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lanadelnegan · 9 months

Text

Tattoo

Pre-apocalypse!Negan x Reader (Negan is y/n's art teacher & also owns a tattoo shop).

Warnings: THIS IS THE FILTHIEST THING I'VE WRITTEN SO FAR and it's just going to get filthier from here on. smut, forbidden love, age-gap (reader is 18, negan is 38), angst, oral (female receiving), lots of sexual tension, slow burnnnn.(there's an actual plot this time), vaginal sex, public sex, breeding, slight daddy kink

Summary: After graduating and leaving behind the man she fell for but couldn't have, y/n decides to get a tattoo that reminds her of him. And he gives it to her.

A/n: ugh, this had me in my feels. A "hard to get" teacher Negan. basically you're negan's former student and he gives you a tattoo and things.. well - just read it.

"Well damn. I don't mean to be sentimental, but I have seriously enjoyed teaching you little shits. I hope you can take what you've learned and apply it to something. Be creative. Oh, and.. don't think about hitting me up on Instagram after this because I don't do social media. That shit is toxic. Remember that, kids."

The bell cuts Negan off before he can finish his inspirational speech. He's always had such a way with words.. should have been an English teacher instead.

Most of the students rush out like the room is on fire, with the exception of a few annoying girls that think he'll jump their bones now that school is out.

"So, Mr. Smith, since you don't have social media, can I get your number at least?" I cringe as she twirls her hair around her finger and her friends giggle obnoxiously behind her.

"Girls. Behave for once. A tip for college? Don't flirt with your professors." He warns while motioning them out the door.

I suddenly realize that my ass has been glued to my seat this entire time and I'm the only one still here. I quickly get up and throw my backpack over one shoulder. He stares at me from the doorway but I just look down as I walk towards him.

"Bye Mr. Smith."

"Nice try. Sit down." He shuts his door and walks back into the room pointing towards my chair for me to sit.

"Mr. Smith, y/n?" He mocks. "Seriously?"

I never call him that. He's always been Negan to me.

I've known him for 4 years now. He's the only art teacher at Alexandria High, and even though I have no interest in art, I've taken his class every year because I do have an interest.. in him.

What he doesn't know is that I've been making mental notes everyday for the past four years about all his interests, personal life, hobbies, you name it.

He loves the color red - because it's the only color expo marker he writes in.

His favorite lunch is two cigarettes and coke zero. I hate that he smokes.

He stopped coaching baseball last year because he said he didn't have time anymore. But I think it's actually because he's never cared for it to begin with.

He had a wife, but she passed away. Some kind of cancer. She's still his computer wallpaper, which tells me he still hasn't moved on even though it was six years ago. My heart hurts for him.

He wasn't lying - he doesn't have social media....I would have found it.

He sits at another student's desk right next to mine with his body facing me.

"You gonna tell me why the hell you look like your best fucking friend just died?"

I stare at the floor next to his shoes and try to think about anything other than fact that I'm never going to see him again.

"Look at me."

I slowly lift my eyes to his and can't stop the tear that escapes the second I see his face.

"Ah, shit." His expression turns serious when he notices my tears. "Look, kid. I -"

"Stop calling me kid." I snap.

He chuckles. "Hate to break it to ya y/n, but you are very much a kid in my eyes, which is why this thing -" he motions his hand towards me. "this.. crush you have on me - has to end today."

My eyes widen as I stare at him speechless. He seriously did not just assume I have a crush on him.

"Did you jus - You seriously think just because a few stupid girls want to get in your pants, it means everyone does?" I scoff. "Unbelievable. You're my teacher. I don't have a crush on you."

He laughs as if we both know I'm lying - which I am.

"Alright, I'm sorry I called you a kid. Now, you wanna tell me what's wrong?"

"It's just I - I'm gonna miss you." I instantly regret saying it.

He nods and looks at the floor, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"I'm sorry. I - I'm just gonna go." I get up to leave, leaving my heart with him. My stomach twists in a knot when I realize he isn't getting up to stop me.

Why would he?

Once I'm in the hall, I turn to take one last look at him. He's bent over with his hands through his hair as if his best friend just died.

Negan's POV: That fucking girl. In my twelve years of teaching, I've never cared about a student like I do her. I care about all of my students, but goddamn it, she's had me wrapped around her finger for longer than I'm comfortable to admit - And I never will. She fucking sucks at hiding her feelings. I knew from the first day she walked into my class that she wanted to jump on my dick. Hell, every girl does. But other girls bat their fake eyelashes at me and tell me how they feel. Y/n.. she's.. obsessed with me. She thinks I didn't notice her doodling my name in her notebook with little hearts. Or that I don't hear her whispering to her friends about the dreams she has about me. Or how she stares at me during lectures like she's on a different planet. And if that's not enough, the girl hates art. Yet she's chosen it as her elective every single year. She has straight A's in every class, but doesn't even try in mine. And yet.. my dumb ass still passed her with an A. Maybe because I'm obsessed with her too.

Back to Y/n's POV:

I cried on the way home that day.

While everyone else celebrated school ending with a party, I stayed in my room and cried while looking at his photo in the yearbook.

While everyone walked across the stage at graduation, my diploma came in the mail and I stayed home holding Negan's lucky baseball bat that he gave me last year.

My last day of junior year, I stayed after school to help Negan clean out his classroom so he could move into a bigger art room. That was the year he quit coaching. I replay the memory in my head more often than I should..

"Why do you have this bat just sitting in the corner?" "It brings me good luck. I hit a home run every game my senior year with that bat." "Your senior year? This bat is that old?!" "Watch it, kid." He rolls his eyes and throws some folders in a bin. "Hmm." I study the bat. "I could use some luck." "Keep it." I look at him confused. "But... it's your-" "I want you to have it." He cuts me off. "Are - Are you sure?" He sighs frustrated. "Do you not want it?" "Well, I mean, I do but -" "Then stop being stubborn and take it."

Ever since that day, his bat has been leaned up against the wall by my bed as a constant reminder of the man I want but can never have.

After a few weeks of feeling sorry for myself, my best friend tried convincing me to do something for myself since my birthday was coming up.

"Y/n, you should.. get your nails done, go buy some new clothes, do.. something. But you need to get out of that room. It's... depressing."

"I think I want a tattoo."

"Oh, okay, yeah. That's a good idea. What are you wanting to get?" She asks from the other end of the phone.

"I dunno." My eyes drift towards the bat. "Something meaningful."

The next day...

Lucille's

The tattoo shop sign reads. I swing the door open, excited for the first time in a month. The sound of tattoo guns and rock music fills the lobby.

"Hey, welcome to Lucille's. Do you have an idea of what you'd like or do you want to see some of our work?" The woman on the other side of the counter pulls out a binder.

"Oh, no, I think I know what I want already." I smile and pull up the picture on my phone before showing her.

"Okay, we can do that. Shouldn't take too long either. An hour tops. I can actually take you now in room 3." The so-called "rooms" aren't actually rooms, but rather closed off sections with tall walls on each side. From where I'm standing, I can't see the people in the tattoo chair, but I can see the top of the tattoo artists' heads if I stand on my tippy-toes.

She leads me to room 3 and I sit in the chair while she gets out the instruments.

"This your first tattoo?"

"Yeah, kinda nervous."

She smiles. "I'd tell you not to worry, but, sorry babe. It's gonna hurt."

I appreciate her honesty and just smile back at her.

"So, where do we want it?" she holds the printed off picture off of the tattoo I want.

I lean back in the chair, putting my legs up, so I'm laying down. I lift my shirt up right above my belly button and slightly pull my shorts down, revealing my pubic bone. "Right here." I point to the left side of where my panty line would be but lower.

After I confirm the placement, she presses the needle to my skin and I bite my bottom lip at the sudden pain that radiates throughout my hip.

"Breathe, babe. You got this."

After a couple seconds, she turns in her chair to load more ink into the gun.

"Y/n?" I hear from the entrance behind me.

I know that voice without turning to look. My eyes widen and the girl tattooing me looks at him.

"Hey boss, you two know each other?" She looks between the two of us.

I look back at him and see him nod at her. "I'll finish her up, Ruby. Thanks." He takes the tattoo gun from her and sits in her chair when she gets up to leave. The scent of leather and cigarettes fills the small room and I realize how much I missed it.

He pauses when he looks down at my skin and I can't tell if he's staring because of my tattoo of choice or because I'm almost completely exposed. If I didn't just shave, half of my pubic hair would be on display to him.

The way he's looking at my skin wakes the butterflies in my stomach and I have to mentally tell myself not to clench my legs together. He looks up at me through heavy eyelids and for the first time in four years, I'm unable to read him. I can't tell if he's disappointed, mad... or turned on...?

He looks back at the tattoo and shakes his head, sighing.

Okay, it's definitely a look of disappointment.

"You realize I have to finish this now that she's already started it, right?" He studies the lines already permanently marked in my skin. The faint purple lines of where the sticker was placed give away the complete outline of what the tattoo will be. "There's still time to change it though."

"What? What do you mean.. change it? I want this one."

"No." Is all he says and my eyes widen in shock at him.

"You can't tell me what to do Negan. I'm an adult, and I'm getting it."

"Why?" He snaps, frustration dripping from his tone.

He looks into my eyes for the first time since he's been in the room and the butterflies in my stomach have now gone wild.

"Because I... I want a piece of you with me always."

He closes his eyes and drops his head. My eyes start to water but I hold them back the best I can.

"Y/n." He shakes his head but to my surprise, he hesitantly places his left hand on my thigh, his fingers dangerously close to the spot I've imagined him touching a million times. The feel of his rough fingers on my bare skin ignites a flame in me I didn't know existed and all I do is stare at his hand.

"Relax." He rolls his eyes and starts the gun. He leans down closer and begins tattooing me.

I have to bite back the moan threatening to escape my lips. With Ruby.. it hurt. But with Negan, it.. almost feels good.

He glances up at me as if he can hear my thoughts and then goes back to gliding a straight line of ink across my skin.

The next few moments are spent in silence, with nothing but the sounds of the tattoo gun and music playing in the distance.

"Fuck, y/n. I'm gonna need these off so I can get to you better." He gestures at my shorts.

My eyes widen but I nod and slide them off, barely breathing now that I'm laying in front of Negan in just my underwear. The way his jaw ticks when he sees that I'm wearing red lace panties doesn't go unnoticed. His favorite color.

He places his hand back on my leg, this time with his fingers completely against my inner thigh. I slightly part my legs without thinking and he pauses to glance at me before continuing with the tattoo.

If he moved his finger half an inch upwards, he would be touching me.

"I never knew you worked at a tattoo shop." I break the silence, hoping to get my mind off his hand.

He chuckles. "I own it, darlin'. And there's a lot you don't know about me."

Another long pause happens before he speaks first this time.

"Why did you take art, y/n?"

"Uh.. I dunno, because I liked it."

He huffs out a laugh. "You liked it... or me?"

I shrug. "Both."

His face turns serious again and he stops the tattoo gun. "All done."

He backs away and motions for me to stand up and look in the mirror in the corner. I stand in front of it, but don't even notice my tattoo because my eyes catch Negan in the mirror staring at my ass. These panties don't leave much to the imagination and my cheeks redden at how much I'm exposed to him.

He suddenly looks up and makes eye contact with me in the mirror. His eyes are darker than usual and filled with lust.

"Come here." He demands and I obey, walking towards him.

Once I'm standing in front of him, he lifts his hands to grab my hips. My belly button is eye level to him and I look down, watching him intensely. His thumbs dig into my hips and he looks at the tattoo.

"Do you like it?" I ask him.

He ignores me and it makes my heart break a little more. "Lay back down, y/n." He gets up to pull the curtain over the entrance of the room.

I do as he says and he comes back, placing a clear tape bandage over the fresh tattoo.

He looks as if he's deep in thought before suddenly sliding his hands underneath my thighs and pulling me closer to him. He pushes my leg aside and rests my other foot in his lap until my legs are completely spread apart in front of him.

"You want me to touch you, y/n? Is that what you want?"

"Yes.."

"Tell me what you want, baby."

"Your mouth."

He chuckles darkly and kisses the inside of my thigh before sliding his fingers under my panties and ripping them apart.

He shoves them in the back of his jean pocket and wraps his arms around my thighs, holding my stomach down with his hands and leaning his head down closer.

"Look at this pretty pussy, baby. So wet for me you're glistening."

His eyes look up at me right before he licks me and my head falls back with pleasure.

He stops suddenly. "Eyes on me, darlin'. How many times have you imagined me between your legs? You're going to watch me eat this pussy, y/n."

I nod, looking at him and he continues. The sound of other people talking in the distance makes my senses even more heightened.

He licks me again, pressing his tongue into me harder this time. He moans as he stops at my clit and gently sucks it into his mouth. I moan and watch him as he looks like he's eating the best meal he's ever had.

"You taste even better than I imagined, baby."

"You.. imagined it?"

"Baby. You aren't the only one who daydreams in class." He says before dipping his tongue deep inside me.

He switches back and forth between licking me and sucking me until my moans get louder and faster.

"Negan, I'm gonna.."

"I know baby, give it to me." He rubs me with his tongue faster until I'm coming apart. His hand quickly covers my mouth and I cry out into his hand.

"Fuck, doll." He groans and adjusts himself through his jeans. "This pussy is about to make me cum in my pants like I'm a fucking teenager again."

"Negan.." I say out of breath. "I wanna touch you. Please."

He stands and picks up my shorts, but not before I see the huge bulge in his pants. He helps me put my shorts on and I look at him confused when he doesn't say anything.

"Nega-"

"No, y/n."

My eyes water with tears as I stand to finish pulling my shorts up. "I - I don't understand."

"This can't happen, baby. I shouldn't have touched you."

I nod. "So that's it, Negan? You get what you want and that's it.. you're just.. done with me?"

"Are you fucking serious? You think I got what I wanted? I'm standing here with a hard-on that's gonna give me a giant case of blue balls. Any other man would throw you on this table and take you right here."

"Then why don't you?!"

"Because I fucking.. I care about you. You happy now? I fucking CARE ABOUT YOU, y/n. And I'm not going to break your heart."

I wipe a tear that runs down my cheek. "You already did." I grab my purse and rush out of the room, stopping in front of Ruby on the way out and pulling out some cash.

"I'm sorry hun." She says empathetically as if she heard everything that just happened.

I cry harder and lay the cash down before leaving and walking to my car. Before I can open my car door, Negan is grabbing my arm and turning me around to face him.

"Goddamn it, listen to me!"

I don't fight him, I just stare at him, noting the hurt in his eyes. My heart hurts and I suddenly feel guilty for making him feel any ounce of pain.

"Y/n.. look.."

"No." I cut him off. "Negan, I'm sorry. This is my fault.. I put you in this situation because I was selfish.. and delusional. I'm so sorry. I'll leave, and you won't have to hear from me or see me again."

He scoffs. "You think that's what I want? I guess you don't know me the way I thought you did."

Before I can say anything else, he crashes his lips to mine and kisses me so hard and but so softly at the same time. His fingers slip through my hair and his hand rests on the back of my neck as he deepens our kiss.

"You're gonna be the death of me, kid."

I bite his lip hard when he calls me kid and our kiss goes from passionate to animalistic. He presses himself flat against me with my back against my car and I feel his hard cock straining against his jeans. His lips travel to my neck and he bites me hard, right before kissing and sucking the sensitive spot.

That's definitely going to leave a mark.

"You have no clue what you do to me, baby." He says in between kisses. His voice is raspier and deeper than usual. "Do you have any idea how many times I've left work and had to rub one out at the thought of you? Hell, sometimes even at work."

I look around the parking lot. It's nighttime but we're still clearly visible in the lights.

"Look at me, y/n. Forget where we are and just focus on me baby." His hand slips into my shorts and it takes him no time to find my soaked entrance since my panties are currently in his back pocket.

"Negan.." I breathe.

He smiles against my lips. "Baby.. You sure this is what you want? Because once I've had you, you're mine."

I nod and he puts his mouth next to my ear.

"Take your shorts off. Now." He pulls his hand from my shorts and sucks my juices off his fingers.

"But, Negan, we're-"

"I said, now y/n. You want me so bad, you're gonna get me wherever and however I say. Now, take your fucking shorts off before I rip them too."

I hesitantly slide my shorts off while looking around again. There aren't any other cars in the parking lot other than a couple of his employees. All the customers left. There's a main road up ahead but we're far enough away where they wouldn't see us unless they we're staring really hard.

"Good girl. Now take my cock out, baby."

He leans his hands against my car on either side of me, trapping me in. I waste no time reaching for the button on his jeans and unzipping him before pulling out his hard, huge cock. It's bigger than I imagined.. a lot bigger. I don't know how that thing is going to even fit in me. He's so hard that the veins in his cock look like they are about to erupt and his tip is already dripping with precum.

I can't help but run my thumb over the tip to collect some and bring it to my mouth to taste him. His eyes darken with lust at the sight of me sucking his precum off my finger.

"Taste good, doll?"

I nod and he chuckles. "There's a lot more where that came from."

He grips the back of my thigh with his hand and pulls my right leg around his waist.

The feeling of his dick rubbing against my wet pussy is enough to make my knees weak. Literally. I almost collapse at the sensation of him rubbing the head against my opening, teasing me. He presses his body closer to me in attempt to hold me up.

"Fuck, look at this dripping pussy." He looks down between us, admiring the view of his cock teasing my wet slit. "It's about to be dripping with my cum in a few minutes.. You ready for me, baby?"

"Yes, please. I need you."

He enters me completely in one swift motion, not giving me anytime to adjust. My walls are stretched further than they've ever been and it feels like the tip of him is buried up to my stomach.

He doesn't move for a moment, but instead looks into my eyes with his cock all the way inside of me. "There you go, baby. Finally getting what you wanted after all these years and taking my dick like a champ."

"Negan.." I moan. "Please.. just fuck me."

He pulls out of me almost completely before slowly pushing himself back in, agonizingly slow. Our bodies are flush against each other and he kisses me again.

"Fuck, baby." He growls. "You. Feel. So. Fucking GOOD." He says between thrusts as my mouth falls open.

I wrap my arms around his neck to hold myself up and lean against him with my lips pressed against his neck. I take the opportunity to mark him back, grabbing his skin between my teeth and sucking hard. He moans so loud that I glance around to make sure no one heard him, but we're still alone.

His thrusts get harder and faster and the sounds coming from his sexy mouth are enough alone to make me cum.

"Look at me, y/n. I want to see your face when you cum all over my cock."

His hand that was on the car behind me slides between us, instantly finding my clit. He begins rubbing circles on it with his middle finger while thrusting his hips into me faster.

I look into his eyes while my arms are still wrapped around his shoulders tightly, keeping me in place. My fingers run through his dark hair and my breathing goes erratic as I feel myself come undone around him.

"You want me to fill you up, baby? You want daddy's cum?"

I nod quickly as tears run down my cheeks from the most intense orgasm I've ever had.

"FUCK, baby." He groans and slams his mouth against mine. I kiss him back as he rides out his orgasm.

He pulls out of me slowly and softly kisses my lips one more time. I go to put my shorts on and he stops me.

"Not so fast, doll." He gets down on his knees in front of me, pushing my legs apart in front of him. "Push daddy's cum out baby. Let me see it drip out of you."

I do as he says and the feeling of his warm seed running down my legs is almost enough to send me over the edge again.

"Look. At. THAT." He swipes up some of his cum from my leg onto his finger and stands back up but not before gently kissing my new tattoo.

I think I love this man.

He rubs his finger along my lips until my mouth opens for him. I suck his fingers clean and moan at the taste of him.

"Y/n." He pushes my hair behind my ear and looks at me seriously. "I meant it when I said I care about you."

"You care about all your students."

"Yeah, but I don't go sticking my dick in them." He smirks and takes my hand, leading me back into the shop.

The others must have already left when - when.. oh.. shit.

"Negan, do you think they saw us?!"

"Well darlin', I was fucking your brains out right next to the door, so I think it's probably safe to assume so." He grins and my eyes widen with horror.

"Do you not care?"

"What can they do, doll? Fire me?" He laughs and leads me to the back where his office is.

"What are we doing in here?"

"Getting matching tattoos, of course."

I stare at him, trying to register what he just said. "You're.. going to give yourself a tattoo?"

He chuckles and hands me a tattoo gun before taking off his shirt and sitting on the couch in the corner.

"No, doll, you are."

The Enddd.

Part 2 or nah?

705 notes · View notes

prettyboykatsuki · 1 year

Note

okay fr what do you think scara is like in bed? what’s he into, what’re his kinks, the whole shebang?

modern scaramouche hc's

✭ tags ; sub!chara, dom!reader (they bottom but parts are unspecificed so gn!reader as well), this is also my modern!scaramouche take so just be aware, bratting, rough sex, slapping, hitting, a lil degradation, reader is v careful abt scaramouches boundaries tho, romantic implications reader is stronger than scara + he is short king, etc

✭ wc ; 2.1k (im soooo ashamed. anon im so sorry)

✭ a/n ; this got so out of hand so quickly. this is my personal scaramouche this has nothing to do with anyone but me and my delusions sorry in advance.

like really. cant describe how subjective this is but i also refuse to change my mind or see him any other way. thank u so much for inquiring

my modern scaramouche is usually aged like. 20-something in college. he goes to a nice university (a very competitive school mind you.) he was really concerned about excelling for like most of his hs career. kind of a loner except tartaglia who adopted him into his friend group.

he panics about his degree for the longest time cause he doesn't know what to do - but settles on civil architecture and minors in fine art.

he has his ears pierced and some other piercings too that he was peer pressured into, but overall likes how they look. he's not usually very dressed up and all of his closet is so oversized because comfort > fashion BUT he never looks like a slob either.

has like 3 other friends on campus (kazuha + mona + childe who somehow followed him there)

complicated relationship with his mom + stepmom (he doesn't hate her but they do not communicate so tons of misunderstandings between them. like sooo many)

and. usually not actively looking to date anyone ever. he had like one crush one time in highschool but chickened out so miserably and SEETHED about it the whole time.

after that he swore to never, ever, ever go back to that dark place and sort of just focused on his career and school. his major is pretty difficult so it takes a lot of his time

plus he's a little pretentious, stuck up little shit so only a few people can handle him in the first place.

anyways. u meet through tartaglia who thinks you two will get along really well (and he's trying to set you both up bc he thinks you two could work well together)

its honestly like oil and water. you're personality just rubs him the wrong way. sure childe is annoying, but he's stupid

you're...not stupid. you're kind of clever and you treat him with like. a sense of disrespect he hates. scaramouche is used to people who let him have the upperhand

but you're always pretty quick to shoot him down. you never let him him get away with anything and you guys have this like... insane back and forth for months

its the slowest of burns. he swears he hates you.

(he doesn't though. he thinks its really fucking attractive that you talk back to him and don't let him intimidate you ever. but he loathes that feeling. he also loathes how nice your laugh is and how easy it is to talk to you)

scaramouche spends. AGES. ages in denial. closes his eyes to it. its like 6 months deep into it - he starts having wet dreams and he wakes up HORRIFIED with himself.

WORSE? scaramouche knows about your sex life. not through you but through observation and gossip. he's not fucking you in the dreams. you're fucking him.

humiliated, he simply tries to ignore it. but it's making him so much moody than usual and because you two spend so much time together - you notice almost right away. of course you do.

"whats got your panties in a twist lately? not that you're usually sunshine and rainbows but you're acting like a little kid"

scaramouche says something mean. like, really mean in response. he's just so frustrated. its a personal jab, farther than he'd usually go.

he's expecting to sabotage himself you know? he does that sometimes. pushes people away when they get too close. it's a miracle he has any friends. he's expecting you to get annoyed and leave.

but there's this like. chill to your voice. and you're looking straight at him.

"you don't talk to me like that, understand? i don't care how shitty your mood is."

one hit k.o. he can't even breathe. what's wrong with him and what is happening to him, and holy shit why do you sound like that.

"sorry," he apologizes (him. he's apologizing first) "just. frustrating,"

and you immediately slink back to your usual self. and he's relieved and a little excited and just overall restless because he can't stop thinking about what just happened.

"it's fine. i like being on your ass or whatever but it's bothering me that you're so moody. maybe you really do need to get laid,"

the joke is one you often to make. it's meant to lighten the mood. but scaramouche is feeling pent-up and horny and that's kind of exactly what he needs

"s-shut up. it's not like you're going to do it,"

internally he's hoping you take the bait. he is equal parts horrified and excited watching you take in the information. you give him a lazy smile as you sit up and look at him.

"huh. do you...want me to do it?"

oh dear god. oh fuck.

"so what if i did?"

and then you laugh, which he can't decipher. he's gearing himself to be made fun of. he watches you with big wide yes as you come sit on the desk near him. feels your fingers trail his jaw and tilt his head up and holy shit he might really die.

he can barely look up at you.

"is that why you've been acting weird for last couple of weeks?" your voice is so smug and scaramouche is so turned on it's stupid. he hates it. hates himself. hates everything

"shut up,"

and then, you grab his chin. really make him look at you and it's startling but he doesn't pull away. you look gleeful.

"that why you've been running with your tail between your legs when you see me?" you hum, your eyes almost predatory "cause you want me to fuck you?"

its times like this scaramouche he could be honest. because that's exactly what he wants, but he hates having to say it.

"as if you could satisfy me," he says, instead. your eyes widen, and it takes you a minute to register it all in your head.

"you're such a fucking brat," you say, light. affectionate, really. it makes his heart pump "you think i can't?"

"i'd like to see you try," he says, absolutely and utterly in disbelief internally. you grin.

"can i kiss you?"

"why're you asking?"

"cause im an asshole, not a villain,"

you and scaramouche makeout in a study room before he decides to to get ahold of himself and invites you into his dorm. he's never been so thankful in his life that his roomate is gone.

when you get scaramouche into bed - it really dawns on him how out of his element he is. he's not a virgin - a few awkward and usually bad hook-ups in his repertoire.

but you're not like them. he's bitey and on edge but you handle him. ask for permission for little things, clarifications for what he's okay with. you're thoughtful, despite how much he's lashing out.

and it's turning scaramouche so much he doesn't know how to handle it other than doing it again. he wants to provoke you so much. he wants to put him in his place over and over.

it's mid makeout he pulls away, frustration all-welled up inside him that he asks. he's hard and needy and needs something to get him off.

"i knew you were all talk," he sneers, putting as much of himself in it as he can "this is nothing,"

you look at him very seriously "you're really asking for it, huh," you say with a sigh "do you know what you're getting into?"

"nothing serious obviously,"

"usually when i deal with brats like you, i treat 'em real rough. im being nice to you cause you're so pent up, but it's like you don't want that," you grab his face again, getting close and personal this time and scaramouche feels like he'll collapse "want me to treat you mean and put you in your place? hit you and make you cry?"

oh it ruins his life. that's exactly what he wants. what he needs from you so much it aches. so much he chokes.

"wh-what the hell are-"

but you make him face forward, look you in your eyes.

"your first lesson is answer me when i talk to you. is that what you want? you can nod if you can't say it,"

so he nods and you laugh.

"yeah? should smack the brat outta you shouldn't i?

you're asking for permission. despite his everything, there's something affectionate about it. he feels his stomach twist with desire.

"just fucking do it already,"

"tell me if you need to stop,"

"i said—"

it's unceremonious, really. when scaramouche feels the palm of your hands on his cheek, landing heavy and hard as you push him back against the bed. you hit him.

he liked it. makes his cock throb in his fucking jeans, feeling the sting.

"your second lesson is don't fucking mouth at me," you practically spit. there's some roughness in your actions that make scaramouche keen as you crawl on top of him "can't even deal with your moods without lashing out."

scaramouche feels his stomach churn as your hands make rough work of him. you pin his wrists over his head, tell him to keep it there.

and of course he refuses, disobeys - gets to feel how strong you actually are when you spit the words back in his face again to hold fucking still.

scaramouche keeps doing it. keeps pushing until you have to put him back where he belongs forcibly. he doesn't know that he's doing it

but he wants something he can't name, a desire that aches so deep in his chest. he wants you to take responsibility for him - like a promise of some kind.

he likes the way your mouth feels on his skin. your teeth feel so good sinking into pale flesh. the scratch of your nails and sting of your palms as you spank and hit and push his body.

you manhandle him so fucking easily, putting him in every position you can think of. on his knees, or his back - naked and waiting.

you tease scaramouche till he's honest, your voice coarse until he starts giving in.

you're so good with your hands. your fingers, your mouth. you know just the right things to get him all squirmy - praising him when he's getting desperate towards the end.

his sense of shame nowhere to be found as he gets close to the edge. as you tip him over it, he can feel all the tension bleed out of him. goes from bitching, to whiny - needy and not above begging.

he doesn't even understand it. can't wrap his head around it all the way - lets you guide him through the feeling as he starts feeling pliant.

you let him fuck you with mercy. don't make him work for it, just sit on his cock and tell him that he looks so much better when he's all messed up for you and he just. melts completely. like feels like he's gonna fall through the floor.

he cries when he cums. sobs a little as he finally gets relief then melts into your bed like a pile of wet sand as you finish yourself off and overstimulate him a little in the process.

after all is said and done - he falls asleep basically immediately after the high.

when he wakes up the next day - you haven't left. he's like kind of nuzzled up in your arms (which. is wild bc he has always hated physical touch but? apparently not with you)

when you stir awake, you're immediately whistling. you even press a kiss to his forehead and brush his hair out of his face.

"you awake? feel okay?" you hum, so stupidly tender and scaramouche has to fight every urge to push you away.

"im...fine. you're still here," he says unhelpfully. you chuckle.

"yeah. figured you would start spiraling if i left in the middle of the night"

he is horrified at the accuracy.

"it's weird when you're being all...nice to me,"

"its a lot easier since i realize you just wanted to be put in your place," you say with a knowing him. scaramouche elbows you "it's cute, it's cute. don't kill me,"

"you're annoying,"

"yeah, i know. i wiped you down a bit but we should shower and i gotta make sure you're not too hurt anywhere,"

"i'm not a flower,"

"i was bein' pretty rough and its my job to take care of you,"

"why would that be your job?"

"cause im a responsible sexual partner and we're seeing each other, i figure?"

he flushes at the implication. he doesn't want to think about it as he cuddles himself into your side. ugh. whatever.

"who said that?"

"do you want me to see other people?"

"i'll kill you,"

"that's what i thought,"

scaramouche hates it but does not have the confidence to protest you.

scaramouche realizes with the weight of the world on his shoulders that he is the most submissive brat in the fucking world

he decides not to think about it for a while

#i edited it so much out i want to fuck the brat out of him im SORRRYYYYYYYY #scaramouche smut #genshin impact smut #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #writing tag

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porcelainseashore · 4 months

Text

Teenage Headache Dreams (4)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: High School! College! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Fem! Reader

Summary: You’re a bored, but ambitious high school student who can’t wait to escape small town life and make it in the big city. You thought you had it all figured out, until you unwittingly befriend the resident golden boy, Leon. A series of events beginning from junior year to college until Resident Evil 2 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Ambiguous/Open Ending

Content: High School AU, College AU, Pre-Resident Evil 2, Fluff, Romance, Cliche, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Lack of Communication

Author's Note: Things get heated in both senses of the word… I toned it down here, but the final chapter will go further 😉 I have to say this chapter was a bit of an unruly beast, but I hope it worked out in the end. Expect some angst and as usual, fluff.

AO3 Link

Chapter 4: Different Dreams

Since that wintry night in February which left you reeling from having kissed your best friend, you never found the opportunity to speak with him on where you both stood. Things just kept getting in the way: preparing for junior year finals, college admission tests, then summer placements and so on. To be fair, you weren’t exactly keen on confronting the question either, since you still weren’t sure whether you and Leon would be in the same place after graduating from high school. You had long since crossed the river of denial and you liked him a lot, but you were selfish. If you had to choose between a relationship with him and Tisch School of the Arts, the one college you had always dreamed of going to since you were young, you knew you’d pick the latter in a heartbeat. And that fucked you up. You couldn’t help but feel guilty each time he tried to broach the subject of “that night”, and when you brushed him off, he didn’t get upset or push it. He just waited patiently as ever, with a hopeful look in his eyes, that someday you’d be ready to talk.

Maybe it was just better to remain as friends. That said, you were there for him as one. You supported him, teasing through the countless college possibilities he had swimming around in his mind, after he returned from the school’s career counselor. When the local police force had come round to give one of their recruitment talks, he seemed to have taken an interest in their work. In particular, their speech about directly interacting with and helping civilians in times of need really resonated with him. Although you were wary about cops in general, questioning the punishment system and incidences of police brutality, you encouraged him to follow what felt right to him.

As you sat together with him on his bed, littered with a bunch of police academy brochures that were sprawled across the covers, he went through the reasons that led him to make this choice, and you began to connect the dots. “Remember when you said that I’m a good person?”

“Yeah?” You perked up.

“Well, I just wondered how I could be more of that,” he explained.

Did he feel like he needed to prove himself, just so he could believe in it? You were dying to tell him that he didn’t have to do all of this. That he was perfect the way he was. But sometimes people just needed to go through the motions themselves. This was his journey to make, so you bit back your tongue and listened.

“I want to help regular people, like you and me. Protecting the innocent, changing their lives for the better…” He stared into space for a while before continuing. “And what about all the unsolved cases? Those families deserve closure.”

You realized that closure from the past was something he never had.

“I mean, I just want to make a difference somehow,” he reiterated.

“Hm, that sounds stupid, doesn’t it?” He remarked sheepishly, constantly glancing at you for your opinion.

“No… no, not at all.” You shook your head, reassuring him sincerely. “Well, you know I don’t have the best impression of cops,” you laughed. “But that will change, with you.”

“You think so?” A slight smile formed at the corners of his mouth.

You leaned back against the mattress on your forearms and confirmed. “Hell, Leon. If there’s such a thing as a model police officer, I think you’re gonna be that.”

“There isn’t a single bad bone in your body.” You winked. “Not vouching for the lame ones though.”

“Gee, thanks.” He was blushing now as he twiddled his thumbs.

“I take it that you’re gonna enjoy helping old ladies cross the road?” You couldn’t resist teasing him when he looked like that.

“Sure, you know you can call on me anytime.” He smirked.

You forgot he had a knack for winding you up. “Fuck you, Leon!”

“Oh yeah?” He challenged, although you could tell from his expression that he was only half-kidding.

That stopped you in your tracks, as a mental image of you and Leon in various intimate positions formed in your mind. You swallowed hard, feeling a burning sensation of arousal surging within. Despite that, you shrugged off those thoughts and picked up one of the brochures lying in the pile to distract yourself. “So, you’re gonna visit the open house?”

You heard what sounded like a disheartened sigh before he replied, “Yeah I’d like to.” He turned to face you expectantly. “It’d be nice, if uh, you came along?”

“They’re all pretty nearby,” he added, trying to sweeten the deal. As if you needed convincing.

You rolled your eyes, exclaiming, “Even if it was a gazillion miles away, I’d still be there.”

Echoing his previous sentiment at the time he had supported you at your performance, you mentioned naively, “That’s what friends are for, right?”

When you caught him wincing and tightening up at the word “friends”, you realized the blunder you had made, but it was too late.

He stood up silently and made his way over to his desk, busying himself with a stack of papers.

That hand-wringing sensation of guilt started to swell in your chest again. You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Finally, you got up to leave. “Just let me know when, ok?”

He nodded his head in acknowledgement, without turning around to see you off. You walked out of his room with your eyes downcast, trying to console yourself that it was for the best. The police academies he had singled out weren’t even remotely near New York. There was no way it would work out. No way.

━━━━━━━━━━━

You accompanied Leon to the open houses that summer, as he got a good look around the various campuses, asking inquisitive questions and highlighting his athletic achievements, albeit rather humbly. After some nudging from you, he began to mention his academics too. You always held his intelligence in high regard, which you had noticed in class and during your study sessions, that were miraculously still going on despite his earlier reluctance. In your opinion, he would make a great detective, though he had tried to downplay it when you shared it with him.

In any case, you should’ve known that it never ends well when unresolved things are left to fester. So here you were, in your room this time, having the biggest argument you’ve ever encountered with Leon so far.

It all started when you were grabbing something quick from your shelf, before heading out with Leon for a walk along the surrounding forest trails, just so you could make the best use of the remaining summer days. He’d waited around the entrance to your room when something piqued his interest. Walking in, he pointed at a makeshift board lying by your bedside. “Jeez, what’s this? An evidence board or something?”

Whipping your head around, you laughed, “It’s to keep track of all the colleges I’m applying to, dumbass.”

Resting his fingers under his chin, he tilted his head and noted without hiding his disappointment, “They’re kinda far away.”

“And this one.” He pointed to the red circle in the middle. “That’s your dream school, huh?” At least he remembered. Not like you hadn’t been going on about it for ages.

“Yeah, since I was little.” You nodded, taking a couple of steps closer, till you joined Leon at his side. A moment of doubt set in, as you shrugged and chewed your lip nervously. “I don’t know if I’m good enough.”

“You’re more than good enough,” he stated simply, in a tone deeper than usual. It reverberated across the room as he eyed you intently.

“I’ve watched you-” He pulled you in close, wrapping an arm around your waist, which elicited a small gasp from your lips. “Perform.” His other hand trailed up to caress your cheek.

“Choreograph,” he continued, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Teach.” He smiled fondly at the memory of picking you up from class one day, as the little ballerinas you taught gathered around your legs quizzing, Miss, is that your boyfriend?

Meanwhile, it felt like your brain was malfunctioning, as you stood frozen on the spot, losing yourself in the pool of his ocean blue eyes, while he issued you compliment after compliment, finally finishing with, “You’re incredibly talented.”

Stroking his thumb gently over your bottom lip, his gaze followed suit, transfixed by its outline. Checking for any signs of discomfort on your face but finding none, he leaned in, planting his mouth on yours, as an involuntary moan escaped from your throat. No matter how much you tried to fight it, your body would not lie. It craved his touch, and all at once, you threw out the barriers you had placed between yourself and Leon in the past few months.

Sliding your hands up his chest, you parted your lips slightly to allow his tongue to slip inside. The kisses grew hungrier and more urgent as you tasted each other, causing you to stumble backwards onto your bed with him laying on top of you. You were so glad your parents were out, as the door to your bedroom was wide open and both of you weren’t exactly keeping very quiet about things. He peppered kisses along your neck, as his hands roamed across your body. Then his lips traveled downwards to your chest and you tangled your hands tightly in his hair, cursing his name in pleasure under your breath.

There were countless thoughts running through your head, like how fast you and Leon were going, and how badly you wanted him, but something was screaming inside of you about how wrong all of this was. You were just friends, right? You shouldn’t be leading him on like this.

With whatever resolve you had left, you tore yourself away and pushed him off you, stammering, “I’m sorry, I can’t!” You were shaking uncontrollably as Leon regarded you with a mixture of worry and confusion, panting heavily through his swollen, red lips.

“Wha-? Are you ok? Did I hurt you?” The questions came out like rapid fire.

“I-I’m fine.” You looked down in embarrassment as you adjusted your clothes.

“Then, what’s wrong?” His brows were knitted in distress, wondering if he had unknowingly crossed your boundaries.

“I just don’t think this is such a good idea,” you offered hesitantly.

Running his hand through the mess you had made of his silky blonde hair, he sighed, “Why? What about that night?” There it was again.

You bit your lip apprehensively. “We never followed up on that.”

As his face contorted in anguish, you knew that your time of delaying the inevitable had run out, and he wasn’t going to let it go now. “It was like you never wanted me to bring it up.” He began to raise his voice, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I gave you months… Months!”

“It’s… complicated,” you whispered.

“How?” He asked, bristling with irritation.

“Well, for starters, we’re gonna be living miles apart by the time we finish high school.”

“You don’t know that,” he countered, crossing his arms firmly, as if shielding himself from being let down again.

“What do you mean?” You blurted out in bewilderment.

By now, he had gotten up and paced around your room restlessly. “You could… I don’t know, go to one of the bigger cities around here. I heard Chicago’s got a pretty good-”

You felt a flash of annoyance as you cut him off instantly. “You know I’ve wanted to go to Tisch my whole life!”

“I don’t understand you!” He choked, shaking his head furiously. “You’d travel miles with me to the academies, but you can’t even think of doing this long distance?”

He was grasping at straws to keep you, but you didn’t want to hurt him. You didn’t know if you were right for each other. In your mind, Leon was a bit of a homebody, judging by the college choices he had made. He needed someone who could provide him with stability and the white picket fence American dream. You couldn’t do that. You wanted to travel the world and live out new experiences.

As you hugged yourself wordlessly, unable to look at him, he softened, once again trying to reason things out. “I just thought… we mattered too.”

Your heart broke as he said that. You wanted nothing more than warmth and intimacy with him on this lazy Sunday, cuddling and trading affectionate kisses. But you couldn’t. “You do matter to me, Leon.”

“Then why do you keep pushing me away?” There was no more anger in his voice, only sadness.

He deserved an answer, and you would give him one. You just didn’t expect to be so inept at choosing how to express yourself. “We both have our own dreams,” you tried to explain. “They’ve just turned out to be very different.”

The next line came out a lot harsher than you intended. “I can’t have someone holding me back. I’m sorry.”

Before regret could even sink in, Leon had started to take his leave, his expression turning colder than ice. “No, I’m sorry for even trying,” he commented bitterly. “I’ll stop wasting your time.”

“Leon!” You called out after him, but he paid no attention and continued to walk off. “It came out wrong,” you pleaded. “That’s not what I meant!”

The last thing you heard was your front door slamming shut.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Over the next weeks when senior year started, you tried to reach out to Leon to no avail. He had become a distant shell of his former self. There was an air of aloofness each time you bumped into each other, as he pretended not to recognize you. All the notes you attempted to pass to him in class ended up crumpled and thrown into the bin without being read. You felt a stab to your gut every single time.

However, you were observant enough to make out the sting of hurt in his eyes when he thought you weren’t looking. You knew he was keeping you at an arm’s length to protect himself, but also partly to give you a taste of your own medicine, just like when you had foolishly dragged things on, hoping they would resolve themself without giving him an answer. Until it was too late. You hated him for being so immature and childish, but you held yourself responsible for starting it first.

Then, the rumors came. You saw him with that girl, Val?, again. They were doing the things you used to do together before the fallout. It made you sick to your stomach, but you said nothing. Maybe you deserved all of this, you thought.

“Lattes after class?” Kayla’s chirpy voice snapped you out of your reverie.

“Hm?” You weren’t really in the mood, but you tried your best to smile through it.

“They brought in the pumpkin spice ones early this season! Can you believe it?” She giggled excitedly, throwing her arm around your shoulder as she proceeded to whisper into your ear, “Come on, you and I need some girl-to-girl talk.”

As you made your way towards the cafe, you caught sight of Leon with his arm around Val on the other side of the street. Kayla wrinkled her nose at them, as she quickened her pace, pulling you along. “Smooth, real smooth, Kennedy,” she muttered under breath.

Whilst it was comforting to know you had someone who supported you through this - something which you didn’t expect, not least from Kayla - you were flung into the center of drama and gossip again.

Clink. Kayla placed both cups of coffee on the table as she sat down, adjusting her mini skirt before turning to face you attentively. “Spill it.”

You shrugged, glancing around awkwardly.

She tried prompting you at first, “Did he break up with you?” No answer.

“He did something stupid.” No answer.

“Oh my god, he cheated on you, didn’t he?” She accused melodramatically, such that a couple of customers in the cafe glowered over in displeasure at the noise.

You slapped a palm against your forehead and cringed. “Kayla, please.”

“Oops, sorry.”

You sighed, deciding that perhaps it would do some good to open up a little, instead of keeping things to yourself all the time. “It was me. I fucked up, ok?”

“Bullshit,” she scoffed. “It always takes two to tango.” She checked out her manicured nails for a second before continuing, “And even if he was the sweet angel as you claim he is, he sure is fucking it up spectacularly now.”

You raised an eyebrow. Strong choice of words. “Look, we were never really together. I mean, we did some things-” You paused, swallowing anxiously. “-friends don’t usually do.”

She gave you a knowing smirk, gesturing at you to continue.

“I told him…” At this, your voice cracked, “I didn’t want him, Kayla.” Your mouth quivered, as stray tears welled up in the corners of your eyes.

“Oh, babe,” she cooed. “But you do, don’t you?” She placed her hand over yours understandingly.

You weren’t used to crying, especially not out in the open like this. You pulled away from Kayla, wiping the tears away roughly with the back of your hand, as you straightened up and put on the same facade you always do. “It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s with Val-”

Immediately, Kayla scowled. “That girl has some nerve! I knew it,” she spat. “Always waiting in the sidelines to bag your man.”

“It’s not her fault!” You protested. As far as you were concerned, you and Leon hadn’t made any promises to each other. He was free to go out with whoever he wanted.

Kayla rolled her eyes, “I’m sure she couldn’t wait one hot minute.”

“If that’s the case, then Leon should’ve waited too, right?” You argued. If you had to go along with this warped way of reasoning with her, then so be it.

“Fair enough,” she conceded, though you could tell that she wasn’t exactly happy about the outcome, and you wanted to put a stop to whatever mean girl prank she had up her sleeve.

“I’m serious. Don’t,” you warned.

She threw up her hands in mock surrender. “Ok, Miss Party Pooper… I won’t do anything to her. I swear!”

━━━━━━━━━━━

It took you a while to realize what Kayla’s actual plan of action was. In her typical fashion, it was loud, flashy and drew the attention of the whole school. It happened during lunch break in one of the weeks following your girl talk. You had seated yourself with the rest of the cheer team at the cafeteria, when you saw her slam her cutlery down on the table, snarling, “That’s it. I’ve had enough of this shit!”

The rest of the girls including you stared at her in shock, as she stormed up to where the other sports teams usually sat. She made a beeline for the blonde boy whom you’d been moping about for most of the term now, situating herself between him and his latest flame. You couldn’t hear what she was saying, but it made Val scurry off, before she and Leon entered into some sort of shouting match. You only managed to make out bits and pieces of it.

“What the fuck’s your problem?”

“Let me guess, the classy rebound-” Slow clap.

“Stay out of it-”

“You’re the one causing trouble!”

The next minute, she pointed at you, motioning to come over. Leon’s eyes grew dark, giving you a withering glare as you walked towards them with a mix of reluctance and unease. You despised being singled out like this, but you needed to put an end to running away from your problems.

Once you had made your way over, Kayla, who was seemingly pretty satisfied herself, barked out an order, “You two, just sort it out! It’s driving me insane.”

When she left the table and the curious onlookers - which meant literally everyone in the cafeteria - had decided to resume back to whatever they were doing, you uttered the first words to Leon in a long time, “Well, that was awkward.”

“You don’t say.”

“Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t know she would get like that,” you admitted.

He still held his guard up as he regarded you stoically. “So what did you want to talk about?”

You sighed, hoping you would do better this time. But there was just so much to say. Where to start? “I just wanted apologize for what I said that day,” you treaded cautiously. “I miss you, Leon.” You were getting glassy-eyed again, but you braved on. “And I still really care about you.”

His lips were pinched together as he considered your words. He had his reservations, but his hard gaze was slowly faltering. For a while, he didn’t respond. Just as you thought you had overstayed your welcome, he piped up almost inaudibly, “I care, too.”

You nodded in response and took your leave. You knew things would never be the same again, but this was enough for now.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The atmosphere between you and Leon remained tense, but at least it was amicable now. Apparently, Val was out of the picture. Nothing happened, they went on a date or two and Leon called it off. Well, that was what was going through the rumor mill anyway.

Still, it killed you inside, as it felt like you had lost a lover and a best friend. When you received your acceptance letter in December from Tisch, you didn’t even know whether to celebrate or not. Moreover, the one person you would have celebrated with was hardly in your life anymore. Kayla pushed you to tell Leon regardless, and you started to think maybe you had the wrong impression of some of your schoolmates after all. They did seem to look out for you, in their own weird way. It was like reading Pride and Prejudice all over again.

That’s what brought you in front of Leon’s front door, as you rang the doorbell in anticipation. You flinched as the door opened. The corridor was bathed in a warm, golden glow as the light filtered through the doorway, partly blocked by Leon, who peered out at you curiously. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you called out timidly. God, it was like you were strangers again. “Um, can I come in?”

“S-sure.” He held the door open for you, as you took in your surroundings. It had been months since you’d last visited, but nothing much had changed.

“So… what can I do for you?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. You weren’t used to this formal way of addressing each other. It gave you goosebumps.

“I thought it was only right to let you know,” you started. Your hands were trembling as you held out a thick white envelope towards Leon. “I-I got in.”

He took the envelope in his hands, frowning as he opened it. As he glanced over the papers, a spark of recognition shone in his eyes. “Oh! Uh-” He looked like he was at a loss for words as a wave of conflicting emotions washed over him. “Congratulations! I guess.”

“Thanks.” You nipped at your lip lightly, wondering if your next question would be appropriate. “Can I have a hug?”

For a fleeting instant, he looked like a deer in the headlights, but then he got a hold of himself. “Y-yeah.”

It took both of you a good minute to navigate your way into an embrace, so much so you nearly laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. But once you were in each other’s arms, you relaxed, breathing in his familiar scent that you grew to love. “I missed this,” he sighed blissfully into your hair. You deepened the embrace, pulling him closer to you.

“I guess I should also tell you…” He pressed his lips to the side of your forehead as he spoke, “I’m heading to the police academy in Springfield.”

Your heart leapt out of joy and ached with melancholy at the same time. “That’s fantastic! I’m so proud of you, Leon.”

“Mm, you always know how to make me feel…” his words faded off as he broke away from your arms, but held your gaze, as if asking, “What now?”

Maybe this was your chance for the heart-to-heart that was long overdue. And you grabbed it with both hands.

“I was scared,” you started. “I didn’t know how it could work out with the distance, maybe even performing internationally…” After a brief pause, you revealed, “I thought you wanted the suburban dream.”

“When did I ever say that?” He blurted out, with a look of shock plastered across his face.

You flinched, realizing that he had a point. He never mentioned wanting that. These doubts you had appeared to stem from your own fears projected onto him. “I-I thought…” You trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

“You could’ve asked me,” he replied, seemingly perturbed from the misunderstanding that occurred between the two of you. “I really wished we talked about this.”

Your eyes dropped to the ground, as you felt a heavy weight in your chest. “I’m sorry, I just assumed it was the case.” At this, he grasped his forehead in his hands and sighed wearily.

This was all so stupid. But you needed to tell him exactly how you felt about him, especially after this wake-up call. “Leon, hear me out, please? When I lost you, I realized I was so caught up with running as far away as I could from this place, that I didn’t see how important being with you was to me.”

You forced down a lump in your throat as you continued, “You never held me back, I was wrong to say that.”

“I want you,” you confessed. “Always have.”

You felt completely exposed, as if every part of you was laid bare and open to scrutiny. “I just had to let you know, even if you don’t feel the same way about me anymore.”

As you folded your arms to brace yourself for what would come next, Leon reached out and caressed your hair comfortingly. “I-” he paused. “If this is about Val, I’m sorry I did that,” he apologized. “I was hurt, and it wasn’t fair to either of you.”

Placing his fingers under your chin, he lifted it to bring you within eye contact. “However, I need you to stop guessing what you think I might want,” he stated firmly. “I can make my own decisions, ok?”

As you nodded in agreement, his gaze softened, and he took you within his arms again, cradling your head against his chest. “And… you haven’t lost me, but I need some time.” He sighed. “This was all just-”

At that moment, you were interrupted by his mom, who’d made her way in from the living room. “Gosh, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You and Leon let go of each other self-consciously, as she spontaneously invited you to dinner with the family that evening, which had just been freshly cooked and served out on the dining table. As you shared in the laughter and light-hearted conversations together, you couldn’t help but feel a sliver of hope about your future with the boy sitting beside you.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Prom night was coming up. At least that was what Kayla kept reminding you. You still had a few months to prepare, but for her it was the most important social event of high school. No one had asked you out yet, and Kayla felt that wouldn’t do. Secretly, you wished Leon would have made a move by now, but maybe things were still too raw.

As you emptied out your locker, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Spinning around, you brushed up against one of the footballers you had hardly spoken with during your school years. He must have noticed the bemusement on your face, as he spoke first, “Wanna go to the prom with me?”

From afar, you heard a distant giggle and narrowed your eyes at the source. Kayla’s sly grin gave it away. She set the whole thing up. Why?

You glanced between her and the beefy guy in front of you. Clearly not your type. At all. “Uh…” you tried to stall, wondering how you were going to maneuver your way out of this situation.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the side, snaking an arm around your waist, causing you to yelp in surprise. “She’s coming with me.” You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

Hm, this was getting interesting. Talk about Mr Knight in Shining Armor to the rescue.

Leon turned to face you. “Am I right?”

“Y-yeah, I’d like-,” you paused to recollect yourself. “I’m going with you,” you confirmed with a hint of shyness.

The footballer backed off, raising his hands in the air as he excused himself clumsily. “Sorry man, my bad. I didn’t know she was taken.” Leon was giving him the stink eye all the way through.

“You trying to make me jealous, baby?”

Baby? You gulped. What the hell has gotten into him? You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. But his arm was still resting on your waist with no intention of letting go anytime soon.

You saw Kayla shrug and dust her hands, before sashaying away. You had to hand it to her though. Fucking mastermind genius.

“Well, you never asked.”

“I did now,” he retorted smugly.

Ok, so you were back to bantering. Guess you could deal. But it still didn’t answer the question on where you stood with him. Had he finalized his thoughts since that talk you had?

“Leon,” you sighed. “Is this your way of saying you’d like to make things official?”

“Sorry about that. I was kinda put on the spot,” he admitted bashfully, as if he had been caught doing something wrong and now had a tail between his legs.

“But yeah, I want to,” he professed. “Do you?” He stared at you, swallowing nervously. “I mean, would you like to be my, uh- girlfriend?”

You gave him a coy smile, copying one of his previous lines in response. “Sure, I suck at it. So why not?”

“Never know till you try.” He beamed in return, unable to conceal the sheer look of happiness on his face any longer. “Guess we can figure out the rest along the way.”

“Uh huh.” You glanced around, all of a sudden painfully aware that you both were having this conversation in full public view. Although the other students were pretending not to pay attention, you knew they had seen and overheard everything.

A hot flush rose to your face. It didn’t seem to deter Leon as he tugged you closer with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. You had an inkling of what was about to unfold, but you chose to embrace it.

“Let’s give them a show, shall we?” He smirked, and with that, his lips collided into yours, as you made out against the lockers, oblivious to the world around you.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #high school au #college au #re2 leon #re2 remake #resident evil 2 #resident evil #porcelainscribbles

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catboymoments · 1 year

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Here’s some general advice from me for all of you going into high school this coming year that I wish I had before I started high school:

- if you ever feel like your mental health is suffering please take care of yourself! It’s not worth it to suffer and regret stuff afterward.

- don’t be afraid to try new things or get out of your comfort zone!

- make sure to seize opportunities when they come your way because they pass you by quick!

- check the school announcements for events coming up so you’re not in the dark about things you wanna do!

- make friends !! Yes some old friendships might fall off and that’s part of growing up, but don’t be scared to make new friends too. It sucks being lonely!!

- get your gym credit out of the way freshman year and don’t put it off because that’ll give you a lot more opportunities in later years for different classes!!!!! This one is super important.

- be on a good page with your teachers and it’ll send you far. If your teachers like you things will be so much easier.

- don’t stress about competitions in fine arts or sports because they’re so much fun!! You get to make a lot of memories!

- you don’t have to make a decision about college as soon as possible. It’s okay to not know or have a plan for right after you graduate. Everyone grows at a different pace!

- find what works for you with regards to tutorials- yes there might be tutorials at your school but those don’t work for everyone- try things like Khan Academy or Mathnasium or even YouTube tutorials for stuff you’re struggling with! and don’t be afraid to ask questions in class. You will not look stupid or annoying. It helps everyone.

- if you don’t feel ready to get your drivers license at 16, you don’t have to. don’t feel pressured to do so.

- Same goes for getting a job- you don’t have to apply to a corporation and do food service if you want to make a little spending money. There’s lots of opportunities in pet sitting, washing cars, mowing lawns and reselling clothes you don’t wear anymore.

- you don’t really need multiple notebooks and folders for every single class. It will weigh you down and make your shoulders hurt like a bitch if you carry around a lot of stuff all the time.

- Don’t worry about being cringe or worrying about appearances. You are a teenager. Embrace being one! Don’t kill the part of you that’s cringe- kill the part of you that cringes.

- always make sure you have an adult in your life that you can trust. Yes they can be hard to find, but it will be a lifesaver once you get one, wether that’s a therapist, a teacher, a parent, a counselor, or a family friend.

- have courage, and be kind.

#I love you all please be safe mwah

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kaylinalexanderbooks · 10 days

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OC interview

Thanks to @bloodmoonloveletter here, @mk-writes-stuff here, @illarian-rambling here, and @elsie-writes here!

Last did Wade here.

Doing Jazlyn now because I don't talk about her enough and I'd like to develop her character more!

Are you named after anyone?

“Nope. The one and only, girl. I'm just Jazlyn!”

When was the last time you cried?

“Oh, pfft! I don't cry. Maybe out of sheer boredom listening to Dr. Ass-ghar ramble on about her rules and how I'm not following them! Like, girl, I can't help that I have fire powers and lit something on fire! That would be like getting mad that Gabe got a little dirty. Oh, and her meetings are the wooorst. Yeah crying for my life in there.” [It was during Ewan's clarinet solo actually]

Do you have kids?

“Girl, what? I'm not even eighteen yet! Close... I'd love kids, honestly. A lot of them! I'd have so much fun with them!”

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

“Look, I know I come across as someone who uses sarcasm, but I'd rather just flat out say what I'm thinking. Why be like ‘wow that was so riveting’ when I could say, ‘this is the most boring crap I have ever seen in my entire life’? So much easier, no mental hoops. Besides, Ewan is the most oblivious to sarcasm I have ever seen.”

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

“Their confidence level. I can usually tell how someone feels about themselves based on how they stand. Posture is the key, but also what they're doing with their hands.”

What’s your eye colour?

“Brown. With some golden flecks when the light hits them right, according to Ewan.”

Scary movies or happy endings?

“Easy, scary movies. This question is stupid - they aren't opposites. However, nothing is more fun than a horror movie. Love getting the blood pumping. Yelling at the characters for being massive dummies is also the best. Horror is the most entertaining to watch with others. Ewan thank the Lord is also a horror enthusiast. We make a habit to have at least one or two horror movie nights a month.”

Any special talents?

“Oh, several. I am pretty athletic. Took cheerleading a while back and now I am on my high school basketball team. At first, I wasn't sure I would like basketball - my coach in middle school pulled me aside and recommended it due to my height, but I love it now. I am also getting pretty good at learning archery. Lighting the arrows on fire makes that more exciting. I am also pretty good at martial arts and my pyrokinesis. Working on breathing fire without burning my throat. Thank the Lord I have Wade to heal me so I can try again!”

Where were you born?

“I was born in flippin' Utah. I know--lily white state, you'd never guess. Ewan and I plan to move somewhere else once we can. Can you believe he was born in Alium? That ain't fair.”

Do you have any pets?

“Ewan and I plan to one day get a dog. We have been planning on moving in together for a while.”

What sort of sports do you play?

“Like I said, basketball. I would love to learn how to play this Alii fireball sport. It's very similar to basketball, but pyrokinetics pass around fire. That sounds like so much fun, man. Did you know they have to keep a healer at each game because not all pyrokinetics are immune to fire? And the audience can get hit too if they're not careful! This sounds like such a fun sport.”

How tall are you?

“I have finally passed six-foot-three. Alii heights are a blessing and a curse.”

What was your favourite subject in school?

“I hope you tell me PE counts as a subject cause I ain't saying anything else. School sucks, girl. I have gotten detention for the lamest reasons imaginable.”

What is your dream job?

“I would love to be in sales. Something about convincing people to do what I want is inticing. Planning on getting a marketing degree when I go to college next year.”

Tagging @leahnardo-da-veggie @eccaiia @mysticstarlightduck @monstrouswrites @mrbexwrites @gottestod-writes @willtheweaver @winterandwords @i-can-even-burn-salad @elizaellwrites @chauceryfairytales @somethingclevermahogony @faeriecinna + anyone else who wants to!

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

Blanks below the cut

Are you named after anyone? When was the last time you cried? Do you have kids? Do you use sarcasm a lot? What’s the first thing you notice about people? What’s your eye colour? Scary movies or happy endings? Any special talents? Where were you born? Do you have any pets? What sort of sports do you play? How tall are you? What was your favourite subject in school? What is your dream job?

^for an easy copy and paste

#the secret portal #tsp #teaspoon #jazlyn nyambura #oc interview #oc tag game #writing tag game #my oc #writers on tumblr #writing community #writers of tumblr #writing on tumblr #writeblr #writeblr community

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hannahssimblr · 4 months

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Chapter Sixteen (Part 2)

As final term goes on I seem to have a lot less time to socialise than I used to, spending late evenings in the computer room polishing off my digital art piece, or down in the life drawing studio compiling my best drawings from the year, or in the library composing my critical cultures essay, hours spent pouring over books to cite, researching and learning all about my chosen topic, which is the fashion and textile of Asian tribes.

For most of this time I am alone, but for the times I amn’t, it’s because I’m with Dean. Whenever he has time off work he’ll join me in the lab or the studio or the library and we’ll sit there together silently working through the evening, ankles intertwined beneath the desks as we pore over books about contemporary ceramics, ancient civilisations, Iranian cinema, pop art and the frescoes of Pompeii. The clocks change in late March, and even as April comes and the sky is bright until late into the evening, we stay until the sun goes down and the light fades from the room and all that’s left is the fluorescence from the lamp on the table between us to light the pages of our books.

“Do you ever get sick of this?” He asks me quietly one evening as I organise my bibliography on my laptop. I lift my head to look at him, hand fisted on his cheek as he stabs his own keyboard with one finger. “Sometimes.” I say. “But I think my essay is finally coming together.”

He huffs. “It’s so stupid that we have to do this writing shite, this is supposed to be a fine arts degree.”

“Yeah I get that but it’s also an academic degree. There has to be some sort of essay portion, I don’t think you’ll ever get away without having to do it.”

“I’m terrible at writing.” He frowns. “And I’m so sick of reading these stupid books about fucking pottery, the words they use are such bullshit, it’s like these writers are having a contest to see who can make their book the hardest to understand.”

Dean’s education, as I’ve learned, is a touchy subject for him. He left school when he was fifteen because he had either some difficulties learning or a lack of interest. It isn’t clear to me which, but either way he struggles now because of it. I tried to ask him about it before but I only ended up irritating him and he shut down, so I’m careful before broaching it again. “If you need help with anything just let me know.” I say.

“I don’t.” He goes back to typing something aggressively onto his laptop for several minutes before he whacks the backspace key in frustration and sits there with the heels of his hands dug into his eye sockets. I clear my throat nervously. “Dean, like, I mean it if there’s anything I can do-”

“I don’t need help.” He repeats. “As in, I don’t need you to help me, do you not get it?”

“I get it.” I say quietly. I try to go back to my own citation list but I seem to have lost where I was, my focus having been thrown by him. I scroll back up to the beginning of the bibliography and start checking it again. After several more minutes, he sighs and drops his hands back to his lap, and while I don’t dare look over at him, from the corner of my eye I see him drop his head and shake it from side to side. “I’m so sick of this.” He says. “I’m so tired of spending all of my time in this building. I just go from college to work and back to college again over and over. Everything is shit.”

“I know it’s hard right now.” I attempt. “But soon it’ll be over and you’ll have so much more time to relax during the summer. At least then when you’ll only be working in Primo you’ll have every afternoon free.”

“Yeah.” He says flatly. I know that it’s more than just pure exhaustion with him, more than just college. It’s his family, his father’s death, his sister, his aunts, all of these things that I can’t even begin to relate to or even know how to comfort him about, things that feel so far out of the scope of my experience that they only serve to remind me of the worlds between he and I, a terrain between us that I can’t traverse. It makes me feel weak, small, ineffective and childish. “I don’t know how to make you feel better.” I tell him.

He sighs and beckons me towards him. “C’mere.” He says, and when I hesitate he repeats himself. “C’mere.” I get out of my seat and walk around the table to stand in front of him. He slides his hands around my waist and links them at my back, and then rests his cheek against my belly. For a moment I’m not sure what he wants me to do with him, but he hums with approval as I lift a hesitant hand and run it through his hair, the dark roots an inch long now and the bleach turning brassy yellow, beginning to grow long over the tops of his ears. It’s so silent in the empty library, nothing but the buzz of the lightbulbs and the gentle whirr of Dean’s laptop fan. He lifts his head and kisses my ribs, gazing up at me with honey coloured eyes that I am immediately knee deep in. Despite the sharp anglesthere really is something so lovely about his face. He takes me by the hips and pulls me easily down onto his lap.

“What?” I whisper. I stroke my thumbs over his dark brows and kiss him gently on his nose, and he looks back at me, eyes travelling over my body as he says “just let me kiss you.” He lifts my hands away from him, and the feeling of his fingers on my wrists makes my skin tingle with awareness. Heat flashes in his eyes and the weight of his gaze makes my breath catch in my throat, and when he kisses me he crushes his mouth against mine so suddenly that I want to gasp. He lets go of my wrists to hold my face and I’m free to touch him again, so I sink one hand into his thick hair while the other sweeps down his chest, then his hands grasp at my waist and pull me even closer to him.

“Is this helping?” I murmur as he begins kissing my throat, and I’m sure that he can feel the flutter of my pulse against his lips.

“Mhm.” He says, and guides me backwards so that the table edge presses into the base of my spine. He lifts me off him so I’m sitting on it, impatiently shoving his laptop and his books out of the way to make some room. I pull back to look at him, enjoying the way that his gaze sweeps over me before he takes me by the jaw and kisses the side of my mouth, his hands travelling to my chest, breath shuddering out of his nose as he captures my mouth again. “The things I want to do to you…” He says between hungry kisses. “If I told you about them they’d make you blush.” He moves his hands underneath me so he can hold me to him, right in the place that he wants me, his knee sliding between my legs until I can feel his thigh…

“Wait.” I whisper.

His voice sounds hoarse and strained. “Evie… please.”

“We can’t be doing this here. Not in the library.”

He sighs against my collarbone and I feel him resign then, resting his forehead in the curve of my neck. His hands return to my waist. “Okay, it’s just, I think we should keep going.”

“And I think we need to stop.”

He sighs heavily and slumps back into his chair, his mouth a little swollen from kissing me, his amber coloured eyes expectantly fixed on my face as if waiting for an explanation, and I don’t really know what to say, so I just repeat myself. “Not in the library.”

“If not in the library then where? This is where we always are lately.”

“It’s not true, we go to the park together, we’ve gone to the cinema and to the harbour that time.”

“If we did what I wanted us to do in any of those places then we’d be arrested.”

I feel my cheeks flushed with heat. “Oh, well, I know, but-”

“And I’m not allowed in your apartment either, you’ve made that clear, since you’re hiding me from your housemate, and you won’t come home to my house either.-”

“You live in Kilbarrack.” I reason. “It’s too far away.” He also lives with three very intimidating sounding men with intimidating nicknames, one in particular that they ominously call Bones who I don’t feel ready to be in the presence of.

“So what do you want from me?” He insists, struggling to keep the impatience from his tone. The impatience that’s been steadily growing over recent weeks. “What is this to you?”

I hesitate. “We’re just getting to know each other.”

“We’re not really, not in the ways I want to get to know you. I just don’t get it. You’re so open with me about everything, your art, your family, your friend Kelly from school who was mean to you, why is it so easy for you to show me all those parts of you but when it comes to sex you’re a closed book?”

“Because that’s private. I’m the kind of person who likes to wait a while.”

He leans forward with his elbows on his knees and looks right up into my face from beneath me. “It’s been a while.” He tells me. “And I don’t get it.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Why does it have to be all about that for you? Can’t we just keep doing what we’re doing?”

“No.” He says. “Because you aren’t my girlfriend.”

“So unless I’m your girlfriend, it’s impossible for you to care about parts of me that aren’t the ones hidden by my underwear?”

“No, Evie.” He says, letting out this intense, frustrated little sound as he clenches his fist and throws his body back into the chair again. “Stop twisting everything and acting like the victim, I’m just asking you why you’re so closed. It’s not like you’re a virgin with no experience.”

I nod.

“So is it something about me? Is there something off-putting?”

“No!” I cry. “It’s not that, it’s nothing to do with you at all, I just get nervous.” Distantly, I hear my phone buzz from inside the pocket of my coat that’s draped over the chair behind me. I ignore it.

Dean continues. “So let’s have something to drink first, let’s just relax and I promise that I’ll be nice to you, I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“I know you’re not.” I say in a quiet voice, and he takes my hand, softening his expression as we interlace our fingers, his thumb gently stroking up and down the inner part of my wrist. “Look, Evie.” He says. “If you don’t want to, just say that, and it’ll be grand. I’m not here trying to force you to do anything. I was just asking the questions.”

“I want to.” I say, and the way he looks at me makes my stomach lurch with anticipation and unease all at once. “But not right now, not tonight, and not here.”

“Okay.” He says, watching me carefully.

“On Thursdays.” I swallow. “My housemate always stays over at her boyfriend’s house in Clonskeagh. I’ll be alone.”

“Thursday.”

“But if I chicken out and I don’t want to do it…”

“Obviously, Evie, then we don’t have to.”

“Okay.”

He smiles. “Look, I’m going to go home now, I’m tired of being in this building, I feel claustrophobic in it, and my neck hurts.” He stands up and I move out of his way as he snaps his laptop shut and begins gathering up all of his books to put them back onto their corresponding shelves. I stay leaning on the table and watch him as he does it. “It’s going to be fine.” I say, and he looks over his shoulder at me. “Your essay.” I clarify. “You’ll get it done.”

“Oh, that.” He says. “It’s just about the last thing on my mind.” Stuffing his laptop back into its case he says “My essay will be… whatever it ends up being, like. If I cared about it I’d probably be staying here longer. Here, are you gonna leave too? Do you want to walk to the bus together?”

“No, I think I’m going to stay another while and just finish up what I was doing.”

“Fair enough. I’ll see you tomorrow, so.” He takes me by the neck and plants a kiss on my cheek.

“Bye.” I say to him, and he waves over his shoulder as he exits through the swinging doors and is swallowed into the dark hallway.

Sighing, I resume my place in front of my laptop, jiggling my finger on the touchpad to wake it, and the screen flicks back to life and displays my bibliography in the exact disappointing state that I left it in. I start moving things around more, checking for spelling mistakes, and then I suddenly remember that I missed a message on my phone earlier, and eager for another chance to procrastinate I dive into my coat pocket for it. I feel my heart expand a little bit when I see a message from Jude.

Rate me?

Following the message is a mirror selfie of him in his Top Gun costume. He’s doing a very Tom-Cruise-accurate pose, turned to the side with his shoulder to the mirror, his arm lifted to give a thumbs up to the camera, but also to show off the big red white and blue TOMCAT patch that he ironed onto the sleeve. We’ve talked extensively about this costume over recent weeks, trying to figure out the best ways to make it as authentic as possible, not because there’s a prize for the best costume or anything, but because, as Jude explains to me, he has an insatiable need to be the best at everything he does.

“It’s a sickness.” He told me last week. “I absolutely cannot be outdone.”

I grin at the photo, feeling proud, and partly responsible for how well it turned out, seeing as I was the one who searched Ebay for three out of the six patches on that costume, getting a kick out of finding the ones most like those from the film and for the best prices.

Just to tease him, I text back:

6 out of 10. Where are the aviator shades??

He replies just a moment later with another photograph, this time of him wearing them, doing a silly duck face. It looks like he’s out already, as there’s a handful of people around him out on the city streets, random arms and legs and elbows filling up the edges of the screen.

Happy?

Yep, now that’s a 10 out of 10.

Because it covers more of my face, is it?

Yes 100%, uggo.

And when he texts back again I forget all about my essay. Thumbs zooming over my phone keyboard, mouth quirked up in a smile as I think of a hundred clever things to say to him, texting, laughing and texting until my laptop screen gives up waiting for me and fades back to black.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky girl part 2 #This was my most viewed chapter for a long time lmao #something about Dean putting his thigh there #i hate him so much from this point on though #he's a sick lil freak #tw: abuse

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scoutbert · 9 months

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Heyy idk if anyone here remembers me or cares but I figured I'd make a little life update just in case. And if not, maybe I'll just look back on it in a few years and smile.

I've had this blog for about ten years now. I was a freshman in high school when I began. It was memes, fandom, and the occasional depression. I even posted some pretty dark stuff a LOT of the time because I felt like I had nowhere else to vent.

Now I am 24. Twenty four!! I can't believe it. I lived!

I've been homeless, I've been traumatized. Went through a lot of stuff! If you like to feel sad and lurk, feel free to check out my tags for more context, haha. Some of it is pretty triggering and downright toxic so yeah take care of yourself.

But yeah. Twenty four. Sheesh. I am in a much better place now. I have an apartment with some friends and my partner. We have a little dog. I got a new car that I don't have to live in anymore. I work gigs like food delivery and dog walking. Money is always tight, but what else is new?

I still have a little problem with the booze and the weed, but I'm not searching for ways to destroy myself anymore. I don't seek chaos just because that's where i felt the most normal.

I'm learning to be okay with peace. And mediocrity. I used to- well, still do sometimes- compare myself to everyone I knew my age, people who had support systems I could never dream of, who went to college, and found their dream job. Who never wanted for anything. Always smiling.

I learned that it's not a competition. Life, that is. As long as I wake up every morning, I call that a win. It doesn't matter that this person from school makes six figures and already has a house and a kid. I get to wake up and walk dogs and look at trees and flowers, and I get to come home all sweaty and take a hot shower and make a sandwich. That's enough for me, for now. Much better than couch surfing and showering at planet fitness and eating gas station sandwiches.

Anyway. At the risk of overdoing it, I just wanna say thanks Tumblr. You were my anonymous diary for years. I received support from strangers I can never repay. I laughed at memes, made art, got in arguments about stupid shit.

I'm not leaving! Just expressing gratitude I never had. I am no longer full of hate. Just a morsel now, haha. There will always be a part of me that is bitter about everything I had to go through, and embarrassed at how I handled it. But I did my best and most people met me where I was at and accepted me anyways, even when I wasn't at my best. Thank you.

If I ever hurt you or exhausted you, thank you, and I am sorry.

Anyway. Yeah. Thanks. I'm doing okay. Good, even. Now that I'm not in crisis constantly- and I was in crisis for the better part of those ten years- I think I will find something I am passionate about, and work at exploring it. That sounds nice. :)

#scoutbert #personal

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copperbadge · 2 years

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There’s a lot to think about when it comes to actually having a diagnosis of ADHD, because I didn’t honestly think I’d really get one.

It wasn’t so much denial as just...I don’t know, it’s like assuming you’ll never be in a car crash. Nobody actually expects to be in one themselves so that first one’s a real shock. I thought about just processing it quietly, but it helps to get my thoughts in order to write it out, and anyway the last post seemed to have an impact on some people.

I think about how my mother was roughly the age I am now when she got a diagnosis of a learning disability. I don’t know what the specifics were; I was a teen and she just told me the basics and not the terminology. She really struggled with rage and grief over her diagnosis in a way I am not and don’t think I will, though it’s still early days. We had very different upbringings; she had a lot of teachers (and a father) who berated her for “being stupid”. I had a much more supportive educational experience. Nobody ever called me stupid, though I did have one teacher who would condescendingly tell me “Can’t is a word of defeat, you know” when I failed my multiplication test for the eighth or ninth time.

I think it helps that I’m “twice-exceptional,” intellectually capable of making up most of the shortfall, so I did (by and large) cope with things to the point where I don’t think an earlier diagnosis would have changed my life materially. Might have made it more pleasant, or somewhat less exhausting, but not to the point where I’m angry about it. I’m...a little bitter that I was cast as the Normal One in the family, since both my siblings got diagnosed young, but I understand why: if my parents had this one ordinary kid, maybe slightly on the gifted side, then they had a strong defense against the very common assumption in the 80s and 90s that cognitive struggles on the part of the child were due to poor parenting. I was proof my mother wasn’t a Fridge Mommy. I still am, for her, even though she never truly accepted the idea in the first place. It’s a significant contributing factor in why I don’t plan to tell her about the diagnosis.

I also think about college and grad school. I was in the arts so I was in a lot of classes that came down to “let’s read something and then argue about it for an hour”. I used to have to tune out about once a week when the talking started to turn into a buzz that would make my eardrums hurt, but I assumed I was just tired. Looking back it’s almost definitely some kind of sensory overload...thing, I don’t even know what to call it; I still get it at parties sometimes. I don’t know how medication would impact that, since it’s not like there are a lot of parties going on these days. Tangentially, it does seem to be helping with rejection-sensitive dysphoria mainly because I no longer remember every single awkward conversation in vivid technicolor and surround-sound. Maybe I am saying fewer awkward things? Difficult to tell.

And I think about the fact that I have A Disability. I think about how to fit the identity into who I am. Even with the relatively radical change the medication is having, it doesn’t feel like a real disability, which is yet more programming to unpick; it’s not like I’d ever say that to someone else, but it feels less real when it’s your own experience, somehow. I’ve had temporary physical disabilities before -- broken limbs, concussion -- and I think about those too because clumsiness is a trait of ADHD. I never got called stupid but I sure did get called attention-seeking when I was still coming home with skinned knees in high school. But also even the more serious injuries were passing, transitory, with a fixed endpoint in sight. With luck, I’ll be on Adderall the rest of my life, which is a lot more permanent.

I don’t know how much will change or how much I’ll change; probably not all that much. But there’s a lot to think over. Which is admittedly a lot easier these days, so there’s that.

#sam has adhd

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slowjamastan · 12 days

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hi, I like you and what you post but may I ask what your view is with trans folks? I genuinely just want to know, tbh it doesn’t matter to me your views but I am just curious because you don’t seem particularly judgy but a little more traditional

oh yeah fair question. i hope u dont mind if i expand on my life a bit, bcz my views make more sense w context i think. tldr at the end

so i identified as dif flavors of nonbinary/trans/queer for nearly a decade of my life. ive been on tumblr since 2010, i called myself "trans" since age 14. ages 18~20ish i went to art school. it was a Peak Woke environment if you will and i fit right in. i dropped out when i realized the artists life wasnt for me. I had no idea what to do next with my life, so i did a lot of serious introspection and among many things, made the conscious decision to consider points of view on trans people from places other than tumblr (there is a lot wrong with me), like, i found out that people who didn’t “get” the trans thing aren’t universally stupid and considered their concerns. crazy ik. later i conclude baby steps style "hey i think 'nonbinary' as an identity might make no sense, like at all" and officially moved my worldview away from "identify as whatever you want forever uwu"

my opinion on nonbinary genderqueer etc people is that it was made up online in the early 00s at best. “but other cultures have third genders—“ yeah you mean like when gay men aren’t considered real men? or when theres no male children in a family and a girl has to take on that role? nonbinary folx are either children or immature adults who can barely function in society. thats not a moral failing btw but it is hard to watch

from this point forward, assume im talking about binary trans people.

i dont believe gendered pronouns are a decision you get to make, theyre when someone looks at you and diagnoses your appearance as one of two things, and trans or not you dont get to decide how other people see you. trying is an easy way to drive yourself insane and get 500 plastic surgeries and do nothing but obsess over your appearance for your short time on earth. this isnt controversial right? we've all seen trashy reality stars with fucked up faces and botched boob jobs right? trans ppl look like that to me. again, not a moral failing, but def a red flag considering, for instance, the price tag and self centeredness transitioning implies. but anyway it feels ridiculous to handle random men in skirts or women with green hair with kiddie gloves in public yk so i just gender em as i see em. i dont give them any space in my brain bcz why should i. sorry if u dont pass and are going to angry tweet ab this interaction, its not my problem

i started identifying with truscum types (because i was never doing the trans thing “for fun” ive been uncomfortable in my body and had complicated feelings on being seen as female for most of my life), and committed to being a trans man full time age 21~22. started therapy soon after while weighing the risks of T on my health and safety and what exactly i wanted from it, even tho i WOULD be kicked out if i medically transitioned and i had no safety net nor any close friends to help me, so i kept putting it off. i was saving as much money as i could from my pt job (while going to community college for my ged) but mentally getting worse and worse. so i got a prescription for ssris.

in a few months, zoloft not only helped my overall mental state but also alleviated the fixation on my body parts being somehow wrong (or maybe it was all the same thing?). it took away my ability to mentally spiral about gender for hours at a time. i dont know if thats a normal effect, or i got placeboed out of wanting to transition somehow. but i experienced the hypothetical scenario "what if you woke up one day and didnt want to be trans anymore" after 10 years of trans identity and organizing my life around transition as a goal.

it was awful but mostly a huge relief. the dysphoria (or dysmorphia or whatever it was) had felt innate and had been with me my whole life and it was just gone, age 23ish. i felt genuinely neutral about myself and my body, and didnt feel like other peoples image of me being “wrong” would make me kms. could have had something to do with my brain maturing also. (as an aside: it felt like 1/3 of my brain had been dedicated to the gender musing pathways and then stopped all at once. my head genuinely hurt. it was a bizarre physical sensation, like a lobe removal, and it took a good year for that to go away)

ive since gone on and off then quit my meds for good, and the mental spiral patterns came back, but its not strictly about my body anymore. its an overthinking pattern that can latch on to anything. (my friend with ocd described a similar cycle she gets caught in. i dont have full blown ocd but i can relate)

i realize my experience isnt universal ofc. gender dysphoria could be a result of a lot of things, but i dont think its an innate hardwired thought pattern. my take is its a result of trauma / autism / mental issues / bi/homosexuality in whatever combination. this is a personal opinion subject to change given evidence, naturally.

anyway. after the dysphoria evaporated, i moved on quick. my ideas about gender were still all over the place. i tried to be more feminine for a while to "match" how i "felt inside". i forced it, didnt enjoy it, but it was fine i guess. i was still insecure about my gender presentation. i still do have body issues, but who doesnt. i wear a mix of clothing styles these days and often get theythemed on vibes alone. im beating the tradwife allegations i promise

this is the point in the average detrans 20-somethings life where she will call herself a TERF semi-ironically and be a shithead online, which is what i did for a while. you pick up new perspectives that feel freeing and suddenly youre above all that gender drama bullshit, like finally you get to look down on the people suffering and laugh because theyre too dumb to "get it." its cathartic after a decade of feeling insane and suddenly feeling capable of living without inherent suffering. i reached gender nirvana and im better than you :3

then you wake up from that and go wait, that was fucking stupid lol. truly terminally online behavior, but i dont have regrets really. the most evil terfily thing i did, if ur wondering, was co-run a blog that reblogged selfies posted in public tumblr mlm tags. i dont think we even added commentary, but we got soooo much hatemail lmaooo. rip straightgirlarchive 🙏

even at peak terf phase i had irl trans friends by the way, and male friends for that matter.

i think the best way i could describe my feelings on trans people now is like meeting someone with a face tattoo, who also treats that tat like a religious experience. they can feel like this represents to the world who they are and are very serious about the symbolism of this tattoo, and thats fine. its trendy in many circles to have face tats rn (wont be for long) but theyre built different, they always needed this face tattoo to be themselves. bro u just dont understand the inner journey like u wouldnt GET it.... and then they complain about not being employable or single or how their loved ones are struggling to get used to their new look...you see what im saying. you get it

i dont hate people like this. i dont think trans people are subhuman or anything. but i am so so SO glad im not one of yall anymore u are ANNOYINGGGGG. I WAS ANNOYING!!!!! in hindsight i sucked so much and was insufferable to be around if u werent on My Level Of Gender Understanding which was based on nothing but social media infographics, >10,000 hours of blind introspection, and Vibes

my god if i could go the rest of my life not having to hear or think about trans stuff ever again i would. ive done my time. ive gotten my trauma. i dont wanna deal with this anymore but it is inescapable online and irl.

and of course, as a lesbian, i personally dislike what T does to womens bodies, not even getting into the top surgery epidemic.... plus theres now biological men taking over or shutting down every lesbian space. i gotta say, existing as a gay woman has never been more suicide inducing than current year /lh

but the human condition generates all types and genuinely if youre an adult and are determined to transition or microdose T or whatever, its your choice. we live in a society. im not gonna berate an alcoholic for drinking or a fat person for overeating either. hating yourself isnt a crime and i can say i find transing cringe but thats subjective and no one asked me. im just chillin, truly, and we can be friends even if i disagree with your life choices. like. its on par with being friends with someone with 200k in college debt to me. you made a dumbass decision imo but maybe to you its worth it, and what are either of us gonna do about it now? im not arguing shit brother, live ur life. manage those consequences best u can. i love u

in conclusion i wasnt born destined to be trans, im a gender nonconforming lesbian with mental problems related to gender and social roles because of the lesbian thing. this is a normal experience that i overthought into body dysmorphia and identity delusions because of the culture around me... im definitely not a radical feminist. maybe call me gender crit but i dont care. i dont identify with any labels that strongly. labels are the mind killer.

TLDR:

-nonbinary isn’t a real thing outside of hyperonline exclusively-politically-left subcultures, which i personally find annoying since ive left it behind in the process of maturing. to each his own but im allowed to roll my eyes and not play along with larping teenagers and it doesn’t make me evil

-there are no major female / male brain differences. there are no gendered souls. gender dysphoria shouldn’t be treated with transition, because extreme body modification is a mental illness problem in every case. i can’t stop anyone with my opinions obviously but if i could talk to my younger self, id say wait until you’re 25 for the brain development, and in the meantime try less invasive/understudied treatments to improve quality of life.

final disclaimer: i am in my 20s. my views on life and social issues will continue to evolve as long as i live, but the cringe i feel when seeing visibly trans people will never truly go away due to personal traumas. and my trans exes, probably. im super over the queer scene, im a normie gay now. blessings peace love and light

#thanks 4 your patience i had a busy day yesterday. i wrote like 2 versions of this bc i wanted to get my feelings across #its still all over the place but i think it came out better than last time i tried to articulate my feelings on the trans population #mail #post #i deleted a lot of tangents. i like talking ab myself. maybe i just need to write a biography

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mylandofdarkness · 1 month

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The Antagonist of My Life. My Mother.

My mother.. played a HUGE role in my life....

Now don't get me wrong.. things are better between me and her now but with my first 22 years of my life. she's given me hell. I never understood it till later that it was simply because Girls get it more rough than boys. Growing up I NEVER saw my mom lay a finger on him for anything. Instead every single thing I did.. where I was simply just a child THAT DOESNT KNOW ANYTHING... gets a bunch of beatings that she's gonna remember for the rest of her life. I remember crying so much, I remember hiding under a table, hovering in a corner while STILL getting slapped and beaten by my mother.. as I have a meltdown, I even locked myself in the bathroom for 20 minutes. My father had no role.. he wasn't able to do anything . So I'm just backed up in a corner getting hit as my father and brother sit on the side and watch. Like that's not traumatizing? for a Mother to stand there and beat and beat and beat her YOUNG child, daughter that is probably around 6-7 years old.. as she is screaming in pain from getting beaten. what kind of a mother does that. Does this child not have feelings?? Is this child suppose to not feel the pain? WHAT is this teaching the child? AS A CHILD... I was convinced she didn't want me to be happy, I was convinced she found pleasure in beating me every week, talking down on me, discouraging me, telling me all the things I liked was stupid.

So years go by.. all that abuse did something to me. it turned me into an easily agitated teenager, (Gee I wonder where I got that from). And I wasn't going to be those kids that commit suicide because of strict parents or being under pressure. So I got tired from my moms physical abuse one day when I was in mid-high school.

Her abusive hits didn't phase me anymore. Her 'discipline' wasn't going to do shit to me anymore. One Day when she raised her hand at me... I didn't cry, I looked at her dead in the eye... and just walked to my room so I didn't have to hear from her for the rest of the night. Another time where she wanted to give me a word (and a hand) I finally spoke up to her, she was hella surprised. My bro and Dad was surprised too . I said my piece, she told me I was making excuses. I told her it wasn't excuse. I wasn't going to easily back down. I wasn't going to give her that satisfaction of ME keeping quiet and crying, and having it end up being a meltdown. I wasn't going to let her be the only crazy one now. She created one... That's on her... And I want her to remember what she started and what she created.

So you see... Because of her I somehow always see the negative in most friendships I make. because I was treated so poorly when I was little, everytime I meet somebody I want to befriend, I would have higher expectations and always oversee a small negative . My mother never taught me how to treat others.. she taught me nothing but pain.

So fast forward to college.. I LIVED AWAY for college.. and it was the greatest 3 years ever. why? cause I was actually away from that toxic household and I was actually able to do what I want on my own. Met lots of cool people, partied, went out, talked to some boys, Figured myself out lots. College was done, I move back.. and yes everything was tense again. Keep in mind I went towards the Media Arts career path.. My mother thought that was a joke. So when it came to finding jobs.... she pestered me LOTS about it and it stressed me out a lot. pressured me into applying for jobs that I didn't find suited for myself. Now yes this is a different stage of my life.. They made me anxious on even finding a job. My mother made me feel like shit. This is where emotional and mental abuse comes in more. and when I finally landed a job at a well known company..

Things switched. I was suddenly the daughter they were proud of o.0 I'm the daughter that works at 'This place' WoW Im the daughter that's going to make a lot of money from this place. ...... That gave my phony vibes. Now that I'm making decent money.. your nice to me?? Now that other companies see my potential, you suddenly see it too?? Nah, you shattered my spirit for 22 years. You've emotionally and mentally brought me down almost everyday for 23 years. I'm not getting my years back.

Because of all this... a part of me resents her for how I ended up as a person. Every moment of hell she gave me, I remember it vividly.

#toxicmother #toxic parents #trauma #life lessons

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thinkfeelwrite · 11 months

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FEEDBACK (was the original title for a writing course I once did. Am reposting because I need to start somewhere but Im cringing but would also sort of appreciate feedback)

Feedback is judgement. Feedback is fear. Feedback is Failure. Feedback is shame. Feedback is the paralysis of all hope. It is the execution of excitement about my stupid doomed dreams. Feedback is the death of me.

Examples of excruciating feedback experiences and endurances that prove my point

Having to do a personality assessment test whilst at college. Answered it honestly, although I had no idea who I was back then…so did I really answer it honestly?. The feedback said that I was either a psychopath or a genius.

Remembering all the OCD type actions I had to do before lesson observations by senior members of staff whilst I was a teacher. Praying the same prayer over and over in the car until I got to the school. “Please don’t make me fail, please don’t make me fail, please don’t make me fail. Amen’ The exhausting and tortuous repetition of actions that if not done would completely mean crushingly negative feedback. No wonder I was so exhausted post assessment as the adrenalin wore off.

Feedback from the kids I taught. Their feedback can be the worst. You’re not really a proper person to them if they don’t like you, which in their minds translates to ‘I can destroy you with my actions and my words’. I don’t hold any ill feeling towards those that did destroy me though. It was all my fault. I can still envisage my voice dissipating into the air as I tried to teach some of them. Like making the motion of speech but with no sound. It was when I realised I was becoming partly invisible

Ofsted inspections for someone like me with serious confidence issues. Utterly terrifying

Deciding to leave teaching ten years ago and witnessing the changing feedback from people as the years have worn on. Initial understanding and sympathy breaking down into seeing you as a life loser as you struggle to find something else to do.

Presentations. Having to do a presentation after ‘Brain Boy’ had done his. Brain boy was the cleverest person on my university course.I wonder what he is doing now? Anyhow he did this amazing, astute, confident presentation… and then it was my turn. Even my best friend who was sat next to me said it was actually painful to endure. I was so shy and nervy, I couldn’t breathe and so couldn’t talk. Looking back I can see that I had a sort of panic attack. Someone should have taken me aside. The feedback was…

A few years later I had to do another presentation. God help me I filled my water bottle with gin and drank it whilst waiting to do my presentation. I honestly can’t say how it went. There was a lot of laughter, that’s all I remember but I also recollect that the tutor was called out just as I started mine. That had to be divine intervention. Im not sure if anyone could see that I was drinking. How drunk was I? This was probably my worst experience. You’ll never meet me so i can tell you about it. Not many people know about it. I’m too ashamed. Someone should have taken me aside

Being told by your successful Asian father that you are a disappointment as you didn’t become a doctor like him but also being told its ok because you have children and they’re a lot of work.

Trying to become an artist and doing quite well and loving it, although NOT making any money. Feedback from Father: Being asked by your father if you are making any money from doing your art. Giving up on the art.

Trying to learn about Ayurveda at a high level, thinking about practising it. Bemusement from father at ‘you and your ayurveda’. Can feel myself withdrawing from my interest in ayurveda.

My own running commentary feedback on my life. My daily feedback: Middle aged. Getting older. Weak minded. Confused. Really confused. Lost opportunities. Missed opportunities. Unable to focus. Unable to work out what i want to do. Not being able to do what I want to do. Heavy thoughts weighing down my whole body like an anchor at the bottom of the ocean. Full of regrets. Living a fantasy life. Escaping to my fantasy life. Stereotypical middle aged person who will soon be old and covered in dust in the corner of the room and in the corner of people lives. Crying. Staring. Loser. Bored with my own negativity. Wondering if my negativity is a safety blanket keeping me still, unheard, unseen. Wearing more makeup to cover up Wondering if there is a magical solution to life misery

I need a cup of tea now. This is awful. I hope you don’t feel awful. Bet you want to walk away and make tea too now. Sorry

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mangoposts · 3 months

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ok sooo basically i’m a bit stressed about LIFE and i just wanna rant

i’m currently in college doing a psych/arts degree but the only reason i’m doing it is because i don’t know what i want to do in life (career wise) and i didn’t want to NOT go to college because then i’d feel behind? like i’d just be working which is fine but like idk if just doing that would help me figure out what i wanted to do in the future HOWEVER i’m IN college rn and still i don’t know what i want to do

like i chose this degree because it has a lot of career options, like more variety, but like i’m not really enjoying it much either (i just feel like i’m in school again but with less friends)

i’m just so conflicted because it’s like sooo boring but then it’s like-well at least i’m actually doing something yk?

but THEN i’m like well what’s the point??!!! if i don’t actually know what career i’m working towards?

and like if I was just working (i’m a waitress) then i would have more free time and be getting more money so likee😭

but THEN im like well can’t just work a regular job forever can i ??

basically i’m asking ur thoughts because i’m lowkey jealous of u girl like ur living such a slay life just working and then having free time whereas like i have to write stupid papers on stuff i don’t care about and i feel like i’m wasting my time AND money

i know i’m just stressing about the future too much but i’ve already done a whole year and i don’t feel any different about like careers etc

like do you have a plan for the future?? (i’m guessing no cus u give me more spontaneous vibes)

anywayyysss this was so long sawrryyyy love u ❤️

I know exactly how you feel, when I was younger I was an advocate for college a lot because I did have a lot of passion for becoming a psychologist, I finished majority of my time in college and then that’s when I found my current job and to be honest i just began falling in love with it, I was kind of in the same boat where it started to feel more like stress and less like passion, and it started to overwhelm me and since I knew that I had a source of income without fully graduating i lost sight of what i was really doing it for. I can’t encourage you to work full-time and forget about your studies because there are times when I do regret not going all the way with college. But if you’re going through a period of stagnancy with college and you’re struggling to see your future then I think you need to have this conversation with yourself and find something that really motivates you. Life is extremely short and you shouldn’t waste it on doing something that you’re not 100% happy with. If you’re only doing it because it makes you feel productive then this could lead you somewhere you don’t want to be later on in life

for me personally, I felt most happy with just working and being able to live my life the way I want it without the access stress. It took awhile for me to actually finalize my decision but in the end im very happy with how my life turned out so it played a good part. I don’t have a plan for the future because every time I plan for something it ends up going wrong LMFAO I kind of just go with the flow and I do what feels right in the moment, my current job is what’s getting me by and making me happy and I can see myself working here for another 50 years even when I’m 80 years old. even if it’s not typically considered a passion to most people it’s something that I am passionate and I’m very happy with, so when I think about the future, I think about where I am now

it starts and ends with you, everybody is different, and everybody has their own passions. You need to really sit down and have a conversation with yourself about where you see yourself in the future. And if you don’t see yourself investing into what you’re studying for then I think you need to consider a different route and focus on what makes you the happiest. Even if it seems a bit unrealistic, I always encourage people to do whatever their heart wants😭 . You just need to find it. i’m sorry I’m not the best at giving advice on this. I just relate to it so much and I also had no idea what to do at the time. I just ended up finding some thing I really loved in the midst of college and I chose that over it

#🥭

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the-claire-bitch-project · 2 years

Text

Just a Taste - Steve Harrington

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Rated: M (18+ ONLY) Minors DNI

Includes: Consent King!Steve, Nerd-but-stupid-sometimes!reader, insecurities on reader’s part, Steve being comforting, physical touch as a love language, lots of fluff in response to a little angst

Warnings: talk of controlling parents and college stress, failing classes, making out, fingering, oral sex (female receiving)

A bell rings above you as you open the door to Family Video. You inhale the familiar scent as you make your way inside. All of it is laid out just the same as you remember, so you turn right and head for the horror movies.

You’re not sure exactly what you’re in the mood for but you know you want a horror movie. Maybe Rosemary’s Baby or Psycho will do it. You pick up Carrie and examine the case. It’s worn and starting to fade. Probably from all the times you personally rented it in high school. Sighing, you put it back.

“Anything I can help y– oh hey, Y/N.”

You look up and take a step back in surprise. Steve Harrington of all people is leaning against the shelf with his other hand on his hip, looking at you as if he can’t believe you’re really standing there.

You feel the same. Steve Harrington working? That was new.

“You work here?” A stupid question given he’s wearing the vest with a name tag.

“Ah, yeah,” Steve looks down at his vest and then back up at you and cracks a smile, “didn’t make it the college route and my dad’s trying to teach me a lesson.”

“Oh,” you shift uncomfortably, “I’m sorry.” You feel guilty about your scholarship to Northwestern all of a sudden.

Steve waves you off as if it isn’t a big deal. “Don’t worry about it.” He rubs the back of his neck and you can see that it is a big deal.

“You’re the only one working?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, Robin had band practice for the Christmas Concert.”

“Robin Buckley?” You ask, raising your eyebrows. A faint face comes into your brain, but you’d never paid much attention to the grade below you.

“Yep.” Steve purses his lips and glances down at the shelf you’re hovering next to. “You looking for something scary?”

You shrug.

“Sure you don’t want a Christmas movie?” he points over his shoulder. “Lots of the ladies have come in for It’s A Wonderful Life.”

You shake your head and give him a half-hearted smile. “I’m okay. I’m not that into Christmas.” You sigh and turn back to the horror movies, expecting him to go away.

Instead, Steve comes around the shelf and stands next to you. His shoulder brushes yours as he reaches for a movie.

“Alien?” you say skeptically as you take the case from him. “Is it even that scary?”

Steve shrugs. “Maybe not for someone as into horror as you seem to be, but I liked it.”

You examine the cover art then flip it over and read the short summary on the back. It’s intriguing enough. “I’ll take it,” you tell Steve, handing him the case.

“Awesome!” He smiles at you, then turns and leads the way to the desk to check you out. He begins typing on the computer. “Do you have an account already?”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Right, silly me,” he says, shaking his head as he types your name in. “Yep, looks like you, The Thing, Rosemary’s Baby, and,” he peers closer, “what in the world is Nosferatu?”

You giggle. “It’s this really old vampire movie.”

“How old?” Steve asks as he opens the case to check the tape.

“Like 1920s old.”

“Damn,” Steve whistles, “you really are a nerd for horror movies?”

You shrug. “You know me, I’m a nerd for everything.”

“Must be why you’re off at college doing all the big girl things and getting ready to rule the world.” Steve says it in a teasing way, but the comment deflates you.

The truth is, college hasn’t been going well. You failed chemistry and could barely get through your first computing course. The only class you really liked was your writing class. Essays have always been easy for you. Only writing doesn’t pay the bills.

“Hey, hey,” Steve puts his hand on your arm, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You sniffle and reach for the VHS case. “It’s okay, Steve, I’m just tired from the drive home.”

“You sure that’s all it is?” Steve presses gently on your wrist as you start to move away and you stop, because his hand is warm and his big brown eyes are comforting and concerned when you look up at him.

You sigh. “College isn’t really everything I thought it would be. And being home with my parents–” You turn away and pull your wrist from Steve’s hand. “Sorry I don’t mean to complain about it. I know I’m lucky to have the opportunity to go.”

“No, no, no wait,” Steve hops over the counter and stops you before you can walk out the door. “Just hang out for a couple minutes while I close up, okay?” You nod. “C’mere.” Steve leads you over to the counter and pats it. “You can sit here. Central. So you can see the whole store.”

You push yourself up on the counter and curl your legs underneath you to sit criss-cross. You play with the laces of your Reeboks as you listen to Steve rattle around in the back of the store, poking the plastic tip into the extra hole at the top.

Steve comes around, no longer wearing his vest, swinging a keyring around his finger. “Did you drive?” he asks. You shake your head. You’d walked around after hours of driving home from school.

You jump down off the counter and walk through the door Steve holds open for you, your hair instantly blowing all around your face. You shiver and cross your arms around your body as you watch Steve lock the doors to the store, pulling on the door twice to check the lock.

“Come on,” he says, leading you over to his car. You recognize it as the same one he drove in high school. He opens the passenger door for you and you sink into the leather seat. It’s worn on the inside, some of the leather is beginning to fray, but it’s still a nice car. There’s a walkie talkie on the floor in front of you. You pull your feet away, making sure you don’t damage it.

“Where are we going?” You ask when Steve gets in and turns the car on.

“Oh,” he turns to look at you. “I was just going to take you home. Still over on Walnut right?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” You sigh and sink back into the seat, looking out the window.

“Do you,” Steve hesitates, “not want to go home?”

“No, no it’s fine,” you try to assure him. As much as you don’t want to go home, if he wasn’t planning something, then you weren’t going to inconvenience him. You should’ve known better than to think Steve Harrington would want to hang out with you anyway.

“If you wanna hang out,” he says, “we can go to my house.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“It’s not intruding,” Steve insists, “I want to hang out with you. We can watch Alien.”

“Won’t your parents mind?”

Steve scoffs. “They’re at my dad’s company Christmas party. They won’t be home for a while and when they do they’ll be too drunk to notice.”

You hesitate another time, wondering if you should go home so your mom doesn’t get mad.

“You can call your mom from my house and tell her you’re staying over at a friends,” Steve suggests.

“Staying over?” you repeat.

Steve looks down and you swear he blushes. “You know what I mean. If you want I can actually take you to a friend’s after the movie. Bu–” He cuts himself off and clears his throat, shaking his head.

“Okay,” you say. Thinking, fuck it, you’ll just let your mom worry about you.

“Okay?” Steve repeats, looking at you intently.

“Okay.”

***

You’d never been to the Harringtons’ house even though it was only a few streets over from yours. It didn’t look too different, though you supposed since your father was also a businessman, that the income levels weren’t too different. You too, had gotten a car when you turned 16, never wanted for anything, clothes, new shoes, magazine subscriptions, makeup, and all the movie rentals you wanted.

Steve parks on the street and shuts off the ignition. “Home sweet home.” He says it so begrudgingly you can’t help but feel he has feelings similar to yours about living at home.

“It’s nice,” you say.

“Eh.” Steve shrugs. Suspicions confirmed.

Inside, you start to take off your shoes, but Steve grabs your arm.

“Take them downstairs to the basement with us,” he says, “so my parents don’t see them.”

“Right, makes sense.” You pick up your shoes and carry them with you as you creep down the stairs behind Steve, feeling sneaky even though nobody else is home.

Steve flicks on a light to illuminate a pretty cozy basement set up. The couch appears to have lost most of its oomph and the carpet could use a vacuum, but it’s not too bad.

On the other side of the room, there’s an unmade bed, a nightstand, and a dresser scattered with various boy items. Deodorant, cologne, a bottle of lotion, and–

“Is that Farrah Fawcett spray?” you ask, pointing.

Steve grimaces. “Yes.”

You nod. “It’s a pretty good product. Doesn’t leave the hair too crunchy like other sprays.”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah you’re right. I don’t like that weird greasy feeling.” He takes the VHS out of your hands and goes to crouch in front of the TV.

You drop your shoes by the stairs and sit down on the couch. It’s surprisingly softer than it looks. Steve pops in the VHS and the TV lights up. He goes to turn off the overhead lights before flopping down next to you on the couch with a groan.

He rolls his head to the side to look at you. “You didn’t want popcorn or anything did you?”

You shake your head. “I did not assume this was a full-service movie theatre.”

Steve shakes his head. “Sorry I can’t offer the works.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. You pull your legs up and hug them, settling back into the corner of the couch. Steve, who is spread out with his legs up on the coffee table, glances at you.

“You cold?”

“A little,” you admit. You’re only wearing a thermal shirt and jeans, which isn’t really enough to hang out in a midwestern basement in the winter.

Steve stands up and walks over to the dresser, opening a door and digging through it. He tosses a gray sweatshirt to you. “Should be clean.” It says Hawkins Swim Team on the front.

“Thanks.” You inhale as you put it on. Laundry detergent. Sonofabitch. It’s only slightly disappointing to borrow a sweatshirt from Steve Harrington and have it not smell like him. But hey, your high school self is screaming with delight that any of this is happening at all.

Steve is quiet through the movie, his eyes glued to the screen. You sit halfway turned towards him, just so you can watch him as much as you watch the movie. The whole time, he doesn’t move a single inch closer to you.

As it goes on, your shoulders deflate and you relax into the couch, letting go of your legs and stretching them out slightly. You still keep them within your allotted cushion, so as not to intrude on Steve’s space. Steve’s sweatshirt is big enough that you can pull the sleeves over your hands, but not so oversized that you’re drowning.

Steve glances over at you. You whip your head forward and glue your eyes to the screen, hoping he didn’t catch you looking. When you dare to glance at him, he’s looking back at the screen again, but he’s smiling. You turn back to the screen and sigh.

“Ah!” you yelp when Steve reaches over and grabs your ankles, dragging your legs out and putting your feet in his lap. He pats your ankle. “Steve!”

“It’s okay to stretch out, Y/N,” he says, “you don’t have to sit all the way over there like you’re not allowed to touch me.” He shakes his head. “I don’t have cooties.”

“Sorry,” you apologize, “I didn’t know how– what– you know–”

“Shut up,” Steve says, shaking his head and rubbing your ankle, “it’s about to get good.”

You turn your eyes back to the screen but you can’t focus on Ripley when Steve is rubbing your ankle with his thumb, kneading out tension you didn’t even know you were holding. When he starts on the other one, your head drops back against the armrest.

“Seriously, Y/N, what are you doing over at college to have arthritic ankles?” Steve asks with a chuckle.

“Walking,” you grumble. “Walking everywhere. Up hills, down hills, on ice, not on ice.” You lean up on your elbows. “It’s like a 20 minute walk between chemistry at 11 and computing at 12.”

“Chemistry and computing huh?” Steve says. “Smarty pants.” You know he’s teasing but it hits you right in the gut.

And that’s it. That’s what cracks the dam. You start crying.

“Hey, hey, hey, woah, woah, woah,” Steve pauses the movie and shuffles closer to you to wrap an arm around you and nudge your head down on his shoulder. “What happened? What’s wrong?” he asks as he rubs your back.

You sniffle, getting a faint whiff of his cologne through your now-stuffy nose. “I’m a failure,” you admit. “I failed chemistry and computing.”

“No, no,” Steve says hesitantly. “You’re not a failure. You’re like the smartest person in our grade.”

“Everyone at Northwestern was the smartest person in their grade,” you say, hiccuping. “I’m not cut out for it.”

“Okay,” Steve says, rubbing your back more intently. “So you failed those two. That’s two classes out of probably hundreds of classes at Northwestern.”

You sigh and wipe your nose with the sleeve of Steve’s sweatshirt. “I didn’t fail my English class.”

“See!” Steve exclaims.

“Actually,” you laugh a little, “I had the highest grade in the class.” You lift your head up just to see the excitement in his eyes.

“That’s so great, Y/N!” He says, “you’re good at English! Who needs chemistry and computing anyway?”

“Engineers,” you say quietly, slumping back down with your cheek on Steve’s shoulder. He wraps his arm around you and squeezes your shoulders. He’s warm and soft and comfortable. You’d sit there forever in his arms if you could.

“Who says you have to be an engineer?” he asks quietly, as if he knows the answer.

“My dad,” you whisper. “He expects a lot out of me.”

“Did you tell him you don’t want to be an engineer?”

You shake your head and some of your hair falls across your face. Steve reaches up with his other hand and brushes it back over your shoulder, careful not to mess up the curls. You can hear his heart beating a slow, steady rhythm, and slowly, your heart slows down too as your stress and anxiety start to melt away.

Your hands are still in your lap and the urge to lift one up and hug Steve back is hard to fight. But he’s right there and he smells so good and his shoulder muscles are a good pillow and his hand is warm on your back and you forget about the fact that he was the most popular boy in your grade and you were just the nerdy girl he came to for help with his homework,

You lift your hand and place it on his shoulder – the one you’re not resting your head on. Steve doesn’t stiffen under your hand, he just squeezes you tighter around your shoulders, holding you against his chest.

Before you lose your nerve and stop yourself, you lift your head and press your lips against his jaw. He jumps.

“I’m sorry!” you exclaim, immediately scrambling backwards, realizing you’re practically sitting on his lap but there’s nowhere to go unless you go over the arm of the couch. “Sorry, I misread that. I’m sorry.”

Steve catches you before you fall back off the couch and pulls you back into his lap. He grabs your face and kisses you hard. “You didn’t misread it,” he assures you. “I just knew you were stressed and didn’t want to make it wor–”

You kiss him again, reaching up to shove your fingers into his hair. It’s as soft as you’d always imagined, just like his lips – full and sweet against yours. Now that you’ve given him the green light, Steve wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you flush against him, gripping the fabric of the sweatshirt he lent you up around your hips.

Holy fucking hell. You’re kissing Steve Harrington. Steve Fucking Harrington is kissing you in his basement. He is laying you back on his couch and cradling you in his arms. Steve Harrington is pushing his thigh between your legs. Holy fuck.

Your mind can’t keep up with everything that’s happening as you and Steve slide down lay on your sides, barely fitting on the couch. But you throw your leg over his and he holds you and his arms – God his arms – are muscular and strong and you know he won’t let you fall.

Steve slides one hand down to your hip, encouraging you to move against his thigh. Between that pressure and the seam of your jeans hitting the right spot, you barely have the capacity to keep kissing him. His mouth is wet and hot as his tongue snakes between your lips.

You have to come up for air. You tilt your head back and reach up to push your hair away from your face. With your arm up, Steve takes the opportunity to push his hand under the sweatshirt.

“Okay?” he asks. You nod and suck in a breath as he untucks your shirt to slide underneath it. You shiver when his fingers pull down the cup of your bra and brush over your nipple. Everything about the situation is so intense and dirty and more than you ever imagined and both of you are still fully clothed.

Steve leans in and kisses your neck, sucking lightly on your skin as he pinches and rolls your nipple between his fingers. You instinctively move against his thigh, looking for any friction to satisfy the need between your legs. You almost forget you’re a virgin.

Almost. When Steve meets your hips with his own and you feel the hard bulge between his legs your eyes fly open and you almost roll backwards off the couch.

“Ah, fuck,” you say as you land on your elbow, legs still tangled with Steve’s, halfway on the couch and halfway off the couch. Pain shoots up your arm.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks. His cheeks are red and his lips swollen. His chest heaves as he reaches down and lifts you back onto the couch. With your head cradled in his arm, you have a nice view of his chest as he strokes your hair.

“I’m a virgin,” you squeak out, not looking up to meet his eyes. Steve reaches down to lift your chin, so you’re forced to look into those big, brown eyes you like so much. “Is that okay?”

“I’m okay with whatever you’re okay with,” Steve says, leaning back against the couch and dropping his hand to your neck. “If you want to stop and go home, I’ll take you home. If you want to stay and just hang out, we can do that.”

“What if I don’t want either of those things?” you ask, knitting your eyebrows together.

Steve runs his thumb along your jaw. “Then you tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen,” he says simply, as if it’s that easy. Your face goes hot and you bury your face in his chest. Steve laughs, shaking the entire couch. You can hear it booming through his chest. “You’re thinking dirty thoughts, huh, Y/N?”

You shake your head and snuggle closer into his chest, denying what you’ve been thinking about since sophomore year of high school.

“Come on,” Steve says, “tell me.”

You look up at him. “Please don’t make me say it.” He smiles.

“Alright.” Leaning down to kiss you again, he somehow maneuvers to nudge you onto your back and then holds himself up over you on his elbows. “How about, I kiss you again, and you tell me if it’s an okay place to kiss you? Deal?” You nod.

Steve leans down and presses a soft kiss against your cheek. You smile, so he kisses you on the lips. “Face is okay,” you say softly.

“How about here?” Steve inclines his head to kiss your neck. You nod, inhaling sharply when he lightly sucks on your skin again. You push your hand into his hair as he moves to kiss your collarbone and shoulder through the sweatshirt. “Can I take this off to kiss your skin?” Steve asks, sitting up and tugging at the hem of the gray sweatshirt. You nod and sit up.

Steve lifts the sweatshirt and your thermal over your head, tossing them both aside as you wrap your arms around yourself against the sudden breeze and his gaze. Steve smiles and reaches for your hand. He lifts your fingers to his mouth. You gasp when he sucks on your index finger instead of kissing it, rolling his tongue around the tip and drawing it into his mouth before letting go with a light pop.

Placing your hand next to your head, Steve lifts your other one to his mouth and applies a light kiss to your palm. This one, he lifts and places on the back of his head as he settles down between your legs. You sigh happily as he kisses the spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

His hands wind around your waist, rubbing your back as he makes his way across your chest with his mouth, down to the top of your bra. “Here?” he asks, his mouth hovering over your breast. You run your fingers through his hair, scratching the scalp with your nails. You nod.

Steve reaches up and gently slides your bra strap off your shoulder before pulling the cup down and taking your nipple into his mouth. He runs his tongue around it as his hot breath fans out over your skin. You inhale deeply, fisting his hair in your hand.

Chest heaving, you arch your back and let Steve reach behind you to remove your bra, which he places gently on the coffee table. This time, you don’t clam up, keeping your hands next to your head on the arm of the couch.

“Wow,” Steve says, openly staring at your chest. He rubs his chin and blinks. “I– Wow.”

“Steve Harrington is rendered speechless by boobs?” you ask.

“I mean,” Steve scoffs, “I am by those.” He reaches down, cupping a breast in each hand. “Wow.”

He spends a bit more time with your boobs before making his way further down your body. Your stomach turns as he presses kisses along the bottom of your ribs, then along the waistband of your jeans. He taps the fabric covering your hip bone.

“Here?”

You nod, reaching down for the button of your jeans, but Steve swats your hands away, undoing the button himself before drawing down the zipper. He pulls down the waistband just enough to reveal your hip on that side and kisses you. Goosebumps spring up all over as he sucks your skin into his mouth again, a slight pain shooting through your core. You twist slightly, trying to squeeze your thighs together.

Steve sits up and you think he’s going to pull off your jeans, but he doesn’t. He reaches up and yanks his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. He leans down to kiss you again but you shove him back by the shoulders.

“Wha–”

“Shh.” You run your fingers along his collarbones and down his chest. Crafted through years of swimming and basketball, Steve still has the body of an athlete. Except now he has chest hair. You run your hands over his chest again, feeling the course but soft texture.

“You good?” Steve asks, holding his hands up near his head. He’s grinning down at you, watching you. You let your fingers trace down the planes of his stomach, still hard and muscular.

“I’m good,” you tell him, smiling as you reach for his hands to pull him back down on top of you. He rests carefully on top of you, his skin warm against yours as he kisses you again. It’s gentle and wet and a little sloppy, but perfect.

Steve pulls away just enough to speak, his nose still brushing yours. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks, his voice low and husky.

“Mmhm.” You nod and tilt your chin up to kiss him again. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth before letting go.

“I just want you to know I didn’t expect this when I brought you here,” he says softly. “But I’m happy it’s happening.”

You smile. “I didn’t think you expected anything,” you tell him, “you wanted to take me home, remember?”

Steve grins. “Well I didn’t want to take you home,” he leans down and kisses your cheek, then whispers in your ear, “I wanted to sit you up on the counter at the video store, spread those beautiful legs of yours, and find out what you taste like.”

You squeeze your thighs around Steve’s hips, wiggling underneath him. He tucks his head into your neck and grinds against your hips in response. Pleasure shoots through your core, knots tying themselves in your belly.

“You really think that?” you ask quietly, “About me?”

Steve lifts his head from your neck. “Well,” he raises his eyebrows, “maybe not always. But you came in wearing these tight jeans,” he grunts as he reaches down to squeeze your ass, “and I remembered how nice you always were to me. Helping me with homework and stuff, you know.”

“I always figured you were just using me,” you admit, “but I let you because you’re so pretty.”

One side of his mouth quirks up into a smile. “I wasn’t using you,” he tells you, and you almost believe him.

“Why are you being so sweet to me?” you ask, furrowing your brows together.

“Because,” Steve pauses, “I don’t know.” He sighs and rolls off of you to the side. “I guess maybe I’m trying to be a better person than I was in high school. Give more people a chance.”

“Even nerds like me?” you ask.

Steve scoffs. “Y/N, who did I date in high school?”

“Nancy Wheeler?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “And is Nancy Wheeler a popular cheerleader type or–?”

You groan. “She’s smart too. You like the nerdy girls.”

“Yep!” Steve kisses your cheek. “Why do you think I kept coming to you for help with my homework after she dumped me?” You roll your eyes over to look at him. Steve squeezes your waist and leans in to whisper in your ear. “Because I always thought you were cute.”

“You did?”

Steve chuckles. “How many times do I have to say it before you believe me?”

“Maybe just one more,” you say, smiling as you lean in to kiss him. Steve cradles your cheek in his hand, gently pushing his tongue into your mouth. Without thinking, you suck on his tongue the way he sucked your lip into his mouth.

He squeezes your waist and grinds his hips against your side, groaning into your mouth. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he gasps when you let him go. “God–” he leans in and kisses you again. His hand slides down your neck, down between your breasts, and rests on your stomach.

Inch by inch, he moves down your torso, fingers tickling your skin. When his pinky finger brushes the top of your panties, he stops and lifts his head to look at you. Your eyes flutter open.

“Here?” he says softly, barely above a whisper as he slips his pinky finger into your panties.

Your chest tightens and you inhale sharply in anticipation. You nod.

“There.”

Steve kisses you again, just folding your lips together, as he slides his hand beneath the fabric, touching you in a place you’ve only touched yourself before. You inhale sharply as his finger brushes over your clit.

You gasp against his lips, reaching up to grip his shoulder as he circles it gently, sending pleasure through your body. You lift your hips up to meet his hand, involuntarily grinding against his fingers. He stretches his fingers down to spread the wetness leaking from you up around your clit, and you relax a bit in his arms.

“You’re good?” he asks softly, barely pulling away from your mouth so his lips brush yours when he speaks.

“I’m good,” you say faintly.

Steve kisses your lips one more time, then lifts his head. “Do you want to take your jeans off?”

You look up at him and nod, biting your lip in anticipation. Steve grins and gives you a quick kiss before sitting up on his knees at the other end of the couch. He grabs the waistband of your jeans and pulls as you lift your hips.

“Don’t need these,” Steve says, balling up your jeans and tossing them aside. He leans down and reaches for the waistband of your panties, but stops and looks at you.

“Don’t need those either,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself against the chill you feel without Steve on top of you.

Steve smiles and pulls off your panties. You curl your legs to the side as he places them gently on the ground.

“I’m scared, Steve,” you say softly. He rubs your knees gently with his hands.

“Of what?”

You hesitate. “That you won’t like it.”

Steve sinks back on his heels and sighs. “You’re not still on about this are you?”

You cover your eyes. “I’m sorry! I’ve never done this before! I don’t know, every other guy acts like whatever this,” you gesture between your legs, “is it’s the most disgusting thing ever and the idea of being near it will turn them into like, a worm or something!”

Steve frowns. “Someone said that to you?”

“It was implied once,” you grumble.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve says, grabbing your wrists and pulling them away from your face. “That guy was the biggest idiot ever, whoever he was. Everything about you is, is–” he shakes his head, “is tantalizing okay? It is a goddamn privilege to be with you, and don’t you let anyone tell you otherwise, okay?”

You nod, furrowing your eyebrows together. “Okay.”

“Now,” Steve puts his hands back on your knees, “can I please, please get between your legs because I did not anticipate having to work this hard just to go down on you.” You can tell by his smile that he’s not mad. This is Steve Harrington begging you to let him eat you out. It’s not something you ever could have imagined.

“G–go ahead,” you manage. You close your eyes, sliding down to rest your head on the couch cushion,

Your eyes shoot open, staring unfocused at the ceiling when you feel Steve’s mouth on you. It’s warm and it’s wet and nothing like anything you’ve ever felt before. You gasp for air at the overwhelming sensation of him sucking your clit into his mouth.

“Steve, holy shit,” you cry, reaching down for his hair.

He raises his head for a second. “It’s good right?” You push his mouth back down between your legs. Before he starts lapping at you again, you feel him smile and you smile a little bit too. You throw your arm over your forehead as you watch Steve, gripping his hair between your fingers.

He looks really pretty, his eyes closed and his brows furrowed in concentration. He wraps his hands around your thighs, kneading lightly with his fingers. He comes up for breath.

“God you taste good,” he pants, “like way better than I imagined.” He dives back in before you can respond. One of his hands slips off your thigh and he looks up at you. You can see the question in his eyes. You nod.

“Oh holy shit,” you gasp when he slips a finger inside you. There’s a new sensation. Not quite a stretch, but a welcome invasion. When he curls it and strokes the walls inside you, your back arches involuntarily. Moans fall from your lips. He’s playing your body like it’s an instrument.

The pleasure in your core builds and builds until it finally crescendos. Your legs shake and you dig your heels into Steve’s back to keep from kicking him. You fist his hair between your fingers, threatening to rip it out by the root.

And then it’s over and you flop back down on the couch cushions breathing hard. Steve licks your pussy with the flat of his tongue one last time as he withdraws his finger. You lift your head just enough to watch him stick his middle finger in his mouth and suck on it, staring up at you.

He pulls his finger out of his mouth and grins as he leans over you. He brushes your hair off of your neck and rests his hand on your cheek.

“Good?”

You nod. “More than good.”

Steve grins and leans down to press his lips against yours. His lips are salty now, and you realize it’s your taste. The taste he’d been lusting after the whole time. You smile against his lips. Maybe soon you’ll be ready to taste him too.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington s3 #steve harrington s4 #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot

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shoyoackerman · 2 years

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fate brought me to your mini College Student Keiji hc and I never knew I needed this side of keiji. I never simped for him or payed him lots of attention (the stupidity, I know this now), but I love how you wrote him in timeskip!! I wanted to know if you could do more college!keiji hcs in the future. Actually I’ll ask properly-when you have time and a chance, can you please do more college!keiji hcs that elaborate more into his daily life and shenanigans? (maybe why he decided to get those hot piercings too?) SORRY FOR BEING SPECIFIC, I just loved the writing! It’s nice seeing him with more to him than just the books and dark academia vibe!

thank youuuu I’m so glad you liked it!! I’m definitely gonna be doing more college hcs for other Haikyuu characters so if you’d like to request for more, you’re more than welcome! I hope you like this one

college!keiji hcs

| Keiji is not proud to admit, but he can’t count on both hands how many times he has been close to being arrested by the police. He would like to say that his friends are to blame, but really he is just as much to blame. (The Taco Friday incident both highly iconic and banned from discussions)

| Avid ice eater. He gets shit from Tetsurou and Shoyo who both like to make fun of him by gifting him a bag of ice for his birthday — jokes on them, he finishes it by the end of the week — He just likes the numbing feeling of eating the ice and likes the way it tastes. (Is a water elitist and won’t drink certain brands of water)

| Keiji takes Art, Law and the study of Classics. The last two are heavy content, and definitely stresses him out when he gets too caught up in his brain. Thankfully he has great friends who will drag him from his dorm (they have once physically tied him up in tape) and help clear his mind.

| One of the many ways is by smoking a little green. When Keiji was first offered he completely panicked and was thinking of all the ways he was going to jail and how his life would be ruined and would be forced to sell his body behind a 7/11 for slushie.

| He now is one of the most prominent stoners in the group, second to Shoyo and Satori. Weed helps calm him down, stops the overthinking and lets him have the best sleep ever. It also is when he is coerced (not really because he usually starts the drama) into participating in the dumbest of shit. He likes to complain but secretly he loves it.

| He still overthinks and some days are worse than others. Thinks that his friends don’t really like him, that they’re only pitying him. Thinks that everyone will still see him as boring, plain Keiji. Fears one day he’ll wake up back in high school and all his progress will be wiped away.

| Of course those fears are wiped away when Kotaro comes running into his room and physically lifts him from his bed because it’s movie night and they were watching the princess and the frog and he needs to hug Keiji when Dr. Facilier shows up.

| Keijis tattoos and piercings mean a lot to him. They were the first step of his new persona and he was both scared but excited. He was questioned a lot by everyone. His friends were all concerned but they stopped the questions and were supportive when they saw how mesmerised and happy Keiji was.

| Mans has the highest pain tolerance. Breezes through every tattoo and piercings. Has the audacity to say ‘oh that didn’t hurt as much as I thought’ when getting a tattoo on his ribcage.

| CRYSTAL BOY KEIJI. Has tarot cards all over his dorm room and his crystals are everywhere. Open the kitchen cupboard for a cup, you’ll find an Amethyst there instead. In the bathroom looking to wash your hands, you mistake the soap for rose quartz. His crystals are the equivalent of his children. Kotaro and Yuji were playing around with one of his crystals, dropped them and watched as their life flashed before their eyes.

| Nobody talks about May 13th. Dubbed as the reckoning of Keiji Akaashi.

| ASTROLOGY BOY KEIJI. Our favourite Sagittarius. (has his sign tattooed behind his ear) ABSOLUTELY will bring up people's signs as to why they're being bitchy that day. Has multiple astrology apps on his phone that he will pull out during an argument. If he feels like being petty he will outright say ‘you're a Virgo? We can’t be friends’ Sends everyone their horoscopes for the day.

| Likes to roleplay warrior cats with Kenma. Shoyo and Takanobu walked in on the two of them on their hands and knees hissing at each other with cat ears and tail. Immediate trauma and needed to be consoled when they were attacked by the two of them.

| Coffee addict? No. Energy drink addict? Absolutely fucking yes. Has an actual wall of energy drinks in his room. Is extremely proud of himself. Is in competition with Shoyo, Kenma and Satori over who has more energy drinks. (Nobody drives with Satori purely for the fact has backseat has been overtaken by empty cans)

| Has scared little children with his tattoos and piercings.

| Keiji, Shoyo and Kenma are a triple threat when they’re all dressed up. Pulls the most bitches out of everyone in the group. Much to their friends' disbelief because they’re also the biggest gremlins ever.

| Bleached his eyebrows and dyed them purple. Was dared to whilst high. Tetsurou dared him. In return for no reason at all Kotaro dyed his ass in support. Nobody dared him and nobody knows why they encouraged his behaviour.

| Nobody would expect it, but whenever he studies Keiji likes to listen to phonk. He can’t explain it but it helps him study better. Everyone get the surprise of their life when he was handed the aux cord.

+ BONUS

When Keiji got his first tattoo his parents didn’t talk to him for four months. Ignored his presence and acted like they didn’t have a child in the first place. Their reactions had made Keiji regret what he did and he was almost tempted to get a tattoo removal appointment. But his friends had been there to talk with him, to help him understand that he had no reason to change who he was becoming. That it wasn’t his problem but his parents who needed to understand and learn. That he was not the problem.

Overtime Keiji grew comfortable into his own skin, slowly coming out of the box that he had been confined in.

His parents slowly became more accepting and understanding. They understood that they were at fault when the three of them sat down and talked. There are still some difficulties that they are yet to sort through but Keiji can see the change in his parents.

His tattoos are his safe place and one of his ways of self-expression. No distinct style but Keiji loves that, his body is a chaotic mess of ink to anyone who doesn’t know him. But each tattoo, no matter how obtuse, has a special meaning and memory.

(He has eight tattoos along his left arm. Small chibi animals that represent his friends. When they saw it, they all burst into tears)

+ BONUS PT.2

| Keiji Akaashi Playlist (he religiously plays this 24/7)

+ BONUS PT.3

| Keiji has three styles. (Plus when he’s a gremlin in a dirty hoodie and sweats)

#haikyuu #haikyuu college au #keiji akaashi #shoyo hinata #kuroo tetsurou #kozume kenma #kotaro bokuto #takanobu aone #yuji terushima #suna rintaro #tendo satori #my loves #numba ones FR #chaotic gays #haikyuu 2022 #haikyuu au #haikyuu headcanons #shoyoackerman

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halowritesthings · 2 years

Text

take a chance (break a leg)

Fandom: Thunderbirds

Pairing: Jeff & Alan

Word Count: 3198

Summary: It appears that Alan has been repeatedly sneaking out without anyone knowing. None of the brothers are brave enough to confront him about it immediately. Fortunately—or unfortunately, it was hard to tell—the last eight years Jeff spent in space was just enough to rip away any sense of tact he might have had towards stuff like this, meaning he was more than ready to do the talking-to himself.

@tagminibang2022 (@tagminibang) TIME WOOO

the artist i was given was the lovely @teapotteringabout! when i was given them i was SO STOKED to write something since all of their art is amazing!! i had a hard time picking, there were a handful of pieces that tickled my muse with inspo, but ultimately, this one here gave my brain enough imagery to create a fully-fledged fic

this fic can also be found on my ao3 under the same title, and as always, i hope you enjoy! :D

Jeff remembered a very old college acquaintance.

They had to write a paper for a psychology class, and they curiously picked the topic of parents. They wondered that once an adult received the title of “parent,” would their mind continue to gravitate toward parental instincts even if they began to believe they would never see that child again for whatever reason. A sort of “nature vs. nurture” topic, a question about humanity’s tendency to pick kindness over their previous survival-based inhibitions.

Jeff never got a chance to read that paper, but he’s got the feeling he no longer needs to do so to know the answer.

“Guys, Alan’s a good kid, he’s not gonna do anything stupid. I seriously don’t see why you’re all so up-in-arms about this.”

“Of course you don’t, Gordon. You just want Alan to overtake your record of ‘amount of nights snuck out’ so you don’t have it held over your head anymore.”

“Hey, it wasn’t just me all those times you know! You know Virgil helped me out occasionally!”

“He did what?”

“Thanks, Gordon.”

“You haven’t told them yet?”

“Well, unlike you, I prefer living to see tomorrow.”

“Guys, don’t make me come down from Five to help you sort this out. What has already happened is over and done, now we gotta focus on the currently happening.”

“Right, sorry. Now, anybody know-”

Jeff took that cue to leave the listening-in behind and go to his room. Shutting the door with his back to it, Jeff let out a sigh. Okay, now it was time for him to think.

Alan was sneaking out. None of his kids knew why or how or even when. They only figured it out when John did a regular camera check and found old recordings of Alan somehow briefly disabling security measures that warned them of movement in the hangars to nab a car to fly out to the Mainland for a few hours before sneaking back as if nothing happened. Jeff had to admit that it was difficult to imagine Alan doing that. Sure, he had his moments of being your typical child, but nothing that gave Jeff the impression that he would do this.

And that was the thing, wasn’t it? Outside of Scott and John, Jeff doesn’t know what his kids got up to in their later-teenage years. He was gone, basically good as dead, for some of the most important years of their life. Now, your life doesn’t peak between the ages of fifteen and thirty or whatever those high-school-college jock has-beens insist, he still had plenty of time with them (something not a lot of other families had the miracle of saying), but he would still feel a ball of sorrow in his chest for leaving them alone for a long time coming.

The fact that Virgil was just as guilty of being sneaky put a smile on his face, though. He knew that kid was too quiet for his own good. It was vital for a child to break the rules a little; builds character, you know?

Walking over to his desk, Jeff picked up the singular picture frame he chose to be what accented the piece of furniture throughout him readjusting back to Earth. He had plenty of other pictures of his family, but this one was his pièce de résistance, in a manner of speaking. Running his finger over the corner of the wood, he grinned at the memory.

The first time they all went over to the Mainland together once Jeff was strong enough to do so. Even Kayo, his mother, and Brains were in the pic, though MAX and EOS weren’t there. Mostly because EOS refused to come and no one trusted MAX to be in the general public. Regardless, all nine of them were grouped for a picture that was possible thanks to something Brains made for specific instances like that, and Jeff considered it his favorite. His entire family all together once more; a sign that said things that may be tough now, but they will get better.

A knock on his door brought Jeff out of his thoughts, making him put the picture back in its spot just in time for him to turn around and lean back against his desk to watch his mother walk into the room. She spoke with a grin, “Knock knock?”

“Hey mom,” Jeff said, “to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

She closed the door behind her like Jeff did earlier, concerning him somewhat. That was a tell-tale sign that she wanted to tell him something without anyone from outside hearing the conversation. She crossed her arms, leaning against the entrance to doubly make sure no one could barge in, “I’m assuming you heard the boys talking about Alan as well?”

Jeff had no idea where he got his eavesdropping habit from, why do you ask, “Yeah, and I have just as little of an idea as they do. Sure, it makes sense that I specifically wouldn’t understand Alan sneaking out, but the fact they don’t probably means we won’t know for a while. Confronting him will just make him squirrely too.”

His mom walked across the room to brush some lint and dust off the shoulders of his shirt, “And you’re saying you’re the type of person to give up, then?”

Ah, so that’s why she shut the door, “Of course not. You think I’m giving up after eight years of not doing so?”

“Atta boy,” his mother grinned, turning ever so slightly to glance at the photo on his desk as well. “That kid practically kisses the ground his brothers walk on. I think you might have a better shot at getting him to open up with what might be a lack of pressure, you know?”

Jeff sighed, not all-too-positive about that supposed “lack of pressure” he had over their youngest, “I sure hope that’s the case.”

---

Something Jeff found to be hard to do again was sleep normally.

You would think being trapped in literal space meant a lot of time to rest, but when one second of things going wrong meant your demise, you had to be on your toes no matter what. It took Jeff a little bit of work, but he managed to create a sleep schedule that gave him the least amount of shut-eye for the perfect amount of energy he needed to survive. It wasn’t optimal, but he was already lost in space, so he took what he got without crying about it.

Also, John couldn’t get mad at his crappy sleep once it finally helped them solve this Alan case; Jeff took smug comfort in that.

From what it sounded like, there was no exact pattern to his escapades. Most of the footage showed random times he chose to leave the island, ranging from when his brothers were all passed out after a rescue to straight up just leaving in the middle of the afternoon. Jeff supposed half the reason none of them confronted Alan about it yet was that they didn’t want to open the can of worms that was them not realizing they weren’t paying as much attention to Alan as they thought they were.

So the fact that Jeff could stay up for three-fourths of the day and watch the garage for Alan’s presence was a big factor in finally catching him in the act.

He was about to call it quits on the third night, but his brain was telling him to give it one more shot, especially since the rest of his kids had a long rescue on the coast of Finland that day and were conked out until practically next year. He had never been more grateful for his intuition, as he came out to the car garage right at the same time Alan was about to open the door to one of their cars. He quickly noticed Jeff out of the corner of his eye and yanked his hand back like the handle burned him.

“Je- Dad!” Alan stuttered, shoving something behind his back with both arms. “What, uh, what fancies you around here at this time of night?”

Stepping out from the shadows, Jeff crossed his arms in the hopes he looked more stern than he did threatening, “Just taking a stroll around the house. Sleep hasn’t been coming to me all that easily, you know. I have the feeling that’s not why you’re here, though.”

Alan nervously cleared his throat, “Eh, you never know what might be going through one’s mind. The night tends to bring mysteries with it.”

So Alan was definitely taking after Gordon in terms of deflecting. Gordon was easy to break through with a little bit of digging, but that didn’t make his nonchalance less, mm, irritating was a strong word, but when you spent ten minutes with Gordon and all he did was crack jokes, it got a little draining. Jeff opened his mouth to continue gently drilling his son, but then he noticed the object Alan was trying to hide. It appeared to be an oddly shaped plank of wood, a bright red plastic wheel attached to it sticking out from behind Alan.

Was… Was Alan sneaking out to go skateboarding?

That relieved some of Jeff’s worries. At least Alan wasn’t into anything (obviously) illegal, and he was an adult however young that adult status may be, so it wasn’t like any of them could tell him no to leaving and partaking in a sports hobby. It just left the question of why Alan felt the need to sneak out to do something so inconsequential as skateboard.

“Well, since we’re here, I think we should talk a little,” Jeff extended an olive branch, not so subtly stepping between Alan and the car. “I haven’t had that much time to hang out with you yet, and since we’re two young men that obviously can’t sleep, we might as well make use of it. What do you like doing in your free time? Any sports? Something like basketball, soccer… maybe even skateboarding?”

Alan tensed up, and Jeff knew he hit it right on the money.

Jeff hoped his smirk was as subtle as he wanted it to be, “Man, I remembered when I skateboarded as a teen. Was always visiting the rink every other weekend if I could help it. Not sure it did as much for my calves as I wanted it to, but I tried my best.”

Alan thankfully and reluctantly took the branch for what it was, “You skateboarded?”

Jeff nodded, leaning his butt against the hood of the car above one of the tires, “Oh yes, just ask your grandma. She has lots of pictures of me with porcupine quills in my face while sitting in the emergency room of a Kansas hospital one time.”

Alan abruptly laughed before bringing one of his hands from his back to place over his mouth, “Sorry.”

Jeff shook his head while moving to the driver’s door, “Don’t be. It was an incredibly stupid day for me, and I quickly learned my lesson about what is a ‘cool’ trick and an ‘idiotic’ one.”

“Uh, what are…” Alan started to ask as Jeff opened the door to the car.

Jeff raised an eyebrow, “Well, I always hated when I missed one of my skateboard weekends because the farm needed extra help. Don’t want to keep you. Plus, we technically can’t sleep, remember? And there’s no point in standing around all bored when there’s much more fun things to take part in.”

The way Alan beamed excitedly made Jeff think the cold eight years in space might finally become water under the bridge for him one day.

Virgil had recently been taking Jeff in the car to let him practice driving again, so he wasn’t going into it blind. He knew Alan was capable of driving—clearly, if the kid could sneak off the island so often without a single scratch—but since he was there, “By the way, who taught you to drive? I figured you all would eventually get behind a wheel, but there’s thinking about it and then there’s actually seeing it.”

As the shotgun's door shut, Alan winced, “Oh, yeah, that… Hah, what if I told you it wasn’t anyone from the island that taught me technically?”

Sighing, Jeff shook his head as he started the ignition, “Of course.” He was going to have a talk with Parker, because really, who else could it be?

Alan gave him directions as he flew the two of them to the Mainland, eventually landing somewhere in New York City. The two of them sat in the car for a few minutes, Alan noticeably fidgeting with his board as a million thoughts raced through his head. “Hey, I’m sorry to be rude,” Alan interrupted. “But do you mind, um…”

Jeff stayed silent, letting Alan get to his question on his own time.

Alan swallowed the spit in his mouth, “Do you mind staying out of sight of the skatepark? You can watch me if you want, I just…”

Ah, Jeff didn’t need to ask why Alan felt the need to sneak out anymore.

His mother wasn’t too far off the marker when it came to the “pressure” Alan had on his shoulders. He was the youngest of five (six if Kayo involved herself in the equation) very talented and popular siblings that were birthed to one of the most notorious men of this century, not that Jeff was bragging. You couldn’t utter the name “Tracy” without someone in the vicinity having something to say about it, positive or negative.

“No problem, Alan,” Jeff answered before Alan could finish. He wasn’t offended in the slightest. Jeff knew what kind of presence he carried with him, especially after constantly being in the news for “coming back to life.” He was about to offer to stay in the car for Alan even because he knew he could disrupt the entire night if someone recognized him, so he was happy to have anything more than that.

Jeff couldn’t fault Alan for wanting a slice of normality before he dug his toes into their world. He clearly wanted to make a name for himself like Scott’s Air Force stint or Gordon’s gold medal, but everyone needed their moments to kick back and relax. To be your everyday common man that went home to recline on the couch and watch cheap TV dramas.

Alan sighed in relief, “Okay, cool, coolio… Thank you.” Alan began to step out of the car, “Now then, let’s get going. We don’t have all night!”

Jeff didn’t need to be told twice.

Standing carefully at the sidelines, Jeff watched as Alan put his skateboard down and rode it into the dip of the ring, voices echoing out as he disappeared.

“Dude, there you are!”

“We were wondering if you were going to show up.”

“I’ve been working on that trick I showed you last time!”

“That’s great to hear!” Alan’s voice finally jumped into the convo. “It’s not gonna be enough to beat me still, but I’m glad to see you’ve been trying!”

Jeff couldn’t help but quietly laugh at the sound of a bunch of voices playfully objecting.

After about two hours of watching Alan pull off some relatively cool tricks with his friends, Jeff was brought out of his thoughts by Alan waving and yelling goodbye, him soon popping over the edge of the ring with a big grin on his face. Jeff started turning around to head back to the car as Alan got closer, “Have fun down there?”

Alan nodded, absentmindedly spinning one of his skateboard wheels, “Definitely.”

The drive back was quiet. Jeff turned on the radio at a low volume when he noticed Alan drifting off. If he remembered correctly, when Alan had trouble sleeping as a small child, all they needed to do was play some gentle music and he would be out like a light. Finding a station with that kind of music, Jeff quickly learned that was still the case almost a decade later.

Then they were home, Jeff pulling the car back into the garage like absolutely nothing happened. Turning the vehicle off, Jeff took a second to push himself back into the seat with the steering wheel and stretch his muscles. After, he carefully reached over to shake Alan awake.

“Hey, wake up,” Jeff nudged his shoulder. “We’re home, and while I’d love to carry you back to bed like old times, I’m sure Scott will have my head on a pike for picking up anything more than twenty pounds.”

Alan murmured, rubbing his eyes before using one hand to grab his skateboard from the floor and one to open the door, “‘m up, ‘m up.”

Jeff chuckled, nearly mirroring his son as they got out of the car, shut their doors, and went to Alan’s room. As Alan continued onward, Jeff took a moment to pause in the living area and take a deep breath. He might not be perfect, but it was nice to know that space didn’t make him forget everything.

He eventually got to Alan’s room, the door still wide open, and when he leaned inside to see what Alan was up to he almost jumped. Alan’s shoes were shoved in the corner by his door, his skateboard haphazardly shoved into his closest, and his own self? Was curled up on the floor and leaning on the edge of the bed, only using a tiny part of the mattress as a pillow.

Jeff wasn’t sure if he should find the situation funny or not, “Do you… normally sleep like this?”

Alan shrugged, “Gr’ndma may not be able to cook but she p’cks nice rugs.”

“I suppose so,” Jeff couldn’t argue with that as he looked around the room for a blanket, eventually landing on a navy blue one dotted with white stars. He brought it over to Alan, gently draping it across his son’s shoulders. “Goodnight, Alan, try not to cramp those muscles too much

Alan grumbled but otherwise did not acknowledge Jeff’s words.

Shutting Alan’s door once outside, Jeff took a moment to stand there with one hand on the handle and the other resting lightly against its flat surface. He could practically feel the tension ooze out of his body. Tonight went… well. Great even. Jeff couldn’t be happier that he still knew how to click with his family despite feeling awkward and out of place. He’s already stated this.

He couldn’t help but feel like there was still a lot to do in their family, though. Sure, tonight went relatively okay, but there were still some noticeable bumps along the way. Jeff was sure to disappoint his sons as sure as his sons were probably worried about disappointing him. Eight years of separation was not going to be fixed quietly if it could be fixed at all.

But Jeff knew they would try their best to get there eventually.

Jeff would take part in multiple midnight skatepark visits if it meant he wasn’t giving up just yet.

#thunderbirds #jeff tracy #alan tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #tag minibang #tagminibang #tag minibang 2022 #halo be writin #fandom: thunderbirds #fic status: complete

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