#she better be because i have like four appointments scheduled. the man on the phone did that so i wouldnt lose out on any appointments | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

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Running from the Flames {2}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x OFC Summary: Brianna Vowles grew up on the paddock. It was what filled every weekend. There were endless trips around the globe with her father and Uncle Otmar in Formula One, until she went to college. Suddenly her life revolved around studying and boys, one of whom wasn't as nice as he had appeared. Five long years later, with a hiatus in between, she graduated with her engineering degree and had decided to use her VIP pass to see if life in the fast lane had changed. Warnings: 18+ only, domestic violence survivor, lots of drama and fluff, this is a work of fiction and the events are not based on reality. Chapter: One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || under construction

The moment Adelaide was asleep I opened my laptop and fired an email through to my psychologist. Considering how much she had earned from my family over the years, I wasn’t surprised to see a link for a zoom call come through within ten minutes. Ever since I escaped Erik’s clutches Dr Shirley Pascoe had been there to help me take back my control and unravel the tangled thoughts in my head so I could be the mother that Adelaide deserved. She was an innocent child and I would not hold her accountable for her father’s actions, even when it was hard.

The zoom call connected and Dr Pascoe’s face appeared with the monotone grey walls of her office filling the background. I knew Addie wouldn’t be asleep for too long and didn’t want to waste the time we had on pleasantries so cut right to the chase.

“I met someone today,” I started vaguely, feeling as if I were confessing to a priest and not my therapist. “He was nice and friendly but I completely froze up when he touched my knee.”

Shirley waited for me to continue or maybe the internet froze for a moment but finally she spoke with that irksome serene tone she had perfected. “And how were you feeling before he touched you? Was it a welcomed touch?”

“I…was comfortable.”

“That’s good, what about when he touched your knee?”

“It made me feel something I didn’t expect, something I haven’t felt since Erik - that’s when I kind of freaked out.”

Shirley wrote on her notepad like she did when I saw her in person, her grey bob cut swaying with the cursive writing. “Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know,” I huffed and picked at my freshing painted nails before sighing as she waited for the truth. “I felt like I could trust him, talk to him, you know? But I thought I could trust Erik too. What if I’m making another mistake or just have terrible instincts with men?”

“Your instincts saved your life,” she reminded me as she closed the notebook. “Unfortunately in life we all make mistakes, some not as insignificant as others, but we still learn from them. We have spent almost three years building tools to cope with the trauma you survived but a fundamental step is to trust in yourself and the work you have put in to get you to this point. Ask yourself this, would your day have been better or worse if you didn’t interact with this man?”

I frowned at the question thinking it was so obvious that of course it was better having talked to Pierre. He had made me smile, and Addie too. I even liked the warmth of his hand before my flight mode was triggered.

Then I realised that if I applied that question to other men I had spoken to in the last two years that answer did not have the same result. The surprise must have shown on my face because Shirley chuckled. “This progress is good, Brianna. I would like to schedule you in for an appointment when you come home and I would like an update on what you did with this realisation.”

I was still a little stunned but managed to agree to a time and date that I would be back in London and closed the laptop lid. A vibration in my pocket had me pulling out my phone and I opened it to find an unsaved number had texted me. My immediate reaction was to delete the message thinking it was spam but when I saw it had my name I opened it.

From Unknown: Hey Brianna, it’s Pierre. I just wanted to thank you for the Bonjela, you were right, it does work miracles.

To Pierre: Glad it helped. I can’t have the star of my favourite team worrying about anything except the car during the big race.

From Pierre: I’m also sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier, it was not my intention. You think I’m the star?

To Pierre: I’ve seen your stats, Gasly. Otmar may not play favourites with his drivers but the stats don’t lie.

To Pierre: And I should be the one apologising. You didn’t make me uncomfortable, I'm just skittish. It wasn’t your fault.

From Pierre: My offer still stands if you want to talk.

I stared at the message and chewed on my bottom lip. My stomach was in knots and felt giddy from just a few texts, my thumbs shook as they hovered over the buttons waiting for the response to be typed. This was the step Dr Pascoe was talking about, trust in myself and my instinct. Instinct told me Pierre was a genuinely nice person and Uncle Otmar only signed respectable, loyal people to his team knowing having a good heart was worth more than just talent alone.

Pierre had a good heart.

To Pierre: I’d like that.

The phone rang and I rushed to answer it before the ringtone woke Addie. “That was quick,” I said quietly, covering the microphone so my voice didn’t carry into the bedroom. “I didn’t realise you were so interested in hearing my drama.”

His soft laugh in my ear was relaxing and if I closed my eyes it felt like he was right beside me on the couch. “I didn’t want to give you time to change your mind. Have you?”

“Not yet,” I half joked.

“If you do, we can talk about the weather instead.”

“That would be a very boring conversation.”

“I don’t mind, I just like hearing your voice.”

In my head I could see the smile that he was talking through and my own curled up in response. “You are a charming man, Pierre Gasly.”

“Does that mean you’ll say yes if I ask to drive you to dinner tonight?”

“Come and ask me yourself,” I dared, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. “Room 626, the Hermitage.”

“Already on my way.”

I heard the phone shifting and what sounded like keys rattling before an engine roared to life and the hand holding my phone began to tremble in anticipation. “Dinner’s not for another two hours.”

“Then there is plenty of time to talk and get to know each other.”

“You might not want to take me to dinner by then, I mean, drive us to dinner, the team dinner.” I wanted to slap myself as I bumbled almost incoherently but Pierre just laughed.

“Sounds like another dare to me, and I love a challenge.”

It was my turn to laugh and the tension began to ease. “I have my own challenge now because I thought I had hours to get ready.”

I knew it wasn’t far from the paddock to the hotel but I was still surprised when only minutes later there was a knock on my door and I struggled to zip the back of my cocktail dress all the way to the top. Holding it tight over my breasts, I hid behind the door as I cracked it open and spun around the second Pierre was inside. “Can you please do me up?”

He brushed my long dark hair over my shoulder and goosebumps rose where his fingers touched my skin as he closed the zip.

“Thank you,” I said as I turned to face him. “I was too rushed to think about that when I grabbed it from the closet.”

“You look beautiful.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tube of Bonjela but I closed his fingers back around it, still recovering from his compliment.

“Keep it, I have more in Addie’s bag.” He immediately started looking for her and appeared a little disappointed that she wasn’t around until I told him she was still napping. “Help yourself if you want a drink,” I offered as we passed the fully stocked wet bar, grabbing a bottle of water for myself before taking a seat on the outdoor couch that overlooked the race track in the road below.

He took a seat beside me with a water of his own and his eyes followed the curve of the track as if he could see himself taking each of the turns.

“This was the room dad always rented when I was a kid,” I broke the comfortable silence. “We would sit out here after practice sessions and he would tell me about each turn, how sharp the angle was, and how best to take them. I guess I’ll have to make a tradition of it when Addie gets older.”

“Tell me about that one,” he said as he leaned in and pointed towards the closest turn to the hotel, turn three.

“Massenet is best to be left-of-centre. It gives the best rotation going into it but most drivers take a bit of extra road preferring to see around the corner but if you trust the mass delay you can shave some time off and take it blindly.” The words were ingrained in my memory and it was surprisingly easy to recite the details you had heard dozens of times over the years.

“Wow, I am impressed,” Pierre admitted wholeheartedly as he placed his hand over his chest. “You could be an engineer with information like that. Karel better watch out.”

“I am an engineer, just not that type. I just graduated last month as a mechanical engineer.”

Pierre grinned and nudged his shoulder into mine. “You are amazing. Doing that and raising a child, it’s unbelievable.”

I looked down at my water bottle, nervously picking at the label as my cheeks heated. “I finished two years behind my class.”

“So? It’s just like out there.” He nodded his head to the paddock and the stands. “When something happens to the car you can either choose to retire it or try for plan b and push hard to finish the race. No one wants a DNF.”

A swell of emotion choked me as he pinned me with those gorgeous green eyes and the intensity of them showed me how much he believed his words. “Thank you,” I managed to say through the lump in my throat and I reached for his hand to give it a small squeeze when words failed me.

I had done it. I had chosen to initiate the touch, something I hadn’t been able to do in years. It had been something reserved for the people I considered family and trusted with my life. But with Pierre there had been an indescribable connection the moment he had looked at me and I wasn’t going to deny myself the opportunity to explore where it could go.

I hadn’t realised how much I had missed it until he turned his hand over and my fingers drifted between his. “Is this alright?” he asked as his thumb drew small circles over my skin.

The spike of adrenaline began to fade and I nodded as it passed along with the fleeting feeling to take flight. I even went so far as to tuck my legs up under me and lean into his side, craving the warmth that came with being closer to him.

My head came to rest on his shoulder and we started out across the city that was the heart of Formula One. “This wasn’t what I had planned this weekend.”

Pierre agreed with a quiet reply, “I was supposed to be concentrating on the race.”

“You should still be concentrating on the race,” I pointed out, tilting my head back so I could check he was listening.

“I was until you walked into the garage and took my breath away.”

He ran his tongue across his lips as he stared at mine and I was equally torn between wishing he would kiss me and hoping he wouldn’t so I could have a moment to think clearly. He was consuming my thoughts too fast for me to even process them but he seemed to see that and broke away from the intense moment we shared.

My hand tightened in his and he glanced down at our entwined fingers as I decided to share a little more, hoping he would understand my reluctance. “Addie’s father wasn’t a nice man.”

I took a few deep breaths as I prepared myself to share details for the first time since the news had broken to the world what I had been subjected to. My eyes were fixed on the track and I didn’t dare look away from the familiar turns and straights as I recalled it all with a sense of detachment that kept me from reliving it.

If my father wasn’t so high up in the FIA I would have just been another domestic violence survivor, but because of his position my situation had become a news bulletin. I became a recluse for months in the wake of the story, hiding from the world until they forgot about me. Just when I thought I was healing from the fractured bones and broken heart I found out I was pregnant.

“I have spent the last two years completely focused on Addie and finishing my degree so I can finally leave London and move on with my life.” I had forgotten our hands were still joined until he lifted them to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the top of mine. “I don’t know what this is or where it’s going but I want to get to know you, Pierre.”

“Me too,” he said with a reassuring smile. “We can take it slow, I’m a patient man.”

Click here for chapter three.

#pierre gasly x poc!oc #pierre gasly x oc #pierre gasly fanfic #f1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #tw: domestic violence #running from the flames

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basedklee · 2 years

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i read your infertility imagines. they were ok i guess (actually i didnt like them) but i believe your writing can be put to better use. can i request something? yandere genshin men reacting to just being mc's little side piece. like mc already has a committed, steady relationship, her men are just little boytoys she keeps around for when she gets bored.

it’s honestly truly terrifying how i can’t tell if this is a real ask or a joke ask sent by a friend, like i genuinely can’t remember if i’ve received a discord message informing me this would be sent and it shakes me to my core. regardless, i hope you enjoy these imagines anon! eat shit and die <3333333333

albedo

he’s very hurt, but he also feels like he should have known this was coming. throughout his upbringing, rhinedottir made it clear to him that if he could not perform at a level she was satisfied with she would abandon him, the implication that she would just start fresh with a better version of him always there.

it seems natural to him -- after years of being taught that it’s normal for your value as a person to be based on what you can do for the people around you -- that you would toss him aside as soon as you found someone better than him

but still. despite knowing he should just bow out as gracefully as he can, he tries to appeal to you until the very end.

during what he estimates to be the last few months of your relationship, he begins to study the new man in your life: your Snezhnayan Borzoi/Pug mix, Buttons, that you adopted a year after the two of you married. he follows the dog around the house with his sketchpad and pencil, jotting down notes and drawing sketches of the odd, gangly beast as he slept or ate or played

he takes careful note of everything about the creature you seem to find endearing -- the way he snorts and wheezes when he runs too fast/long, the way he scrabbles around on his spindly limbs and trips over his own paws as he runs, the way he often bonks his head on pieces of furniture and walls because of his night blindness -- everything so that he can make those traits his own and make you his once again

the “transformation” he has planned is almost complete after about four months, but you happen to go through his sketchbook while he’s in the shower and come across his plans, seeing the sketches of his multiple plans to replace Buttons (plan a was a fursuit, plan b was to change his physical form with alchemy, plan c was to fuse himself with Buttons... it went on through the alphabet to plan 20)

fear grips him when he walks out of the bathroom and sees you sitting on your shared bed with it in your lap, your beautiful face twisted up in an expression conveying an emotion even you yourself can’t name

Albedo... you say, shaking your head in disbelief as you lift up the sketchbook. What the hell is this?

the two of you stand there very, very awkwardly for about five minutes and 33 seconds as he tries to come up with an excuse. Any pretty lie that he can spit out that will save him from having to watch you walk out the door right at that moment.

he can’t come up with anything, though, and just starts crying. I had no choice. You were going to leave me for him, I just knew it.

My god. you say as you pull out your phone and schedule an appointment for him with the therapist you’ve been trying to get him to see, knowing he can’t weasel his way out of it by claiming he’s perfectly fine and normal any longer. I don’t know what exactly this is, but it must be the mommy issues again.

wagner

he snorts when you tell him he’s only your number two in a heated argument, not taking his gaze away from the sword he’s hammering. the rhythm of his strikes never breaking, he mutters just loud enough for you to hear, And did you think you were the only one for me?

you bite your tongue to keep from screaming at him, not wanting to disturb anyone. it’s dusk, the streetlights lining the roads around the smithy slowly blinking on and the people that are usually around, loitering the streets or tending to their own businesses, have turned in for the day. even schulz, who usually acts as an unwilling mediator between you two during fights like these, has left for the evening

it’s just you and wagner now, but even with it being just the two of you you still can’t seem to catch his eye. I did this for you! you mutter, stifling a sob. So you would look at me! So you would show me that you care.

Foolish. he grumbles, hammer still beating steadily against steel. If you want to go around, throwing yourself at any man that will take you, be my guest. I will never care.

you stagger back a half step as you struggle to swallow down another sob. maybe you brought this all on yourself. maybe this is all your fault for falling into swan’s arms in that single moment of weakness five months ago. maybe you should forget about wagner. finally give in and marry swan like he’s been asking you to for the past few weeks.

wouldn’t it be better for you to be loved by a man you only like than to love a man that can never even look at you? wouldn’t it be better for the baby to have a father that was willing to actually be there and attentive than a father that most likely wouldn’t even claim them if you told him the truth about your recent weight gain? wouldn’t it be better for wagner if you would just let him go? if you would just stop clinging to him uselessly and distracting him from his work? if you would stop deluding yourself into thinking you’re anything special to him

Did you ever love me? you whisper, unsure if he can hear over his hammering but deep in your hear knowing it doesn’t matter. you already know the answer

...Never. Not even for a second.

you swallow down one last sob and, shaking, turn to leave. I know it won’t mean anything, but I love you... Goodbye Wagner.

he waits until you’re streets away -- hurrying to Swan’s apartment where he awaits you with open arms -- to drop his hammer and brace himself against his worktable, a strangled sob wheezing out of him.

he hated hurting you and he detested allowing swan to have you (if any of you have forgotten this is a yandere post so he’s possessive and crazy but in a sexy way y’know?) but he just couldn’t be the man you deserved.

not after losing that drunken bet with cavalry captain kaeya six months ago that forced him to stand at his post in the workshop 24/7 for the next ten years

itto

he tries to be strong when you tell him you’re dating not one, not two, but all three of the male members of his gang and that he’ll have to settle for fourth place after he casually asks you to be his one day

he tries to laugh it off, even. asking you if you’re joking or something because you must be, right? his boys -- his precious, precious boys. his buddies. his amigos -- would never keep such a big secret from him! especially when he had told them how he felt about you as soon as he fell in love at first sight seeing you totally wash the competition in the mochi eating competition you met at. they would never sneak around behind his back!

his heart sinks when the three of them peek their heads around the corner and start shuffling over to the two of you, each of them giving you a (tasteful!) slap on the butt as they walk up and take their positions around you. genta puts his arm around your waist while mamoru links arms with you and akira stands behind you with his hands on your shoulders

We’re sorry, Boss, we didn’t want you to find out like this... mamoru says, staring remorsefully at Itto (taking a quick pause to give you a tender kiss on the neck). It’s just... Y/N confessed to us and, well, you should know how irresistible they are since you wanted them first and all...

We... were definitely... going to... tell you... eventually... Boss... genta continues, giving you a kiss on the lips during each pause.

We really hope this doesn’t change things between us. We all still have nothing but the deepest respect for you, Boss, akira finishes as he massages your shoulders.

itto’s stomach twists, his heart severely conflicted.

on one hand, he was yandere for you. ever since he met you his body and soul has ached for you, the pain greater than the time he ate all that tofu and had the worst allergic reaction of his life. you were beautiful, powerful, dangerous, cold. you had a magic that couldn’t be controlled. stronger than one... stronger than ten... stronger than a hundred men you were perfect and he wanted so desperately to have you but.

on the other hand, he was yandere for his gang. for a large part of his life, they and granny oni were all he could call truly his. they were some of the only people that truly understood him, or at least, made the effort to understand. their loyalty (outside of this little slip up), kindness, and bravery that he’s become so intimately familiar with throughout the years has entranced him just as his own greatness has entranced them

he couldn’t tell who he was more jealous of and who, as a yandere, he should get rid of

I... Need time to think... he says before walking away, his heart dashed in many ways.

Oh dear... you say as he finally leaves from view breaking away from genta’s lips to stare after him. I hope he’s not too upset. We did our best to break it to him delicately.

the members of your harem nod.

He just needs time. they assure you as they lead you back to the hideout to cuddle.

#yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #albedo kreideprinz #arataki itto #wagner genshin impact

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argylemikewheeler · 3 years

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July 1st, 1985

what the first ep of (my) s3 would look like if the main concept was: both Steve and Will are gay in 1985’s Summer of Love and the town’s enemy is a little more human; loving friendships, very confused adults, and Will Byers Actually Getting Help

“Harrington!”

“Yes, sir.” Steve looked up from his desk. He dropped his crossword and looked to be at attention; the police station’s phone wasn’t ringing, though, so there wasn’t really anything he should have been doing. Hopper stepped out of his office, angling himself toward the door rather than Steve’s desk island.

“Do you think you’ll be able to-- Harrington, what are you doing?” Hopper caught sight of the pocket thesaurus sitting on his desk (the last name written on the inside cover not belonging to Steve, of course). Hopper fixed his sunglasses on the edge of his nose, looking over them and down at Steve.

“I’m just, uh, working on my vocabulary.” Steve said. Hopper blinked twice, waiting. Steve wasn’t going to say the truth: he was dating-- well seeing someone-- way smarter than him. This wasn’t for joy or boredom. He was studying to impress. “It’s college prep, sir.”

“The crossword?” The chief evened his stare. “This your old man’s suggestion?” Of all the things Steve’s father was telling him to do with himself, he wished some of it was simply pecking at a crossword over a twelve hour shift. Fucking off and being a better piece of shit son just wasn’t feasible to accomplish in one summer.

“He swears by it.”

“Okay, well. Uh, moving on from that,” Hopper grabbed his hat from the coat rack. The topic of Steve’s father always made Hopper stiffen up; it was definitely the main reason Hopper gave Steve his job at the station, but it still created more questions. Steve knew Hopper and his father went to high school together, but he never asked his father about those years-- beyond his baseball glory stories. “I’ve got plans tonight and I need to head out early. Can you handle things on your own for a while. At least until the night shift comes in?”

“I’ll be fine.” Steve made sure not to acknowledge the crossword on his desk as he nodded. He was really good at his job, he was. He was also just, unfortunately, still a pretty shitty boyfriend and needed all the vocab help he could get. “What’s the pressing story?”

“I have dinner.” Hopper was already trying to walk out the door. “So don’t call me. For the love of God.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Chief. I--” Steve was sure it was the cool July wind that slammed the door on the last half of his sentence. Not Hopper. “won’t... Have a good time, I guess.”

The police station was empty: it was another boring and wonderfully quiet Monday in Hawkins. There’d been some calls to break up disturbances at city hall in the past few days, but somehow everyone just seemed to agree that Mondays-- the longest shift of Steve's whole week-- was the day everyone went about their quietest day.

There were a few officers milling in and out of the back lounge and front door, casting a quick glance to Steve as he muttered and threatened fourteen down and six across. Nancy had been helping close the gaps of his post-high school education-- without knowing just what for-- but had been picking up most hours at the Post to try and elbow her way into their good graces; it put his tutoring on hold. So here he was, groaning at some clues about classical artists he’d never heard of.

There were other reasons Steve was sure the other officers thought he was odd-- things he was sure his father had passed along in spitting rants-- but Steve didn’t mind. No one said anything to his face.

“Hey Flo! Is, uh, is Steve here?” The question was asked with the answer already in mind.

Steve sat up in his chair, twisting around to see down the hall to the back entrance to the station. There weren’t many parking spots to fill, but he knew a certain someone who preferred it to street parking.

“Jonathan?”

“Oh, I hear him. Thanks-- hey!” Jonathan hurried out from the hall, his camera bumping against his stomach and bag slapping against his leg in the same rhythm. He’d gotten a new haircut recently: semi-wonky bangs and a closer cut in the back. All thanks to Steve’s peer pressure and Mrs. Byers’s kitchen shears.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sorry to stop by your work like this--” he lowered his voice as he stopped at the corner of Steve’s desk. “I know we said we wouldn’t do that, but we got an extra muffin in the lunch order and I know you’re always starving after a Monday shift so.” Jonathan produced a folded brown paper bag from his satchel. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks.” Steve wanted to say so much more, but had to settle. No more. None of what they’d decided they wouldn’t say. Not until the summer had ended. They wanted to see if they lasted longer than the convenience of loose summer schedules.

“Won’t I see you, uh, later, though?” At eight, when Steve got sent home he always drove straight to Jonathan’s. Jonathan started late on Tuesdays and Steve had off; they had the time to waste. “Or is this your way of telling me to stay home?”

“No! No we’re still... hanging out.” Jonathan had gotten really good at cooking and treated Steve to weekly dinner. It was a nice gesture at first, but Steve started growing fond of the company. They both did around mid-June. “But, I think Mike’s going to be over so. Be cool , alright? Keep it cool.”

“Cool, got it.” Steve leaned back in his chair. He moved his papers to leave a corner of his desk for Jonathan to sit on. No one was in the main office; it was a harmless invitation.

“I have to get going...” It sounded like an excuse, a dive for safety. “And I’m sure you have, um, puzzles to do?” Jonathan pretended not to be endeared. He tried, he really did. He failed , but Steve pretended he didn’t notice.

“Don’t want to sit and help me figure out the title of Mozart’s last opera?” He patted the desk, daring to be more direct.

“I really have to go.” Jonathan was genuine, looking at his watch. “The Post only let me out early today because I have to go pick up Will from his doctor’s appointment.”

“Wait.” Steve put the cap back on his pen. “Isn’t Will’s therapy on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, but with Mom’s schedule and the store being all weird-- we had to move it to today. And you know we typically have a family night after-- so he feels okay, you know-- but we can’t . So, that’s why Mike’s coming over. Hopefully they’ll be idiots and tire Will out and he’ll sleep okay.” Tension rose in Jonathan’s voice quickly, explaining his day as if going over a laundry list; never rehearsing it but having it memorized.

“I can stay home if you need time, Jonathan.”

“No, really. I want you to come over.” Jonathan sighed and placed his hand on the emptied spot on Steve’s desk. “Besides, you can’t break tradition after a little over one month , then it was just a weird habit.”

Steve Harrington did not consider his summer fling a w eird habit . If anything, it was the most sensical thing he’d done in a very long time. Even after getting rejected from all his colleges, and never hearing the end of his father’s lectures, 1985 had been very kind to him. And that was mostly due to Jonathan’s inherent nature to be the same.

“I’ll see you after eight.” Steve smiled and reached for his hand-- but averted to grab a piece of memo paper by the phone.

“I’m sorry to leave in a rush.” Jonathan hitched his bag up, checking his watch again. “I just, I really need to get going.”

“Don’t worry. The muffin is more than enough.” Steve said. “And seeing you wasn’t too bad either.”

“Slow day, huh?” Jonathan said. The corner of his mouth quirked with a flattered, embarrassed smile. Steve tried to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t so goddamn relieved to see a familiar and happy face. Especially his familiar and happy face. “Well, good thing I have another surprise for you.”

“You can barely fit your camera in that bag, what could you possibly-- hey!” Steve missed grabbing Jonathan’s arm as he walked away, heading for the front door. “Where are you going?” Jonathan kept walking, checking his watch the whole way. “Hello?”

“Delivered right on time.” Jonathan pushed the front door open to the station-- but was nearly knocked over as a green dash barreled through it.

"Steve! Steve! Steve!” The dash was suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders. “You got the job!”

“Henderson! Oh my god! You’re back!” In an unlikely impulse, Steve grabbed Dustin in a hug, taking advantage of the change of height. “Holy shit, I nearly forgot! First of the month!”

“See you, Steve.” Jonathan walked across the room to the back entrance again. His hand braced the back of Steve’s chair, brushing across his shoulders.

“O-Okay! Yeah, see you!” Steve sputtered, losing his reminded cool in an instant. “Bye.”

Dustin pulled away slowly. “What was that?” It looked like everyone was too smart for Steve.

“Nothing. He brought me a surprise lunch-- which was an obvious decoy to the main event! You! How are you, buddy? How was camp?”

“Oh, it was fantastic. Steve, I have to show you all my inventions! Camp was the best four weeks of my life .” Dustin hopped up onto the corner of his desk. His heels tapped against the empty metal drawers. He was jittery, nearly uncontainable, but still so composed-- if only to be focused all on Steve.

Steve held his hands out, letting him start. “Lay it on me, Henderson! I want to hear everything. I missed you like crazy.”

“Well, first, obviously. I have to tell you about my girlfriend--”

“Whoa! Whoa! Girlfriend ? That fast?” Steve hadn’t been expecting any of his dating advice to work. It had been coming from such a poor and confused part of himself, Steve figured it was destined to fail. Apparently, it was just Steve that was-- when flirting with women at least. “Damn, there’s something in you after all!”

“She’s super smart, Steve. I’ve never met any girl like her. She’s a genius and she’s so pretty. God, I miss her already-- and I just saw her.”

Steve looked over his shoulder. He knew the feeling. “That’s great, man. I mean, I’m super happy for you. Like, that’s crazy . That’s freaking awesome.”

“So what about you? How are the ladies? I mean, you work for the Chief now. All the ladies you could need and more, am I right?”

Steve used to be really good at this part of the lie, but with Dustin it felt cheap. He didn’t need to lie to him, but that was the deal; no matter how much that person was Steve’s best and most beloved friend, their secret was a dead-bolt, vaulted secret.

“Eh, not too great. Only girl my own age I see-- besides Nancy, really-- is the night-shift girl, Robin. But she’s not really-- we’re just friends. She’s alright. Leaves me weird drawings in the memo pad.”

“Ooo, she sounds cool.” Dustin raised his eyebrows. “Do you know her from school?”

“Yeah, we didn’t really run in the same crowds but-- it’s not like that, man. It’s really not.” Steve started unwrapping his lunch. “It’s so not like that with Robin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not... looking at the moment.”

Steve had originally decided to not go looking for trouble. After he and Nancy split in the beginning of his senior year, he didn’t start looking for an immediate replacement. The illusion of thinking he was in love with Nancy-- capable of being in love with Nancy-- was a hard thing to have come crumbling down. Steve needed time to get his own bearings, to put his feet firmly on the ground, and have them lifted off when his father grabbed him by the lapels and--

Steve hadn’t gone looking for trouble. Hadn’t gone looking for love either. But somehow, both seemed to find him.

Jonathan was late. He usually wasn’t but Will was trying not to be worried. It was a different day than usual and he knew how awful Jonathan’s boss and co-workers were. Will tried not to be worried-- he wasn't. It was just that he had spent an hour talking about the night his father left their family; standing outside the doctor’s office was a bit nerve-wracking. It felt too familiar, even with all the talking and note-scribbling.

Finally, Jonathan’s car pulled into the lot. He was speeding, as much as his car could speed: he knew he was late, which made Will feel a little bit better. No one had forgotten him. It was just traffic or his bosses or maybe just hitting all the red lights. As Jonathan stopped in front of the curb and waved Will in, Will could see he was jittery-- he was upset that he was late. Will felt bad for counting the minutes.

Not that he did it out of impatience or anything. Will just formed the habit after getting his new watch. It matched Mike’s. Completely on accident, of course.

“Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. I was-- I had to run an errand really fast. How long were you waiting.” He moved his bag and threw it onto the backseat. Will would’ve held it on his lap.

“I wasn’t keeping track.” Will said, climbing into the passenger seat. Will wanted to ask if his bag had Jonathan’s camera in it. If everything was okay. He didn’t. It seemed like Jonathan had been in his therapy with Will, just as shaken up. “It’s okay. Thanks for getting me.”

Jonathan waited until Will put on his seat belt. “Of course. We’re always here to pick you up. Therapy is important; you have to go.”

Will laughed before he could stop himself. “You sound like Mom.” Why?

“Because she’s right.” Therapy was still kind of weird to Will-- since no one else in his grade had to do it-- but he humored his family. It was helping, if he had to admit it. But it was still embarrassing sometimes.

His therapist, Dr. Bright-- Rose Marie, as she insisted on being called-- was a send-out from the Lab, but disguised within a private practice just outside of town. She was able to listen to Will talk about what he saw and felt during his time with the Mind Flayer without trying to commit him. Almost nothing was off limits. Almost nothing.

Will checked his watch again.

“Are you excited to see Mike tonight?” The question was pointed, but Will wasn’t sure why it made him nervous. “I mean, I feel like I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s always with El.”

Will was sure they weren’t dating. El was just on a year-long stint of self-discovery and, besides Max, Mike was the person she trusted the most to help make as many helpful mistakes as possible. He bought her books to read and new music to try. It was really sweet, seeing Mike take such big strides toward helping their friend. But there was also a part of Will that felt dejected: his sort of help had to be prescribed and couldn’t be replaced with a warm laugh from one Mike Wheeler.

Will was sick while his friends were growing.

“Is there something wrong?” Jonathan used to ask the question like Will was one trembling lip away from crying-- but this time, he asked it like Will had his hand on the door, seconds from jumping out. “Will, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Will nodded. “I’m fine. Just-- I talked a lot today and I’m tired.”

“Do you want to cancel with Mike--”

“No.” Will had been looking forward to having time with Mike-- just Mike-- for a whole week. He wanted to sit on his floor with his best friend and be a kid again. Just for the night-- maybe draw some of Mike’s old campaigns or sketch out an idea for his own. He just wanted to remember something good about the past four years. After his hour with Dr. Bright, it all felt painful. Like his childhood naivety had been broken and every conversation he overheard in his house dripped with venom and disdain.

Will didn’t like picturing his house that way. It was a place that loved and raised him, a place he felt safe. He didn’t like thinking the conversations he heard being screamed through the walls were trapped in the drywall.

His arms felt heavy and his chest felt like it was made of metal-- he kept tasting it in his mouth. Will leaned back against the seat and reached for the radio. Jonathan turned it down before Will had even changed the station.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I just want to see Mike.” Will said, his mouth too honest and his mind shrouded in guilt. “I just want to see my friend.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jonathan nodded somewhat somberly. “I understand. Let’s go pick him up. He’s at his house right? Not El’s-- o-or The Sinclair’s or anything?”

“No. He’s at his.” Will crossed his arms and tried to find the loose string-- the thing that could uncoil Jonathan’s still-tightening anxiety. “Are you still dating Nancy?”

Jonathan turned to look at Will, nearly crashing the car. That was the wrong string. “What?”

“Nancy? Are you still dating her?”

“I was never dating Nancy.” Jonathan laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not dating Mike’s sister, don’t worry.” The clarification was strange and felt off-topic. Like Jonathan was trying to talk about something else.

“I thought you were. You guys hung out a lot during school.” Will heard her voice through the walls too. Always gentle, never yelling. Except when she was losing at playing cards. Then she shouted.

“She was helping me pass chemistry. That’s all.” Jonathan turned the radio up a little. Will checked his watch. “And then she helped me apply to the Post internship-- she’s great at writing papers, did you know that? A real wordsmith. Is Mike a writer too?”

He was, he really was. Grammatically, Will ran out of red pens trying to help, but creatively? Will envied Mike’s ability. “I don’t know. We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff like you two do… Since you two are dating.”

“We’re not .” Jonathan laughed. Will took advantage of an upcoming stop sign to lean forward and look at his brother’s crimson face. “We’re not, Will, okay? We’re really not. I’d tell you.”

“You’d tell me?”

“Of course! I’d tell you if I… I had a girlfriend. Which I don’t!” He stayed at the stop sign for a bit too long. “Do you?”

There was an option to play dumb, to make Jonathan ask more directly: do you have a girlfriend, Will ? but it sounded far more painful than being honest, than being as lonely as he was.

“No. I don’t.”

“And you’d tell me. If you were dating someone?” Jonathan looked at Will, hopeful but scarcely so. “You’ll tell me if anything big happens in your life?”

“Yeah.” There wouldn’t be anything happening at all that summer, that was for damn sure . “Absolutely.”

Steve had about seventy percent of his puzzle done-- fifty of which was because Dustin was an unstoppable genius with no tolerance for Steve’s careful pace. It was just about quarter past seven, and Steve’s back was getting sore from sitting in his chair all day. He only liked sitting when it was in his car, on his way to the Byers's House, careful, of course, to obey all traffic laws.

Steve was packing his crosswords and pens up in the top drawer of his desk when something clattered the back door open. Steve grabbed a pen and whipped around in his seat, as if to wield it like a weapon.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

“Hey dingus.” Luckily, Steve couldn’t even see Robin yet-- or rather, she couldn’t see him or his emphasized eye roll. She could hear him groan though. “Hey, shut up and quit whining. I’m sending you home early.”

Her head popped out from the hallway. Robin’s ponytail was high on her head, the hair flopping over and getting caught in her stringy bangs. She flung her backpack out from behind her and tossed it toward Steve. She wasn’t in her uniform yet, only wearing the buttoned up shirt-- unbuttoned and showing her torn and dyed shirt underneath. She was wearing jogging shorts, her knees torn up and covered with Band-Aids. They reminded Steve of the ones taped to his face after getting a plate smashed into his forehead. Deceivingly cheerful.

“What are you doing here early?” Steve stood and followed her, holding her backpack awkwardly in his hands. “You’re never early.” Eight on the dot. Every time.

“I figure you want to get out of here tonight.” She didn’t even stop to look at Steve as they walked into the back room. “Probably want to see your boyfriend.”

Her words weren’t sharp, but Steve still recoiled. He let his arms, and her bag, hang by his sides.

“Who? Jonathan?” The only way Jonathan and Robin had ever met was in the hallways of Hawkins High. She definitely never saw them interact at the station-- or on any of their nights together: they were always indoors. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“First off, I didn't even say a name." Shit. "Second, he came in the other day looking for you.” Robin started buttoning her shirt up, fixing the collar as she finally turned to see Steve. “He was really upset-- didn’t even know what time it was to know you weren’t working.”

“Upset?” Technically, it wasn’t Steve’s problem. It was the deal; they didn’t have to care about each other’s lives. It was just summer. It was just like any other summer.

“Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.” Robin sounded extremely sympathetic despite beginning to change her pants. Steve whipped around, covering his face. “You should go see him. Make sure he’s okay. Be a good boyfriend... shithead.”

“He’s not--”

“Steve, I’m the last person you should be arguing with.” Robin laughed-- and it was only momentarily threatening. Until, of course, Steve realized what she meant.

Like all good secrets kept at Hawkins PD, Steve kept his mouth shut and nodded even if she wasn’t looking.

“Yes, sir--ma'am-- Robin.”

“So, are you going to go or what, dingus?” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Get out of here-- and tell me all about it Wednesday.”

Steve blinked at her, holding out her bag. As if it was enough thanks to give her back her own property. “Are we… friends, or something?”

“No, of course not.” She winked, slapping his arm. “Just looking out for one of my own.”

After picking Mike up from his house, they drove home in uncharacteristic chatter. Jonathan was the only one speaking, humming along to the radio. Will was exhausted beyond performative small talk; the type that had to be done between two best friends when a third party was present. Mike was great at just sitting with Will in silence, but Jonathan didn’t know that. Instead, the three of them passed around quiet jokes and laughter, answering questions about their friends for Jonathan’s upkeep of information.

Once they got in the house, Jonathan let them wander off into Will’s room as he started pulling pots out of the kitchen cabinets. He wouldn’t bother or pester them about any summer work, either. They would be left alone in their own coupled silence.

Mike was sitting cross-legged on Will’s floor, twisting one of Will's crayons between his fingers. Will needed new ones but he felt funny asking for them as a near-freshman in high school. He liked the glide of wax on paper compared to the scrape of colored pencils. Well, that and the fact he ruined half of his crayons the year prior making a full map of Hawkins in a fugue state and only had two crayons able to be used normally.

“You had doctor stuff today, right?”

Will was digging under his bed for his emptier sketch book. “Yeah. Therapy. Doctor doctor stuff was two weeks ago.”

“How was it?” Mike let his hand still and rest in his lap. “Like, what do you do in therapy? Just start talking?”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that. You have to think about stuff too. Doctors ask you questions, sometimes.” Will pulled back and drug his old drawing supplies along the carpet. He sat back on his heels and was able to see Mike over the top of the bed. He didn’t know Will was looking. “You have to have answers.”

“What do they ask about?” Mike kept looking at his hands, unaware of Will. “Upside down stuff?”

“Sometimes.” Will shuffled back around to Mike's side of the bed. He could feel the tiniest bit of rug burn starting. “She asked me about my dad today.”

Mike looked up, almost immediately. “Can she do that?”

“Why can’t she?” Will popped the lid on the retired Tupperware, now his art bin. “I talked about it.”

“I thought you didn’t like to.” Will had never said those words which meant Mike had gathered it from just observing him. “Did you… like talking about it?”

“Not really.” Will laughed. He found a few extra crayons, but of all the wrong colors. “She had this big speech afterward about learned helplessness that I… really didn’t like.” Will tried to keep laughing.

Mike put the crayon back in the bin. “Are you okay, Will?”

“Yeah. It’s just… the same old stuff.” Will shrugged. “Sometimes it just bothers me more than other days.”

Mike bit the inside of his cheek, picking at his words carefully. “You never talk about your dad, Will.”

“Why would I?”

“Because it bothers you. You can talk about anything you want-- I… I would listen.”

“You don’t have to listen to it just because it happened to me, you know. My therapist says you don’t have to experience things with me for them to be real.”

“But I want to know.” Mike looked insulted, almost crushed and collapsed as he sat back on his hands. ��That’s your dad,” he said. “And you’re my friend.”

They sat in silence for a while. Mike went back to studying a new crayon, picking at the wrapper. Will felt something forming in his throat. A bubble that was hot, thick and sticky. Not vomit, but not impending tears either.

“I don’t get why he left.” Will said. “I don’t know what happened to our family.”

“Nothing happened. Maybe he just… wasn’t good at being your dad anymore.”

“But then why? What did I do?” Will didn’t want to ask Mike, make him feel responsible for answering, but Will was desperate to ask the universe again.

“Nothing.” Mike said. “I just think he…”

“He what? My dad got tired of me? Didn’t want to raise me?”

“Maybe he actually learned how to take a hint and knew he wasn’t good enough for you and Jonathan-- or your mom.” Mike wanted to be hopeful, to be positive, so badly. He ached, his smile tight and weak. He didn't have the answers, and who was Will to put him in the position to come up with them.

“So he gave up.” Will said.

“That’s not what I meant--”

“I know. I know… That’s just how it feels.” Will shrugged. He smiled at Mike, accepting his help and his warmth. It hurt knowing that Mike was wrong, but still. Will could always pretend a little longer. Anything for Mike.

“Hey! You monsters hungry?” Steve clapped his hands together before gently tapping the door. “Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

The door was open. Steve didn’t have to knock. He wanted to, just to prove he wasn’t too comfortable, but he also knew Mike was over. And knocking would announce his entrance rather than letting it just be something that just was . Rather than being cool .

Awkwardly and with a lot of weird, throat-clearing fanfare, Steve opened the Byers’s front door and poked his head inside. Jonathan called him in from the kitchen without even needing to say hello, or being surprised by his walking in: In here, Steve! Dinner’s almost done .

Steve walked through the living room carefully, as if he’d disturb it. There was a tape playing softly-- some band Steve’s never heard of, but didn’t hate. He’d grown to like the way that every song played in the Byers house was always moody and melancholy. The music was always the opposite of how he felt stepping into the kitchen.

Jonathan was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. He had what looked to be tomato sauce stains on the front of his shirt-- where he wrapped his hand up to open the sauce jar. Steve was able to hide his smile as he shouldered off his uniform jacket and toed off his shoes, claiming a chair at the kitchen table.

“How was work?” Jonathan didn’t stop stirring. He moved like the stove was turned all the way up and he was afraid of burning the food. He spoke that way too.

“It was fine. Not a whole lot.” Steve didn’t want to have anything seem bigger than whatever upset Jonathan-- and seemed to still be upsetting him now. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Will and Mike are in the other room.” He was checking things off his list. Steve stepped up to Jonathan and stood even with him at the stove. He was making one-pot pasta. It really did smell fantastic. Steve was so hungry, even after his lunch.

“How was… the other things in your day? Develop any good pictures?” Steve covered how stupid he sounded by placing his hand on Jonathan’s lower back.

Jonathan stopped stirring and looked at him. Steve tried to keep cool, tried not to show his motives-- his attempt to calm something he couldn’t believe he’d missed spinning out of control, even if he didn’t know what it was. “Nancy walked into the dark room today-- she’s actually the one who gave me the muffin-- and she exposed the photos to light too early. So no, actually.”

Steve really was a bad boyfriend. Even when he wasn’t one yet-- or at all.

“Okay… how was. Everything else?”

“You don’t have to ask about my day, Steve. It’s okay.” Jonathan sighed and spoke evenly. “I’m just a little tired. Really. We don’t have to do the whole… thing .”

The whole thing where Steve was explicit about how much he really cared about Jonathan and admitted he was sincerely and terrifyingly in love with Jonathan.

“I was asking because I was curious. Not out of obligation.” Steve clarified. His hand slid to rest on Jonathan’s hip. He moved closer, lips aiming to place a commitment-less kiss on his cheek.

“Steve! I said to keep it cool .” Jonathan ducked back, placing a hand on Steve’s chest. “I don’t want Will to see us.”

“Your brother?” Steve was surprised; of all people Jonathan explicitly wanted to hide from Will seemed kind and forgiving-- not that there was anything to forgive, but it was something Steve often checked for. Steve was sure that one of Dustin’s friends would be… like Steve. Or like Jonathan-- maybe. All of them seemed prepared to deal with any of their friends suddenly being different. Far more prepared than Steve ever was.

“Yes. My brother.” Jonathan snapped, banging the spoon against the edge of the pot. “I don’t want him to learn I’m not dating Nancy but instead seeing her ex-boyfriend in the same day.” he whispered.

“Wait, what? He thinks you’re with Nancy?” Steve wasn’t sure where they went wrong. They were trying to obscure the truth, not lead everyone to a different reality. “D-Do you think Mike does too?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t want to ask and seem weird.” Jonathan sighed again. He sounded tense again. “I told Will I’d tell him if I was seeing anyone… And he promised me the same.”

Steve knew not to press the obvious question-- well are you seeing someone, Jonathan? -- but also didn’t want to touch the obvious implication that Will needed to share a secret with Jonathan. Instead, he placed his hands into his pockets and turned to lean against the counter.

“Dinner smells really good, Byers.” There was another name that began with “B” that Steve wasn’t allowed to use, but always wanted to. Byers Byers Byers. Baby baby baby. “Thank you, again, for cooking for me-- for us.”

“You think I’m going to let you starve?” His stirring slowed; the stove cooled down. He nudged Steve’s arm with the spoon. “You coming home late and trying to cook? You mean half-drinking a beer and falling asleep face down on your bed in your uniform, half unbuttoned.”

“You picture that often, Byers?” Steve lifted an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Jonathan’s lips quirked into a smile again. “But, if you’d like a beer, I think there’s one in the fridge. No one in the house is going to touch it.”

“I can go ask Will if he wants it.”

“Shut up-- do you want it or not?”

“No.” Steve didn’t like drinking when they were together. He’d never really heard the full story about where Mr. Byers went, but he had a father of his own to make those blank spaces fill pretty fast. “But thanks. Don’t want the habit of needing a beer to forget how boring my job is.”

“I thought you liked your job?” Jonathan took a piece of pasta out of the pot and held it out for Steve to test.

He chewed and answered. “I do! It’s nice to have normal hours-- and I’m happy to help have replacements as Flo gets ready to retire but… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels boring .”

“Would you rather be chasing down a four-legged monster without a face?” Jonathan let out a bubble of genuine laughter, playfully glaring at Steve.

“Frankly, yes! At least we’d all have something to do. I feel like I don’t see everyone anymore.”

“Then throw a party. Don’t wish for anything bad to happen.” Jonathan said firmly. “Let the record show my brother is a very strange magnet for all this… weird shit.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Steve said solemnly. He put his hand on Jonathan’s forearm. “I wish we were all safely doing something exciting. It felt nice to be needed, even if no one knew it was us.”

Jonathan put the spoon down on the counter and pivoted to be looking only at Steve. There was something resting just on the tip of his tongue, just under the surface of their conversation. It would’ve been a digression-- Steve could tell by Jonathan’s tense and furrowed brow-- but he would’ve listened.

“Jonathan?” Steve squeezed his arm, lifting his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I--” He clenched his jaw, trying to swallow his words. “I think--” Steve knew there was no end to Jonathan’s sentence; merely starting it meant there was trust between them. A careful admission through omission. Steve knew Jonathan was looking at his shoes and wouldn’t be seen as he took in the secret flinches of Jonathan’s face. The crinkle by his left eye, the twitch of his mouth, double blinking--

They both jumped apart as the phone started ringing, practically shaking on the wall. Jonathan stepped away from Steve and left everything unsaid. Again.

Jonathan tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he turned to lean against the wall.

“Hello? This is--” His face changed sharply, his eyebrows furrowing. “I told you to stop bothering us. You’re lucky she’s not here to pick up the phone-- I don’t care !” Jonathan cleared his throat and looked at Steve in a flash of uncertainty and anxiety. “I have the police here right now and if you don’t stop calling me I will send them to your house-- it’s not a threat if you’re the one bothering us. Stop. Calling.” He slammed the phone down and braced his weight against the wall with his other hand.

“Am I considered ‘the police’ now?” Steve said lightly. It was his way of letting Jonathan know he was listening, but not asking direct questions. “I’m not even allowed to have a badge.”

“It counts.” Jonathan said, letting his arms fall down by his sides. Steve stepped over and kept stirring dinner.

“Who was that?”

“No one. Can you go get the boys in the other room? Dinner’s ready.” Jonathan pushed Steve aside to hunch over the stove again.

“Sure.” Steve nodded, knowing he wasn’t seen. “Hey! You monsters hungry? Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

Dinner felt weird.

Will couldn’t help but feel like he and Mike had gotten into a fight. Talking about his dad made anything feel sticky, feel like it was violent or volatile. A second from snapping or tearing off, bouncing around the walls and echoing in Will's body. A small conversation between friends-- actually a little understanding between best friends-- felt like it had been a screaming match, all because it was cut off. There was no apology from Will. He didn't have the chance to tie it all up with an I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, forget I said anything.

His plea sat heavy on his tongue as he talked to Steve-- who had arrived without notice-- and let Mike make him laugh so hard he nearly shot water out his nose. Will let it all happen under the tremor, the ache, of an apology. And maybe, if he was the best brother and friend he should’ve been, no problems or therapy, it would be enough of an apology.

He wasn't hungry and only ate half his serving of pasta, even though it was usually his favorite of Jonathan's recipes. He did apologize for that though, and it felt right to say aloud. Even if it was misdirected and no one heard it.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. Please come back--

Mike wasn’t tired, Will knew, but he still wanted to go to bed right after their horror movie ended. It was clear Mike hadn't been paying attention to the movie; the entire plot was that dreams were a new horror-scape for monsters to get teenagers. It wasn't too scary to Will; it just felt familiar. The villain looked different, more human, but Will knew what it felt like to dream while wide awake. To watch and be unable to do anything but scratch at the surface--

Convincing Will to get ready for bed, Mike said they’d have all day in the morning. He said that maybe he could convince his mom to let him stay over again if they don’t get all their fun in. Will knew Mike's mom probably would, if only because she felt bad for Will. But he would take the pity. A sleepover wasn't the worst thing to get from pity.

Will could still hear Mike fidgeting in his sleeping bag. He was rubbing his feet together like a cricket and twisting his wristwatch. The plastic scratched the sheer material of his sleeping bag rhythmically: back and forth. back and forth. backandforthbackandforth. It was like Mike was counting the ticks of his silent digital watch. Will began to play with his own watch, keeping it on in bed only because he'd noticed Mike hadn't removed it when they were brushing their teeth that night; apparently the watch was too good to part with.

Time though, was something Will wished he could separate himself from. He could hear the seconds scraping by now. Every moment he kept his friend awake and bored because Will was too weak or (rather and) too everything to stay up late again.

Therapy hadn’t even been that bad. Not really. Maybe it could be exhausting but it didn’t count because Will sat in the same spot for an hour. It wasn’t real work. It shouldn’t have counted. Will should’ve been able to hang out with his friend until sunrise, getting in trouble with his mom for being up so late. He should’ve still been a stupid, carefree kid, not a by-gone troubled teenager.

Maybe his dad had seen that from the beginning. Will's dad was always gambling, betting on baseball games he had these incredible "feelings" on. Sometimes he was wrong, but when he was right it was an amazing prediction; having the foresight no one else had. And maybe that was what it was, leaving them when he did. Maybe he saw Will wouldn’t be the second son he wanted after all. Maybe he knew of all the damage that would be done to him, the damage he would cause. Probably saw it from miles-- years-- away. And he left without a single warning to any of it.

What if his father had known? Could've known where he was when he came back into town two years ago? Not gone forever just in the lights. Just out of reach, just through the wall, Dad. What if he had known, been able to see, able to know, but wanted to leave Will Down there being possessed and enveloped and consumed and--

Will felt a chill scurry down his back. The feeling almost had legs. Too many. He felt ice cold, his body going blank-- not numb, but blank -- for a second. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but could still feel every inch of his body, suddenly pulsing and seizing.

"Will?" Mike asked, sitting up. He gripped the end of the bed and pulled his face closer to Will's. He squinted in the darkness, feeling for Will’s hand. Will couldn’t answer, his jaw tense and breath rattling out of him. "Will, what’s wrong?"

After a (thankfully) non-awkward dinner, Steve and Jonathan washed all the dishes and let the boys watch whatever movie they wanted. Steve didn’t pay attention to what tape he put in the VRC. He was too busy thinking about the hands hidden in the warm soapy water in the kitchen sink. Neither Mike nor Will seemed too bothered by the disgusting amount of blood or the scary blade man on the TV. He felt no regret letting them go to bed right after the credits rolled. Jonathan had looked exhausted after putting the last dish away, and dozed off during the climax of the movie-- even slept through the high-pitched screaming.

They waited for the sound of Will’s door closing over before they got into bed.

Jonathan flopped onto his back, a pillow resting between his chest and crossed arms. Steve laid on his side, bracing his weight on his elbow. He poked at Jonathan's furrowed eyebrow lightly.

"What's the problem, Byers?"

"Nothing."

"You are not a really great liar, you do know that right?" That and Steve could still hear Robin's blasé recounting of Jonathan's distress. Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.

Jonathan sighed and turned to look at Steve. He hated being called out. "It's about Will."

"What's wrong with Will? He seemed alright at dinner."

"Yeah, but," Another sigh. "Steve, I think my brother’s gay."

Steve's first response was swallowed and he nodded. "Okay. Okay. And, um, what's the issue with that?" He adjusted himself on the bed, hoping there was more subtlety in that.

"I can't talk to him about it. I mean," Jonathan smiled and reached to touch his face. "This is a very different thing than being fourteen and confused."

"Who says he's confused?"

"I don't mean with himself-- the rest of the world is so confusing, Steve. You see the news... I can't talk to him. I didn't grow up like that. And being with you is... Different. We dated girls before. Will... I don't know. I think he knows already."

"You think he's got feelings for--"

"Oh absolutely." Jonathan nodded, closing his eyes. "Oh, I'm so glad it's not just me who sees it."

"Hopefully Wheeler does too."

"Hey, keep your voice down, he's only a few rooms over ."

"Sorry. Sorry. Me and my big mouth " Steve rested his head on Jonathan's shoulder. "Shut me up, maybe."

"Not until my mom gets back." Jonathan said, rolling up onto his side too. "If I catch her when she comes in the door, she won't come into my room to say good night. I can't have you distracting me until then."

"Your mom is on a date. She's an adult and so are you." Steve kissed Jonathan's shoulder. "You are a working man who just finished a long day at work-- I think you can cuddle up with your boyf--" Steve choked on his own stupidity, feeling his face go red and charisma die on impact. "With me."

"I will. Once my mom is back." Jonathan kissed Steve, as if a parting promise. Only to backtrack on his words immediately. He tucked Steve’s hair back behind his ear, his hands trying not to hold his face. “No-- no . Steve, not until my mom gets back.”

“I can keep an ear out--” As Steve spoke, the power in his bedside lamp dimmed. The power hummed quietly before flickering back up. Jonathan tensed and pushed himself up in bed.

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah, it was just the light, Byers. It’s windy out tonight, maybe a tree brushed a powerline.” Steve pushed Jonathan back down to his pillow-- and back into his own skin again. “It’s nothing . What if I turn out the light? Your mom won’t even see us in here.”

“No. No, I have to wait for her.”

“What if she doesn’t come back?”

“What!” Jonathan jerked upright again.

“I meant what if she’s at Hopper’s or something?” Steve shrugged. “She’s an adult.”

“Steve, that’s my mom .” Jonathan hissed, swatting at the hand resting on his shoulder.

“I meant because she drove there on her own. If she had some wine, maybe she stayed somewhere and is being a smart, responsible parent.” Steve soothed. “Something you don’t have to be right now. You’re not Will’s parent and you aren’t your own. Lay down, will you?”

Jonathan was reluctant, but let Steve ease him back down again. He pulled the pillow tighter to his chest and sighed, his crossed arms sinking deeper. Steve laid down beside him, nose gently touching the end of his shoulder. As he breathed, his short exhales tickled Jonathan’s skin and got him giggling. It was Steve’s secret trick; something that always worked because Jonathan didn’t know it was a pattern-- didn’t know he was ticklish.

“Sorry I was weird today.” Jonathan said suddenly. He wasn’t even grinning.

“What?” They didn’t apologize. There was no need. “You’re worried about stuff-- it’s okay.”

“No, I like our dinners. And I was so uptight. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Steve didn’t know what to do with the sentiment. “Apology accepted?”

Jonathan sighed again, blowing it out slowly between his pressed lips. “Lonnie called today.”

“L- your dad ? Is that who was on the phone?” Steve wasn’t sure what came over him-- or his body-- as he placed an arm over Jonathan’s waist and pulled them together. There was something unspokenly intimate talking about abusive fathers while being nearly sutured together in bed, but Steve pretended he was just having problems hearing Jonathan correctly.

“Yeah.” Jonathan turned, his nose brushing Steve’s. “Said he wants custody of Will. He doesn’t trust Mom, he said.”

“How is he-- He can’t do that.”

“He’s going to try. I don't know where it came from. He still thinks he can win a case because the news says Will just disappeared into the woods . Like he ran away from us or something.”

“Everyone knows that’s not true.”

“A court might not.” Jonathan sighed, ducking his head down. Steve resisted lifting his chin to hook it over Jonathan’s head, nestling him into his neck. He laid still, listening to his breathing and the gentle creaking of the house--

Jonathan's door was thrown open, both men sitting up quickly, ready to defend themselves and their actions. It was Mike, in his pajamas with his hair sticking out in wild curls. Will stood just behind him in the hallway looking far more awake. Stilted and untousled.

"Mike?"

"Jonathan, quick!"

"What is it?" Jonathan swung his legs around and motioned both boys to come in. "Will?" Mike pushed him into the center of the door frame, although he remained in the hallway, in the light. Will’s hand grabbed at the back of his neck. His face was blank and his eyes were distant.

"Something's wrong." Will said slowly, blinking to focus. "I feel him."

"Feel who?" Jonathan kneeled in front of Will, holding his shoulders. "Feel who, Will?"

"Dad."

#stonathan #jonathan byers x steve harrington #byeler #will byers x mike wheeler #byler #finally reposting in a way that isn't a random post with a link alksdja #prompts #my fics

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ptersparkers · 4 years

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summary: you’re high out of your mind for the first time and rafe’s surprised by your sudden and explicit confession.

warnings: smut, y’all.

notes: the rafe in this/all my fics isn’t canon and i just love drew but i feel weird writing for a real person ok. also let me emphasize (again) that i am NOT excusing his behavior by writing my stories with him. this is my imagination in it, there’s literally nothing canon about his character. okay bye happy reading.

writing this is pure wish fulfillment. BYEEEEEEE.

For the better half of six months, Rafe Cameron had been lucky enough to call you his girlfriend.

Rafe could remember the exact moment a mutual friend had introduced the two of you. Topper, his best friend since the beginning of freshman year, put together a welcoming party for his new apartment that he leased at the beginning of senior year of college. You were a starting junior at the time and knew Topper because he was a teaching assistant in your introductory economics class, and the unlikely friendship between the widely popular frat boy and the bookish wine drinker was born.

You were sitting on the couch’s arm rest when he arrived and Rafe hadn’t taken notice of you in favor of congratulating Topper on the new place, setting a bottle of wine as a warming gift. Engrossed in a conversation, you didn’t notice Topper introducing his best friend to everyone he didn’t know at the party until Rafe greeted your counterpart and looked at you.

You smiled at him and stuck your hand out for him to shake. Rafe could vividly remember how soft they were and how you hadn’t broken eye contact with him when he returned the favor. Neither of you spoke to one another for the rest of the night aside from small talk when you offered to help Topper clean up the living room when the majority of the guests began to leave. Rafe decided to forego a ride from a friend in favor of helping you pick up wine glasses and paper plates from the floor and bookshelves.

What started as an innocent introduction became a case of pining; Rafe saw you everywhere he went after that party and swore the universe had an agenda. You would enter the library as he was leaving. Whenever he’d stop by the coffee shop on campus, you’d be chatting with a friend at a table by the window. Rafe would see you walk past his advisor’s office whenever he appeared early for his appointment. He concluded that it wasn’t just a coincidence and he knew he had to say something to you sooner rather than later.

Constantly seeing you started the fluttering feeling in his stomach and the smile he couldn’t seem to wipe off his face. It was a coincidence that you bumped into Rafe and Topper in the mess hall one evening and spent two hours in the same spot, laughing about a conversation Rafe couldn’t remember. All he could recall was feeling like he had nothing to worry about for the first time.

Topper was the one to give Rafe your phone number after noticing how long he’d spend staring at you and picked up how innocuously shy Rafe would act when asking if you were coming to one of their frat parties. Rafe always knew the answer was no, because he learned you weren’t the party type, but that didn’t stop him from wishing he’d have a reason to see you. Topper wasn’t shy about putting your number in his phone and Rafe put it to good use an hour later.

Rafe didn’t go to the frat party at the biggest house on the property. Instead, he chose to stay sober and drive to your dorm hall to pick you up, heading to a local spot to pick up food before driving to the edge of a cliff’s edge for a peaceful night underneath the beacon of stars that seemed brighter, truly, for the first time.

He knew he was in deep when he chose to decline alcohol-driven nights to listen to your favorite songs in your dorm room. Rafe knew you’d never force him to separate himself from things he loved to do, which made it easy for him to choose waking up next to you in the morning sun over waking up slouched over a couch in a room he wasn’t familiar with.

When he gained the courage to make a move, and when you said yes to being his girlfriend, there was no shortage of tenderness on both ends as Rafe became accustomed to having you pressed against his tall frame. You’d steal his clothes and he’d love the scent of your perfume on them when you gave it back. You’d support him through tough finals and he’d be your study partner until late into the night. He’d take you on dates until you two forgot what time it was and he lived to see when you were too happy to realize you should head back to your dorm hall.

It was circumstantial, this relationship, but neither you nor Rafe would change a thing.

The both of you were invited to go to a local bar just outside of the city by mutual friends to celebrate the end of finals week. You and Rafe hadn't seen much of one another due to conflicting schedules and reached an understanding that there wasn’t going to be much time to spend together until the semester was over, and you both jumped at the chance to let loose and forget the horrors of testing.

One of your friends, Violet, had been smoking a joint by the time you got to her apartment to get ready, and because the stress of finals was over, you decided to let loose and enjoy the first night of freedom by smoking to celebrate. You weren’t quite sure how fast it happened due to the lack of experience when it came to smoking, but time passed and it felt like the clouds had landed on the ground specifically for you to walk on. Violet had texted Rafe on your behalf to let him know the state of you were in before hopping into an Uber to the bar.

Rafe arrived first and saw the place wasn’t as packed as the bars back in the city and appreciated the stillness. Pool tables were situated in every corner and he could see his friends throwing darts as he grabbed a drink from the bartender who gave him a friendly smile before leaving to help another customer. Rafe didn’t know what to expect from you tonight. The only other time you had been high was a few months prior, and even then you were quite tame after taking a single hit from Topper.

“Baby!” you said louder than usual when you saw his frame from afar. Rafe turned around and grinned widely at the sight of you sauntering to him, his arms reaching out to pull you in an embrace as he lifted your frame off of the ground. He let you greet the rest of the party before settling his arm around your waist, your head leaning on him. JJ, one of your mutual friends, helped you regain your balance when you accidentally bumped into a stool chair.

“You havin’ fun?” he asked. Rafe chuckled at the state of your red eyes and kissed your temple when you nodded shyly.

“I feel really good right now,” you said. “Violet thought it would be better if I wore flat shoes.” You pointed at your white Converse high tops. “I came wearing heels but I think she had a better idea.”

“Thanks, Vi,” he said, looking up at the girl who you had walked in with. She gave Rafe a friendly nod and resumed talking to JJ, her long term boyfriend.

“I literally feel like I could die happy,” you said, aimlessly looking around, not focusing on one thing or the other.

“We definitely don’t want that tonight,” Rafe said. “Better keep you close just in case.” He maneuvered himself so that his back was resting on the bar and your body was resting in his chest, your head on the fabric of his shirt, nuzzled as if you were in the comfort of your own bed. Rafe grinned at you and stroked the side of your head, watching the rest of the party interact with one another.

“Hey, man,” JJ said, nodding Rafe in acknowledgement. “You gonna get a drink, Y/N?” JJ noticed the lack of alcohol by you and Rafe, but you shook your head the same time Violet did.

“She’s pretty high,” said Violet, who had been pressed against JJ’s side. His grip on her waist tightened when she laughed at your state of being, watching as you dug yourself a spot on Rafe’s chest. “I think she shouldn’t be crossfaded tonight, at least.”

“That’s why you’re the smart one in this relationship,” JJ said before pressing a quick kiss to Violet’s lips. “Kelce, Pope, and John B. are on their way. I think they should be about ten minutes?”

“Don’t worry, man,” Rafe said. “I’m gonna keep Y/N company and make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.” Violet and JJ leave the two of you in favor to start a conversation with Topper and his girlfriend Maddie, whom you met during an economics class and became food friends with, would periodically check up on you throughout the night.

For the duration of the evening, you don’t leave Rafe’s side very often. When he’s talking to your mutual friends, who come to understand that you’re incredibly high and are experiencing this for the first time, they stick to playfully teasing you including you in the conversation when you’re turning in, accommodating when you zone out.

Rafe can’t help but think how adorable you look with glossy eyes and the tip of your nose a fair shade of pink. Your cheeks are tinted red and your lips are wet from constantly licking him. He squeezes your hip when you silently beg for attention and periodically presses kisses to your temple, leaving you in a state of bliss.

By now, your arms were wrapped loosely around him and he swayed the both of you back and forth to the song you didn’t know the name of. You looked between him and the exposed chest from four open buttons on his shirt and he looked down at you with the corners of his mouth lifted into an amused grin.

“You’ve been so clingy all night, baby,” he said, giving your hips a squeeze. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled. You could feel your tongue in your dry mouth and licked your lips. “Just enjoying this feeling.”

“Of being high?” he asked. You nodded.

“God, I don’t know why I didn’t do this before,” you replied. “I feel so good. Maybe it’s because finals are over or maybe I just really like being high.” Rafe laughed and leaned down to press a kiss to your temple and you could feel his warm mouth on your skin. When he leaned back to look at you, he could see that your eyes were trained on him and your mouth parted slightly.

“You okay, baby? What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking,” you began, but paused. He could see your eyes were trying hard to focus on his facial features and he brought his hand up to your jaw and used the pad of his thumb to stroke your cheek.

“Yeah? What are you thinking of, pretty girl?” You licked your lips once more and your gaze flickered from his chest to his eyes.

“I’m thinking about how much I want you to eat my pussy in the back of your car.”

Rafe’s eyes widened and he didn’t hide the fact that he was taken by surprise. Out of the time the two of you had been dating, things didn’t go farther than kissing or grinding against one another in the bedroom, and Rafe never wanted to pressure you into doing something you were uncomfortable with. As far as he knew, you were comfortable with the amount of sexual activity that had taken place, which is why he was so surprised when you openly expressed your desire.

“W-What?” he asked, choking on his words. He looked around to see if any of your friends were paying attention but they were too busy engrossed in a conversation or were incredibly drunk themselves. You were running your hands over his chest and touching his jeans to the point where he was aware of how close your fingertips are to his member and had to shift himself so that his friends can’t see what you’re up to.

“I need your mouth so badly,” you whined, a pout forming on your lips as you do. Rafe looked at you and he swore his cock had hardened by the desperation in your glossy eyes and wordlessly took your hand in his and pulled you out of the bar and into the near barren parking lot with the exception of a few cars. Where he parked was barely lit, off to the side of the gigantic light that illuminated the open space. He unlocked his car and pushed you gently into the backseat until you looked situated enough. Rafe squatted outside of the backdoor as your legs dangled out the side and you've managed to take your jean shorts off so that it’s pooling at your legs.

“Babe,” he said. “You sure?”

“I need your fucking mouth on my pussy,” you whine, reaching down to put your hand over your clothed entrance to move your panties aside. Rafe watched as you worked your already glistening slit, your hands delicately moving as you looked at him, a silent message that he can only interpret as you silently begging for his mouth.

Rafe wasted no time giving you what you want other than to take your panties off completely and throw them into the front seat. His tongue flattened against your core and you let out a loud and obscene moan, but neither of you cared to check if anyone was in the dark parking lot or not. His hands were on both of your thighs and he could hear your breaths become increasingly shallow as his tongue worked wonders, moving like he needed to lap up every last drop if he wanted to live to see another day.

He would feel your legs shaking and did his best to keep a hold on you, his arm on your body to hold you down as you squirmed and bucked your hips. Your legs could spread only so wide in the confinements of the car, but that didn’t stop you from trying to spread them wider for easier access. Rafe moaned against your body and you shuddered at the feeling of his vibration being sent up your body, your ears ringing with pleasure.

Your boyfriend could feel your hands wander to the back of his head and didn’t mind you tugging on his roots. It encouraged him to move his tongue faster and harder as he felt you pull his hair and moan with approval. The tip of his tongue darted in and out of your entrance and you screamed in euphoria, mumbling about how you were going to release any second.

Rafe prepared by lapping your core with his tongue like he needed this. His chin was covered in your slick and his head was moving with the rhythm of his tongue, listening as you told him you were coming and felt your legs tremble beneath him. White pearls escaped your core and Rafe was quick to catch them with his tongue, enjoying the feeling of you sliding down his throat. As you were coming down from your high, and as Rafe was cleaning the mess he made, you reached for his hand and put it where his mouth was.

“Y/N?” he asked timidly, looking up at you. “Are you sure you want this?”

You knew him too well. You knew Rafe would ask you if you were comfortable with doing anything before he made his move and he would reassure you that you had nothing to worry about when you were with him. Before deciding to smoke a few blunts upon coming to the bar tonight, you had considered asking Rafe to experience this euphoria with you in full without him holding back. But because finals rolled around, you thought it was best to wait until it was over, and your current state heightened your preexisting feelings.

He mistook your silence as a sign to stop, so he pulls his hand away.

“We can stop if you want,” he said. You shook your vigorously and put his hand back to your entrance.

“Rafe, I’ve wanted this for so long,” you said, grinding your hips against the palm of his hand. “I’ve been so shy about asking you to fuck me but I’ve been thinking about your cock so much that I can’t focus.” Rafe’s eyes widened at the sudden confession. “I just want you to use me until you’re done with me.”

Rafe choked.

“Baby-”

“Do it,” you said forcefully. “I want you to use me.”

Rafe’s jaw has gone slack and all of his fantasies with you came rushing to the front of his mind. He looked at you and you nodded, telling him you trust him not to hurt you because you knew that’s what he was thinking about.

“Baby, I’ll never be done with you.”

His hands started to tease your entrance slowly, and when you whined and begged for him to move faster, he placed a harsh and prominent slap on your pussy that made you jump in surprise. Rafe waited for your reaction and upon seeing the dirty smile on your face, he did it again.

“So fucking wet for me, huh? Baby wants my fingers?” he taunted.

“I want them inside of me,” you moaned. Rafe’s heart was still beating fast and he tried to slow his heart rate when he heard how vocally expressive you are, not used to the idea of you being open sexually. But he embraced your confidence and promised himself to give you what you wanted and what you could handle.

“I can’t say no to you, can I?”

Rafe’s got you sat up properly in the car, your back against the rest as he moved his arm to move his fingers against your clit, which made your eyes close shut. He covered his fingers in your slick from the previous time you came and put his middle finger inside of you, relishing in the feeling of you moaning with your head tilted back against the headrest.

As you emit high-pitched moans, all Rafe could think about was how lucky he was to have someone who trusted him. You were willing to drop your panties in a public parking lot, and moaned so loudly that he wa’s sure the patrons in the bar heard you over the loud music. His eyes looked at you in adoration as he added another finger and pumped his hand faster while you moaned louder. Rafe didn’t bother fixing himself because he knew his cock was hard by the sight of your legs spread for him and your mouth begging him to make you come.

He used this moment to unzip his jeans and push them down far enough to palm himself through his boxers. His half-hardened member was aching and he desperately wanted to pull himself out, but he stuck with focusing on making you orgasm for the second time before pleasuring himself until his vision grew hazy.

“I’m gonna,” you said, not bothering to finish your sentence. Rafe couldn’t say anything and when you let out the moan that signaled what was about to come, you held onto his wrist as he kept his fingers inserted inside of you and he felt your come drip onto his fingers, smirking at the way you were holding his fingers in place for him. He moved his hand from your core and brought them up to your lips with a smirk. You didn’t have to be told twice and he watched as you welcomed his long digits into your mouth, your tongue working to lap yourself from his hand.

Rafe stood there with his mouth opened slightly and his heart beating faster. You moved yourself onto your knees and pulled your top of your head and discarded your bra, leaving you completely naked while Rafe was still fully clothed. Your hand reached out for his boxers and Rafe looked down at you.

“Babe,” he said. “It’s okay.”

“Rafe,” you deadpanned. “I want you to feel good too. I want to take care of you. Can I do that?”

When Rafe nodded, you pulled him out of his boxers and bit your lip at his already impressive size for being half hard. You looked at Rafe and saw as his eyebrow creased when you stroked him slowly, allowing yourself to bask in his glory before moving your body down the car seat to put your mouth around his head.

Rafe had received blowjobs in the past, but the combination of being semi-public and realizing the girl he loves was willing to make him feel good for the sake of seeing him happy made his mind race a million miles per hour. You pushed his jeans down with his boxers for more access and, slowly, your mouth began to take him farther into your throat.

His hips bucked voluntarily and he cursed himself for taking it too far with you until he saw your body inch forward to take more of him into your mouth until the entirety of his cock disappeared into your mouth. He groaned and knew you were okay with him being rough with you, and reached his hand out to place it on the back of your head. Rafe was unapologetic when he moved his hips to fuck your mouth, caressing your body until his fingers reach your entrance once more.

When you felt him delicately put his fingers into you once more, collecting the remnants of come, you moaned against his cock and it sent shivers down your boyfriend’s spine. It taunted him to reach his orgasm quicker and when you look up at him through your lashes, he gives little to no warning before moving your head down to the base of his cock as he releases into your mouth.

Your dirty smile was apparent, trying to accommodate to the surprise. When you were able to take him out of your mouth, a string of spit connects his tip with your tongue and you stroke him to keep him hard.

“My love,” he whispered to himself, eyes shut and head tilted back. You watched him as he tried to catch his breath, his chest heaving as he fumbled with the buttons. His cock was still standing, erect and proud, when he remembered he had an extra joint and a lighter in the glove compartment.

You watched as Rafe pulled it out of the messy box and you licked your lips as you made room for him in the backseat. The both of you were completely naked and your leg swung over his lap, making yourself at home by sitting directly on his still-hardened cock. Rafe watched as you ground your bare pussy over him and did his best not to be too distracted as he lit the joint, grinning when he successfully lit the piece and brought it to your mouth to take the first hit.

Your lips lingered around the joint for a moment before releasing, a faint cloud of white smoke filling the space of the car. Rafe realized the door was still open and reached over to slam it shut before you passed the joint to him. You watched as his lips enveloped the joint and he puffed in the opposite direction, and the both of you can feel the atmosphere change. Rafe was bucking his hips to meet your movements as you moved down onto him, and he moved his lips to your neck, leaving a trail of wet and sloppy kisses on your skin. You were too busy enjoying yourself to realize the both of you had passed the joint back and forth so quickly upon seeing it crumble.

Rafe took the remnants and smoked what he could before you hastily put your mouth on his. You were taken by surprise and released the smoke into your mouth, and you kept yourself from shaking at the sheer pleasure. His mouth moved against yours in what you can describe as wonder; Rafe’s hands roamed your body while his tongue explored every corner of your mouth. When you felt his mouth move your breasts and his whimpers at the feeling of you on his cock, you looked at him.

“Rafe,” you moaned. Rafe’s attention moved from your breasts to your gaze and he could feel your hand moving his cock to your entrance. He moaned loudly when you moved your body to sink down on him completely and he recalled that your core was coated with two previous orgasms.

He could barely believe that you, who he thought was too shy to talk about taking it farther in the bedroom, was bouncing on his cock like you’d done it before. Your hands were planted on his shoulders and he could feel as your ass dug itself into his lap before lifting yourself up just to press yourself back down on him. His hands found their way to your ass cheeks and he gave them a harsh slap simultaneously, your head falling to his chest as you winced, followed by a pornographic moan.

Your hips moved like clockwork and he tried to match your pace, lifting his hips up to meet your pussy. The sound of skin against skin, and the smell of the joint made Rafe’s mind think this was what Heaven was, and he would be damned if he didn’t get to experience Heaven with you.

Rafe could tell you were getting tired of the heavy lifting and took the liberty to hold your body with his arm behind your back. He lifted you above him only slightly before he lifted his hips up and down repeatedly to drill his cock into you hard and fast, causing you to moan directly into his ear. He let curses leave his mouth and you said his name like a prayer when you felt himself in you fully, the sound of your wetness coating his cock.

Your third orgasm, his second, was approaching. He pulled your hair back to give himself access to your neck and didn’t bother to be gentle; his mouth left marks on your neck and you encouraged him by begging for his mouth on your skin.

“You gonna come soon, baby?” you asked after regaining your breath, teasing him when you saw his eyes wired shut and his jaw clenched. Rafe’s eyes snapped open and his hand attached itself to your jaw, jerking your head to look into his eyes directly. You laughed seductively and left your mouth hung open when you felt Rafe slow his motions, thrusting into your particularly hard at your choice of words.

“Do you enjoy using me to get yourself off?” he asked in between thrusts. You were barely able to answer and he tightened his grip. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” you struggled to say, looking him directly in the eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he grunted. “Where do you want it, tits or mouth?” You shook your head.

“Inside of me,” you said. “You have to come inside of me, okay? I don’t want to get your car dirty.”

“Fuck,” he said, his voice cracking.

“Baby, I need it so badly,” you coaxed. “All I’ve wanted is your come inside of me and we can’t ruin your car, okay? Can you do that for me, please? Come inside of me?”

Rafe didn’t utter another word. You bit your lip and smiled when you felt his come coat your walls and pushed yourself onto his cock when he let out a loud, deep, and vocal moan in your ear. His chest was pressed against yours and neither of you cared about the heat generated between the two of you. He kept your body close as he orgasmed for the second time and you followed soon after.

He left delicate kisses on your shoulder and you moved your body to ride him slowly, and both of you can feel the cum dripping out of your pussy and onto his cock. Rafe took this opportunity to put his hands back on your ass cheeks and guided you up and down, using your come as lubrication. He could hear the wet sounds and watched you from the rearview mirror as your body moved against him one more time, and he promised the both of he was going to make you come one last time.

The both of you could tell the final round wouldn’t last very long, but neither of you cared. Rafe reached up to press his lips messily against yours and moved your bodies as if they were in sync the entire time. His thrusts were getting sloppy and he could tell your body was getting tired of moving in the same position, which coaxed him to thrust his hips up into you, ignoring the numbing feeling to hear you moan over and over again until you come on his cock, again for the fourth time.

He released inside of you once more and allowed you to calm down to catch your breath. You were the first to move off of him and both of you witnessed the white, creamy mess you had made. Rafe reached down to your pussy once more and used the pads of his fingers to move it in circles against your clit and you moaned in ecstasy until it became too much, and he pulled his hand away before finding a tissue box to clean the both of you up.

The windows are foggy and both of your hand prints are visible. You open the car door to let fresh, cold air enter the space and sigh in relief as he works to clean the mess. When he discards the tissues to the floor of the backseat, promising himself he’d put it in the trash later, Rafe pulls you towards his chest and you lay your head on the free space as he strokes the back of your head and kisses your temple over and over again.

“Didn’t expect that tonight,” Rafe said after regaining his breath with a laugh.

“Me either,” you replied. “I think you fucked the high out of my system.” Rafe chuckled and kissed your forehead, letting his lips linger for a brief moment before pulling away.

“I didn’t know you were thinking about this,” he said, motioning their naked bodies. “I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me.”

You lifted your head and used your hands to cup his jaw and the pads of your thumbs stroked the apples of his cheeks. You nodded slowly and leaned to press a kiss to his lips. It was a short kiss, but Rafe grined when you lean back to look at him.

“You’ll always be my number one, okay?” Rafe noded. “I feel safe with you. I always will.”

“Let’s go back to my place and sleep, yeah?”

***

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#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron #rafe cameron blurbs #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey #drew starkey smut #obx #outer banks #my writing #hotbox

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lovely-ateez · 3 years

Text

Just What The Doctor Ordered~

ꕥPosted: 3/14/21

ꕥGenre: Fluff, Smut

ꕥPairing: FemReader! x Wooyoung

ꕥWord Count: ~2.0k

ꕥWarnings: Language, Protected sex (Reader’s on the pill), Public sex (sort of), Praising, Wooyoung has a thing for being called doctor, Dirty talk

ꕥA/N: Please respect your healthcare workers—Doctor Wooyoung hella hot tho 🥵🤚

I pressed a hand to my forehead, trying to will my migraine away.

“You know you should probably go see a doctor.” My best friend and coworker, Hongjoong, spoke as he stirred his morning coffee.

“It’s fine. I get them all the time.”

“Yeah and that’s the problem. You shouldn’t.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, “Honestly, I’ve trying to avoid going to the doctor but I think you have a point. I can barely focus on anything anymore.”

“Good. Schedule an appointment as soon as you get the chance. You don’t want to wait any longer.” He walked closer to me and ran a hand along my back, “And let me know how it goes, alright? I worry about you sometimes.”

I let out a small laugh, “Thanks, Joongie. I will.”

“Miss y/n.”

I raised my head to meet a young woman in light blue scrubs. She smiled at me, but I could see the tiredness in her eyes. I certainly understood, I’d had many long, long days at work myself.

I hope your day gets better, miss.

“Right this way, please.”

I stood, following her as she lead me into a room and instructed me to sit in one of the chairs.

“The doctor you normally see has been quite busy today, so we’ll have one of our newer doctors see you. Is that okay?”

“Yeah that’s fine.” I pressed a hand to my forehead.

“So could you give me run down of what’s been going on?” She clicked a pen, grabbing a scrap of paper from her pocket.

“Sure, basically I’ve just been having really bad migraines.”

“How severe have they been?”

“I mean they’ve been bad enough that I’ve had trouble concentrating.”

“Anything else troubling you?”

“Nope that’s it.”

She scribbled some notes on a sheet of paper and smiled at me.

“Alright, the doctor will be with you soon.” Were her last words as she exited the room with a sigh.

Knowing it’d likely take awhile, I unlocked my phone to mindlessly scroll through social media, eventually getting bored and playing a game instead.

The door opened and I jumped in my seat, placing my phone aside. The young man that walked into the room smiled, running a hair through his parted black hair.

“Hello, I’m Wooyoung. It’s nice to meet you.”

As ridiculous as it sounded, my breath seemed to leave me all at once. His sunkissed skin was seemingly flawless, the closed-mouth smile that he flashed showing slight dimples on his cheeks, the lab coat and stethoscope around his neck left me to admire his appearance. He was certainly the most fit and attractive doctor, let alone man I’d ever seen.

“Oh you, too.”

He reached out to shake my hand and as we touched I felt sparks shoot through me. His hands were slightly rough but still soft. He released my hand with a kind smile.

“So do you mind telling me what’s going on?” He moved a stool that was in the corner of the room closer to me, sitting on it and slightly spreading his legs, his hands on his knees. I felt my head fogging as I fought myself to not stare at him.

“Well I’ve been having really bad migraines recently. I don’t really know what’s causing them.”

“How long have you been having them?”

“For a few months actually, but they’ve only become really bad within the last couple weeks.”

Wooyoung nodded, “Could they be stress induced, by any chance?”

“I mean...I don’t think so? My job is usually stressful but I haven’t been more stressed than normal.”

“Hmm okay. Have you been experiencing any other symptoms? Nausea, vomiting, sensitivity to light?”

“No, no other symptoms.”

“Could you be pregnant? That can often-”

I laughed, “No, I haven’t had a boyfriend in a quite a while so that’s not it. I’ve been busy with work.”

I could’ve sworn I saw a slight smirk on his face, but it was gone before I could fully register it.

“I certainly understand that. I was able to get through medical school faster than most but I was studying all the time so I’ve never really had time for a girlfriend.”

I nodded, not exactly knowing what to say as I felt happiness bubble up in my stomach knowing that he was single.

“So how often do you normally get them?”

I cocked my head and raised a brow, “Get what?”

He let out a chuckle that released butterflies in my stomach, “I mean your migraines. How often do you get them?”

“Oh.” I felt my cheeks turn pink, “Maybe four times a week.”

“Cute.” Wooyoung muttered under his breath. I was relatively confident he didn’t intend for me to hear it and I blushed even more.

“Well the nurse told me she forgot to take your vitals so...do you mind?”

“Not at all!” I internally slapped myself for sounding far too enthusiastic, but Wooyoung didn’t seem to care, giving a small smile.

“Could you take off your jacket for me, please?”

“Of course.” I said, ridding myself of the thick coat I was wearing, placing it on a nearby chair. He walked towards me—the smell of his cologne intoxicating—and put the eartips of the stethoscope in his ears.

Wooyoung placed the diaphragm of the stethoscope to my back, “Breathe in and out normally for me, please.”

I did as I was told, blocking my mind from the devilishly handsome man right next to me.

After a moment he removed the tool from my back. “I’m going to place the stethoscope on your chest now, okay?”

Wooyoung eyed my sweater which had slightly thicker material in the front, “Is it alright if I put the stethoscope down your shirt? It’ll be hard to hear your heart through your sweater.”

“Oh—yeah that’s okay!” I cleared my throat, “I mean like yeah it’s fine.”

Way to be smooth.

Wooyoung chucked as he reached down the collar of my shirt with the tool, its cold making me shiver. He apologized for the temperature, assuring me it wouldn’t take but a minute.

“That’s odd,” He stated, an eyebrow raised, “Your heart shouldn’t be beating that fast. Do you know why that might be?”

His dark eyes looked into my own and I swallowed. “I...I just...”

“Yes?”

I looked at the floor, unable to say it while looking in his eyes, “It’s you.”

“Me? How’s that?” I saw from the corner of my eye a slight smirk growing on his face.

I looked into his dark eyes, “My heart is racing because you’re so close to me.”

“Tell me, then. Would it beat faster if I got even closer?”

Stethoscope still on my chest, he leaned down, his lips almost touching my own.

The man let out a deep laugh, much deeper than his speaking voice, “I was correct.”

I was barely able to speak when my eyes drifted to his lips, “It’ll beat even faster if you kiss me.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“It is.”

Wooyoung grabbed my cheek with his free hand and pulled me closer, pressing his lips to mine. He didn’t have to tell me that my heart was racing. I could feel it. I could feel my heart rate increasing the longer his lips touched mine. My hands wrapped around his neck, hands running through his thick hair and pulling it slightly. He bit my bottom lip in response and I whimpered into the kiss, pulling him even closer.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, girl.”

I pulled his hair a bit harder and he groaned against my lips. As if he just remembered the stethoscope, he broke the kiss to pull it away from my chest, removing it from his ears and tossing it on the nearby table.

I giggled and he smiled at me, placing his hands on either side of the chair I was sitting in. Leaning in closer he teased my lips with his, giving me a slight peck before kissing down my jaw to my neck. I reached for his coat and hurriedly removed it from his shoulders, wanting nothing more than to get him undressed.

Gasping for air I grabbed at his hair once more, desperately needing to hear him groan again and he didn’t disappoint. His hands danced to my sweater, slightly lifting it.

“I hate to say it, because I’m really enjoying this, but you are on the clock.”

“Fuck it.” he growled, “I don’t have any patients scheduled today and I work harder than anyone here. I want this if you do.”

“I really do. Fuck me, Wooyoung.”

Without hesitation he pulled my sweater and bra over my head, leaving kisses all over my chest.

“Help me take off your pants, bunny.”

I whimpered, “Yes doctor.”

“Shit that’s hot.” He leaned in close to my ear, “Say it again. Doctor’s orders.”

“Whatever you say, doctor.” I pulled my pants down and threw them across the room.

Wooyoung’s hands teasingly ran up and down my thighs, making me shiver.

“You’re insanely gorgeous.” He growled into my ear.

I couldn’t come up with a solid response, my desire speaking for me, “It’s your turn, doctor. Off with the shirt.”

He made a dramatic flair of pulling his shirt slowly over his head, my eyes growing hazy while looking at his perfectly defined abs.

“Fuck.”

A cocky look formed on his face as he watched my eyes scan over him, soon after lifting me from the chair to the exam table.

He ran a digit along my clothed clit, prompting my back to arch off the table. I grabbed his arms and pulled him towards me, hips bucking into his, the friction setting my body on fire.

He groaned, head falling back as his body gave into his pleasure. Before long he was pulling down my soaked panties and leveling his face with my core.

“Don’t.” I said through heavy breaths, earning a concerned look from Wooyoung, “I want you in me now.”

His eyes widened, “Shit I don’t have a condom.”

I pulled him closer to me, “I’ve been on the pill for several months don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” The genuine concern in his eyes currently outweighing the lust I could see behind them.

“I promise.”

The lust returned to his eyes and I couldn’t help but feel small under his gaze. The rest of his clothes were discarded in a hurry, his member then lining up with my core.

“Let me know if you’re uncomfortable or want me to stop, okay?”

His consideration made me smile, knowing full damn well I wouldn’t want him to stop. “I will. You too.”

Wooyoung let out a short chuckle and entered me slowly. I felt my eyes close as I focused on the feeling of him inside me, feeling out of breath already. I moaned as he pulled out slightly and rammed his hips back into mine.

“You like this?” He growled, “Knowing that anyone could catch us?”

I nodded, letting out quiet whimpers as I gasped for air. His speed was quick and hard, hitting every spot inside me my fingers could never reach.

“What a dirty girl you are.”

My walls clenched around him as tears welled in my eyes from the stimulation, my moans gradually getting louder without my control.

He leaned closer to me, “Quiet, sweetheart. Can’t let everyone here know what we’re up to, can we?”

I whimpered as he picked up speed and I forced my eyes open, needing nothing more than to see him. His pupils were dilated, his face flushed, and his hair was sporadically sticking to his forehead. He looked godly.

“You look so beautiful under me, taking me so well,” He said through half-lidded eyes, “How are you feeling, love?”

I whined at the pet name and clenched around him. He groaned and I brought myself to speak, “I feel f-full, doctor.”

Wooyoung nuzzed my neck, placing a few kisses upon my skin, and I felt my high approaching.

“Touch me, please.” I pleaded.

He complied, teasingly running his fingers along my clit and I felt sparks of pleasure shoot through me.

“Are you gonna cum, baby girl? Be my good girl and cum for me.”

I bit my lip to keep from moaning loudly as I came, feeling Wooyoung release at the same time. He stilled, watching me catch my breath as he did the same.

“Pretty sure I just broke several medical moral codes but damn I don’t regret a minute of that.”

I hid my face in his chest, face heating up, “Me either.”

He pulled out of me and I pouted at the loss of feeling him.

“We just had sex and you’re still needy?”

“Listen, you just feel good inside of me.”

He leaned over me a gave me a long, sweet kiss, “You feel pretty good around me, yourself.”

Wooyoung pulled back and reached for his boxers, putting them on before grabbing some paper towels and cleaning me up. “Get dressed, doll.”

I nodded and slowly slipped my clothes on, legs feeling wobbly. He noticed and smiled at me, fully dressed now.

“Well,” He started, “I think we should exchange numbers in case you experience more migraines. We’ll have to monitor that, of course.” His eyes twinkled.

“Ah yes, of course.” I giggled, handing over my phone.

I watched his fingers glide over the keyboard, my eyes once more trailing down his chest, unable to forget how good he looked shirtless.

Without looking up he spoke, his voice lighthearted, “I can see you, you know.”

“No you can’t.” I teased.

He laughed and handed over his phone for me to do the same. “I can write you a prescription if you feel like that’s something you need. Have you tried over the counter medicine?”

I chuckled and he gave me a questioning look. “It’s just that the conversation took a different direction than I was expecting. But no, I haven’t.”

Wooyoung nodded, “I would recommend that you start with Ibuprofen and if that doesn’t work, let me know and we can prescribe you a stronger medicine, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

A silence fell over us. Noticing my nervousness, Wooyoung pulled me into his arms, placing a kiss on my lips, “I need to go, but I’ll call you, okay?”

I gave a shy nod and bit my lip.

“Do you like coffee by any chance?” He questioned as he ran a hand through my hair. I welcomed his touch, leaning closer to him.

“Love it, why?”

“I say we meet up at a coffee shop soon. I’ve got a particular one in mind and I think you’ll really like it.”

I smiled, beyond happy to know he wanted to see me again, “Works for me.”

“So it went pretty well, I think.”

“Good, have you been feeling better?” Hongjoong asked later in the week.

“Much.” I bit my lip, looking down, “I’ve got a date later today.”

“What? With who?” Hongjoong asked with a smile, genuinely happy for me.

“Um...the doctor I saw earlier this week.” I scratched the back of my head.

“Oh my god you do not.”

“I do. I really like him.” I confessed, “We’ve been texting a lot.”

“Damn.” He shook his head, “That’s definitely a surprise but I’m happy for you girl. You know, why don’t you head out early? Our shifts are almost over anyways and I can finish up anything you’ve still got to do.”

“No I can’t ask you to do that!”

“I insist. Go ahead.” Hongjoong all but pushed me out of the office, sending me on my way and wishing me luck.

I waved back at him, thanking him again before leaving the building. I hopped in my car and drove off, feeling happiness bubble in my chest.

I took a step into the cute coffee shop, looking around at the full tables before locking eyes with Wooyoung. His eyes sparkled with the same playful look as I remembered. I walked over to where he was sitting and took the chair across from him.

“Hey,” He smiled wide.

“Hey yourself.”

“Are you gonna order anything?”

“Maybe in a bit. I wanna spend time with the handsome man in front of me first.”

A slight red dusted his ears as he tried to laugh away his shyness. “How’ve your migraines been?”

“Honestly, I haven’t had any since I saw you last.”

He cocked his head. “Wonder what could’ve fixed that?”

I bit my lip, meeting his eyes, “I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

“Incredible. This is a medical breakthrough. I can just imagine the medical articles.” Wooyoung raised a hand, moving it in the air as he spoke, “Sex cures chronic migraines, experiments suggest.”

I laughed, playfully hitting him on the shoulder.

“What? Am I wrong?” He said with a mischievous smile.

I quirked a brow, “I think we should probably conduct more experiments though, right? In the name of science.”

He pressed his lips together in a tight smile. “You make a compelling argument. I think I have to agree. My place after this?”

“Absolutely.”

Final Note: Listen I know Wooyoung probably should have actually prescribed y/n something for her migraines but it’s to further the plot okay please understand—

#atzinc #ateez #kpop #imagines #ateez au #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez imagines #fluff #kpop fluff #doctor au #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung au #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung smut

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megumisbimbo · 3 years

Text

Marry the Stars - Chapter 2

series masterlist

Pairing: Levi x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Content: College au, Angst, Fluff, Pining, Eventual Smut

Summary: A fresh semester with new faces and new opportunities. Y/N had just started her job as a professor at Eldia University and was determined to make it the best semester yet. A moody philosophy professor gets in the way of her plans. Will she be able to capture his heart, or will she accidentally win the heart of her student?

taglist: @awkwardangelthings @vinseul @txzierbaby @mitsuluv @oblxvion @fiaficsxo @aotwrites @piscesfairies @rintarouss @shisoaya @ikigaitooru @innrsoul @dancingazaleas @sukunas-lady @x6nji @izukine @luvmegumi @erekami @hoeyadoingbitch

“That profesor of ours is really something huh?” Armin asks.

Mikasa and Eren stand beside him as they walk to their next class.

“I like her, she seems like she really cares about her students.” Eren answers.

“Yeah like...really cares.”

“Anyways, I’ve scheduled a one on one with her since I’m majoring in her field. Mikasa says.

“You can do that?!?”

“Don’t get any ideas Eren.”

“What do you me-”

“We all see the way you stare at her, it’s not a secret you think she’s hot.” Armin explains.

“Who’s hot?” a voice behind them says.

“Jean? Shouldn’t you be at practice?” Armin asks, looking over at Eren questioningly.

“Yes, but I came looking for Eren. We have a game tomorrow and he’s in the starting lineup. You’ll come watch us right Mikasa?”

“Don’t I always come to your games?”

“Yeah but you leave whenever Eren’s off the court.” Jean answers.

Eren gives Mikasa a confused look. Her eyes shift to the floor, refusing to look at either man.

“We’ll all be there Jean. Now, Mikasa and I have another class and Eren you need to get to practice. We’ll see you guys later.” Armin says, wrapping his arm around Mikasa’s wilted form and dragging her down the hallway.

————

“Levi can you pass me the sodium chloride?”

“No.”

“Please? My hands are full.”

Levi turns and eyes the taller woman who’s carefully holding a burning hot beaker.

“Hurry! This experiment is time sensitive!”

“I’m not even in proper gear Hange. What if it gets on me?”

“It’s salt Levi!!”

Levi hurries over to the counter opposite Hange and picks up the container labeled sodium chloride. She instructs him to pour some into a test tube. He follows her directions and rushes away from the scene, eager to get back to his book and far away from Hange’s latest experiment. As much as Levi hates Hange’s antics, he couldn’t help but feel thankful for having a friend like her.

“So are you coming to the meeting today? I heard they’re introducing a new curriculum.” Hange asks.

“I hate those meetings.”

“Yeah well just because we’re friends with the principle, doesn’t mean either of us can skip out.”

“I wouldn’t skip the meetings if anything actually applied to me. We only ever gather to talk about the science departments. The humanities department is almost always overlooked. It’s not Erwin’s fault, the principal can only do so much.”

“I suppose, but you should still go.”

“I’ll think about it.”

————

You walk into the room, professors and administrative employees mingling around you. You don't seem to recognize anyone, so you take a seat at the back and pull out your phone. You scroll through your emails and notice one from a student with a familiar name.

Hello Professor,

My name is Mikasa Ackerman, we met the other day. As you know, I’m an anthropology major, and I was hoping I could meet with you sometime to discuss matters related to my major and classes and universities you would recommend. Thank you so much.

Mikasa Ackerman.

Mikasa...I recognize that name, but I can’t remember her face...Anyways I’ll respond when I get back home.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” A tall woman with glasses asks you.

“No, it’s not.” You respond, giving her a bright smile. You turn your attention back to your phone, reading over a few more administrative emails. She happily sits down in the seat next to you and turns her head to look you over. Your head turns in her direction once again, this time giving her a confused look.

“Um…do you need something ma’am?”

“Huh? Oh no- sorry was I staring?”

You nod sheepishly, a small giggle leaving your lips. Her attention turns to the front of the room and she waves her hands frantically in the direction of another man. Oh it’s the same guy I bumped into.

“Levi!! Over here!! I saved you a seat!”

The man hurries over and slaps a hand onto the woman’s mouth.

“Hange would you quit yelling?!”

“Sorry.” She answers, barely audible due to the hand currently smothering her.

You observe the pair, trying hard not to be caught noticeably staring. Would be weird considering I just called her out for staring at me.

The shorter man takes a seat as a blonde man takes the stage. This is Erwin, the principle of Eldia University, aka, the guy who interviewed you.

“Thank you all for coming today, this meeting will be brief and it will cover the new material for the humanities courses.”

“See Levi, this is why you shouldn’t skip the meetings.” Hange whispers.

“Well this is a first..” Levi responds, pulling out the IPad he uses for work.

“Oh ho ho look who’s getting all excited now.” Hange says, nudging Levi in the shoulder

“Shut up four eyes.”

Your ears perk up as well. You had put in a request for a field trip to the National Museum of Anthropology and were eagerly waiting for a response. You planned on assigning them a report about their time and experience at the museum, rather than have them regurgitate all the information you taught that semester.

“In regards to the anthropology museum trip submitted by Miss y/n, it has been approved.” Erwin says, glancing in your direction.

You smile and bow your head, silently thanking him. Levi follows Erwin’s eyes and finds that you’re the one he’s talking about. So you’re the new anthropology professor, the one Zeke was talking about. Zeke was the head of the humanities department as well as an economics professor. Levi didn’t particularly like him or how much of a flirt he can be with the ladies in their department. He definitely couldn’t understand why the board made Zeke the head of the department and not him, but he knew it wasn’t his place to complain about the decision, and he didn’t want to put Erwin in a bad situation. Both you and Levi listened intently to the words Erwin spoke and after about half an hour, the meeting was over.

“That’s all for today, thank you everyone. Also, please make our new staff feel welcomed.” Erwin says, ending the meeting. You gather your things and make your way to the door as friendly faces smile in your direction. A tall figure stepping in front of you halts your movements, your eyes landing on a scruffy looking older man. Definitely not my type.

“Hello Miss y/n, I’m Zeke Jaeger head of humanities.” The man says lightly grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles. You awkwardly slide your hand out of his grasp and discreetly rub the unwelcomed kiss on your pants.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Jaeger. I should get going. I'm late for an appointment.”

You brush past him and hastily walk to your imaginary appointment. As you reach the door, you feel someone tap you on the shoulder. It better not be him again. You turn and see the woman you were sitting next to earlier and next to her, the man you’ve successfully pissed off twice.

“Hi! you dropped this.” The woman says handing you a notebook.

“Oh..um... that’s not mine.”

“I know, it’s mine, but I needed a reason to talk to you and this was the only thing I could think of.”

You giggle, receiving a bright smile from the woman.

“My name is Hange, Hange Zoe, and I’m a chemistry professor. If I’m being honest, I just wanted to introduce myself so I could ask if you wanted to join us for drinks tonight at 7.” She tilts her head towards the shorter man who sports an award winning scowl.

“This is Levi Ackerman, and he teaches-”

“I can introduce myself Hange, anyways we’ve met before.”

“Oh you have?”

“We haven’t spoken to each other but I have run into him before...literally. So what do you teach Mr. Ackerman?” You respond.

“Philosophy.”

“And he’s damn good at it.” Hange adds.

You smile sweetly at both of them.

“I don’t think I’ll be busy tonight. I’d love to join you for drinks.”

“Wonderful! We’ll see you at 7 then!”

You nod and finally reach the exit. You couldn’t lie, Levi was handsome. You wouldn’t mind getting a little bit closer to him. Anyways it might be helpful for work, since you both work in the same department.

Tonight will be...interesting.

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bloomyn · 4 years

Text

slide into the drivers seat ; 01

in which your boss is one hell of a ride and you’re sitting shotgun.

table of contents

pairing: chrollo lucilfer x f!reader

disclaimer: i know absolutely nothing about business school, so please disregard all inaccurate numbers

taglist: @kakashishoekage @revalise

. . .

so apparently a business degree doesn’t get you a job immediately after grad school.

the 85,000 dollar piece of paper that’s still in an envelope sitting on your dinner table is worthless, wonderful. well, not worthless per se, but it’s definitely not going to be helping you anytime soon, and by that you mean it doesn’t take an 85,000 dollar degree and four years of business school with privileged males (gross!) who think they know everything for you to answer a phone and schedule a meeting.

but a job at phantom inc., even if it is being a secretary, is a much better bargain that you could’ve ever asked for. that’s what you tell yourself as you ride the elevator up to the 56th floor, “that’s where you’ll want to be!” the front desk secretary had told you, “shizuku will be expecting you!.”

truth be told, you didn’t know much about the position, just that you needed a job and your pride had gotten in the way of reaching out to other colleagues. they’d probably get off on the idea of you asking for help.

assholes.

“i had a feeling you’d be here again!”

you’re not even a full step out of the elevator when a woman with gold framed glasses and black bangs comes bouncing down the hall. she’s dressed more casually than expected and she’s got a --vacuum cleaner?-- charm hanging off her hip.

“ah, i’m [name]. they told me to come--”

“you’re in the right place!” she grins, ushering you towards the desk in front of you, “thank gods you’re here, the last girl quit so fast she hadn’t even gotten paid yet.”

“she what---”

the words go unnoticed [ignored], and before you can even shake hands, shizuku’s handing you a binder thicker than the bowl of overnigh oats you’d had in the car, ‘contacts’ it reads in big emblazoned words.

“it’s probably in your best interest that you memorize at least some of these...or all of them.” she mutters the last part under her breath, and you think you can see her send a quick prayer to the sky.

“most of the work is pretty self-explanatory.” she adds quickly, “when the boss comes in he can brief you a bit more.”

“so he’s not here now?”

the blush is obvious on her cheeks when she responds, “he had some, --other, things to take care of. i’m sure he’ll be back later.”

right. of course.

shizuku leaves with the same bounce in her step as before and you get to work.

. . .

you hear him before you see him. well, you hear her before you hear him. it’s like the concept of public decency was wiped from their mind and replaced with absolutely nothing because the first time you look at your boss--

“baby let’s take this to your office.”

-- he’s got half a shirt on and a whole woman clinging onto him.

. . .

“shirtless?”

the boy with the cropped hair from earlier can’t stop laughing.

“i’m serious! i think his girlfriend is with him too!”

the boy in front of you is awfully giddy for it being 9:30am and your boss (and technically his boss too!”) is fucking the brains out of some girl right now. out of, ah, respect for the couple, you’d abandoned your desk, taking as much of the paperwork as you could carry out of there.

a wonderful start to your first day, truly, the wonderful world of business.

“d’ya want to hang here then, with me?” the boy says.

“i don’t even know you.”

“ i can take you to the spare room…” he singsongs, fiddling his hands behind his back , his eyes flick towards the stack of papers sitting in your hands as if to say, “what? you’re gonna say no?” and you’re not exactly in a place to deny the boy at the front desk. so you give him a sigh and a nod.

“[name].”

“shalnark.”

. . .

six months later

you really don’t get paid enough for this.

“i’m very sorry sir,” you say into the receiver, “mr. lucilfer is preoccupied at the moment and is not able to take your call, can i schedule a better time for the two of you to meet?”

the man on the other line grumbles, giving you a date and time and “if he doesn’t pick up i will be filing a complaint!”

he won’t though, he’ll take one step into the office and walk right out. watching people walk into the office is entertainment for you now, first it was pure awkwardness but now… the moans coming from the office in front of you are nothing but background noise to the clack of your keyboard.

it’s none of your business anyway, you just schedule the meetings. in fact, you’re sure that the only reason your boss gets away with not attending board meetings is because he’s quite literally fucking board members daughters in his office. a disgusting power move if you do say so yourself. well, that and he has the coldest stare you’ve ever seen.

“bye-bye [name]!” the blue haired girl, neon, 22 year old daughter of ‘nostrade’, ‘nostrade’ who has an appointment with chrollo the 23rd of every month from six pm to ten pm to discuss finances, yeah, that nostrade, comes swishing out of the room. “i’ll see you next week ‘kay!”

you wave a soft goodbye, ignoring the fact that her heel strap is broken and there’s a new bruise on her thigh. but like always, none of your business. the only advantage to this whole scenario, for you, at least, is the image of post - sex chrollo lucilfer, slick with sweat and still no shirt !, leaning against the doorframe. (honestly, the reason this company even has a dress code is beyond you.)

“ [name], did someone call?”

oh, he looked way too good in those slacks.

“yes sir, he said he worked with the zoldycks but --”

“illumi knows better, will you delete his contact then?” he finishes quickly, using his dress to wipe the sweat on his brow.

you nod, sparing yourself one more glance at the curves of his abs, and oh the ones that dip just below, oh. what’s this? his belt is different today, saint laurent? no, salvatore ferragamo, maybe.

“ [name].”

you blink twice, casually looking away before you meet his eyes again.

“yes sir?”

you can’t tell if it’s a smirk on his face but the tip of his mouth curves up as he makes his way towards your desk. his walk is sly, his office is only a few steps away from yours but watching him make his way to you feels like an eternity. resting his elbows on your desk, he peeks into your workspace, eyes looking over every pen and pencil on the desk.

“is there something you need, sir?”

it’s embarrassing how close you were to moaning ; god you were practically choking words out at this point.

but still, the question goes unanswered.

“i’m expecting a package later,” he finally answers, “ please bring it to me when it arrives.”

you nod, turning away to write a fake note “reminding” yourself to drop off the package, and by the time you turn around, the door to his office is shut and you’re left in silence.

. . .

shizuku looks up through her glasses, eyebrow raised and lips wrapped loosely around her milkshake straw.

“girlie i pray for you sometimes.”

rolling your eyes you pick a fry off her plate, “it’s not that bad.”

you fail to address the fact that you basically get a free show everytime neon shows up so , yes objectively it’s not that bad.

it’s a little bit evil though.

“at least you’ve got me ‘n machi here.”

“gal pals.” you say

“gal pals.” she affirms.

it’s not awkward with shizuku, in fact she might be the only normal person working at this company. she’s your little break from reality.

“boss is callin’”

you snap to your phone, ringing with CHROLLO L [WORK] on the screen.

“he’s needy.” shizuku taunts, “gotta have his little secretary back at work right.”

“if it’s because he doesn’t want to pick up his package i’m gonna flip.”

sighing gently, she pats your hand. “you’re working towards the paycheck babe.”

. . .

it is the package.

the poor delivery man is shaking in front of you desk as you walk out of the elevator.

“i can sign for it!” you chirp, adding a bit of sweetener to your smile ; a something to make the poor man feel better. he extends the pen toward you and you sign, gently placing the package on your desk.

“have a good day ma’am.”

you nod and wave, not even bothering to look at the package on your desk.

chrollo can wait for it.

. . .

neons moans are too fucking loud.

the girl‘s moving pathetically, no, clumsily on his cock, her ass is nice he’ll give her that but — fuck you would look so hot in her position. tits bouncing, falling out of the stupid white button down you’re wearing right now.

he can see you out of his office, (two way glass is a fucking gift) what are you doing , answering a call? doesn’t even matter. your tits just barely poke out of your shirt and it’s got him so hard.

is neon still here?

“baby please—” she mewls, forcing his head into her hands, pressing a harsh kiss on his lips. he doesn’t even bother to look at her, his eyes are on you.

you’re wearing cherry chapstick. he could smell it this morning when he picked up his folders from you.

“good morning sir.” you’d said, “anything you need this morning?”

the answer was “yes. you.”

but instead he nodded.

neon finishes loudly, tugging on his hair and crying into his neck.

he wishes it were you.

#chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo x reader #chrollo imagines #chrollo smut #chrollo fic #hxh x reader #hxh imagines #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo #smut #slide into the drivers seat #phantom troupe x reader

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hellpark · 4 years

Text

TOKEN: zzz.z..zz.......,.z.,

PHONE: *fucking buzzes*

TOKEN: mhmgngh .h guh...

TOKEN: Huh...

TOKEN: Damn... I fell asleep...

TOKEN: Who’s even calling me--

TOKEN: Oh it’s Nichole.

TOKEN: Hey, babe...

NICHOLE: Token!

NICHOLE: Hi.

NICHOLE: Oh no, are you falling asleep?

TOKEN: No... I promise, I’m awake.

NICHOLE: Okay sure, sle py head.

TOKEN: Mmh...

TOKEN: Is everything alright?

NICHOLE: Um...

NICHOLE: I guess?

NICHOLE: I don’t kn w.

TOKEN: What does that mean.

NICHOLE: Ummmm... I think I’ll explain it when we’re at the farm.

NICHOLE: I just want d to call you and let you know we’re abo t thirty or four y minutes out still?

NICHOLE: How d d you guys even get so far?

NICHOLE: We saw y ur car on th way out of town...

NICHOLE: It was still in flames!

TOKEN: One of the guys... like... poofed us here...

NICHOLE: “Poofed?”

NICHOLE: “One of the guys?” Your fri nds???

NICHOLE: Baby you g tta make more s nse than that.

TOKEN: No... like...

TOKEN: A good... demon.

TOKEN: Or I guess he said he wasn’t a demon... like...

TOKEN: I dunno.

TOKEN: He helped take us here and then left.

NICHOLE: Je us, and yo ju t trusted him?

TOKEN: Not really...

TOKEN: He was just really bent on helping us...

NICHOLE: Th t’s re ll w

TOKEN: Babe... you’re starting to cut out...

NICHOLE: I k ow, w re go g t rou th mou i s...

NICHOLE: W ’l e t ere s n.

NICHOLE: I ove y u.

TOKEN: I love you too...

TOKEN: See you soon.

TOKEN: [yawn]

TOKEN: Man...

TOKEN: How am I supposed to stay up this late...

TOKEN: Today’s been so wild...

KENNY: Hey, uh, Token?

TOKEN: Mn...?

KENNY: How’s Nichole and the others?

KENNY: Not to, like... eavesdrop or anything...

TOKEN: Mm, it sounds like they’re scared...

KENNY: Makes sense.

TOKEN: She said they’re about half an hour out still.

KENNY: Damn. Sure you won’t fall asleep before then?

TOKEN: Yeah I’m gonna try and stay awake.

TOKEN: Shouldn’t be too hard.

KENNY: I feel that.

TOKEN: What about you?

TOKEN: What has you so wide awake?

TOKEN: Just about everybody but Craig is asleep now.

KENNY: Yeahhh...

KENNY: I guess I just can’t sleep.

KENNY: Got stuff on my mind.

TOKEN: Yeah, don’t we all...

KENNY: Heheh, yeah.

KENNY: So, um.

KENNY: I was just wondering, since Craig wouldn’t dare let me-- and considerin’ how he’s feeling, I don’t blame him--

KENNY: Could I borrow your phone?

TOKEN: My phone?

KENNY: Yeah.

KENNY: I’ve been feeling pretty bad about today.

KENNY: I kinda had a manicure appointment scheduled.

TOKEN: A-- A manicure?

KENNY: Karen.

KENNY: You know how she paints my nails and such.

TOKEN: Oh, right.

KENNY: Yeah, I got her a new color and she was real excited to try it out.

KENNY: Promised her I’d help her test it.

KENNY: Also considering everything that went on back in town, I’m also just a lil worried in general.

TOKEN: That’s understandable.

KENNY: I sure hope it is!

KENNY: But um.

KENNY: Yeah, could I give her a quick call?

TOKEN: Of course, dude.

TOKEN: Take your time.

KENNY: God, thank you.

KENNY: Times like these I wish my phone wasn’t long busted, y’know?

TOKEN: I really don’t.

KENNY: Haha, yeah, you wouldn’t.

TOKEN: Do you think she’d even be up this late?

TOKEN: We have school tomorrow and all...

KENNY: Oh, probably.

KENNY: If my parents are awake this late-- which they definitely are-- she’d be awake too.

TOKEN: Alright, well...

TOKEN: Like I said, take your time.

KENNY: Thanks dude!

KAREN: I totally didn’t even expect that, like!

KAREN: That show is so good with being really realistic, but also keeping the suspense up that makes you all “oh my gosh, who did it...?”

KAREN: Not that either of those really have to be sacrificed for the other, just!!!

KAREN: I like the show a lot. I like watching it with you.

KAREN: Would you maybe wanna watch more tomorrow after sch--

KAREN: ?

TRICIA: Wow, who’s calling you this late at night?

KAREN: Oh...

KAREN: Maybe my parents...?

KAREN: I don’t know if I should ignore it or if they’d be more mad if I didn’t take it...

TRICIA: I’m surprised they even noticed you were gone.

KAREN: Yeah... I--

KAREN: I better just take it.

KAREN: Um... hello?

KENNY: Hey Karen!

KAREN: Oh!

KAREN: Kenny?

KENNY: In the flesh phone.

KAREN: How are you calling me?

KAREN: Isn’t your phone broken?

KENNY: Yeah, borrowing a friends.

KENNY: How are you?

KAREN: I’m okay-- um.

KAREN: Are you okay?

KAREN: Where are you?

KAREN: You didn’t come home from your friends so I just thought you didn’t want to be home tonight, or...

KENNY: No, no trust me, I wanna be home more than anything.

KAREN: That’s the first time I think I’ve ever heard you say that.

KENNY: Haha.

KENNY: Well I just wanted to say I kinda got caught up in some weird sh-- some weird stuff.

KENNY: I didn’t mean to skip out on nail painting.

KENNY: I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise.

KAREN: Oh, well um...

KAREN: I kind of already painted my nails...

KENNY: Oh.

KENNY: Well... how do they look!

KAREN: Good! Tricia helped me.

KENNY: Tricia, huh?

KENNY: Did y’go and see her tonight?

KAREN: Maybe...

KENNY: Hey, beats home.

KAREN: Totally.

KENNY: Well, tell Tricia that Craig says he loves her and wishes he could be there to keep her safe.

KAREN: Oh... r... really?

KAREN: Tricia, Kenny said that... *Craig* said that... he loves you? And wishes he were... home to keep you safe?

KAREN: I don’t really know why he’d be saying that.

TRICIA: Um, ask him what he’s on and then tell him I hate him.

KAREN: I’m not gonna say that!!!

TRICIA: He’s literally across the hallway from me, why is he being weird.

TRICIA: Why is your brother telling us this.

KAREN: Oh... yeah, um--

KAREN: Kenny, Craig is already home in his room.

KAREN: Did he tell you this earlier?

KAREN: Is everything okay?

KENNY: No, no, Craig’s here with me and the guys.

KAREN: Tricia, my brother says Craig is hanging out with Kenny.

TRICIA: Um, no?

TRICIA: I just heard his door close like two minutes ago.

KAREN: Kenny, Tricia’s pretty sure Craig is home.

KENNY: He super isn’t.

KENNY: Craig, say hi.

CRAIG: Don’t tell Tricia I love her tell her what the fuck is wrong with you.

KENNY: See?

KENNY: Wait--

KENNY: Karen, is there someone else in the house with you guys?

KAREN: Um, just her parents... but they went to sleep a few hours ago.

KENNY: Karen...

KENNY: Whoever’s messing around in Craig’s room is not Craig.

KENNY: We’re nearly fourty miles out of town at Stan’s farm.

KAREN: Huh...?

KENNY: ...

KENNY: Lock the door and turn off the light.

KAREN: Tricia, Kenny says we need to lock the door because...

KAREN: Um.

KAREN: There might be someone in the house... with us...

TRICIA: That’s bullshit.

KAREN: But--

TRICIA: This is a prank.

KAREN: Kenny wouldn’t play a trick on me...

TRICIA: Yeah, and Craig’s too boring, but his friends aren’t.

TRICIA: They’re probably all in on this.

KAREN: But... maybe we should still listen?

TRICIA: No, that’s what they want us to do.

KAREN: I don’t--

TRICIA: Trust me, it’ll be fine.

TRICIA: They’re just trying to scare us.

TRICIA: We can’t let them get to us.

KAREN: T-Trish--

KAREN: Wh-what if it is someone else in the house?

KAREN: What do-- what do we do???

KAREN: I’m scared...!

TRICIA: Karen, if it really is someone bad, I’ll protect you.

TRICIA: I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

KAREN: ...

TRICIA: (Just stay quiet...)

TRICIA: (They’re probably expecting to hear us...)

TRICIA: (Turn your phone down, I can hear your brother yelling on the other side.)

KAREN: (U-um... okay...)

TRICIA: ...

TRICIA: See?

TRICIA: I knew it.

TRICIA: They’re just trying to fucking scare us.

KAREN: Is that Craig?

TRICIA: Too short to be Craig, probably their idiot friend Clyde or something.

TRICIA: HEY!

TRICIA: You’re not tricking us.

TRICIA: Stop shitting on our night you freaks, get a life!

KAREN: T-Tricia, your parents are sleeping--

TRICIA: They’re heavy sleepers, trust me--

TRICIA: Are you listening to me? Get the fuck out of here and don’t try and scare Karen again.

TRICIA: I’ll kick ALL your asses if you d...

TRICIA: If you don’t... g...

KAREN & TRICIA: a...

GREGORY & ESTELLA:

TRICIA: Okay maybe your brother was right.

KAREN: T-T-Tricia I think th- I think we should close th--

KAREN: We sh-should close the door, I, um. Um.

TRICIA: Yeah.

TRICIA: Okay.

TRICIA: Tell your brother sorry and hang up.

TRICIA: We’ll lock the door.

KAREN: K-Kenny um.

KAREN: Yeah there’s someone else here.

KAREN: Sorry.

KAREN: I love you.

KAREN: Talk to you soon.

KENNY: Wait-- K--

#south park #token black #craig tucker #kenny mccormick #karen mccormick #tricia tucker #nichole daniels #gregory of yardale #estella havisham #hellpark #This one was fun!!!#they're all fun but this one was very fun.

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

Chapter 5. We have stucky, we have stevesambucky friendship, we have a new place to live and strange being a good guy because tony definitely ranted at him. Also, we're beginning the creepy part of the plot. I have decided that sam will be one of the main platonic characters in this story because I love sam.

fun fact: I used to be a creepypasta writer! Going back to my roots here, hehe.

Things had stated changing, for better or worse, much sooner than I had been prepared for - but was anyone, ever, really ready for the next big step? Certainly not me - the view that greeted me after I'd finished my shift at Jeremy's was peculiar and unexpected, so I froze, eyebrows high at the two super-soldiers parked, once again, illegally, right in front of the entrance door.

"Hi, doll," Bucky was reclined against his boyfriend comfortably, his bike standing a pace behind Steve's, who nodded companionably, a sheepish grin on his face.

"G'day," I nodded, eyeing them warily. "I think I know where this is going..."

"No, no, nothing like that," both men frantically waved their hands around, Steve coming up close to approach me slowly. "You're not in trouble. I came out here to say thanks," giving a sappy look to the grouch that was his boyfriend, Steve reached into his pocket and handed me a slip of paper. "Just, uh..."

"Those are our phone numbers. Don't hesitate to give either one of us a call if someone bothers you," Bucky took over the stammering blonde, shaking his head at the soft blush that blossomed on the good captain's face. The brunette wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders with a shy smile of his own. "Or if you, I don't know, need someone to carry your groceries or something," he snorted. "The punk wouldn't leave it alone until we came out personally to thank you, the sap."

The laughter bubbled up from my chest as I grabbed and pocketed the paper, throughly amused and at the endearing gesture. "Sure, thanks."

"And, uh," Bucky's eyes briefly looked to the side. "We'd appreciate if you keep the status of our relationship to yourself for now. We're not, like, officially out yet."

I froze in place, mouth falling open. Surely they were aware that anybody with a functional pair of eyes could see that they were much more than 'good, lifelong friends'. "No problem, guys. Lemme know if anyone gives you shit about it though, this place," I gestured to the café behind me, "is strictly paparazzi and homophobe-free."

Steve's grin grew even more genuine. "Yeah, we heard all about it from Tony and Stephen. Said 'twas the only place they go these days."

I wasn't aware of that. "It's the paps, isn't it?" I remembered Tony's remarks.

Bucky shook his head, the metals of his prosthetic arm whirring as it recalibrated. "Not only. The public hasn't had the best reaction to a man goin' out with a man," the brunette looked away to the side, where Steve's face had fallen considerably. "And Tony's an eccentric rich man. We're jus' two soldiers. The US Army won't be too happy if we... Came out," both men were crestfallen yet determined.

I had a hunch nothing would be able to separate the two - seeing as not even seventy-odd years and brainwashing and ice couldn't keep the captain and his sarge apart, I doubted that a few government weasels could successfully do the job. Even so, it was unpleasant, to say the least, to see them deny themselves something that technically was perfectly fine in the 21st century.

I chewed on my lip, gathering my wits. "I've clocked out, I can tell you this as a friend- as a person. You don't owe the army jack shit. They do not own you, you are your own person that they experimented their German knockoff steroids on. Respectfully, fuck that shit." I firmly stated my opinion, figuring that there should have been at least someone that told Steve that he is more than his star-spangled uniform and giant metal frisbee.

The blonde scrunched his eyebrows together, fingers gripping onto his belt until the knuckles went white, the hard line of his jaw set firm.

Bucky laugh took me by surprise. "Agreed, doll. I'm too old to be hiding in back alleys and shit," he clapped on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Although I'm happy enough with just not going to prison for bein' in love with this idiot."

"Jerk," Steve's responding pout was downright adorable now that I knew the circumstances surrounding their relationship.

Which wasn't exactly surprising. As a barista, I knew my fair share about my regulars' love lives, their jobs, their kids. The tea was almost always piping hot. "Bye, boys," I smiled at them warmly, throwing a glance at the time, adjusting the strap of my bag for comfort. "Stay outta trouble!"

Steve scrambled for his bike, having noticed my pointed gesture. "Sorry, didn't mean to hold you back. There, I have a spare helmet," he gestured behind him. "I'll give you a ride."

"There's no way in Hell I'm getting on that death trap!" I shouted cheerfully, walking briskly towards my second job, hiding a laugh in the warmth of my scarf as two very offended motorcycle-loving gay fossils sped past me, making truly incredible amounts of noise. Good for them.

Odette was content to let me rummage around the bodega without showing herself more than necessary, taking her appointments and doing- well, witch stuff, I guess, only coming out to poke at the various jars for ingredients.

"Star, I have a proposition for you," right before closing time, Odette's voice filled out the store with its low drawl. "A good friend of mine owns an apartment building, not far from here actually, and one tenant recently moved out. It's a safe space for those who are different," she enunciated the last word, fixing it with a pointed stare. "She's not overly fond of total strangers coming to live there. The rent is reduced and the apartment itself is slightly bigger and more fashionable than yours..."

"Where's the catch?" I found myself interrupting her. I wouldn't lie: the reduced rent and increased size of the apartment did interest me, as well as the probability of a kinder, more involved landlord. My current one was - not the best, but such was life in the NYC.

"There are a few rules to follow, rules that might seem strange at first but they'll make sense in time. And your neighbors might be also a little... Unusual," Odette carefully studied my face for any signs of displeasure.

I sighed.

And then I sighed some more as I was signing my new lease in a few days' time, having spoken with Porter, my new landlord, and his boyfriend who had claws and fangs- after so much time spent around Odette's, I didn't even blink. The couple liked me enough to extend a secure but flexible offer and some furniture to choose from the attic where they kept the spares.

I quite liked the large, vintage couch I placed next to the wide bow windows in the living room. The floors were hardboard and well-kept, the walls a nice, homely shade of green and Porter didn't mind any new holes in them that might arise from hanging up decorations. I scheduled a thrift crawl at the next possible opportunity, happy with the "good employee" bonus Odette had given me after I sealed the deal.

My stuff was boxed up, a sleepless night and a call to a begrudging Jeremy to have a couple of days off to move; I was, thankfully, not late on my schedule and all that I had left was to rent a car to move the boxes of my things and the few pieces of furniture I had decided to keep - my haul in Porter's attic had been incredibly rewarding and my new apartment had all the basics to make it look like a warm, inviting bohemian home in a while.

My phone rang suddenly, startling interruption to the romcom I was watching as I ate my last lunch in my old apartment. "Hello?" I answered the number without looking.

"Hi, doll," Bucky's voice rang out cheerful. "A little witch told me you were moving. I thought you might need a hand?"

I blanked momentarily, the thought of enlisting two very busy super-soldiers to haul ten boxes and two endtables worth of stuff not having crossed my mind at all. "Is this the moment when you stop by my house just to unattach and put your prosthetic arm somewhere and leave?" I asked, hearing distinctive snickering - several more people were with him.

The cheer in his voice blossomed into a full belly laugh. "You're funny," he teased me. "And thanks for the idea. But no, I have a room full of men that have nothing better to do but get on my nerves. Might as well make 'em useful," his accented drawl thickened the more we spoke. Muted cheers rang out in the background.

"Uh, sure," who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? I rattled off my address and warned them I didn't have a car, after which Bucky assured me it will be taken care of. The last remaining knick-knacks packed away, I went down to take out the trash, and returned to four people standing in front of my apartment building, all except one unrecognisable in their civilian clothes. "Hello," I waved at them, side-eyeing the tallest, grumpiest man of the bunch.

Stephen Strange was there, looking around curiously, hands in the pockets of his plain grey hoodie. I had already forgotten how normal he looked without his robes, and, frankly speaking, I preferred him like that. His title and the attire that came with it were quite intimidating.

"Hey there," a dark-skinned man who I recognised to be the Falcon, raised his hand. I had not met him yet. "I'm Sam, Sam Wilson. You must be the Star we're helping?" His quick once-over and the tilt to his lips; the ease with which he flirted had me brandishing smirks of my own. I led them all upstairs, Stephen's silence being just so loud. Sam, however, had no such reservations. "So, you're a witch, right?" Wow, subtlety was his middle name.

"Yes, I'll show you my broomstick," I deadpanned, wiggling my eyebrows at him with a grim look.

"Woah woah," Sam raised his hands as the three men behind us snickered loudly. "What happened to 'how are you? let's have dinner sometime'?"

I did my best imitation of an evil cackle as I let them through my front door. The four newcomers looked around my nearly empty apartment with muted interest before zeroing in on the pile of things in the corner: a few pieces of furniture and nearly taped boxes. Should be a walk in the park for four men.

A hand on my arm pulled me from the stupor of observing Sam, Bucky and Steve act like a well-oiled trio, bantering and teasing each other as they discussed how to best move the things.

"Look," Stephen Strange had all the appearance of a chastised puppy. "I wanted to apologize for my behaviour that day. I was out of line," the low notes in his voice made the appearance of the apology being somewhat reluctant. Tony probably put him to it after our little burger run.

Irregardless, I wasn't looking to make any enemies. "Me too, I was under stress - not that I'm using it as an excuse," to give where it's due, I nodded at the sorcerer, immediately awestruck by the easy, boyish smile that stretched on his lips.

"You are strong," he added. "If you would like to learn our ways, we would welcome you." There was a spark in his eyes, something belonging to man that respected and collected knowledge. My own respect for him grew immensely just from that one thing.

"I'll think about it," I offered amicably, however, I still leaned heavily towards a negative answer to that particular proposition. I liked my current way of life.

Strange's grin made a momentary second appearance, until Sam's voice rang loudly: "Fire in the hole, Wizard-man," causing the former to groan loudly and look at me.

"Think about your new place for a second," he spoke, briefly touching out fingertips. As soon as that was over, a golden circle with my new living room on the other side of it appeared quietly, Strange's hands immediately going back into his pockets after that. I sighed and pointed the men into it, stepping in a second after. The sorcerer wasn't far behind. "You could learn that, too, you know," he added wryly, having seen my look of mild envy directed at him.

"I think I'll be good with having the 'pissed off the sorcerer Supreme and lived' pass for now," I retorted with an eyeroll, turning around to stare him down.

He had the decency to look somewhat sheepish, at least. "I'm not like my predecessor," his words were chosen carefully. "And, to be honest, I have no clue as to why your... Boss is so hostile towards me- us," Strange looked around the room before unceremoniously beelining for the couch and plopping down on it.

"Not to be a gossip," I started, slightly intrigued. "But Odette and some lady she called ancient had mad beef," I slipped into casual language easily, trying to recall the details of Odette's, quite often jumbled, stories. "Sounded almost like territorial disputes," I shrugged. "And the apprentices Odette took on before me found themselves in all kinds of compromising situations," I chewed on my lip. "Like the Arctic."

Strange rubbed his face with a noisy groan, large hands doing nothing to mask the resignation and slight embarrassment.

I focused on the thin, red scars on his hands - they had to have been something serious, the way slight tremors betrayed the deteriorating state of the nerves in his fingers. I frowned, quickly averting my gaze before he could catch me ogling him. The fact thag Stephen kept his hands in his pockets or covered by gloves at all times didn't go over my head.

He muttered something to himself, something that sounded like he was often forced to clean up his predecessor's mess. "I see," was the only thing he'd offered me, looking slightly pitiful and apologetic.

"Well," I started, noting the last of my stuff was about to be in its rightful place, "as long as you don't toss me into the ocean, I think we can coexist peacefully."

"Tony would kill me if I'd tried," Stephen groused.

"Probably," I agreed. "Considering the fact he hit on me, for you, it would make one hell of a lover's quarrel," my hand pointed towards the kitchen as Steve and Sam carried in the boxes aptly labeled "kitchen", looking around a place to put them down.

"Tony did what now?" Stephen's tone dropped, a wry smirk decorating his lips as he eyed me through his lashes.

"Don't ask me," I raised my palms, feeling my eyes widen. "He's chaos personified and Satan only knows what he's got on his mind."

That squeezed a laugh out of the tall man, followed by a fond, sappy smile as he looked out of my large, panoramic window, probably thinking of Tony himself. There was no doubt, Stephen Strange was utterly and throughly head over heels in love with Tony Stark. Good for them, good for them.

"A-and that's it," Bucky walked in, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel I'd provided them earlier. "I took some liberties and assembled the furniture, Steve is stacking the dishes as we speak," the brunette noisily plopped down next to me, arm carelessly thrown behind me on the back of the couch.

"Oh, um," I stammered, unused to such random gestures of kindness. "Thanks a lot, you saved me a day's worth of time and a backache," I smiled, scooting over to make some room for Sam.

"No problem, not like we had anything better to do than argue which part of the Lord of the Rings is the best," Wilson rolled his eyes, elbowing Bucky none-too-gently.

Bucky elbowed back, thus starting a horsing war between the two, causing me to scoot closer to Stephen as I attempted to avoid any flailing limbs; the sorcerer and I shared an identical, perplexed sigh as to how two grown men could easily bait each other into such juvenile behaviour.

Whatever. It was kind of endearing.

Steve emerged from the kitchen dusty but smiling, having heard the commotion, and quickly herded his guys into a semblance of decent behaviour before all of three of them left, leaving me and Stephen to go back to my old apartment and give the keys to it to the guard. That was done, too, and a portal from an alley behind my old building straight into my living room had me and Strange awkwardly hovering, saying out goodbyes and waving to each other as the golden circle rapidly shrunk in size and disappeared, golden sparks scattering across my living room carpet for a short second before they fizzled out, too.

I used the brief moment of respite to find the small piece of paper containing the rules Porter had insisted I read and take seriously; figuring it might be a good idea to give them a read before beginning to unpack, I popped open a bottle of soda, holding the itemized list written in neat cursive to my face.

The further I read, the further my eyebrows rose:

"1. Keep your door locked at all times.

2. If a person knocks on your door claiming to be the mail man, do not open the door under any circumstances. You are free to ignore the knocking - it only lasts a minute or so. After the person has left, you may open the door and check for any packages.

3. If Samantha from 3B visits you and asks you to babysit, you may do so at your personal discretion. Her twins are a handful and their daily habits are not for the ones with a weak stomach, however, they mean nothin ill and will not harm you in any way.

4. Do not use the elevator between the hours of 1 and 4 AM.

5. There are no apartments under number "7". If someone claiming to be from those apartments knocks on your door and requests entry, come up with a polite excuse to decline and send me a text message. I will take care of it.

6. There is no garden on the premises of this building. If a man approaches you, claiming to be a gardener, don't interact with him and simply walk away. He will leave you alone.

7. You may meet a girl in a polka-dot dress playing in the hallways or in the stairwell. This is Lucy. Always be polite to Lucy - you won't like what will happen if you're rude to her. She does not talk but she knows limited ASL and may request to visit you. Allow her in ONLY if you have fresh meat in your fridge (beef or mutton, preferably bloody). You might want to avoid seeing her eat, however, it might be very beneficial to make friends with Lucy. She knows a lot of things.

8. If, when taking the stairs, you encounter inconsistent numeration of the floors, such as floor 2 followed by floor 5 and etc, simply walk a flight back. It will sort itself out. The building is old and sometimes it gets confused.

Important notice: these rules apply to your guests as well. Please make sure to introduce and educate them on these matters. We will help as much as we can should a situation arise but ultimately, there are fates far worse than an untimely, however swift, death.

- Porter and Lance."

A slow, creeping dread began to gnaw at my nape, curling on like a cold snake deep in chest. As if laughing at me, the warm, welcoming embrace of the green walls and the toothy, wide smiles my landlords had given me encouraged my recently found sense of adventure, all of it mixing into a cacophony of exhilaration and unease, equally steadily driving my running brain insane.

I sighed again, immediately going to the box containing my altar and the rest of the protective items. So much for peace.

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

#practical alchemy #bun writes #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #stephen strange x reader x tony stark #ironstrange x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x y/n #tony stark x y/n #Stephen Strange x you #tony stark x you

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massivedrickhead · 4 years

Note

bechloe tattoo shop au? Beca gives Chloe a tattoo?

So I’ve had this prompt in my inbox forever. I started writing it last year not long after I got my tattoo but it wasn’t going anywhere so I kinda gave up on it. But I just started watching Ink Master and I had to finish this prompt.

It’s kind of pointless but I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, and now I’ve written it I might as well share it.

I also gave Beca loads of tattoos because I’m high-key attracted to the idea of a heavily tatted Beca

Read on AO3

------

“Hi,” Chloe said, approaching the reception desk at Titanium Tattoos and Piercings. There was a blonde woman sitting behind the desk, spinning on her chair.

“What’s up?” She asked, with a heavy Australian accent.

“I have a consultation appointment,” Chloe said.

“Cool, what’s your name?” The woman asked, looking down at her computer.

“Chloe Beale,” Chloe said.

The woman nodded. “You’re meeting with Beca?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said.

“She’s in with a client right now, why don’t you take a seat and she’ll be out soon. My name is Fat Amy, give me a shout if you need anything.” Amy said, gesturing over to a collection of couches.

Chloe nodded and took a seat, her eyes roaming over the art that was hung around the room. She recognised a lot of it from Instagram, and she knew Beca was responsible for most.

Chloe waited for another 10 minutes before Beca came out, followed by a very pale looking man.

“Okay Jesse,” Beca said, patting him on the shoulder, “keep it clean, no swimming for a few weeks, and when it starts healing don’t pick it.” She handed him a sheet of paper. “Follow these instructions and take care of it yeah? If you get it infected it makes me look like a jackass.”

Jesse laughed. “Thanks, Beca.”

“Go give Amy your money and give us a call if you have any questions or anything,” Beca said. She spotted Chloe waiting. “Chloe, right?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said.

“Give me a couple of minutes to grab a drink and I’ll be with you. You want a coffee or anything?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Chloe said, watching Beca rush off to another room.

Chloe’s heart was pounding, and it was only partly due to nerves. Beca was cute. She had seen a picture of her on the tattoo shop’s Instagram but seeing her in person was something else.

Beca returned after a few minutes. “Chloe? Do you wanna follow me?”

Chloe nodded and followed Beca into the shop.

“Sorry I’m running a bit late,” Beca said. “My last guy got a bit lightheaded, we had to take a break.”

“No worries,” Chloe said.

Beca showed her into her room and asked her to take a seat.

“So, this is just a consultation, I’m not going to be sticking you with any needles today,” Beca said taking a seat next to her. “What is you’re wanting to get done?”

“I have a couple of reference photos,” Chloe said, pulling up her phone. “I want something kind of floral but a bit geometric too?” She handed Beca her phone who nodded and she swiped through the pictures. “And I also want to incorporate this ‘B’,” Chloe added, showing Beca a specific picture.

“Okay, cool,” Beca said. She rolled her chair over to her desk in the corner and came back with a sketchbook and pencil. She started drawing as she spoke. “The B isn’t your partner’s initial is it?”

“No,” Chloe said, laughing. “I’m single.”

“Can I ask what it’s for?”

“Don’t laugh,” Chloe said. “But, um, I’m graduating from college next month, and this is the logo of the a cappella group I’m in.”

She saw the corners of Beca’s mouth twitch as she carried on drawing.

“That’s cute,” Beca said.

Chloe laughed and felt herself blush slightly as she watched Beca draw. She was having a hard time focusing on anything else. Beca’s eye makeup was dark, her ears were pierced in several locations, and both arms had what looked like full sleeve tattoos.

She was distractingly attractive.

“You thinking colour or like black and grey?” Beca asked, glancing up.

“I was thinking black for the flowers and the shape, like kinda simplistic, not a lot of shading. But maybe we could do some colour in the logo?”

Beca nodded. “Awesome. Like the blue in this picture?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said.

“Where did you want it?”

“My ribs,” Chloe said.

This time Beca looked up fully and stopped drawing. “Is this your first tattoo?”

“No,” Chloe said, pointing at her tiny ladybug on her wrist.

“Cute,” Beca said, laughing softly. She ran a hand through her hair. “You sure about getting it on your ribs? It hurts like a bitch.”

“I’m sure,” Chloe said, laughing.

“Okay,” Beca said, grinning. “How big?” She moved closer and put her hands against Chloe’s ribs. “Like this?”

Chloe felt suddenly light headed. “Yeah,” she said, trying to keep her voice casual.

Beca nodded again. She turned her sketchbook over so Chloe could see and passed her phone back.

“So I can do something like this. You’ve got the geometric diamond shape here and that contains the flowers, but they’re sort of breaking that barrier here,” Beca said, pointing out different aspects of her sketches. “And then we can put the ‘B’ in the flowers but maybe a bit concealed? To give it some like depth.”

Chloe knew she should be focusing on what Beca was telling her, but she was having a hard time focusing when Beca was this close.

“Yeah, that’s awesome,” Chloe said, finally looking down at Beca’s sketches. “Exactly what I’m looking for.”

“Cool,” Beca said, grinning. “Can you send me that logo? I’m gonna draw up some more designs tonight.”

“Sure,” Chloe said. She airdropped Beca a picture of the logo. “I really love these designs, Beca. They’re perfect.”

“Thanks,” Beca said. “I’m glad you think so, you’re going to have this tattoo for a while.”

“So when can we do this?” Chloe asked, standing with Beca and heading back to the front of the shop.

“I might have some time tomorrow if you’re up for it?” Beca asked, heading behind the reception desk to check her schedule.

“Yeah, that would be great,” Chloe said. “I’m free all day.”

Beca began typing into the computer. “How about 3pm?”

“Sounds great,” Chloe said, feeling a rush of nerves and excitement. She knew her tattoo was going to hurt like crazy, but somehow she was more nervous about having Beca’s hands on her body.

“Sweet,” Beca said grinning and typing into her computer. “So, I would recommend you don’t drink any alcohol tonight and please don’t drink any tomorrow. Make sure you eat too, I don’t want you passing out in my chair.”

“I don’t want that either,” Chloe said, laughing.

—

Chloe arrived the next morning with a stomach full of butterflies but feeling excited. She was looking forward to seeing Beca again and she couldn’t wait to get her new tattoo, despite how much pain she was about to go through.

Beca called her through after she had been waiting for a couple of minutes.

“I usually take a girl for a drink before I ask this, but can you take your shirt off?” Beca asked.

Chloe laughed and pulled off her t-shirt, leaving her in just her bra. “Can I keep this on?” She asked, tugging at her strap.

“For now, yes,” Beca said. “Let’s get the design on there and see how it sits.”

Beca placed a piece of paper against Chloe’s ribs and applied the stencil of her design. When she peeled the paper away, a blue stencil remained.

“Have a look in the mirror,” Beca said. “Try it on for a bit while I get set up. Move your arm around, see how that’s going to affect the tattoo. Just make sure you’re 100% happy with it. Anything you wanna change or add we can do no problem right now.”

Chloe looked at the stencil in the mirror and did what Beca advised, twisting her arm and side, making sure it didn’t distort the tattoo in any weird way.

She loved the design Beca had made, and she couldn’t wait to wear it.

“Happy?” Beca asked.

“Yeah,” Chloe said. “I love it.”

“Anything you want to change?”

“Nope,” Chloe said, stilling grinning at the design in the reflection.

“Okay, then let’s get started,” Beca said. She patted her chair which had been folded flat like a bed. As Beca pulled on a pair of black latex gloves, Chloe lay down on her side, her back to Beca’s chair. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said, feeling her heart race as Beca placed her hands on her ribs.

“Here we go.”

Beca hadn’t been lying when she said the ribs hurt. Each line felt like a knife was being pulled slowly across her skin.

“How’s it going?” Beca asked after about thirty minutes.

“Yeah it’s uh, it feels great,” Chloe said.

Beca laughed. “Liar.”

“It fucking hurts,” Chloe said, laughing lightly.

“You need a break or anything you let me know, okay?” Beca said, wiping away some ink and blood.

“Will do,” Chloe said, clenching her hand as Beca carried on tattooing.

“How come you picked this design?” Beca asked, eager to keep Chloe’s mind off the pain she was putting her through.

“I just really wanted a way to commemorate the Bellas,” Chloe said. “They’ve been my family for like the last four years. They gave me confidence and - ah fuck - and a support system. That last line really hurt.” Chloe laughed, feeling tears prick her eyes.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Beca said. “We’re making progress though.”

“Good,” Chloe said. “What’s been your most painful tattoo?”

“My ribs for sure,” Beca said. “I had some big pieces planned for them but after I got some lyrics tattooed there I totally changed those plans. So if it makes you feel better, I think you’re metal as fuck right now.”

Chloe laughed again. “That does make me feel better.”

“Your next tattoo is gonna be way easier now,” Beca said.

“My next one?”

“Yeah you’re gonna get the bug, trust me,” Beca said, wiping away some more ink and blood. “It hurts like a bitch but I kinda like it.”

Whatever Chloe had planned on saying disappeared as a string of expletives flew out of her mouth.

“Damn I did not expect that from you,” Beca said laughing. She could see Chloe gripping the side of chair. “You doing okay?”

“Mhm,” Chloe replied, jaw clenched.

“No you’re not,” Beca said, stopping her machine. “We’re taking a break.”

“Thank you,” Chloe said, letting out a slow breath.

“Stay where you are, I’ll get you some water,” Beca said. She pulled off her gloves and dropped them in the trash. “If you wanna sit up wait until I’m back, okay?”

“I’m good down here,” Chloe said.

Beca left and grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and a straw. She stretched her back out before heading back in.

“You still with me?” Beca asked.

“Sure am,” Chloe said.

Beca pulled her chair around so she was sat by Chloe’s head, and passed her the bottle and the straw.

“Your bedside manner is excellent,” Chloe said, smiling as she took a drink.

“I just don’t want anyone having a bad experience in my shop,” Beca said. “Plus if you passed out I’m way too tiny to lift anyone off the ground. You ready to finish this bitch?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said, drinking some more and then putting the bottle down.

“Awesome,” Beca said. She pulled on a new pair of gloves, pulled her chair back up to Chloe’s side, and started her machine back up. “We’re almost done with the line work now. Then it’s just some shading and some colour.”

“Cool,” Chloe said, thinking it still sounded like a lot to do. “So have you got any tattoos you regret?”

“Uh, not really. I mean I have some kinda shitty tattoos, but I think even bad tattoos tell a story,” Beca said. “I do have an ex-girlfriend’s name hidden under a cover-up though. That’s why I’ll always try and dissuade a client from getting their partner’s name on them.”

Chloe laughed. “Yeah I think that’s good advice. Is there anything you’ll just refuse to tattoo?”

“Oh yeah,” Beca said. “I won’t do any Nazi shit, or any other racist stuff. Nothing homophobic or anything like that. Like it’s just a straight up no, and once I know they want something like that I won’t tattoo anything else on them either.”

“That’s awesome,” Chloe said.

“Yeah, I don’t want bigot dollars,” Beca said. She stopped tattooing and wiped down the ink and blood again. “Okay the outline is done.”

“Thank god,” Chloe said, letting out a breath of relief.

“You’re doing great,” Beca said. “Not much longer, I promise.”

As Beca carried on the tattoo, they carried on talking, each learning a little more about each other.

Chloe learned that Beca also made music, and spent a few evenings a week DJing.

Beca learned that Chloe volunteered at an animal shelter, gaining experience for when she went to veterinary school in the fall.

After hours of tattooing, Chloe was finally done.

Beca helped her up, and Chloe admired her new tattoo in the mirror.

“Beca, it’s so awesome,” Chloe said, grinning. “I love it.”

“I’m really glad,” Beca said. “Can I take a quick pick for the Instagram before I get you wrapped up?”

“Yeah, of course,” Chloe said.

Beca took a few pictures and then cleaned and wrapped Chloe’s new tattoo, before handing her a sheet of paper on aftercare.

“Please take care of it. No scratching, no picking, no getting it dirty,” Beca said. “Follow these instructions and you’re gonna have a beautiful, nicely healed, tattoo in about a month.”

“Thank you so much, Beca. It’s exactly what I wanted, it’s perfect,” Chloe said.

“You are very welcome,” Beca said. “You sat like a champ. I’ve had grown men cry in my chair getting their ribs done, you did great.”

“So, um, what’s the deal on drinking now?” Chloe asked.

Beca laughed. “Give it 48 hours at least. This sounds gross but you’re gonna be bleeding and… oozing for the next couple of days, you don’t really want to thin your blood.”

“I can drink by Saturday then?”

“Sure,” Beca said. “You got big plans?”

“No, I was just kinda hoping I could go on a date with this cute girl on Saturday,” Chloe said. Having survived her tattoo, she was suddenly feeling invincible.

“Sounds like a lucky girl,” Beca said.

“Beca, would you like to come for a drink with me on Saturday?”

Beca couldn’t stop the grin that spread over her face. “I see. I’m the lucky girl?”

“You can be.”

“Sure,” Beca said. “It isn’t often I get asked out by clients after I put them through three hours of pain. Let’s do this.”

#bechloe #bechloe au #bechloe prompt #bechloe drabble #drabble #prompt #au #beca #chloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #Beca x Chloe #Pitch Perfect #otp prompt #pitch perfect fanfic #pitch perfect fanfiction #pitch perfect au #fanfic #fanfiction

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guessimwritingficsagain · 3 years

Text

To Be Seen, Part Seven

Warnings : depression

Author's note : I based my depiction of Frankie's wife on the movie Laggies that I mentioned before. It's not exactly the same thing but I liked the way the mom was depicted in the movie and how, in the end, everybody made mistakes. I'm still very sad Lynn Shelton left us. So I guess, in a way, this is dedicated to her.

Chapter One ; Chapter Two ; Chapter Three ; Chapter Four ; Chapter Five ; Chapter Six

------

Two weeks later, you broke down. You’d felt it coming, used as you were to that grey cloud slowly sneaking its way into your brain. You called in sick on a Saturday night and turned off your phone, not even feeling guilty about that.

Linda had had her meeting with her ex, and they’d both been tentatively hanging out, trying to fix something that was so broken you didn’t know if there was ever a chance it could be fixed. You’d stayed out of the way, of course. You hadn’t spoken to Linda except for the occasional text to check on her. That left a sinking feeling in your stomach, one that came with the realization that even though you considered Linda your friend, you were also her ex, first and foremost, and though she didn’t mind poking into your love life, she seemed reluctant for you to know about hers. Even though you couldn’t really blame her, that heaviness never went away. That was the first sign.

Jessie’s story was something else altogether. James and Will had set up a tight sleeping schedule at Jessie’s house - a tight schedule of following her to work and staying with her all day, too. Will had involved all the boys except Frankie. They were taking turn watching her, making sure she and her kid were safe. You’d managed to talk them out of going to the guy’s place and beating him up - barely. But you knew that couldn’t last. The way Will had vibrated when you explained the situation told you everything you needed to know about that. Talking to Jessie hadn’t been easy either, because she’d first shut you out completely and resented her brother for telling you, you for telling Will, and Will for telling everybody else. That was understandable too, but things were tense between the two of you, and since none of the men wanted to include you in what you called the Jessie Watch in your head, you were left to watch and worry from afar.

But the worst thing was the complete and utter silence from Frankie. He wouldn’t answer your texts or your calls. You kept replaying the only phone call he’d answered to just like you’d kept replaying the moment he’d offered you wine and chocolates for Christmas - God, you wished you could go back to that time.

You dial his phone number, hoping he picks up. He does, starting with :

‘Listen, now’s not a good time. I’m sorry but I got some things to deal with right now. I’ll call you back.’

Unnerved by the tone of his voice, unnerved by his answer, and thinking we don’t even see each other anymore and I thought you liked me and trusted me you bluntly answer :

‘Pope told me.’

The silence on the other end in unbearable, so you continue :

‘Frankie, talk to me. Don’t shut me out, please.’

You’re begging, and you don’t care that you are.

‘It’s fine.’ He eventually mumbles, his voice unconvincing. ‘I’ll sort this out. I just need some time.’

Some time was more than two weeks apparently, and two weeks was your breaking point.

You felt alone in a way you’d never felt before.

That led you here, right to this moment, you opening a bottle of wine, all by yourself. You sat on your couch, and drank a glass. Then, a second. By the third, you were turning on your phone and dialing your mother. When she picked up, you completely broke down. After the phone call, exhausted by all the crying, you left your phone on the couch and went to bed. The battery was empty when you woke up the next morning, feeling puffy and barely keeping it together. You didn’t bother to plug it in.

As agreed upon the night before, your father picked you up a bit before noon. Starbuck was in her bag, and you’d thrown some clothes in a luggage. You felt a wave of relief wash over you when you put it in your childhood’s bedroom, Starbuck already carefully sniffing around the house. You called your boss to ask to use all of the vacation days you had. You didn’t know what deity to thank for the fact that he agreed. You knew it was all wrong. You knew you should be here for Jessie, for everyone. You father covered that : he went to Anna and Phil, told them about the situation and made them promise not to say a word.

You had three weeks of vacation, and nothing to do but pretend you were a teenager again, living with your parents.

Your father kept in touch with Phil and Anna, if only to get news about what was going on with your friends. At the end of the first week, he came back with a letter. You felt yourself shaking until he added :

‘It’s from Anna.’

He heard your sigh of relief but didn’t say a word, turning around to leave you in peace. As he got to the door, though, he turned around and announced :

‘One of these days, I’m gonna have to have a talk with that boy of yours.’

He looked tired, and worried. Your voice wavered as you answered :

‘You won’t have to if he’s not my boy anymore, Dad.’

You felt like crying, but you didn’t. You turned your attention to the letter instead, and smiled at the first line. Anna had taken to give you your own nickname every time you compared her to Jane from Pride and Prejudice.

Dear Elizabeth,

How long and lonely are the days without you. Our dear cook is not quite himself, since you’ve been away, as he has to endure me without you to soothe the pain in his ass that I am. The counter has lost its light, and even the birds seem to sing in a more quiet manner, as if they were missing their dear friend too.

I hope your dear feline companion Starbuck is doing well in her new surroundings. I do not worry much, though: change can be difficult, but she is anything but faint-hearted.

I will keep writing to you, dear Elizabeth, if only to let you know if a respectable gentleman of good fortune ever comes in to charm me. You must promise, though, that you shall write back.

Your Jane.

The letter was so sweet and thoughtful , with Anna’s clumsy attempt at sounding Jane Austen-ish, you finally cried, only this time, the tears were not all bitter. You could call her, but this seemed more fun. You fumbled around to find a piece of paper and picked up a pen.

Dear Jane,

How sweet of you to write to me. I cannot express how much I miss you too. Do not worry about Phil, for he is softer for you than you know. I am sure you are quite exaggerating to hasten my return. Alas, I will remain where I am, for I find this retreat is beneficial to my health.

Starbuck has taken to her new life quite readily, and is currently enjoying a lovely nap in the sun.

Guard your feelings well, my dear. Experience has taught us much in this matter, recently.

I’m writing a return address on the back, so you can write to me through the post-office and avoid my poor father the task of being the delivery man.

Your Elizabeth.

You left the house for the first time this week to mail the letter.

Those three weeks went by like this.

You learnt that Linda and her ex had called it quits for good. You learnt that Will eventually drove to Jessie’s now-ex-boyfriend’s house and beat the shit out of him, and that everybody watched it happen with glee. You learnt that Frankie’s ex-wife was still in town. Staying on the couch.

You wanted to throw up all the time, these days.

You still didn’t turn on your phone. You used your parents’ line to get an appointment to the doctor. The woman only had to look at you to say :

‘Yeah, you’re not going back to work.’

You knew what she meant : you barely recognized yourself when you looked in the mirror. You didn’t sleep much, you didn’t eat much, and it all showed. When you came home, your father hesitantly said :

‘They’re starting to be worried. They’re asking a lot of questions to Anna.’

You found that you didn’t care, and a little voice at the back of your head warned you that this was worrying but you ignored it. It was so easy not to think. You enjoyed the feeling - maybe a little too much, said the voice again. You ignored it again. You were standing on that fine line : you were aware that you weren’t fine, but you weren’t doing anything about it. You knew it would only take a push to bring you to the other side : and then, you wouldn’t be aware anymore that you were not fine.

‘I got two weeks more.’ You answered instead.

———

You hadn’t seen Frankie in five weeks.

You’d been feeling better, lately, but still considered going back to work. And by that you meant going back to work at all, ever again. You weren’t good at facing your problems, you knew that, and that whole existential crisis about your future sounded a lot like running away but you didn’t have the strength to face anything right now. You wanted Frankie and your friends to make some king of grand gesture while knowing they didn’t have the means to reach you. You knew that was ridiculous and a little bit fucked up. You kept at it anyway.

Anna visited you more and more. The first time she’d shown up unannounced, she looked so hesitant it broke your heart. You’d hugged her so hard and she’d given it back the same way. She took to showing up in the morning, when your parents were on their daily stroll, though she happily stayed for lunch. Your parents, of course, adored her.

So, that morning, when someone rang at the door, you expected it to be her. You realized your mistake the second you opened it. You took a step back, speechless, and Will and Santi used your surprise to push past you and come in, very much uninvited.

On autopilot, your brain pretty much gone, you turned around and just stared at them. They stared right back, Pope with a hard look on his face. Will, though, looked like he wanted to hug you but didn’t dare. He seemed to struggle for a minute, before opening with :

‘Benny is very upset you missed his last fight. It was a big one.’

You found your tongue, even if it felt heavy in your mouth.

‘Well, I’ve been…’

‘You’ve been what ?’ Interrupted Santi, his arms crossed and his gaze unforgiving. ‘Ignoring us for five weeks ?’

‘My phone is dead.’

‘For five weeks ? Cut the crap.’

‘How did you find me ?’

You crossed your arms too. Whatever reunion you’d imagined, that wasn’t it. The reality of the situation was starting to sink in and you were trying to get angry, because if you got angry, then you wouldn’t break down. You could feel the tension building up your spine, knew exactly what it meant too : that conversation was not going to go well because whatever happened, whatever your reaction would be, the part of your brain labeled stupid and self-destructive was going to take over.

‘How did you find me ?’ You repeated, your fingers digging into the flesh of your arms to try and ground you.

Apparently, though, your brain wasn’t the only one with a part labeled stupid because instead of answering the question, Pope just decided to go with :

‘Do you realize how Jessie feels ? Do you realize how we all feel ? We had to take care of your friend, your friend because you just bailed on us while her fucking ex-boyfriend was beating the shit out of her.’

The silence that followed was heavy, as you could feel both the anger coming off of Santi and the panic that was shaking Will. Your voice was cold, emotionless, as you answered :

‘I was there. Except nobody wanted me there. I was completely useless.’

‘Bullshit. So what, you disappear ? Jesus, Frankie must have a thing for women who pull that kind of stunt because you’re the second one. The boy’s not very smart, apparently.’

‘Pope.’ Will’s voice rang loud in your ears, but you were frozen to the spot. You wanted to answer with some smartass remark, something petty along the line of well she’s back now, so who needs me anyway, just to get back at Santi because you knew in your heart Frankie wouldn’t just leave you like that. You knew there was more to the story but Frankie had completely shut you out before you went off the grid and now Santi was in front of you, scolding you as if you were a child, the whole thing feeling too much and not real at all, like you were having a really bad nightmare.

Pope ignored Will’s warning and went on :

‘You know the worst part ? He’s so worried he’s going crazy right now. We’re fucking back to square one, when I had to pick up the pieces when the other one left.’

‘Pope, stop.’ You heard Will say.

You opened your mouth, just a reflex, because your brain was empty. You couldn’t think anymore. But you opened your mouth anyway and realized too late you wouldn’t be able to contain the sob crawling up your throat. Breaking down it is, then, was your last thought before you started crying and shaking uncontrollably. So you ran to your room, leaning on the walls to avoid falling.

You were crying so hard you didn’t hear the door open, some time later. You felt the bed dip, though, when someone sat next to you.

‘Go away.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Will’s voice answered as a hand went to your hair. ‘Come on, deep breaths. Everything’s gonna be okay but I need you to breathe, okay ?’

Your hand shot up to grab his arm in a steely grip to steady yourself. You complied, though. After a while, you felt like you could breathe again. Will’s hand kept stroking your hair as he started talking :

‘Listen, Pope’s an asshole, we all know that. Anna briefed me a bit about everything. She wasn’t the one who gave us your address, by the way. I swear, the woman is unbreakable. Linda just figured you might be at your parents’ house and we looked it up. I’m a bit ashamed it took us that long to think about it, honestly.’

He chuckled, and went on :

‘Anyway, listen. Frankie’s been really overwhelmed by his ex coming back, and he didn’t react well, though I must say you answered in kind but I get it. He told me how he kept you out of the loop and I know how hard that must have been for you because I can see how much you care about him. It’s so obvious, the two of you. It was even before anything happened. I know Frankie is, you know, the quiet one, and he’s not all sharp angles and shit like the rest of us, but he turns into a puddle when you’re here. He’s unburdened when you’re around. We used to give him shit because he wouldn’t talk to the cute bartender.’

You smiled, still not looking at Will, but he was looking at you and he saw it.

‘Remember when he came to ask you, for Maria’s birthday ? We made him do it. Benny taunted him. He said that if he had to get up and ask you that, he’d also get your phone number and a date with you.’

‘I’d never go on a date with Benny.’ You replied, your voice hoarse.

‘Yeah, you’re smarter than that. Remember the Christmas presents ? Frankie was having a bloody existential crisis over this. He wanted to buy you a book. Linda gave him ideas but he was freaking out because he was scared he was going to buy you a book you wouldn’t like. I actually had to text Jessie about your favorite wine and get Frankie to go shopping with me so he would stop freaking out. Pretty sure I’ve never seen him stressed out like that and we served together.’

‘You already had Jessie’s number ?’ You asked, pretty sure Jessie would have told you right away about that.

His voice grew quiet, thoughtful.

‘Yeah. I had asked for her number one day. But I was really drunk so I never used it. Figured she’d given it to me because she felt obligated or something since I was a regular. I thought I was taking advantage. If I had made a move earlier …’

You turned your head towards Will, then, knowing you looked like a mess and not caring one bit.

‘What happened is not your fault, Will.’

And then, it hit you.

‘Wait, earlier ? That means you did it ?’

His smile was blinding. You squeezed his arm.

‘Good for you.’

You both fell silent for a moment but Will wasn’t done.

‘Listen, that thing with Frankie’s ex, it’s not what you think, even though he’s been an idiot for not telling you. Wendy came back because she’s lost. She thinks she made a mistake, leaving like that, and she’s still trying to figure out if she wants to be a mom. It’s not about Frankie and her, okay ? It’s about Maria. She wants to try, maybe. She still doesn’t know. Pope shouldn’t have talked to you like that but he’s right : Catfish is lost right now, because he misses you and he doesn’t know how to fix it. He’s too damn respectful to show up here unannounced, too. That’s why we came.’

He kept stroking your hair as your mind processed everything.

When you left the room, Santi was waiting in the garden. You went over to him and hugged him. He whispered apologies in your ear.

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

Taglist :

@pedritobalmando @ubri8

#pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader #frankie 'catfish' morales #triple frontier

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herohotline · 4 years

Text

Wet Clay (P.5)

Shouta Aizawa x Reader

Summary: You’ve got your own handful of problems- being a counselor doesn’t mean you can’t also have anxiety or feel overwhelmed by it all.

A/N: it’s finally here!! thank god!! and thank you everyone who was so patient waiting for the new part. i honestly had a lot of fun making this new chapter- i wanted it to be a bit longer as a Thank You for the long wait. I hope you all enjoy it, and look forward to the next chapter!

Word Count: 5,500+

Tag List: @babayaga67, @cosmichorse95, @sugacookiies, @howthe-f-didigethere, @rintomoj, @missadorable96

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Technically-not-but-still-technically House Arrest is finally over, much to your relief.

You, Bakugo, and Midoriya were finally freed from Aizawa’s punishment and proceeded with your regular schedules. And while Bakugo and Midoriya have a lot of catching up to do, the same goes for you.

Which you weren’t expecting at all, but you’re pleasantly surprised by a few students standing at your office on your first day back greeting you and asking for a scheduled meeting.

Slowly but surely, word of you and your practice has been moving around the school, which is exactly what you were hoping for. Especially since it got out that you were able to have a successful session with Bakugo, of all people, the students seem to suddenly have a newfound interest in trying therapy that wasn’t there before. It’s the progress you’ve been waiting for to report to Nezu, letting him know that students even outside of the hero course were asking about therapy.

Due to your agreement, you couldn’t give them a session. Your time was pointed strictly at the hero classes for the time being, but it wouldn’t always be that way. You had the interested students fill out a simple questionnaire once the idea popped in your head, which helped you immensely for your reports to Nezu.

They were simple questions, not asking anything too personal, of course. Things like, ‘why does therapy interest you?’, ‘what problems would you like to talk about?’, and ‘what are some of the things that stress you daily?’

The answers you received confirmed that you were right from the beginning- U.A needed a proper counseling team hired, and it would be best if it was sooner rather than later.

And on top of all that good news (though kids needing therapy admittedly wasn’t the best news, but at least it was being assessed instead of being ignored), Nezu agreed with you! After hearing and reading your reports on the students, he agreed to start working with you to begin making after-school programs and looking for professionals to hire. It would take a few weeks, if not more, but the beginning of your dream for U.A was finally taking big steps, and it was overwhelmingly exciting.

You haven’t been able to fill anybody in on your news quite yet, but your change in attitude was noticeable by the staff and the students. It’s especially noticeable to the staff when you come in one morning, cups of coffee and tea hot and ready that you had bought for them when they came into the Teacher’s Lounge before class.

Yamada enters with Kayama, whistling low as he quickly walks over and inspects the cups. “Ho-hey!” He exclaims. “What’s all this?”

“Good morning, Yamada,” you smile at him and nudge a cup his way, which he takes with a gleeful hum. “I was just feeling good this morning and I’m really thankful to how much everyone has helped me settle in, so I figured I could buy everyone a drink.” Kayama walks up as well, grabbing one of the teas, surprising you with her choice.

She notices, a deep frown on her lips. “You tempt me, honey, but I have to watch my figure!” She gestures to her body, which is on full display at all hours. Not that you’re a prude, but it makes you wonder how the pubescent boys and girls feel while in her presence. You’re not envious of them. “But I appreciate you very much, thank you.”

“It’s no problem, I’ll make sure to try and get something better for you next time,”

“Oh, don’t worry! A little tea won’t hurt me.” Kayama quickly waves off your concerns and she sits on one of the chairs available in the admittedly small room. “So? Why’re you so happy?” She raises an eyebrow, and before she can ask-

“Nothing that you’re assuming, I’m sure,” you tell her quickly. “Truthfully, it’s because my work is going well. My tenure here might actually be useful- Nezu and I are talking specifics on hiring other counselors, now.”

Yamada cheers, as loud as ever, “really?! Good job!” He wraps an arm around you and shakes you- if the coffee hadn’t woken you up before, you were surely awake now with his energy! “Does that mean you’ll be staying?” Kayama perks up from her seat.

“Oh, does it? It would be so nice to keep you around longer!”

“I’m not sure about that,” you laugh uneasily, “what the students really need is someone that can be fully devoted to them and their needs, you know? I can’t give that to them while I’m still working as a counselor on the side, and I’m really not sure if I can give up that job.”

“Aw,” Yamada frowns, keeping his arm secure around your shoulder as he looks down at you. The man was freakishly tall, honestly. “Shouta will be so bummed. Do you know how long your tenure lasts?”

“I sort of hoped you were giving up on that,” you deflate. “But, no, I’m not very sure. But it’s probably not for much longer. A month more, maybe two at most. Then I’ll be leaving.”

“Leaving?”

You and Yamada turn your head towards the door, and you get a face full of his hair, making you sputter and sneeze as he laughs at you and apologizes (but it doesn’t sound like he’s sorry). You shove him away so you can actually look at Yagi, dressed in his usual baggy, bright yellow suit.

“Morning, Yagi,” you greet him tiredly. If you said before that you were energized by Yamada’s behavior, you take it back now. He’s actually exhausting. “Yes, eventually. I’m not officially hired, you know.”

“I must have forgotten,” Yagi mumbles under his breath, looking equally tired but thankful as you nudge a cup of tea his way and he takes a long sip. You remember him telling you that coffee was one of the things on his long, long list that his stomach couldn’t handle. “I’m getting too old, probably.”

“How old are you, anyway?” Kayama asks from her seat and Yagi smiles.

“That’s a good question,” he says, and then looks to you. “You’re leaving in a month or so, though? That’s unfortunate, Shouta will miss you.”

“That’s what I said!”

“Nice job avoiding the question, pro-hero,”

“I swear the two of you never quit it!”

The three of you talk over one another at the same time, and after a moment’s silence, burst into laughter together. Despite everything, these people had quickly become your friends, and chatting with them like this every morning was a part of what made the extra stress and work all worth it. “I’ll miss all of you when I have to leave, I mean it,” you tell them once the laughter subsides, and Kayama coos.

“We’ll miss you, too. I’m sure the students will as well, you’ve grown on them.”

“That’s true… I don’t feel good about the whole making-a-relationship-and-bowing-out thing. It takes a long time for a child to feel comfortable talking to you about their issues, and I finally have that! And now that I'd have to leave…” You sigh heavily as you rest against one of the tables, crossing your arms at your chest.

“Give it some more thought, then,” Kayama suggests. “Everyone would be happy to keep you around, including Nezu. Think about all your options before you make any decisions.”

It’s good advice, but the truth is, you’ve already done that.

The time you’ve spent at U.A has been amazing, yes, but you’ve never been more overworked in your life. The stress of keeping up your two professional jobs has you tossing and turning at night, and the burden of feeling like you’re going to let everyone down isn’t good for your mental state, either. For your own health, you can’t keep working the way you are now.

You’re going to have to choose. And it hurts you more than anything.

Despite all of that, you smile at Kayama. “You’re right,” you say, and you try not to sound as tired as you feel, “I’ll think about it.”

—-

The first thing you have to do with your new duties from Nezu is put together after-school affairs. He doesn’t give you a lot to go off of- he just wants you to put together some sort of event or club that the students can go to after hours that will be good for them. Nezu is nice, but he gives you too much freedom. It’s hard to create ideas all on your own and be the judge on if they’re worth the school’s time and money or not.

You’ve thought of several things. The thing you’re trying to do is create an original idea that isn’t purely formed around therapy , per se, but a way for students to vent their problems in a healthy and calm environment. Your best idea has been a little something you called ‘food for thought’, a baking club students can go to where they can learn to bake and cook a variety of simple dishes, and while they bake, everyone gets a turn talking about something that’s bothered them or that they’re working through, no judgment. It can be a bit therapeutic to cook in general for some people, and if you gave students the chance to vent during that time, you think it might be something healthy and fun. And then they could all eat snacks afterward.

...But you doubt yourself again and think about scrapping the idea. There’s too many variables- some students might not like the idea of group therapy like that, and some students might abuse the club by coming only for treats and ruin it for everyone else. Plus, not everyone likes to cook.

You groan and deflate in your seat, laying face-down on your desk. This is too hard…!

Out of nowhere, your phone vibrates. It makes you reluctantly pull your head up, grasping for the device and wincing at the bright screen when it turns on.

It’s one of your clients asking for an appointment.

You take a deep, tired breath in, and let it out slowly. Slowly you sit up in your chair and open one of your desk drawers, fumbling around for your planner and slapping it down on the desk as you open the text and start to ask for details.

Your schedule is crammed, a lot more than it used to be. You end up feeling guilty not being able to see your patient soon enough and give up some of your free time in order to see them. Not that they know that- they thank you and tell you they’ll see you soon, and the conversation is ended.

Somehow, you’re even more tired than before.

Eyes wander over to your plush, comfortable couch. It’s a tempting idea, but… the scattered papers full of drafts of ideas for an after school activity are staring at you, so you shake your head at the idea and try to focus on the papers instead. You can’t afford to nap right now, even though it sounds so, so nice right now.

Your eyes droop, but you can’t sleep. Absolutely not. Your shoulders sag.

You fall asleep slouched over your desk before you can even realize it.

—-

Waking up is surprising, because you didn’t remember falling asleep. It’s always odd when that happens- opening your eyes and forgetting you even closed them, so it has you sitting there like, wait, what ? For a few moments.

You’re not even at your desk like you remember being. Instead, you’re laying on your couch- something you very much remember wanting to do, but you hadn’t. You’re alone in your office too, which is even more odd. You don’t think you sleepwalk.

As you slowly sit up and stretch your tired limbs, you look at the clock on your wall and see that it reads 3:20- school is just about to end.

Drat. You were hoping to get more done before now…

You suppose that’s fine- you can always work more at home and email Nezu if you come up with a great idea by the end of the night, but you sort of doubt that will happen. You go back to your desk to start gathering your things, but from the corner of your eye, a bit of yellow catches your attention.

There’s a sticky note on your ‘food for thought’ paper. Your eyebrows spring up in curiosity as you lean forward to read it.

It’s not much. It just says ‘good idea’ and then there’s, strangely enough, a doodle of a cat giving a thumbs up. It’s not the best drawing you’ve ever seen, but it’s cute.

Kind of strange though. A cat? Who even wrote this, anyway? Who was in your office when you were asleep?

You doubt it was a student. You’re not really bothered, but… the sticky note says it was a good idea. You were doubtful about it, but the second opinion makes you rethink your decision.

Maybe it wasn’t that bad of an idea? According to the mysterious cat-doodler.

Hm. You pocket the sticky note, and then put the paper with details of your idea in your bag as you continue to pack up. Maybe if you run into one of the teachers on your way out, you can ask them what they think. You should have thought about that earlier, to be honest.

Quickly you pack up and lock your office. You’re going to miss the train home if you don’t hurry, after all, and you want to get out of the building before the bell rings and the students crowd the halls.

Fortunately, though, you spot Cementoss- Ishiyama- at the front doors, and you wave to catch his attention.

“Ishiyama! You're heading out, too?”

The cement-like man looks toward you, and he walks through the doors, holding it open for you. “Mm. I need to make it to an appointment,” he says simply.

“I see. You wouldn’t mind if I ran an idea by you really quick? It’s for the kids.”

He shakes his head. “Not at all, I just needed to get out before the children did.” You grin and tell him you were doing the same- and then you tell him about your after-school baking idea.

By the time you finish telling him the small details, you’ve walked to the school’s parking lot and Ishiyama looks interested in what you have to say. “I don’t think that’s a bad idea at all. It’s creative, and I think the students would like having something to do besides sitting in a circle and talking.”

“Right!” You animatedly burst for a second- and then bashfully smile at your outburst. “That’s what I was trying to do. I’m glad to hear that it might be worth it. For hires, we could maybe hire a cook, and then the therapist who’d be willing to lead the conversation. That’s where my worry comes in- we’d be paying two people at most, along with spending money on ingredients…”

“Ah, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” Ishiyama says, and he slowly comes to a stop in front of what is probably his car. It’s a big, heavy looking vehicle- which kind of makes sense. The guy probably weighs a lot and needs something he won’t crush into the ground. “We have plenty of ingredients and food left over from lunch time, and Lunchrush would be willing to chip in. It could be something that’s held once a week, maybe.”

“Ah, you’re right. I guess I just didn’t want to assume anything on his part, since he already does so much.”

Ishiyama laughs. “You’re very considerate, but don’t let that get in the way of exploring your ideas. And don’t let Nezu scare you- he’ll let you know if it works or not. If it doesn’t, that’s fine. You’re not wasting his time.”

The words are, quite frankly, reassuring. You didn’t realize how much you needed to hear that, and your body naturally relaxes a bit. “Yeah,” you smile at him, “you’re right. Thanks a lot, Ishiyama. I’ll let you go now- good luck with your appointment!” You wave at the cement-man as he enters his car, but right before he closes the door, you suddenly remember something as you light up. “Oh! I had one more question?”

He looks up at you as he keeps his door open.

“Do you know anyone that likes cats?”

The question is an odd one, and his cemented eyebrows raise in surprise, but you don’t really have a proper explanation. Ishiyama thinks about it, and then he says, “the only person I know who actively likes cats is Aizawa.”

It’s your turn to be surprised. Really? You had no idea.

“Huh,” you say aloud. “Well- anyway, thanks a lot for your input! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

You wave off Ishiyama as he drives off, and once he’s gone, you pull out the sticky note still in your pocket. Aizawa likes cats, huh…? He might have been the person who looked over your paper, then, and he probably moved you over to the couch when you fell asleep at your desk.

The thought makes your chest warm. That was certainly nice of him, if that’s the case. But- ah!

The school bell rings, and you jolt into action. If you’re not quick, you’re going to miss your train home!

—-

Your phone had died on the train ride home.

It was tragic, honestly, because that meant you didn’t have anything to distract yourself with as you swayed in the crowded cart during your long ride home. No music, no texts, no articles… you busted yourself by reading the ads on the ceiling of the train, but there was only so much to read, honestly.

By the time you got home, you quickly plugged in your phone and started to make yourself some dinner. It wasn’t until after your dinner, which was just some quick and easy curry and rice from a package, that you were able to look at your phone again.

There’s several text messages waiting for you.

Some of them are from Yamada, and then there’s a few from a client of yours. But there’s an odd contact among them that you never saw in your messages.

Who knew Shouta actually texted people? He seems like the call-only type.

You click on his messages first. There’s three of them, all sent at different times during the day.

Shouta (7:43am): Thank you for the drinks. Glad to hear your work is going well.

You wonder who told him, but you figure it was probably Yamada.

Shouta (1:30pm): If you keep sleeping during work hours, you’re going to want to get a sleeping bag.

So it was him who was in your office! You should have known he’d be a cocky bastard about it, too.

Shouta (4:10pm): Bakugo only yelled five times today?

The last one was kind of funny. Without thinking, you reply back to him.

You (6:45pm): Thanks for the sleeping bag idea, but I’ll pass for now. It was sweet of you to move me to the couch, but next time you’ll need to wake me up instead!

You (6:45pm): Did you see Bakugo go anywhere after class?

Surprisingly, you don’t have to wait at all for his reply.

Shouta (6:45pm): You looked like you needed it.

Shouta (6:46pm): He didn't go to his dorm, but he stayed on campus. Why?

Hmm. You wiggle on your bed, plugging your phone out of its charger so you can relax in a comfortable position as your fingers tap on the screen.

You (6:47pm): I guess if anyone’s a good judge of someone’s need for sleep, it’s Mr.Baggy Eyes, huh? Go figure

You (6:47pm): also, that’s confidential. But I think he deserves a lollipop at this point. Bakugo cares a lot more than he likes to show, but the fact he’s actually thinking about our session and considering some new methods says a lot about his character. Thanks for telling me.

Shouta doesn’t say anything after that, at least not right away, so you move on and look at your other messages. Yamada’s are a bunch of absurd internet pictures, so nothing too important, and your other client who texted you is asking for a reschedule.

It takes a bit of back and forth with your client until you eventually decide on a new date where both of you have time- thankfully, it didn’t require you taking time out of your weekend more than you already have. By the time you’re done, you have one new message from Shouta.

Shouta (6:56pm): You’re right about that. Bakugo is difficult, but with some help, he’ll be able to do a lot for society. Hopefully you’ll be around enough to see him change. His trust doesn’t come easy.

The words make a heavy feeling in your stomach drop. Without meaning to, Shouta has stabbed you in the gut with guilt, and you’re feeling even more about your decision to leave U.A.

How could you leave, really? The students need you- but so do your clients.

Stress builds up in your shoulders again, and staring down at Shouta’s message, your head swarms with bad thoughts.

Anxiety and discomfort rolls over you in waves.

And you don’t really have anyone to confide in. Part of you feels like talking to Shouta- but you’re not really that close to each other yet. You doubt he wants to hear your complaints about work.

Shouldn’t you be grateful for your opportunity?

You blink as you barely make a reply, and then you toss your phone to the side once you turn it off. Your eyes look at the ceiling of your room, and despite the exhaustion deep in your bones, you’re suddenly wide awake.

You feel like you won’t be going to sleep tonight, as much as you would like to.

You (7:08pm): You’re right. I’ll try my best.

——

Coming into work the next morning is dreadful. The only thing keeping you awake and mildly aware of your surroundings is the caffeine that’s running through you- you’ve drank so much coffee and energy drinks that you wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a part of your bloodstream at this point. You look like a mess, but there’s work to be done.

It’s Friday, which is usually nice, because Saturday is your only day off. But you sacrificed your Saturday for a session tomorrow, so there’s no promise of a break for you for at least another week.

Overnight, due to your lack of sleep, you thought of three other ideas for after-school activities the students might like, and you sent all of them over to Nezu once the sun began to rise and you decided it was an appropriate hour to message him. He hasn’t gotten back to you yet, but that’s unsurprising.

With nothing else to do, you got on the train early enough that it's not even that crowded. You still can’t find a seat, but that’s fine. You’re afraid if you sit down and relax for more than a moment, you might fall apart.

Hence why you’re heading to work several hours early. Hopefully you’ll be able to pull yourself together before work starts.

You stumble a bit each time the cart shakes when it comes to a stop, but eventually you get off and walk to U.A. It’s practically empty, which is also unsurprising, but the doors are open for you, so that’s good. You were a bit worried it might all be locked down.

As you head to your office, it’s eerily quiet in the building. Beside the sound of your shoes tapping on the floor, there’s nothing. It’s a bit unsettling.

Maybe that’s just because you haven’t slept at all recently and your anxiety is through the roof at the moment. Who knows? Regardless, you make it to your office with no issues. But when you open the- unlocked- door, you jump.

And then you slam the door shut with a surprised scream.

“Oh my god!” You yell at the door, and you can hear the people scrambling from inside your office. “What’re you doing?! On my couch?!”

Kayama speaks up, her voice just a lilt higher than it usually is. “Would you believe me if I said it was nothing??”

“No! No I wouldn’t!” You yell back, and you rub your eyes with the heel of your palms. “I will never be able to wash my eyes from what I just saw, Jesus-“

“We’re sorry!! You’re really early!”

“Do you always do this shit on my couch?! I have students sit on that thing- oh my GOD, I was laying on it yesterday!”

“No- we swear-“

And then suddenly, as if from nowhere, Shouta is coming from around the corner with his face twisted up in confusion. “What’s going on?” He asks as he walks up to you, and you gesture angrily toward your closed door.

“Yamada and Kayama were fucking on my couch!”

“No we weren’t!!” Yamada’s screechy, way too loud voice denies.

“Yeah, tell me that again as if you’re not scrambling to put clothes on right now.” You huff, and Shouta’s eyebrows have successfully disappeared beyond his hairline. “Did you have any idea about this?” You look toward him, a hateful look in your eye- but he quickly shakes his head.

“I just got here. I was actually- well.” He looks toward your office. “I was going to nap.”

“ Lord - does everyone use my office as they so please? Do the keys I own mean nothing?”

Yamada wails, “we’re sorry- “

“Shut! Shut it!” You snap.

This is the worst. You have had no sleep, no food. You’re overworked and stressed enough as is- this was just the last straw.

“Clean up my office. Get rid of all your ridiculous germs- the door, my desk, the couch- anywhere the two of you touched needs to be squeaky clean or else.”

You’ve never been the type to really get mad, especially at your friends. Especially at friends who you haven’t even been friends with for less than a year. You try to keep your cool. This was just… bad timing.

“Yes, right. We promise,” Kayama says from beyond the door.

“And you-“ you point at Shouta, who is more than a bit surprised at your tone, and his face shows it. “You haven’t had sex in my office, have you?”

“Never.”

“Good.” You let out a frustrated breath. “Then you’re invited to get breakfast with me so I can cool down while those two put themselves together.”

He doesn’t really need much more convincing. He’s already walking by your side as you turn around, walking much faster than you normally do as you head for the front doors.

Shouta walks a bit faster and opens the door for you, too, which you barely mumble a thanks for.

It’s quiet as you walk down the sidewalk in the early morning, but eventually Shouta speaks up, keeping up with your pace easily. “Do you know where you’re going?”

You stop in your tracks.

“No.” You bite your lip as you frown, and you truthfully can’t even look at him. Instead, you keep your eyes on the ground, at the pebbles on the ground. “Do you know anywhere to go?”

“...Yeah. Follow me,” his voice is surprisingly soft as he reaches forward and nudges your arm his direction, and you both turn around as he takes the lead. You don’t walk for long, crossing a few streets and making a few turns, until you’re at the same place that Shouta brought you to last time.

The familiarity as you enter the restaurant makes you relax just a little bit.

“So,” Shouta starts once the two of you sit at a booth. A waiter handed you both a menu, but you haven’t opened it yet. “You’re not usually so tense.”

Shouta doesn’t make meaningless observations, you know that much about him. He’s inviting you to talk about why you’re acting strangely, and you’re tired enough that you take the bait.

You vent. You vent and vent and vent about everything you’ve been feeling lately- stressed from two jobs, guilty for having to leave, not wanting to leave, tired, upset you have to give up your free time, upset you can’t talk to anybody about your feelings, anxious that you’re not good enough- all of it.

You’re a therapist, so you know how important it is to communicate your feelings, but you haven’t been doing it for yourself. You should know better, but it’s hard. You tell all of that to him too, even though he didn’t ask for any of it.

He gave you an opportunity to speak, so you did. All of it.

And by the time you’re done, your food (which you don’t even remember ordering, so Shouta must have done it when you were busy ranting) is sitting hot in front of you and ready to be eaten. You feel like a hot pile of blubber by the time you’re done, releasing a big sigh full of all the ghosts that have haunted you the past few days. And then you stab your fork into your food, and it feels oddly gratifying.

“...Sorry.”

Shouta just barely moves his head as he closes his eyes- a fairly weak version of shaking his head as a way to deny your apology. “I’d be on my last wire if I saw Nemuri and Hizashi fucking, too.”

Despite yourself, you snort.

“I know you haven’t worked at U.A for long, but if you wanted to ask for a day off, I think Nezu would be willing.” You barely open your mouth before he’s already shutting down your argument, “you want to help the students, and I understand that. But how much are you going to help them in this state? You can’t do anything if you’re doubting yourself and you’re sleep deprived on top of it all.”

Brutally honest, but they’re words you needed to hear. You sink into your seat and nibble on your food instead of arguing with him, which Shouta snorts amusedly at as he eats his food too.

Once again, he pays for the meal, but you don’t really try to argue about that, either. You appreciate how considerate he’s being right now.

“You’re right, and you know it too, so I don’t really have to say it. But you’re right.” Shouta smiles as you play with your fork, food now finished. “I haven’t had a day off in so long, I guess I forgot they existed. I don’t even know what I’d do, besides sleeping a lot.”

“Sleeping is always nice,” He comments and you roll your eyes, because of course he’d say that.

“What do you do on your days off?” Shouta gives you a look and you click your tongue. “Right.” Sleeping.

“Could always go out of town. Have a day trip.”

“I suppose, but I’m not really sure where I’d go,” you hum thoughtfully. “I’m not really sure what I even like to do… I know I like spending time with you. But I guess you have even less time than I do to really go anywhere, huh?”

You’re too out of it to really think about what you just admitted, and you’re looking out the window so you don’t see how Shouta’s face shifts at your little confession. “If you’re fine with me being on patrol, we could go somewhere. That’s probably the best I can do.”

And you’re also not aware of how foreign it feels for him to offer his time up like that for another person. You really have no idea- you just smile at him and light up. “Yeah, that’d be fine! Just having a day out, walking around and all that sounds nice. Aw man, it’s kind of exciting now,” you laugh, your eyes squeezing shut as your nose scrunches up.

Shouta discreetly looks away.

“I’m not very exciting, but whatever you say.”

“Well, that’s true,” ow, “you’re relaxing. And I think I need to relax more than I need excitement, really.” Oh.

He just hums in response.

“Well, anyway. Thanks a lot for letting me say all that. It was really nice of you,” you move the subject along, rummaging through your things until you find your phone and click it on. “It’s still awhile until class starts, but we should head back and check on the two love birds.”

“Hopefully they’re decent by now.” Shouta rolls his eyes, scooting out of the booth with you, and with the food already paid for, you both walk out of the diner together.

“I really can’t believe those two to begin with. Did you have any idea they were together?” You look up at him as you walk.

“Honestly? No. And that’s on purpose. I don’t want to know.”

You laugh. “That’s fair.”

Shouta hums again in response, and the two of you chat some more as you head back to U.A together. It’s nice that you can feel a bit lighter than before, now.

But it’s not fair. It’s not fair that now you’re feeling better, a bit more energized than before, you completely miss the way that Shouta looks at you. The way he’s been looking at you ever since you were exploding with anger at his two best friends.

A look that’s a bit too akin to attraction.

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