of those "you're not dating until you're 35" or "I know how boys are like. They only want you for one thing," dads 🙄.

Any boy his daughter manages to bring around will only be threatened. König will accidentally drop one of the largest knives from his collection right in front of her boyfriend and be like "oops🙂".

Speaking of knives, all of his weapons will be stored away once his daughter is born. He doesn't want to risk her finding them and hurting herself.

Gosh. Girl dad!König is every fuckboy’s nightmare!

Manages to chase away even the good guys, every boy his daughter braves to bring home is a no-go for him. A bunch of losers and wankers, all of them, and after his pretty girl! Psh.

You could be kinder than Tom Hiddleston and you still wouldn’t be considered worthy of dating König’s daughter. Every candidate is sent home with their tail between their legs after an awkward, cold family dinner and a bunch of questions that feel like an interview. Or an interrogation... You desperately try to treat these boys with some level of respect, curiosity and warmth – to be honest they appear far more gentle and emotionally available than, ahem, certain someone you dated back in the day when he was not yet a Colonel.

And the father-daughter relationship is fucked up in more ways than one, because König tries to fix his emotional issues and the fact that he’s away most of the time by getting his daughter anything she needs. She wants to try ballet when she’s six? She gets the cutest pink princess tutu skirt and pointe shoes money can buy. Oh, now she’s into horseback riding? Suddenly she has private lessons with the best teacher in town, dons 500 e leather boots, a nice little riding crop and a test winner helmet + gets anything else she can dream of when tending to the horses. (You had to actively stop König from buying her a horse when she was 10)

Cello classes, gaming PC’s, downhill ski equipment, expensive yoga retreats – daddy's girl gets it all because König has to spoil her to bits. Not that he actively tries to carve out a brat of her by this princess treatment: he just wants his girl to have access to anything she wants. His Vögelchen is so talented in everything she picks up!

König shows pics of his daughter to his colleagues: look, she learned to swim when they were on vacation in Maldives! And look, here she won the local stable’s jumping competition, isn't she amazing? Now she’s into archery, and has her own recurve bow, but lately she’s started to get interested in boys, and you know what that means… Curfews, screen time and more chores! And NO BOYS.

She’s “only” 19, and comes home drunk once, brought by some young clown who, in König’s mind, tries to evade responsibility by giving him a sob story about how he only wanted to bring his daughter home because he was worried about her and well, actually, he’s in love with her… She’s a good girl and he wants to take care of her, he really appreciates her and blablabla, König is not impressed. That boy gets himself an earful as a reward, he's lucky König doesn’t slam a knife on the hood of that car.

(....No one has the courage to tell dad König that her daughter likes to smoke weed with the bad boys and dates some older biker guy from big city :”)

#girl dad König #another menace this one

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fangirlwriting-stories · 12 days

Text

Easier When Unknown

Summary: Danny could have imagined his life would be interesting after everyone learned his secret, but he didn't think it would be this different.

Author's Note: A phic phight fanfiction! Here are the two prompts:

AU where no one knew Danny was Phantom until PP (or some alternate big reveal of the author's choice). Sam and Tucker are sure that a famous hero like Danny Phantom is too cool to be their friend again, especially since they haven't talked since before freshman year of high school. Danny just wants to be part of the trio again and has no idea how to ask.

Danny finds out that Sam's been being bullied at school and has been hiding it from him and Tucker out of embarrassment.

...

Danny’s life definitely didn’t get easier after his identity was revealed, but it didn’t get that much harder, which was good. Right?

Or, well, that was a little bit of an oversimplification. His life definitely got harder in a lot of ways. People stared at him wherever he went. Suddenly all of the popular kids at school wanted to be best friends with him, like he couldn’t see through that change of pace from a mile away. There were news stations constantly vying for the first interview with the half-ghost kid who defeated the Ghost King.

But his parents stopped hunting him. And they were going to try to work things out. And Jazz revealed that she’d actually known for a while now, and that made her more ready to adapt to everything, and she didn’t treat him like anything had changed.

And all of that kind of evened it out, at the end of the day. Even if he wasn’t exactly sure he was ready to go from town’s enemy to world’s hero.

Because that was another part of this: word of Amity Park, ghosts in general, and what he’d done had been spreading like wildfire since he’d put Pariah Dark back in his coffin. Suddenly everyone was talking about him, and everyone knew him, and, as stated with the aforementioned journalists, everyone wanted to talk to him. He woke up every day to see news trucks that were local and ones that were very much not right outside his house. He’d flown intangibly to school every day for the past month.

Ancients, all this fame needed to die down soon. He wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take.

He was often so caught up in everything changing all at once, however, that he didn’t have much of a chance to think about things he might want to happen. Which was why he was a little caught off guard that morning. He was running from the daily mob of screaming girls who wanted his autograph (which was never something he thought he’d get sick of), and after getting at least a little bit of a lead on them, he turned intangible and dove through the door to the janitor’s closet, then turned back to normal and rested his hands on his knees, panting slightly to catch his breath.

“Uh,” came a very familiar female voice, and Danny’s head shot up. He found standing on the other side of the closet the one part of his life that hadn’t changed.

And for a long, long moment, he and Sam and Tucker just stared at each other.

Danny’s feelings about Sam and Tucker had never been more mixed. They really were the one aspect of his life that stayed the same post identity-reveal-to-the-entire-world, and he couldn’t decide whether to thank them for the consistency or be pissed at them for the audacity.

Because he hadn’t talked to Sam and Tucker since the beginning of Freshman year.

And then his secret was revealed to the entire world.

And he still hadn’t talked to Sam and Tucker since the beginning of Freshman year.

“Uh,” Danny said finally, because they couldn’t just all keep staring at each other. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Tucker said. Sam nodded in acknowledgement.

Really, guys. Work with him a little bit, please?

“Are you hiding from people too?” Danny asked, pushing himself up using his knees.

“Yeah,” Sam said.

“I didn’t think you’d be hiding from anyone anymore,” Tucker said, and Danny didn’t miss the tinge of bitterness in his voice.

“Um,” Danny said. He didn’t seem to have any more words for Sam and Tucker than he had a year and a half ago.

“Danny!” came from outside the closet, and Danny whirled around instinctually. “Get back here! What makes you think you can run from me?”

“Hey you mind if I hang out here for a bit cool thanks,” Danny said, moving across the closet until he was right across from Sam and Tucker. A second later, the door handle started jiggling, and Danny turned intangible, even though he could feel Sam and Tucker’s stares.

The door swung open and Paulina poked her head in.

“Oh, it’s just you two,” she said, disappointment obvious in her voice. A second later, she perked up. “Hey, you haven’t seen Danny, have you?”

“No,” Sam said, crossing her arms. “Would you back off? We’re trying to hide in a closet here.”

Paulina laughed. “Sure, okay. Have fun, losers.” She slammed the door after herself.

Danny dropped the intangibility as soon as she was gone with a sigh of relief. “Thanks,” he said to Sam and Tucker.

“Don’t mention it,” Sam grumbled, and leaned back against the shelf behind her. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to see her, though.”

“Honestly, yeah,” Tucker agreed, giving him a weird look. “Never thought I’d see the day you’d turn down Paulina.”

“It’s not that,” Danny said. “I mean she… she’s not…”

The warning bell rang, and all three of them looked towards the door, where they could hear it outside. For a second afterwards, none of them moved.

Sam did first, pushing herself off the shelf. “Bye,” she said, starting towards the door. Tucker followed her closely.

Danny tried not to make his deflation obvious. “Yeah, okay,” he muttered. He turned intangible again, and slipped through the floor, rather than try and go past them.

It was only when he actually made it to his homeroom that he realized he still had no idea why Sam and Tucker were in that closet.

…

“Hey, Fenturd— I mean Fenton!”

Danny heaved an internal sigh and looked up from his tray of food to find Dash and Kwan walking up to his table.

“Are these seats taken?” Dash asked with a grin, gesturing at the as-of-yet empty table around him. He’d gotten to lunch early in order to try and hang on to one.

“Yeah,” Danny said to Dash, leaning over to rest his chin on his hand in what was intended to be a representation of how little he wanted them here. “I’m holding it for all of the ghosts that are going to show up during lunch and blast you across the room.”

“Ha, you’re a riot Fenton!” Dash said, completely ignoring Danny’s tone and face and sliding into the seat next to him. Danny cringed and didn’t bother to hide it, sliding as far away from Dash as he could. Unfortunately, Dash just slid right down after him, which resulted in Danny nearly being pushed off the bench and Dash not noticing.

Kwan followed his lead and took the seat across from Danny, meaning Danny was forced to look in boredom to the side to avoid both of their gazes. He waited a couple extra seconds, but eventually it became clear that neither of them were going to move. So, Danny sighed, resigned himself to his life, and picked up one of his terrible school-lunch chicken nuggets.

“So, we were both thinking that maybe you could come watch one of our practices!” Dash called, slinging an arm around Danny’s shoulder. “The football team’s, I mean.”

“Why would I do that?” Danny asked, making his shoulder go intangible just long enough for Dash’s arm to fall through.

“Well I mean, it would be neat to have you there,” Dash said, glancing across the table at Kwan. “Right Kwan?”

“Totally,” Kwan agreed with a grin of his own. “And I mean, you’re pretty good with athletic stuff. You know, when you’re a cool ghost fighting superhero and not a weak dweeb. Maybe you could come as Phantom, you know, show us some tricks!”

“Gee, that sounds great,” Danny deadpanned. “So am I just supposed to ignore the insults in there, or…?”

“Hey,” came Paulina’s voice, and Danny turned around to see her walking up behind them all. “Can’t you two leave him alone? It’s clear he doesn’t want to be bothered by you.”

Danny blinked in surprise. He really hadn’t expected Paulina to pick up on that. Maybe she actually—

“He’d clearly rather be sitting with me!” Paulina said, reaching down and pulling Danny up by his arm.

“Okay, that’s it!” Danny went intangible again and slipped out of Paulina’s grasp, then grabbed his lunch and walked out of the room, straight through the doors without bothering to open them.

He made his way out to the front steps of the school and sat down, and managed to get through at least a couple bites before he remembered the reason eating outside was also a bad idea. The reminder came in the form of a reporter and a camera man leaping out from what he thought was a normal van sitting across the street.

“Mr Fenton!” called one of them as he ran up towards the steps. “Or would you prefer Mr Phantom?”

“I’d prefer solitude,” Danny snapped, leaning back and away from them both.

“Oh absolutely! Just a couple of quick questions first of course, you wouldn’t mind.”

The door slammed open behind them, and Danny prepared himself for Dash or Paulina again when, to his surprise, Mr Lancer stepped down the steps and stopped right in front of him.

“You’re on school property,” he said, crossing his arms. “You have two minutes to get back in your van and drive away or I am calling the police.”

“Sir, can I ask, how long have you known that one of your students is dead?” the reporter asked, shoving a mic in Lancer’s face.

Lancer raised an eyebrow and pulled out his phone, then started dialing 911. Thankfully, the reporters turned and ran back across the street before he could finish.

Lancer turned back around as soon as they were gone. “Are you alright?” he asked, casting a concerned look down at Danny.

“Fine,” Danny muttered, picking up his tray and climbing to his feet. “You know. Great.”

Lancer looked at him for another second, then said, “Mr Fenton, come and eat your lunch in my classroom.”

“What? Why?”

“You can sit out of view from my door,” Lancer said. “It’ll give you a break from the crowds.”

Danny felt a knot in his chest loosen. “Really?”

Lancer gave him a sympathetic frown. “I can’t imagine it’s an easy thing to deal with all the time,” he said. He opened the door again and gestured for Danny to go first, so he did.

And for the first time in a while, he ate his lunch in silence.

…

He wasn’t expecting to see Sam and Tucker again that day. Most of the time his time at school was spent avoiding every single person he possibly could. The morning incident in the janitor’s closet had been a once in a blue moon event.

But, as fate would have it, there was a ghost attack during the last period, and after going and taking care of it (just the Box Ghost showing up as an irritation), he landed behind the school to find Sam and Tucker leaning against the wall and talking.

And while he’d originally come back here to try and avoid all of the cheers he’d get going right back into class, he was sort of regretting that decision now.

Sam and Tucker were clearly deep in conversation, but they noticed when he landed right in front of them, and then they all got to do a lovely repeat of that morning’s staring at each other.

“Hiding again?” Tucker asked eventually.

Danny nodded. “You too?”

Sam nodded.

Danny gave them a curious look. “From what?”

“Danny!”

Danny groaned audibly this time, as Star ran around the side of the building and straight for him.

“That was so cool the way you just flew off like that!” she called. “Not a second thought to how you might be putting yourself in danger!”

“Yeah, thanks,” Danny said, already starting to fly away. “Make my excuses in class, will you? Got to get this really dangerous ghost back to the portal right away and send him through to the ghost zone. Great thanks bye!”

He flew off maybe a little bit too quickly for the given situation, but he couldn’t stand another second there, and school was basically over anyway. He made it home pretty quickly, and thankfully wasn’t stopped by any news outlets on the way, though that was likely because he made the whole trip while intangible.

But while he made it inside without any fuss, as soon as he flew down to the lab he was greeted with his parents working on what looked like a weapon of some kind.

He winced. He was never quite able to stop the touch of fear that came with his parents working on a ghost weapon. After a second, though, he floated down to the ground anyway and changed back from his ghost form.

Both his parents startled and looked over at him.

“Danny,” his mom said. “You’re back early.”

“Yeah uh, ghost fight in last period,” Danny muttered, heading over towards the portal and attaching the thermos to it. “School was already basically over, so I just came home.” He hit the button on the side of the portal and sent the Box Ghost flying into the portal, crying out dramatically all the way.

“Well that’s nice,” Mom said, the tension in her voice obvious.

“Yeah, uh, anyway I have homework,” Danny said, starting for the steps. He had a feeling flying up through the ceiling wouldn’t be a great idea right now.

“Will we see you for dinner, Danno?” Dad asked. “We were hoping to all eat together tonight.”

Danny tightened his grip on the railing of the stairs. “Okay.”

He considered asking what they’d be having, but given the tension in the room he really didn’t think he could spend much more time in the lab.

So instead, he just said “See you later,” and headed upstairs.

It’s not that his parents had reacted badly to the Phantom news. They’d done the important stuff, they’d given him a huge apology and stopped actively hunting him. But none of them seemed to really know where they stood with each other anymore. Danny didn’t logically think they were going to hurt him anymore, but it was difficult to get rid of that fear response that for the longest time, it made sense to have.

But at the same time, he could tell it made them feel guilty to see him be scared of them. Jazz said it wasn’t his fault, and she was probably right. But he still hated it.

He started first for his bedroom, and made it part of the way through the living room when the front door opened and Jazz sprinted in, slamming the door shut on nearly a dozen reporters. Danny could still hear their voice through the door after it shut. Some were asking how it felt to be the brother of a hero, some were asking how long she’d known and how she’d found out, and some were asking how it felt to know her brother was dead.

Jazz heaved out a breath, though all of the reporters were still easily heard through the windows. Then she looked up and met eyes with Danny.

“Oh hey,” she said, clearly still exhausted. “How was school?”

Danny didn’t respond, instead gazing out the gap in the curtains to the people shoving cameras in it.

“Sorry,” he said to Jazz.

“Oh, don’t you dare,” Jazz said. “I know you hate them as much as I do.”

Danny sighed and looked down. “Yeah.”

“Are you doing okay?” Jazz asked hesitantly. “I’m sure it’s… a lot.”

Danny snorted. “Understatement.”

Jazz smiled a little. “Yeah.”

Danny turned to face her more directly, chewing on his lip. He’d avoided the topic with her so far, mostly because too much was going on, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been desperately curious. “Can I…” he said hesitantly. “Can I be like one of those awful reporters and ask you how you found out?”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not a reporter, you’re my brother. And I know if I tell you it’s not going to end up on the 5:00 news.”

She paused, and turned and glanced out the windows for a moment. “You want to go upstairs, though?”

“Yes,” Danny said immediately.

So they both ended up in Jazz’s room, sitting next to each other on her bed, with the curtains drawn tight in case the helicopters came back.

“I found out during the Spectra thing,” Jazz started. “I spotted you transforming.”

Danny nodded, thinking about that. “Okay,” he said quietly. “And… why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wanted to wait until you wanted to tell me,” Jazz said. She sighed, and glanced towards the windows. “I guess that didn’t really work out.”

“No,” Danny muttered. “But… I appreciate the sentiment.”

Jazz turned to look at him, concerned. “Are you doing okay? I mean, obviously not, just… you know.”

“Oh no, I’m fine,” Danny said, rolling his eyes. “I always hoped that everyone would learn my secret in the aftermath of an exhausting battle when I was definitely not prepared for them to learn, and then I’d be hounded by literally everyone who suddenly feels entitled to my attention and my time. Dream come true, this is.”

“I’m really sorry it turned out this way,” Jazz said quietly.

Danny sighed. “Me too.”

“Is there anything I could do to be helpful?” Jazz asked.

“Do you know if anyone’s figured out time travel yet?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Dammit.”

There was a moment of silence, and Jazz said, “I mean it.”

Danny shook his head. “There’s nothing you could do that you aren’t already doing,” he said. “You’re not looking at me different. Like your entire worldview’s been flipped on its head. Which, I mean I guess for a lot of people it has, but… still. It’s nice that you’re not.”

Jazz was quiet for a moment, and then she reached over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. And despite how totally lame it was to hug his sister, Danny did the same back.

“Still, if you want me to stand in between you and anyone, just let me know,” Jazz said.

“I wouldn’t ask you do that,” Danny said, pulling back, though he was smiling a little. “I can just fly away from the news vans, and go intangible to get away from the helicopters. And Lancer already gave me permission to hide in his office during school hours if I ever need to.”

“Good,” Jazz said with a nod. She paused for a second, and Danny got the feeling she was about to ask something delicate. He was proven right when a second later she said, “And what about Sam and Tucker?”

“What about them?” Danny said, glaring away. “We’ve said about ten words to each other since everything happened. And about half of them are ‘um.’”

…Okay, so maybe he’s a little more bitter than he realized. He sighed.

“I can’t expect everything to suddenly change,” he said, turning back to Jazz. “Our falling out had nothing to do with Phantom.”

Or, it technically did. Their falling out had been because he constantly ditched them and left mid-way through hangouts. Because he was Phantom, and had to go fight whatever ghost had shown up. But they didn’t know that at the time. And it had been over a year since they’d talked. They had probably moved on.

“You should still talk to them,” Jazz said. “And I mean really talk to them.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t see much of an opportunity for that in between getting interrupted every ten seconds, either by classmates or reporters,” Danny said. He paused, and turned to look at Jazz as a realization struck him. “Hey, how are you doing with all that, by the way? It doesn’t look like the reporters are leaving you alone.”

“They’re definitely not,” Jazz said. “But I can handle myself. Besides, they tend to leave me alone as soon as they see you.”

Danny smiled a bit. “Glad I can take that off your shoulders for you.”

“Oh yeah, if anything you owe me,” Jazz said with a smile. “After everything I did for you?”

“I think I’ve saved your life three times now.”

“Do my dishes for a month and we’re even.”

Danny snorted. “Sure, you got it.” He took a deep breath, feeling lighter than he had when he got home.

“Hey, thanks, Jazz,” he said, looking over at her. “You’re surprisingly easy to talk to.”

“Anytime,” Jazz said, smiling warmly at him. “I mean it.”

…

The next day didn’t start much better, with flying invisibly to school and hiding in various places until first period starts, but Danny found himself in a better mood despite it. Talking with Jazz had helped, and knowing he’d have a quiet place to eat lunch helped too.

He still didn’t love being swarmed in the halls on his way to his first period after the warning bell rang, though. Maybe he could use his well-established reputation for being late for everything and just hide until the halls were empty between classes.

…Or would that not work anymore because everyone knew the reason?

Well, he’d give it a shot anyway.

First period was uneventful, thankfully, aside from everyone spending the period staring at him while he was trying to focus, which was nothing new. He could tell it was irritating both him and the teacher, however, because eventually he set his chalk down from writing math equations on the board.

“Anyone who doesn’t stop staring at Mr Fenton loses an entire letter grade on the next test,” he snapped. “This is school, this is not your free time. Mr Fenton, thank you for at least trying to pay attention.”

“Anytime,” Danny deadpanned, because he wasn’t about to turn down a compliment from a teacher, and he really was trying.

Apparently the threat of losing a letter grade was only enough to sway a couple students, though, likely the ones who hadn’t entirely given up on their grades like he had.

(Although maybe the administration would go easier on him now…?)

Either way, he managed to get at least some of the notes down by the end of the class, and going up to the teacher to ask if there was anything else he absolutely needed to have written down seemed to put him on his better side. Being a teacher’s favorite was also something he wasn’t used to.

And as a second bonus, staying behind and finishing the notes resulted in a late pass, meaning he could wait until everyone had filed out of the hallway.

Or at least, he thought that’s what he was doing.

Instead, as he turned a corner towards his next period, he stumbled across Dash shoving someone inside a locker. And instead of adding him to the bunch like he used to, when Dash spotting him he brightened.

“Fenton! You want to help me stuff these losers in here?”

“Not really,” Danny said, starting over towards them to help out whoever he was bullying. “You know, if you’re really trying to get on my good side, you might try—” he stopped as he reached the locker.

Well, apparently Dash really didn’t care about getting on his good side, because staring back out at him were Sam and Tucker.

“Uh, hey Danny,” Tucker said, waving at him from inside the locker.

Danny turned back to Dash, raising an eyebrow in what hopefully came across as “are you fucking kidding me.”

“Aw, come on, you’re not trying to say you still care about these losers,” Dash said, like the very idea was ridiculous. “You can hang out with anyone you want now! By the way, you’re still coming to football practice later, right?”

“Probably not,” Danny snapped. He held a hand out to Tucker, who grabbed it. Danny turned him intangible and pulled Tucker out until he could stand on the floor.

Tucker looked a little off balance after he let go, but Sam still grabbed his hand when he offered the same to her.

“Okay,” Tucker said as Danny set Sam down. “A little warning next time maybe?”

“Sorry,” Danny said. He glared back over at Dash. “Beat it.”

“Aw come on Fenton, you know I didn’t mean anything by it, I just—”

“Beat it or I tell everyone about that time you wet your pants after I saved your life from the Box Ghost.”

Dash went pale, and then quickly left.

“Wait,” Sam said. “Really?”

Danny snorted. “Oh yeah,” he said, turning back to face them. “I could tell you stories about what Dash is like when he’s in danger.” He paused, looking at them both in concern. “Are you guys okay?”

Sam glared away, crossing her arms. “Fine,” she muttered, a note in her voice that Danny couldn’t read.

“Thanks for the help,” Tucker said. And then they both turned around, clearly about to leave.

“Wait!” Danny yelled after them. “I— please.”

They both turned hesitantly back around.

“We’re late for class,” Sam said.

“I’ll tell them you got caught up in a ghost attack,” Danny said. “Just, please can we talk? Just once, and then we can be done. Okay?”

They both exchanged a glance, and seemed to say something to each other with their eyes that Danny couldn’t read anymore.

Finally, they turned back to face him, and they both nodded.

“Where?” Tucker asked.

Well, eventually the bell was going to ring, and then the hall would flood with people who wouldn’t leave them alone. And if they went outside, they’d be met with a similar problem, just with the news crews instead of students. And if they were going to pretend a ghost attack happened, they should probably go somewhere to make it at least a little more believable.

“How do you feel about the roof?” Danny asked.

“Uh,” Tucker said. “Have you been there?”

Danny nodded. “It’s… quiet. Sometimes.”

They were both quiet for another moment, then Sam nodded. “Okay.”

Danny started over to them, glanced at Tucker and said, “This is your warning,” and then grabbed them both by the arms, transformed, and flew them all up through the ceiling and onto the roof.

Tucker stumbled a little as Danny let go of him. “Okay,” he said. “Needed a different kind of warning there.”

Danny smiled a little bit. “Be glad you’ve never fallen through the floor in your sleep.”

“That’s not really something I’ve ever thought would happen to me,” Tucker said.

“Tell me about it.”

There’s a couple seconds of silence, and Tucker and Sam exchanged another glance.

Finally, Sam turned back to him and crossed her arms. “So,” she said. “You’re Phantom.”

Danny sighed. “Yeah.”

“Can I ask…” Tucker started. “I mean what— like how did you become— it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” he added quickly, holding up his hands. “You don’t have to.”

Danny looked at him for a second. It was definitely the same question he was sick of getting from other classmates and the reporters. But Tucker at least had given him an out. And if this really was going to be the last time they talked, he wanted them to know everything.

“You remember the portal in my parent’s lab?” he asked. “How I told you it just started working one day?”

Tucker nodded.

“That’s… not actually true. I turned it on. From… from inside.”

Tucker’s eyes widened. “Dude.”

Danny gave a short laugh. “Yeah.”

“What happened with the ghost fighting?” Sam asked. “I mean did you get pulled into that, or…?”

“What? No,” Danny said. “I mean, kind of, sure, but someone had to do it. I wasn’t going to let people get hurt.”

“But— you got hurt,” Sam said, gesturing at him. “All the time. We talked about it around you. Back when— when we were still talking.”

Danny shrugged. “I can take it. Normal humans can’t.”

The phrasing seemed to throw them off, which was fair, but he didn’t take it back. He wasn’t a normal human anymore.

“Still,” Sam said finally. “You should have told us. We could have helped you.”

Danny’s shoulders slumped. “I know,” he muttered. “I— I really didn’t want you to find out like this.”

“On the news?” Tucker asked. “Along with everyone else? Like we weren’t any different from them?”

Danny winced. “Yeah.”

A pause.

“If I knew everyone was going to find out, I would have told you first,” he added. “For what it’s worth.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sam asked.

“It just… it felt so big,” Danny said, shaking his head. “And I didn’t know how you’d react. And… I’m sorry.”

Neither of them said anything for a minute. Danny wasn’t sure what exactly they were waiting for, but eventually he had to help fill the silence.

“How long has Dash been bothering you?” he asked.

Both of them immediately looked away.

“Oh, come on. You can’t make this conversation entirely about me.”

“We can’t?” Sam asked raising an eyebrow.

“No. That’s not fair to me or you.”

Sam glared away again.

“Pretty much since everyone found out,” Tucker said a second later. “I guess he figured he couldn’t mess with you anymore so he moved on to easier targets.”

Danny clenched his fists. “Asshole. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Tucker said.

“No, I just mean,” Danny gestured vaguely with his hands, not sure what he meant. “God, I’m so sick of him. Of all of them.”

Tucker gave him a look. “You really don’t like all the praise?”

Danny shrugged. “I dunno. I guess it beats being hunted.”

Tucker and Sam were both silent for a minute. Danny looked at them for a second and saw slight horror on their faces.

Oh. Maybe they hadn’t quite realized that part yet.

“You could have told me about Dash, you know,” Danny said, trying to stop them from thinking too much about that. “I would have helped.”

“We… kind of didn’t think you’d care,” Tucker said hesitantly.

Danny blinked. “What?” he asked.

“I mean, you are kind of a big deal now,” Sam said, gesturing at him.

Danny crossed his arms. “I’m sorry? Did you miss the part where I didn’t want to be?”

“No, I just mean—” Sam started.

“Yeah, I should go hang out with Dash, huh? Or start dating Paulina? Wouldn’t that be just great?”

Sam blinked at him. “Would it not?”

“Of course not,” Danny snapped. “None of them actually give a shit about me. They all just think it’ll get them something if they’re best friends with Phantom. They still don’t like Danny. I don’t want to be friends with people who only ever see one side of me. That—” he looked away. “That already didn’t work.”

“Oh,” Sam said quietly. “Sorry.”

Danny sighed. “It’s okay,” he muttered.

There was another long stretch of silence.

“That wasn’t the only reason, you know,” Sam said.

Danny looked up at her. “What wasn’t?”

“That we didn’t tell you. Or— I guess I can’t speak for Tucker. But it was just kind of embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?”

“I meant it when I said I noticed you were getting hurt all the time,” Sam said, looking down at the ground. “You’re fighting actual ghosts, and I’m supposed to come up to you and say ‘hey Dash is being mean to me?’”

Danny stared at her. “Sam,” he said. “Don’t be ridiculous. I would have put the ghosts on hold.”

“I don’t want to call you for backup every time I need help,” Sam snapped. “You’re not like— my bodyguard. Even if we had spoken in the last year.”

“Well, I appreciate the sentiment,” Danny said, because he did. “But you— I hate it when you guys are hurt.”

“We hate it when you’re hurt too,” Tucker said, looking pointedly at him. “It’s why we didn’t exactly love it when you pushed away while you were so obviously dealing with something.”

Danny winced. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I should have told you.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Tucker said. And then all of them stood there, none of them saying anything.

Tucker broke the silence again, this time with a sigh. “But for what it’s worth?” he said. “Thanks for saving everyone all the time. And for recently, with that weird ghost king guy.”

Danny nodded. “Anytime,” he said. He didn’t have to tell them the part about how he thought he was going to die. Again.

“And, you know, for what it’s worth?” he said instead. “Thanks for trying. While I was being an idiot. Sorry I didn’t let you help me.”

“How about this,” Tucker said. “We’ll be there to help you as Danny and Phantom if you kick Dash across the football field once or twice.”

Danny blinked, confused. “Huh?”

“That sound good to you, Sam?” Tucker asked, glancing at her.

“Yeah, I wanna see that,” Sam said with a nod. “And I’d like to learn how to kick some ghost butt.” She smirked over at Danny. “Maybe I’ll start with yours.”

“Wait, I thought,” Danny said, looking back and forth between them both. “I thought we said we’d be done after this.”

“Are you kidding? You think you’re getting rid of us again?” Sam asked. “Now that we finally know what’s been going on with you?”

“Sorry, you’re stuck with us this time,” Tucker said, crossing his arms with a grin. “Like we’re gonna let your total loser half go unacknowledged. You can’t be Phantom all the time. Sometimes you have to get teased for how much you like NASA.”

“Or get your butt kicked in Doomed,” Sam chimed in. She raised an eyebrow. “Sound good?”

Danny didn’t try to hide his smile at all, and instead he closed the space between the three of them and wrapped his arms around Sam and Tucker in a hug.

“That sounds great,” he said, meaning every word.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #jazz fenton #dash baxter #maddie fenton #jack fenton #phic phight #my fic

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