#we were in a crowded classroom and he would just grope me and I would just sit there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

padfoot-and-prongsie · 3 years

Text

Sneaking Around || Fred Weasley

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 4.3k

Requested: No, but feel free to send some in!

Summary: Your Slytherin friends would never approve of your boyfriend, but then again, who said they had to know?

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, Umbridge, Slytherins being bullies, sexual innuendos

Disclaimer: I did not make this gif, credit to the lovely person who did

A/N: School has certainly kept me busy, but this is finally up! This fic was written for @theweasleysredhair 9k writing contest with the trope “secretly dating” and the prompt “I could kiss you write now”. I hope ya’ll like it <3

PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR STEAL MY WORK. REBLOGS ARE JUST FINE :)

The throng of students going back to the school was filled with loud chatter over the results of the Quidditch match, but you weren’t joining in. No, instead you were frantically scanning the crowds the moment you stepped out of the locker room, hoping you could catch a glimpse of red hair.

Montague was beside you, a sickly grin on his face despite the loss. In his and Malfoy’s opinions, the match had been a success, as last they saw George Weasley and Harry Potter they had all but been dragged off the pitch by McGonagall.

“Try to aim a little better next time, L/N,” Montague said. “With Weasley defending the goal it shouldn’t be that difficult to score points.”

“Well tell Goyle to get a bit more accurate,” you snapped back. “I can’t do anything with fucking Spinnet on me the whole time.”

Though it hurt to spit that out, Montague didn’t notice. None of them ever did. You really would deserve an award for the incredible acting you had done over the past year.

Montague made a face. “There’s only so much I can do with that oaf. Just step it up, L/N.”

You mock saluted him as he walked away, before quickly restarting your search for the all to familiar Weasley.

But once more you were stopped short when Malfoy caught up to you on the grass path back to the school.

He was quietly humming Weasley is Our King under his breath, an action that made you desperately want to punch him in the face. He already had a wad of cotton shoved up his nose from the last person who did that, and you could see some light bruises beginning to form on his arms. If he was in pain, he didn’t show it, though you had a feeling he would have the act ready for dinner that night.

“I’m looking to add some new verses to the song, any ideas?” he asked, falling into step beside you.

You shrugged hoping your shoulders weren’t as tense as they felt. If he had asked you last year you would have had a long string of words to call the Weasley family, but now you could hardly bring yourself to even hum the tune.

“I don’t know,” you finally answered, hoping he would get off your back.

Draco didn’t take the hint. “I need some rhymes for ugly and loser,” he said, a sadistic smirk on his face as he brought up the words that had sent Potter and George over the edge.

“How about you’re a real loser so talking to you is quite a snoozer,” you muttered, “and I know you’re already to begin with quite ugly, but you need to upgrade your fangirls, they’re a little to fugly,” you finished, eyeing Parkinson a few yards away who was bouncing up and down on her toes as she waited for Draco.

“Fuck you,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. “You're terrible help, you know that right?”

You ignored him, not even bothering to look back as he stepped off towards where Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle were waiting. Merlin you hated Draco Malfoy and tried to make that plenty obvious when he was around, but for some reason he kept coming back. At least you managed to take a few jabs at his ego. You were rather pleased with your little poem, if you did say so yourself.

You were all the way up to the castle when a small paper bird fluttered over to you, it’s delicate wings flapping wildly as it battled the wind. It landed gracefully on your palm, neatly unfolding itself to reveal the scrawled out message inside.

7th floor, back corridor, behind the tapestry of the One Eyed Witch

8 o'clock

It wasn’t signed but by now you were well familiar with the messy handwriting and a smile lit your face as you thought of the Weasley you had been looking for earlier. Glancing quickly over your shoulder to make sure Draco and his goons were far enough away, you hastily shoved the parchment in your pocket and continued on your way.

By now you were well used to the odd meeting choices, the cramped alcoves under the stairs and the dusty long forgotten classrooms. Yet as unpleasant as they could be sometimes, the exhilaration of sneaking around, the thrill of not getting caught, left your heart racing.

You could hardly focus during dinner that night, trying your best not to send too many glances over to the Gryffindor table. The red and gold were all in different stages of gloom, their eyes dull and smiles non-existent ever since they heard the recent news about the state of some of their best quidditch players. Potter, George, and Fred had both been banned for life on Umbridge’s orders, which had led to a buzz of glee around the Slytherin table as they gossiped excitedly over the news.

You did your best to sound just as thrilled, laughing over the Gryffindor’s bad fortune, pitying Malfoy when he dramatically limped over to the table, and snickering with the rest of them as Pansy and Draco worked on more verses to their song. But anyone who looked close enough could see the white of your knuckles as you gripped your glass of pumpkin juice, they way you had to restrain yourself from crushing the glass as they laughed at the expense of the Weasley family.

By 8 o’clock you were so fed up with the Slytherins that you were more than happy to flee from the common room, pounding up the many flights of stairs to reach the seventh floor.

You followed the instructions you had been given, navigating your way through the halls until you found the large tapestry that had been mentioned.

You slowly pulled it aside and immediately got hit by the strong stench of dust and mold. But you didn’t care about the smell, for almost instantly a strong pair of arms were wrapped around you and let out a giggle as you were spun around, before pressing a kiss to Fred’s lips.

Fred Weasley was grinning back at you, the light in his eyes that had been lost at dinner back as he took in your smiling face.

He kissed you again hard, pouring all his frustration and stress that had built up in the last week into it as his mouth moved roughly against yours.

When you pulled back for air, you were finally able to take him in. His cheeks were flushed red, and his hair had already taken on a tousled appearance from your fingers running through it. Fred’s eyes were bright with happiness as he looked back at you, his lips quirked up in the Fred Weasley smile you loved so much. But as you glanced down, you could make out the subtle hue of bruises forming on his arms from where Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had been gripping on to him for dear life to prevent him from attacking Draco just hours earlier.

Fred followed your gaze. “I got banned you know,” he finally said, the sadness creeping back into his eyes.

“Yeah, I heard,” you replied downheartedly.

“I didn’t even do anything to that prat,” Fred continued. “If I knew that hag would ban me anyway I would have punched every inch of Malfoy’s fucking body.”

You could see the anger spike in his eyes and you quickly placed a hand on his chest.

“Calm down, Freddie,” you said softly, waiting for his heart rate to return to normal. “I should have made them stop,” you whispered, “all I did was sit there and watch, I feel horrible.”

“Don’t apologize love, there’s nothing you could have done without anyone getting suspicious.” Fred said, absently running his hand through your hair.

“Suspicious of us?” you laughed. “I think we do a rather good job if I do say so myself.”

Fred’s smile returned. “Yes we are pretty secretive,” his lips quirk into a smirk and he pressed his mouth against yours. “Abandoned classrooms, ducking into alcoves,” he whispered against your lips. “There’s something sexy-” at that word his hands slipped lower, giving your bottom a squeeze “- about sneaking around.”

“Are you groping my ass?” you asked, humor dancing in your eyes.

Fred’s smirk widened and he placed another kiss on your lips. “What would you do if I was?”

“I’d tell you to stop wasting your time talking when you could have me up against that wall,” you whispered, biting your lip.

Fred’s eyes darkened in lust. “You really are little Slytherin, so coy at getting what you want.”

You smirked. “What can I say? That Sorting Hat picked right.”

“It sure did,” Fred agreed huskily, walking you back towards the wall.

As your body pressed against the stone you jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist and dragging his mouth down to meet yours.

Needless to say, you and Fred snuck out forty five minutes later, well passed curfew and both looking rather disheveled.

“Don’t get caught going back,” Fred whispered, glancing both ways down the hall.

“I won’t,” you assured him. “Besides, if I do Umbridge will probably get me out of it, she seems to have taken a liking in me.”

You gave him a pointed look. “It’s you I’m worried about, one bad step and she’ll expel you.”

Fred shrugged. “I’ve stopped worrying about that ever since she came to town.”

You sighed. “Just don’t do anything stupid yet, okay?”

“Okay okay,” Fred agreed grinning. “Just for you I won't.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him. “I’ll see you later.”

Fred pulled you in to kiss you once more, then let you go, being sure you were well down the corridor before he himself snuck off in the other direction.

You managed to make it back to the Slytherin common room undetected, only running into Mrs. Norris, who you stunned, then slipped by before she came to. The Slytherin common room was still bright with life at 9 oclock on a Saturday night, but no one questioned you when you walked in. Most students had snuck out past curfew their fare share of times, so they wrote you off as being no different then themselves

Doing your best to hide the grin on your face that usually came after being with Fred, you slipped upstairs to the girl’s dorms. Only one of your roommates was there, sorting through her trunk, but after exchanging pleasantries she left to go downstairs.

Falling onto your bed, you let out a sigh, the smile finally getting to appear on your face. Merlin this boy was going to be the death of you.

You had met Fred at the beginning last year after you both landed yourselves a week's worth of detention with McGonagall. At the time you had thought the redhead was the biggest prick you knew, and in turn, he saw you as a stuck up brat. Somehow though, amidst trophy cleaning, quiz grading, and classroom organizing, you had taken a liking to him. There was something about that easy smile and stupid sense of humor that got to you, and in turn, your quick wit and dry sarcasm had left him smitten.

It had been over a week after your time together in detention when you had seen Fred again, this time when he had come up behind you during passing time and, with a firm grip on your wrist, proceeded to pull you behind a statue in one of the more quiet corridors of Hogwarts.

“What the hell are you doing Weasley!” you had hissed, frantically looking around to make sure no one was near.

Instead of answering, Fred had gently placed his hands on either side of your face, fixing you with an intense gaze that left your heart racing.

“What are you doing?” you had whispered again softly, unconsciously stepping closer to him.

“For some idiotic reason, I can’t stop thinking about you,” Fred had said.

“Really?” you’d breathed, your heart starting to pound more fiercely.

“And for some even more idiotic reason,” Fred had continued. “I really want to know what it’s like to kiss you.”

The speed of your racing heart increased and you unconsciously found yourself glancing at his lips

Fred noticed, a smirk spreading across his mouth. In one flourish of motion you were pressed against his chest with his lips only inches from yours.

“But our houses,” you had whispered, looking up at his dark eyes.

A smirk had slowly spread across Fred’s face. “Who says anyone has to know?”

And then he had kissed you, hard, and from that moment forward you had completely and utterly fallen for Fred Weasley.

“Professor Umbridge wants to see you in her office,” a voice behind you said, causing you to jump violently, dropping the book you had been reading.

Turning in annoyance, you glared at Draco, who was behind you snickering.

“Prick,” you muttered under your breath, reaching down to pick up your book with the intention of continuing it.

“She really does want to see you,” Draco said.

Instantly you froze, your mind drifting to Fred.

“Why?” you managed to squeak out.

Draco gave you a suspicious look. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “She wanted me to round up a good lot of us. Your name was on the list.”

You let out a sigh of relief.

“Okay then,” you said, getting up from the couch, your demeanor returning to normal again. “Her office?”

Draco nodded. “I have to go tell Zabini and Montague, but I’ll meet you up there.”

“Sounds good,” you responded, stepping past him to leave the common room.

When you reached the office of Professor Umbridge, you were rather surprised to find its door ajar. Tentatively pushing it open, you were greeted by an extremely pink room and at least fifteen other Slytherins looking just as confused as you were.

“Ahh, Ms. L/N, thank you for coming,” said a high pitched voice that made your blood boil.

“Of course Professor. Thank you for inviting me,” you replied, a fake smile on your face.

She let out a little giggle. “Oh do I have a treat for you.”

She quickly ushered you over to stand with the rest of the group, then, once Draco showed up with the rest of the recruits, quickly clapped her hands for attention.

“I have received some shocking news,” she started, a grave look on her face. “It seems Harry Potter has formed a club. A club which wasn’t approved by me, and a club to teach others illegal and dangerous magic.” She paused dramatically.

For effect, you raised your eyebrows in surprise, though inside you were suddenly filled with a deep sense of dread. Anything Potter was involved with had a high chance Fred would be there too.

“Now, from a source we have learned where these meetings are being held, and it turns out there is one tonight. You all have been chosen by me to come stop this atrocity and give proper punishment to those involved.” Professor Umbridge's sickly smile widened. “Your services will be greatly rewarded by the minister himself.”

Around you, you could feel the Slytherins buzz in excitement, their smiles widening at a chance to get the Gryffindor's into trouble. Your smile was equally wide, but inside your nerves were piling up.

“They’re on the seventh floor, in the left corridor, across the painting of Barnabas the Barmy,” she said, jumping up and down on her stubby legs, a look of glee in her eyes. “Go catch them.”

There was a flourish of movement as everyone made for the door, pushing up the stairs and trying to be the first to catch the wrongdoers. You too were pushing to the front, but not because you wanted recognition from the ministry, but because you desperately wanted to be the one to catch Fred in hopes that you could find a way to get him out unscathed.

As you reached the seventh floor, it seemed the Gryffindors had been given a heads up, as swarms of people were running out of a doorway you had never seen before. Upon closer observation, you realized that there were far more than a few Gryffindors, as Umbridge had suggested, but in fact there were more than fifty people from a wide range of houses sprinting down the hall.

“Get them!” Umbridge shrieked from behind you, and you instantly took off, shoving your way through the chaos.

Fred and George ran from the Room of Requirement, for once not joking about their predicament. Behind them, Harry was quickly running around, trying to usher everyone out as a mob of Slytherins filled the corridor.

Together with George, Fred ducked down one of the side corridors, hoping he could make it to the boys bathroom that was only another turn away.

But before he knew it, his legs locked together and he tumbled to the floor, quickly shouting at George to run as he tried to squirm away from his captor.

Fred felt a hand grip tightly to his shoulder, pulling him up from the floor as another jinx whizzed by him towards his brother. George managed to duck it, but from behind Fred, Montague came running by, his wand in hand as he chased the other redheaded twin.

Fred reached for his wand to hex the Slytherin, but someone behind him got to it first, shooting a jinx that caused Montague to stiffen up, before falling face first on the floor.

The grip on Fred tightened, and he felt the spell on his legs release as he was suddenly able to walk as his captor pulled him down the other hallway.

Fred, sensing an opportunity, kicked his left leg back, trying to throw the Slytherin off balance, but they easily dodged it, dancing out of the way of his weak attempt at escaping.

“Merlin Freddie, that’s the thanks I get?” they asked, and Fred quickly turned in surprise to see you looking at him in amusement, a smirk playing at your lips.

“Love?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to save your arse,” you replied, a slight grin on your face.

Fred looked at you as if he were seeing you for the first time. “Damn that was so hot,” he breathed, “I could kiss you right now.”

Your heart gave a little flutter, but you tried to keep your expression neutral. “Let’s put a pause on that for right now,” you said, as Ernie McMillan ran by with Theodore Nott hot on his heels.

“I’ll hold you to it,” Fred grinned.

You rolled your eyes, then glanced around the hallway, but amidst all the chaos you hoped nobody had noticed your quick exchange.

“Just do me a favor and look pissed off and try to put up a bit of a fight,” you instructed. “I know a place where we can hide.”

Fred didn’t respond, instead quickly reverting his expression to one of anger as he pretended to pull away from your hold, though making sure he didn’t do so hard enough that you couldn’t drag him down the corridor.

Once you were out of sight of the madness of the main hall, you pulled Fred in after you into one of the secret passageways he had shown you last year. It was cramped and not well lit, but the tunnel was suited well enough for the two of you to stay in until the corridors cleared.

“Were you the one who hexed me back there?” Fred asked the instant the passage was sealed.

You shrugged. “I had to make it look convincing.”

“But why? Couldn’t you have just let us run off?” Fred pressed.

“Crabbe and Goyle had circled around to block that end, I couldn’t risk you going that way,” you replied.

“George went that way though,” Fred said, his eyes filled with concern for his brother.

You sighed. “There wasn’t much I could do in the moment,” you admitted, “I was more focused on you. I did jinx Montague for him, so hopefully that gave him enough of a head start,” you added with a laugh.

Fred grinned. “That was a rather good one.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” you said, amusement dancing in your eyes. “It’s probably the highlight of my year.”

Fred put on a face of mock hurt. “You mean I’m not the highlight of your year?” he asked dramatically.

You rolled your eyes. “You make a close second,” you teased.

A smirk creeped across Fred’s face and he suddenly pulled you up against his chest, his lips brushing against yours.

“Let’s see if I can get myself into first,” he said cockily.

It wasn’t until after the Easter holidays when you saw Fred again, and this time, due to a new Educational Degree (number twenty nine if you were being exact) you had a silver I hooked to your robes and about the same amount of power as the teachers.

“How’s that Inquisitorial Squad going for you?” Fred asked, the moment you stepped into your latest meeting space.

“It’s so stupid,” you complained rolling your eyes. “It just inflates Malfoy’s head more than it already is and gives Slytherins a chance to pick on everyone.”

Fred wore an amused smile on his face. “It seems you’re taking advantage of this new found power too,” he commented lazily.

“Zacharias Smith is a twat and everyone knows it, so I don’t particularly care how many points I dock him,” you stated bluntly.

Fred snorted at your response. “Bloody hell I love that about you.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Love what?”

Fred laughed, pulling you towards him so he could kiss you once on the lips.

“How when somebody pisses you off you are so determined about getting back at them,” he finally said.

“Most people say it’s one of my worst traits,” you managed to get out as Fred’s lips began attacking your neck.

“It’s actually rather adorable,” Fred hummed against your skin.

“Fred?” you asked quietly, a thought suddenly popping into your head.

“Yes love?”

“Was there something you needed to talk to me about?”

Fred detached himself from your neck to properly look at you.

“It’s just that you said you wanted to see me and we only just got back two hours ago,” you stuttered quickly, suddenly feeling you had gotten the wrong idea. “Not that of course this isn’t a good reason,” you motioned between the two of you.

A slight smile spread across Fred’s lips. “Your two observant for your own good,” he said jokingly.

“What is it then, what’s wrong?” you asked, every possible reason filling your mind.

“Nothings wrong,” Fred quickly reassured you. “But you told be not to do anything stupid yet at the beginning of the year,” he paused, “that ‘yet’ has finally come.”

Your eyes widened. “What are you going to do?”

“Harry needs some help, so George and I offered ours, though I doubt we’ll get through this without being expelled,” he said, pausing to gage your reaction.

Your eyebrows had shot up and your jaw dropped. “What?! Why would you do that?”

“Because love, George and I don’t see the need to continue our education-”

“But what about-” you tried to interrupt.

Fred held up his index finger. “Just give me a minute to explain.”

“Okay,” you agreed, though your face still held a look of concern.

“We bought a shop,” Fred continued, “Harry gave us his Triwizard winnings so we bought one in Diagon Alley. You’re the first person that knows, and well, we were going to wait until after this school year but now with Dumbledore gone and that hag taking over the school, you’re the only reason left for me to stay.”

Fred looked you in the eyes. “That’s why I had to ask, can I do one last stupid thing? I am so in love with you Y/N, and you know that and if you want me to stay I will, and I promise nothing will change. I’ll be happy either way because I have you. I just knew I could never leave you here without first asking if you would be okay.”

A swell of love for the boy sitting across from you filled your chest and the concern had left your face. In its place, a single tear rolled down your cheek as you looked at the boy who had just told you he would leave all his dreams behind for you.

“Of course you can go Fred, I could never hold you back from that,” you said, letting him pull you against his chest. “But what about-” you looked up at him “-what about us?”

Fred grinned, kissing you once on the lips. “We’ll get to finally be together,” he answered softly. “There’s a flat above the shop, George has his space, we’ll have ours.”

“But George doesn’t know about us,” you protested. “What if he doesn’t-”

Fred cut you off by placing another kiss on your mouth. “If I have to marry you with only the two of us and the official at the service, then that would be enough. I don’t care about what he thinks about you and me.”

“Marrying me?” you whispered.

Fred interlaced his hand with yours. “The moment you graduate if you want love. Then we’ll never have to be apart for more than a second.”

You looped your arms around his neck, kissing him hard. “I love you so much Fred Weasley,” you whispered against his lips.

“And I love you a thousand times more,” he replied, his mouth barely leaving yours.

Fred tugged your thighs and you jumped up, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist.

“Now,” Fred said, and you could feel his smirk against your lips. “Why don’t we make this a night to remember.”

Taglist: Ask to be added! @missmulti @girl-next-door-writes @28cnn @thedarlinghufflepuff @rocket-svt

#twrh9kwritingchallenge #fred weasley #fred x y/n #fred x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fanfiction #Fred and George #fred and goerge weasley #fred weasley imagine #weasley family #weasley twins #hp fic #sneaking around

345 notes · View notes

hiatus-for-forever · 4 years

Text

Yandere!Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Bakugou takes the opportunity of your kidnapping to make you his

Quirk: Water manipulation. You can control water and can choose to only use H2O or can also carry things is it. If you use it too much you will get dehydrated

Warnings/Genre: yandere themes, unhealty/toxic relationship, kidnapping, manipulation, stockholm syndrome-y (submission to Bakugou), reader without parents, mentions of torture and moletsing

WC: 2,092

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

“Hey isn’t that Y/N L/N?” The man whispered. You couldn’t hear a thing as you were wearing headphones. The men shuffled out of the crowd and got out of the train. They made sure you didn’t notice them and continued their conversation, “You know how much they would pay for her, she placed 5th in the Sports Festival!”

“I don’t know man, we could get in serious trouble”

“Her quirk is just water stuffs, let’s just keep her somewhere and make her dehydrated til she either passes out of they pay for her. Think about it, an aspiring hero, helpless and weak. They would pay so much to get her back”

“Ugh fine” The man obliged as they went to prepare for the task.

Meanwhile, you safely got to school. You took off your headphones and stuffed them into you bag as you opened the door. You were met with the happy greetings of your friends. Taking a seat, you chatted the the ‘Bakusquad’ in the time before class started. Bakugou never actually showed interest in you but you were close enough friends for him to be adorably possessive over you. You did notice that you were the only one he’d give advice to. Everyone shipped you two and you would blush every time it was mentioned.

Everyone retreated back to their seats as only a few minutes remained before the teacher came but Bakugou stayed back. You looked up in slight confusion as he handed you a pen. “I have a strong feeling you felt like being an idiot today and left your pencil case” he said grumpily before walking away. You looked in your bag and lo an behold he was right. It was just mere coincidence to you but not to him. He noticed the lump in your backpack front pocket and knew you were listening to music again and knew you wouldn’t put the pencil case back in your bag. He knew you like that, and he loved you like that. It proved to him that you were still a little immature and naive. Still a chance to make you his.

Aizawa entered the classroom, snapping him out of his daydreams about you. About how good of a wife you would be. How much cuddling you guys would do. How much cooking you guys would do. He thought about everything, how he would spend his day around adoring fans and come home to you waiting for him, dinner ready. He would definitely knock you up. A child would forever esablish your relationship, and your love. I mean, he wouldn’t do all this work for nothing. Find out where you live, your favorite foods, colors, movie genre. He wouldn’t make so many mental notes about your habits, what clothes you wear, what perfume you use. He wouldn’t do all that for nothing. He will make you his, he will love you and you will love him.

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

You were walking home from school. After saying your goodbyes to your friends, you started your walk. Putting on your headphones, you walked down the sidewalk, occasionally walking in a crowd. At one point you went on a route which was usually void of people so you relaxed yourself and turned up the volume of your music. You nodded your head along with the music as the two men behind you noticed your weren’t noticing your surroundings and enacted their plan. Before you knew what was happening, a handkerchief was placed on your mouth, your eyes went wide as you inhaled the chloroform and soon passed out.

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

The next day the class noticed your absence. They were texting and calling you but nothing worked. Aizawa asked as you were not one to get sick and not one to stay home. Suddenly a knock was heard from the door and Present Mic entered, “Yo! I found this phone at my doorstep, I think it’s Y/N’s” the class gasped as Present Mic handed it to their homeroom teacher. Bakugou glared, hiding his worry. What happened to you? Are you hurt? Who did this to you? He’ll kill them, make them pay.

His thought were interrupted by Present Mic leaving. “There’s some disturbing stuff there, yo. I called Nezu so you two can decide which action to take” Present Mic left the room. Aizawa was crowded with student as he looked through the erased phone, the backround was white, the gallery was erased but contained only one video.

It was you. Bakugou’s eyes widened and his blood boiled. You were blindfolded and tied to a chair with a cloth on your mouth to shut you up. The men behind the camera explained that they were to pay a huge sum of money and they would get her back, and if they were to report to the police, you were to be killed. If they were paid and were still told on to the police, they would find you again and they would kill you. You heard this and sobbed, tears running down your cheeks.

Bakugou was pissed, and looked at the background. He knew that place. He used the same warehouse when he killed and tortured you exes and past crushes and bullies. It had many sharp tools left behind. He cleaned the tools of course, but still left them behind.

Aizawa announced that he was going to discuss this with the principal and tey were to send out a search party in a day or two. That wasn’t enough time, they- no, he had to find you now. You were in danger, no one could keep you but him. Then he had a thought. He was gonna find you, and save you, ten you were gonna fall for him and be his. He chuckled under his breath, yes, this was perfect.

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

After school he at least told Kirishima and some friends that he was going to rescue you. It made him seem less suspicious and as if he cared for you. He only told those who he knew would listen to him when he said not to follow him. Then, he would go home and go look for you. And right on cue, he saw his parents weren’t home yet.

He got dressed in black clothing that looked casual enough. A hoodie, some pants and his signature boots. He walked out and went to the warehouse. He quietly snuck in and saw you in the middle of the warehouse, tied to a chair. The man was touching you in places only he was allowed to. He groped you in unwanted places while you sobbed as the man breathed in your ear. “Your lucky we promised to give you unharmed, otherwise, you’d be a mess on the floor by now” he whispered. Bakugou heard enough, he let out a battle cry, attacking te man who was watching. He threw your captor to the wall as the other went to grab him. He made a big explosion aimed at his chest and he fell to the floor unconscious. Bakugou took some rope and tied them up. He texted Kirishima and told him to tel the police, as well as giving the address.

He walked over to you, mumbling about how the kidnappers were weaklings. He untied you and took off your blindfold. You were still shaken up, and still had tears on your cheeks. “B-Bakugou?” you asked, your voice hoarse as they deprived you of any water.

“Yeah it’s me” his husky voice said quietly. “You see how easy it is for them to nullify your quirk? Damn, you really need someone to protect you.” He smirked to himself as he planted the idea in your mind. You shuddered and realized he was right. You looked at him as he finished untying the ropes on your ankles. His eyes met your teary ones, “w-will you protect me?”

Bingo. He got you. The corner of his lips tugged up, a smirk disguised as a comforting smile, “of course” he said as he wiped the tears from your eyes. You leaned into his touch as he took in the fact that you were now his. He got up and carried you bridal style. You snuggled up to his chest as he carried you to your house. He set you on your living room couch and turned to leave. You grabbed his arm. “I don’t wanna be here by myself” you whimpered.

“What about your parents?” he knew you didn’t have any. Both were divorced and lived in a different country, they sent you money to support yourself. He found this out while going through your laptop when he visited your room at night.

“They aren’t with me. Can I stay with you?” You looked up at him.

“Let me just ask my parents” he stepped away and made a phone call. On the other line his mother was fuming, asking where he was an what he was doing. He admitted to saving you and told them you had a weird mental shock thing and asked for him to take you home with him. His mom sighed and said that at least he took action, being an upcoming hero and all. His father got on the phone and said you could stay as long as you needed. He hung up soon after and went to you.

You were still shaking as he relayed the good news, “they said you can stay as long as you want” he said stroking your arm. You smiled a little, and stood up, “Thanks, Bakugou. I’ll go get some clothes.”

“Katsuki,” he told you, “Call me Katsuki”

You felt giddy as you walked to your bedroom and invited him in. You were picking up some clothes as he layed on your bed. You assume he was tired but he was anything but. He was never able to do this as you were asleep when he visited. He inhaled your pillows and took in your scent, he even slightly ground his hips on the mattress. He sat up when you said that you got your pajamas and uniform for the next day. and he helped you carry them as you walked to his house. You clung onto him on the way there and he couldn’t be happier.

You reached his house and he opened the door. His parents were waiting for them and as soon as you stepped in, his parents went to talk to you.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” his mom asked, concerned

“Yes, Ms. Bakugou” you replied shyly. She thought your were the cutest thing ever.

“Alright then, we have a guest room right over there, Mistuki will help you get settled in” his dad told you

Your body refused to move to the room as you slowly backed up to Bakugou. “Um, if you d-don’t mind I-I’d like to sleep w-with K-Katsuki” you blushed as you asked. They looked to him as he looked at you and you decided he cared enough for you to stay with him. “As long as there’s no funny business” his mom clarified.

You face got redder, “O-Of course!” you squeaked.

They motioned for you to go with him up to his room. You followed him, clinging onto his arm once again. He showed you to his room and to his bathroom. He let you take a shower and get changed as he got changed in his own room. He sighed contently, you may have endured some discomfort but everything’s fine now, now you were with him. You’d be happy with him, live with him, be safe with him.

You opened his door and found him sitting on his bed. He scooted to the side, making space for you. He asked if you wanted dinner but you refused, claiming you were too tired and wanted to sleep. He lied down next to you and you looked away from him, “c-can I hug you?” you asked, blushing

He smirked and pulled you to his chest, resting his head on yours. You clutched onto him, feeling his arms wrap around you in a comforting embrace.

“Katsuki?”

“Hm?”

“I’m thinking of leaving the hero course”

He smirked, “oh?”

“They’ll understand, wont they?”

“Of course they will.”

“And then, can I move in with you?”

He gasped, he didn’t know how easy this was gonna be. You looked up at him and met his eyes, “Katuski?”

“Oh yeah, of course you can. My parents will understand. Then I can protect you”

You smiled at him, “I love you, Katsuki”

#yandere #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #yandere bnha #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #soft yandere #stockholm syndrome

572 notes · View notes

snarkwrites · 3 years

Note

so since i was given the permission to send you some ✨thots✨ for dazed and confused characters...i’m taking full advantage of that😏

however, this one i feel is not as spicy as some of the ones i send you, but jesus if i don’t want to make out with slater while at the moontower. maybe some high groping🤷‍♀️ you never know. THANK YOU FOR DOING THIS I LOVE YOU FOREVER - ❤️

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I could literally hug you so hard right now! I mean this! I absolutely love love love this movie and duh, slater is bae. <3 I have... definitely been feeling some kind of way about this ask you’ve sent, so.. Let’s get into this, shall we?

Warnings: Probably gonna get a lil handsy.. A lot of sloppy kissing, maybe a little grinding, mentions of weed/smoking joints and drinking.... Beyond all that, who knowssss. That being said, it’s still not advised for minors to read this, so if you chose to keep reading, you really can’t say I didn’t warn youuu.

Tagging: uhh.. I’m just going to throw random tags out here to @twistnet and @chasingeverybreakingwave because I have a feeling you two would like to see this? if not, feel free to ignore.

[ faq page | tag list doc ] ⇺ My tag list has moved / changed links. If you’d like to be on the new one, please go to the doc or let me know, I’ll more than happily add you!!

RON SLATER & moontower makeout;

Your brother absolutely hated Ron. And he was very,very,very overprotective when it came to you. Typical for Fred O’Bannion though, if one were to ask around your high school.

The last day of school came and literally all everyone was talking about was the party that night. You started off the morning just peachy -sarcasm intended here, when you somehow managed to collide with Ron in the hallway. Normally, he wouldn’t give you a second look. Mostly because of Fred, you suspected, but I digress. This time, he steadies you. And rather than step away from each other, you two wind up drifting closer together in the crowded hallway. He’s gazing down at you, calm and almost thoughtfully.

“Hey, you comin to the party later, sweetheart?” that lazy deep drawl was enough to have you squirming ever so slightly. Swallowing hard as you raised a hand to drag through your hair, holding his gaze. Pretending to think it over.

“Gee, I don’t know...”

“Aw, c’mon, sweetheart. You gotta! It’s gonna be bitchin.” Slater informed. The pleading look in his eyes didn’t go missed by you and it had you more than a little curious if you were to admit it. After a second or two, you smiled slowly. Nodding. “One condition.”

Sheesh, you were bold, asking a guy the grade above you for a condition to you attending this party, but... You were feeling some kind of way, so you went with the moment. Carpe diem and all that jazz. Anyway.

He chuckles. God the sound is both melodic and erotic. You bite your lip, still holding his gaze. He’s rubbing his chin thoughtfully, mulling it over for himself. Finally, that lazy grin. His hand raises, restling palm down against the locker, right above your head and he’s kinda leaning down and into you. “What’s the condition?”

“I kind of need to figure out a way to get there.” you admitted sheepishly. “My brother’s an ass, he’d never just willingly take me. He’d actually tell our parents if he even thought I was going to go...” you shuffled your feet, swallowing hard. Waiting on Ron to shoot you down, because that had to be what was coming, right?

Well, turns out, you were wrong.

He chuckles again. Nodding. An almost sage and wise beyond his years thoughtful look in his eyes. Almost like he was thinking. Then he steps even closer. “I’ll come back to meet ya. How’s that?”

You nodded and smiled. Told him which area of the building you’d be walking out of and you went ahead then and mentally prepared yourself to be stood up. Either he’d forget or he just wouldn’t show.

You were just about to walk away, but Ron caught up to you, tapping your shoulder. You turned around, smiling shyly up at him. "Yeah?" your stomach started to sink. Was he already changing his mind?

“Hey, I didn’t catch your name, sweetheart?” Slater asked, dragging thick digits through a long mane you'd secretly spent the entire year wanting to run your fingers through... Besides the point, but still.

Before you could actually tell him your name, your idiot older brother Fred did it for you, practically snapping at you angrily because you were talking to Ron Slater. After he'd told you more than a thousand times not to. Not wanting the bullshit involved with reminding your bull-headed older brother once again that you weren't a baby, you took a deep breath, massaging your temples. Rolling your eyes at your brother's general direction. "And there's my brother now. I'll see you later?" you asked Ron hopefully.

Ron gave a bright grin, giving you a thumbs up. And you hurried down the hall to your own homeroom but not before you heard your brother start running his mouth at Ron...

You grumbled to yourself as you stepped into class and took your seat. Resigning yourself to the fact that Ron wouldn't show this afternoon. If you wanted to go to the party, you'd have to just figure out another way.

TIME SKIP

The last bell sounded. Everyone piled out of their classrooms and into the hallway in a chaotic frenzy. Throwing notebooks, shoving and pushing for the nearest exit. You darted out of your classroom, ditching your notebooks for the year in a nearly full bin as you went. Arms shot out and wrapped around your hips and you were pulled into a quieter hallway. Body to body with Slater. He already smelled a little like his smoke of choice and his eyes were a little red. But he was here, waiting. Just like he said he'd be.

Pink wandered past, gazing at you two. Chuckling as he called out to Slater casually, "Better watch your ass, man. O'Bannion is on the warpath now, seein as how you punched his lights out earlier."

You gazed up at Ron, trying not to laugh.

"You punched my idiot brother? Why?"

Ron shrugged. Grumbled something about him being tired of Fred fucking O'Bannion telling him who he could and couldn't talk to. Then his eyes settled on you and that lazy grin started to fill his face all over again. "He's been ridin my ass all year, sweetheart. Because he knows I like you and it pisses him off."

You gulped. Brain desperately trying to process what Ron Slater just told you. Giggling like an idiot and unable to resist the urge to cozy up to him just a bit as you rose to tiptoe, your lips against his ear. "I like you too, Ron. A lot, actually."

"Sweet." he chuckled. Wrapping an arm around you while you were pressed against him. Muttering quietly, "You ready to get outta here? I've seen enough of this fuckin place."

"Yeah, gladly."

TIME SKIP AGAIN

You'd been riding around with Slater and his friends all afternoon. After the party got cancelled at one area, someone suggested just throwing it out at the Moontower.

At one point, you got split up from Ron and his friends, but you met up with a girl down the street from you, Clarissa. And you rode around with her and the girls she was riding around with. They all stopped at the rec center and that's where you met up with a slightly tipsy and very handsy Ron Slater for the third time that day. He saw you coming in and you heard him say loudly -and drunkenly, "Be right back. My girl just walked in."

Pink snickered and taunted Ron, "You better watch out man. O'Bannion even thinks you two are a thing, he's gonna go nuclear."

"F-Fuck him, man." Slater drawled, walking over to greet you. Lifting you off the ground in a hug, squeezing you against him like he hadn't seen you in ten years instead of the hour it'd been since you'd last seen each other.

Across the rec center, Wooderson and Pink were teasing out loud and cat calling. Clapping.

Ron broke the hug, standing you back on your feet all the way. Staring down at you as his hands skimmed your sides, settling on your hips. "Y-you're stayin with me, princess. Okay?"

You blushed and bit your lip to stop yourself from whimpering. If you thought you'd gotten wet earlier in the afternoon when you two were sharing a joint and he pulled you right into his lap, inhaling and letting you breath it in and then inhaling from you when you exhaled, your mouths nearly brushing and getting closer with each second... You were wrong.

Because now you were pretty much flooded. And full of thoughts. He'd been a gentleman. Hadn't tried to really pull any fast moves on you at all. Affectionate and handsy then, yeah? But not over the top. Or just assuming he could touch you / do whatever he wanted to you and you... absolutely adored that about him, even if you were literally DYING for him to kiss you and grope you... Among other things.

But now.. Oh god, now. He was a little tipsier than he'd been high earlier. And that affectionate handsiness was more frenzied. Needy. Like he wanted you so badly he couldn't keep his hands off.

You absolutely loved it.

Jodi and Clarissa called out to you, asking if you wanted to leave to go to a drive in with them to get some food, but you waved them off. Smiling as you cozied up to Slater, who slipped his arms around you and called out with a laugh, "I'm k-keepin her, okay?"

Your friends left, leaving you alone with Slater again. And a few minutes later, you two decided to grab a ride with Pink and Mitch over to the Moontower, for the party.

TIME SKIP... AGAIN.

The party was over. Everyone had pretty much gone home. Given that your mother thought you were spending the night with Clarissa, since you'd told her so earlier that afternoon, you really didn't have a curfew. So you and Slater were cozied up at the top platform of the Moontower, lying on your backs, gazing up at the sun as it started to come up. He still hadn't kissed you and you were literally dying for it to happen. He must have been too, because one minute he was telling you his theory on George Washington and the aliens, the next you were settling yourself on top of him, staring down at his lips. He gave a lazy grinning yawn and wrapped his arms around you. Your mouths just barely grazed. You couldn't take it anymore. You rubbed yourself against him a little and something snapped in him. His hands started to roam up and down your back. Stopping under your ass, squeezing. Grinding you right against him. You could feel him straining through his jeans and you sucked in a deep breath. He gave a lazy chuckle, gazing up at you thoughtfully. You rubbed against him yet again and he moaned out quietly, "Somethin ya want, sweetheart?"

"You." you muttered quietly. Your answer seemed to make him come even further undone, because he was really grabbing hold of your ass now. Rubbing you against the bulge formed and straining at his jeans just a little more with each passing second. "I've been dyin to do this, princess." he drawls out in that deep lazy husk as his mouth finally connects with yours. His lips latching onto your bottom lip, the pressure in the kiss making you whimper, the sound swallowed as his tongue flicks out and darts between your lips. You whine impatiently and he chuckles, the kiss deepening. He raises to sit and you wrap your legs around his waist, squeezing. Rocking yourself over his bulge. His hands move slowly over your curves. One settles in your hair. Tangling in a handful at the back of your head, pulling your mouth against his even deeper still. You're lightheaded; you almost can't breathe but you don't want to break the kiss. When his mouth drifts away from yours, you shiver as you feel him tilt your head. Leaving your neck totally open for the taking. His lips move over your throbbing pulse, leaving a line of soft bites and hickies too large to possibly even attempt hiding on their path down. You drag your fingers through his hair, your mouth ghosting over the side of his neck, marking him up also.

The sun's just starting to rise in the sky and it's early morning. You wind up falling asleep, bodies entangled, Slater's fingers dragging through your hair lazily.

What a night....

#Anonymous

20 notes · View notes

bubble-booty-cuties · 4 years

Note

How quick were the studs of Beacon to welcome Mina to their school? They had to be excited to find out she was attending Beacon. S She's another thicc, slightly airhead slut to fuck, except she comes in pink and has horns to pull on too!

“Hey~! My name is Mina Ashido, and it’s so great to finally be here~! I hope we can all be amazing friends~!” The moment Mina was introduced to her classroom, the school lit up with rumors and questions about the new, pretty, unique looking faunus girl. From girls wondering how she got her hair so incredibly pink, to guys wondering if she liked it up that fat pink ass of hers.

Did she come to Beacon to just be a Huntress? Did she know anyone here? Did she really melt a cafeteria table with her semblance? All these questions, and more, were floating through the school and spreading like wild fire, with some of the more impatient men just walking right up and asking her for her rumored services. There was only more speculation on how those requests were met, sadly.

That was until Mina was spotted walking into the Buttslut Clubroom with a certain raven haired faunus. It was only then that the bubbly redheaded club president started handing out flyers for Mina’s ‘welcome to Beacon’ party, curtesy of the Buttslut Club!

And now there she was, music blasting in the clubroom, packed full with hung studs and scantily clad sluts alike, pink balloons, drinks, sweets, and lights littered the clubroom while the Buttslut Club members danced and stripped for anyone who asked.

“Everyone give it up for our brand new club member, Mina~!” Nora was always happy to make new friends, especially friends who loved taking it up the ass just as much as she did~! And as the crowd cheered and the pink lights lit up the stage where Mina was, the entire crowd was met with the sight of Mina’s absolutely massive, round, jiggly, bubblegum colored bubble booty squat down real low, wrapped up in a skin tight pair of green booty shorts, her very own shorts that read ‘Butt Slut’ right across both asscheeks.

Mina bounced and jiggled her ass for the crowd of cheering people, her cotton candy cheeks wobbling like strawberry jello while they clapped together from her skilled, deep twerk. Though Mina was squat down low just to twerk, she was there for a reason~! That reason was her club initiation~!

Four men stood around Mina’s crouched, thicc, curvy pink body, each sporting a positively giant, throbbing hard cock, with each one covered from to to balls with messy, bright pink lipstick and thick, slippery saliva.

“Oh fuck I love it here~!” Mina held two massive cocks, one in each hand, loudly and lewdly slapping them up and down against her beautiful, messy pink face while the other two men slapped their cocks down onto her features with her. Mascara poured down her face while the four, messy, hard, musky, throbbing cocks slapped and splattered precum all over her, right before one slapped against her tongue just for her to slam it down her throat with a deep gag, yanking off of it just to turn her head and throat another, then again, and again, soon she was quickly taking turns with which cock would be fucking her throat next while the crowd cheered and catcalled.

“Come on ‘Daddy’, grab me by the horns and fuck my little slutty throat~!” Mina looked up at the man with the biggest cock, winking up at him and leaning down to slurp both of his big, sweaty, hairy, musky nuts between her lips, sucking and sloshing them around her mouth right up until he grabbed her by her little horns, yanked her off his nuts, and slammed his cock right back into her throat.

Slippery, slimy, thick, frothy bubbles and precum poured down her chin and onto her perky pink tits as the man used her throat like a fuck toy, his hips pistoning in like a well oiled machine to throat fuck the little bubblegum buttslut as hard as he possibly could. And speaking of her being a buttslut, the initiation had nothing to do with her mouth~

The three other men went around the tiny pink whore and yanked her ass up high into the air, groping, spanking, and grabbing at that fat cotton candy ass and letting their fingers sink into the pillowy, plump, jiggly flesh for everyone to see, yanking up those little booty shorts up higher between her hungry cheeks to wedgie it like a thong while they spanked and groped her sensitive flesh.

“Hugk~! Th-That’s right~! Come on~! My sweet little ass is public property for the next twenty-four hours~! Fuck my little asshole till I’m a screaming~!” Mina’s initiation was simple, just like every other member’s~ Her asshole was public use for the next twenty-four hours~! No ifs, no ands, no buts~! She pulled the cock out of her throat just long enough to announce that, a second too long for the stud who just yanked her throat back onto his dick to fuck even harder then before.

Once again the crowd cheered, the three men yanking Mina’s little shorts off her fat ass to expose her purple thong covered cheeks, one man spreading her ass while the other shoved his fingers inside her two, sensitive little holes, roughly fingering and stretching her for the main event.

“Hehehe~! Come on guys, you gotta put her on the special bench, that’s the rules~!” Mina heard her new friend Nora yell out once more, right before she was suddenly yanked up by the massive man still fucking her throat, held upside down by her waist while he plunged his tongue into her adorable little pink pucker, licking and spearing her bubble gum booty with his tongue while he continued using her throat like a cock sock.

Mina couldn’t believe she’d been missing out on getting fucked and used by such huge, hung studs this entire time~! Even as she felt the man walk them both off the stage, he never stopped fucking her mouth like he owned her, he didn’t even pull out when she was dropped down onto a padded bench that was the perfect height for her massive, round, jiggling ass to be raised up high in the air for everyone to see, and for a few to spank.

“Line up, first come, first serve~! It’s gonna be a long night~!” Mina felt a particularly rough slap to her ass before the familiar voice of a certain green haired thief rang out behind her, obviously setting up the line of people ready to have a go at her asshole, and she could here the grin in her voice. “Don’t forget to tip~!”

Mina was just about to give her ass a nice wiggle when the man balls deep in her throat snarled and busted inside her mouth, cumming line after line of hot cream passed her lips while continuing to hump her beautiful face.

Just as she started swallowing that creamy treat, Mina felt the first guy slide up behind her and yank her thong to the side, slapping his massive, meaty cock between her cotton candy colored cheeks and giving her round globe a nice slap, sawing his cock in her warm valley right before grabbing her wide, slutty hips and slamming balls deep into her tiny, quivering, fresh little backdoor without a single care for her own pleasure.

“Oooohhhh~!!! Fuuuuuuucccckkkkk~!!!” Mina moaned throatily as the man viciously pounded and fucked her asshole like a wild animal, gripping the bench for dear life as her entire body rocked and bounced with each loud, meaty clap of her ass meeting his hips, cum leaking down her chin from the man who yanked his cock free from her lips, just to cum a line or two across her face.

“H-Harder~!! Harder Daddy~!!!” This was it, Mina couldn’t ever go back to regular sex after this, she could never go back to something that isn’t a line of men waiting to fuck her bouncy bubble gum booty as hard as they fucking could.

Drool dripped down Mina’s chin while feminine cum dripped down her thicc, juicy thighs, making a mess on the floor as the man behind her only doubled his thrusting, his pelvis hitting the pink beauty’s jiggly cheeks with loud, wet, lewd claps of flesh on flesh while his massive, throbbing, rock hard cock speared, spread and stretched her insides.

Mina’s eyes rolled up into her head, a massive, slutty smile spread across her face while the man fucked her so hard the bench thudded against the ground over and over again. The poor strawberry flavored slut could do nothing but raise her fat bubble butt up higher for the man to fuck and pound as much as he wanted, tears pouring down her face as he grabbed her by the horns and yanked her head back.

Mina couldn’t count how many times she came, but she could hear the man’s breathing get heavier, his thrusts getting faster, right up until he slammed in balls deep and came inside her tight little pink hole, filling her to the brim with steaming hot, stringy cum.

Mina slumped against the bench as the man Yanked himself out, giving her ass one last smack before stepping. Mina’s toned, curvy body was dripping with sweat, her muscles ached, and she was panting like a bitch in heat, completely and utterly satisfied with just how the man treated her.

That was until she felt another man slid up behind her, his cock even thicker and longer then the last as he suddenly yanked her arms behind her and slammed in balls deep, his pace even faster and rougher then the man before, making the pink cutie squeal and scream from her already sore, sensitive little asshole getting stretched and fucked even harder.

“One down, thirty-four left to go before your first break~!” Nora cheered, marking one down on a board. “Welcome to the Butt Slut Club, Mina~!!” Nora was almost drowned out by the rapid slapping of flesh on flesh, and the girls squeals of pleasure and please to slow down.

118 notes · View notes

lost-in-time-marie · 4 years

Text

Into the Shadows: Chapter Four

After my birthday, September flew quickly away into October; I could hardly believe Halloween was just days away. I thought of the masked figure that saved me often and always wore the necklace he gave me for my birthday. I dared not utter a word of his existence to anyone. I told myself it was because everyone would think I’m crazy, I mean I still hadn’t ruled out egregious hallucinations from the realm of reality, but somehow, I imagined if I said it all out loud, it would be less real, like maybe it was just a dizzy daydream. If anyone asked about the necklace, I simply said it was birthday present from a friend, no one pressed it beyond that, they had no reason to. Except Natasha. Natasha made frequent curious glances at it, sensing the importance and, perhaps more so, that there was something I wasn’t telling her. An instinct that only encouraged her to unveil any secret I could possibly be hiding. It was getting increasingly difficult to throw her off my trail.

James stuck with Natasha, Aleks, and I, or, on occasion, Katy and I. We continued to take to him, but I grew more suspicious too, constantly asking questions about him and his mysterious life, attempting to figure him out. His answers were all the same, and I knew them well, because none were real answers, they were half-answers with absolutely no details or personality to them. I was beginning to feel like Natasha, questioning motives and growing overly suspicious about the smallest details. Overnight James became the most popular kid in school, everybody loved him. It wasn’t hard to see why, with a face like that and an all-too-charming personality. I had not had hardly any run-ins with Ryder, thank god, and actively ignored him in class. I was still mystified by the one time I’d seen him act like a human being in the elementary school office, but otherwise did my best not to think of him.

“Yes, it is a fitting last name for someone so grim,” James joked one morning in Acting, lounging easily at his desk. I had to wade through another sea of swooning girls this morning just to take my seat. Things had been like this when Ryder first arrived, but when his personality became evident, people mostly just teased him. For as much as I disliked the guy, I never participated.

“Come on, James, leave him alone. He’s probably just shy,” I blurted, sitting down and unpacking my things. I hadn’t meant to interfere, although I was usually the first to stand up to a bully, Ryder could handle himself, the words just popped out of my mouth of their own accord.

“All the sudden coming to the defense of your mortal enemy, how mighty,” James teased, sly smile creeping up his face.

“He’s kind of rude, but it’s no reason to be mean, besides that joke is terrible,” I supplied weakly, rolling my eyes. Ryder skulked into class then and the crowd instantly dispersed. It was like his negative aura had a physical effect on people. It bothered me that James bullied Ryder, he seemed much more vindictive about it than the other students, like he had a personal grudge against him, I kept pushing that pesky thought away, but it popped up every now and again.

James kept pushing, “You’ve never said anything before.”

“I just don’t like seeing someone being bullied,” I shrugged, staring at the board, refusing to look at him. James nodded, thoughtful, but didn’t push the matter further; he had an uncanny sense of when he was overstepping his bounds.

“Guess what today is, class?” Mrs. Robertson enthused loudly, addressing her students after the bell rang, “Nomination for roles in the play!” She answered her own question cheerfully. I groaned silently and resisted the urge to slam my head into the desk repeatedly. Mrs. Robertson told us the other day that there would be two days of deciding roles for “Romeo and Juliet”. The first day, today, would be spent calling out each role, any person who wanted that role would raise their hand and their names would be written down, other people in the class could also nominate someone for a role as long as someone seconded it. What an inventive way to force participation, I had thought sarcastically. The second day, tomorrow, each volunteer or nominee would audition for their role; later the parts would be decided and announced, anyone left over would be on the stage crew. I hate plays. I hate participating in plays. I hate that we are performing this play, most of all.

Mrs. Robertson called out Romeo and one or two guys raised their hand. Elizabeth, the girl behind me, nominated James, and Kim, Elizabeth’s desk partner, seconded the motion.

“I nominate Ryder Grim,” Katy’s voice squeaked out shyly. Every jaw in the class hit the floor and every head turned towards Katy. Her round face was redder than a tomato and she squirmed slightly in her chair from the attention. Her brown eyes found me from across the room and pleaded for help.

“I second that motion,” Another, more confident, voice supported. My voice, I realized a second too late. The words had just tumbled out, and before I could take them back, Ryder’s name was added to the list. I don’t know why I did that, perhaps because he despised attention and I despised him. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ryder flash me a baleful look. His gaze was so intense, the daggers shooting out of his eyes froze me in place. My skin bean to crawl with the intensity of his scorn. I refused to turn his way and resisted the urge to flinch and slide away from the daggers he aimed at me. I would pay for this, of that one thing I was absolutely certain.

“Juliet,” Mrs. Robertson called, moving on to the next name on the list.

“I nominate Kristin for Juliet,” James announced loudly. I choked and stared at him with wide eyes, feeling oddly betrayed. I forced my brain to operate to make a refusal, but another voice cut me off.

“I second that motion,” An all too familiar, harsh voice declared. I jerked around in my desk. Ryder sat, overly casual, with his hand in the air. My jaw dropped.

“What?” I hissed. A dark smile played at the corner of his lips, but otherwise the stone mask stayed in place. Payback’s a bitch.

“Okay, moving on,” Mrs. Robertson continued after more girls raised their hand and their names were added to the list. I sat, dazed and numb, in my desk the rest of the class period, trying desperately to compute the events of the period.

The rest of my classes passed easily, thankfully, and the end of the day was fast approaching. After the initial shock of being nominated, and additional height being added to my already heaping pile of hate for Ryder, I formed a quick plan to just bomb the audition, forcing my way to stage crew or some other small role with few lines. Unfortunately, my luck didn’t hold, and my day took another turn for the worst in Chemistry.

“Kristin Hart! Please come up here,” Mrs. Gold called halfway through class. I quickly stood from my desk and walked to the front of the room where she waited for me. Mrs. Gold had assigned book work for us today so she could prepare for what she called “a new teaching method” she wanted to try.

“Kristin, I am partnering you up with Ryder Grim. It has been shown that students can learn better through collaboration. A lot of the students in here really need the boost to their grade, yourself included,” Mrs. Gold lectured sternly, her sharp, beady eyes boring into me over the wiry rim of her glasses. For such a seemingly frail old woman, she was deceptively strong and stern, in fact she was known for making younger students cry. I think she secretly enjoyed it.

“Everyone will meet with their partners outside of school twice a week for extra study time to prepare for the AP exam, this exam is particularly tough and I want everyone to do their best,” She instructed in a brisk, no-room-for-complaints manner.

“Ryder Grim!” Mrs. Gold called. I attempted, very poorly, to hide my horror. This lady actually likes torturing people! Ryder abandoned his book work and walked in that brisk, graceful manner of his to join Mrs. Gold and me at the front of class.

“Mr. Grim, you and Mrs. Hart will meet twice a week outside of school to study Chemistry. You are my best student and highest grade, I trust you two will do excellently together,” Mrs. Gold declared, not bothering to get consent from either of us.

“But-” I finally managed to stutter. Ryder’s jaw tightened, I could almost hear the click of his teeth snapping sharply together, and his eyes held agitation. I was too busy processing my certain doom to appreciate the emotion actually showing on his face.

“Umm, we don’t get along very well,” Ryder said, finally managing a composed, calm voice.

“Right, we don’t get along,” I eagerly agreed, “Surely there’s someone else?” I groped desperately for a way out of this. Ryder nodded his head in support. Wow, what kind of parallel universe was I in where Ryder and I were actually on the same side?

“Work it out. Mr. Grim you will study with Mrs. Hart, both of your grades depend on it,” Mrs. Gold said sternly, staring us down with her dark, evil eyes. I imagined thunder and lightning crashing outside while scary music played. It seemed fitting for my own personal nightmare. Welcome to hell. That’s what I’d told James on his first day; Acting was nothing compared to this.

“You can’t do that!” I blurted, outraged, tossing my hands in the air.

“I believe I just did,” Mrs. Gold retorted with finality as the bell rang. Ryder spun quickly on his heel, collected his things, and stalked out the door. I stared after him, dazed. I walked robotically back to my desk, collected my books, and headed to Sinclair’s class, my mind spinning, searching for any way out of this predicament.

“Today, we start our class project for the beginning of the year,” Sinclair called, walking quickly into the classroom, before the bell rang for a change, and handing out papers with a list of objectives and requirements for the project. I greedily accepted the paper, excited for the interesting project Sinclair undoubtedly had planned. According to his handout, we would pair off, pick one of the subjects he provided, and create a poster board about our research on the subject. I was pondering what subject Natasha and I would choose when a cold hand tapped my shoulder. I jumped and spun around.

“May I speak with you for a second?” Ryder asked, dead faced and monotonous.

“Sure,” I said, confused, following him to the back of class, “What’s up?”

“What two days would you like to meet at the library?” Ryder asked.

“Why didn’t you ask me that at my desk?” I asked sort of dazed, staring at him directly was seriously distracting; maybe that’s why he didn’t look at people when they spoke to him. His angular jaw and pale face were utterly flawless, coupled with intense, bright green eyes and tousled black hair to complete the image. I found myself getting lost in studying him; the sharp angle of his nose, the way his nostrils flared slightly in annoyance, the broadness of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips, the confusing way his simple blue jeans and dark grey shirt accented his form in all the right areas. A sharp impulse to reach out and spread my hands over the expanse of his chest crashed over me without warning. It was like a strange spell always around him, making it impossible to think.

“I wasn’t sure if you would be embarrassed,” He replied smoothly with a shrug. I shook my head firmly to clear these troubling thoughts before my imagination had more time to run off.

“Oh,” I said, stunned that he was actually being considerate, and still slightly captivated by his strange aura, “uh, thanks. Tuesdays and Thursdays right after school work for me,” I answered, wondering how I was going to volunteer at the elementary school Monday, Wednesday, and Friday while being tutored Tuesdays and Thursdays and still have a life.

He gave a brisk nod and turned to leave but stopped short. “Do you have a ride?” He asked, turning back.

“I can probably catch a ride with Natasha or just walk,” I answered nonchalantly with a shrug. For the smallest second, I swore indecision flitted across his face, as he stood half ready to turn away, half facing me clearly wanting to say something. All at once, that carefully articulated blank mask slammed into place, as if Ryder suddenly became aware of the emotion leaking out of him. Suddenly, it was easier to think and look at him, I despised that expression, it was much easier not be captivated by him when filled with annoyance.

“Just when I thought you were finally playing nice the stone statue reappears,” I muttered my thoughts aloud, rolling my eyes.

“Stone statue?” Ryder asked, raising a brow.

“Never mind,” I waved him off.

“Oh, good, you guys have paired off, now everyone has a partner,” Sinclair said walking by; counting all the other students I now noticed had paired off. I hadn’t even heard the bell ring.

“What?!” Ryder and I exclaimed simultaneously, but Sinclair continued on, paying us no mind. We glared at each other before turning and stalking off to our desks. Worst. Day. Ever.

I rushed to the elementary campus after Sinclair’s class, eager to be rid of this cursed day, and knowing I had a regularly scheduled meeting on these Monday Wednesdays, and Fridays I volunteered. My feet carried me, as they often did, already knowing the way without any input from me. When I arrived to the classroom I frequented for my volunteer duties, I found my weekly appointment already waiting for me in our usual spot.

“And that’s how my day went,” I finished my tale, attempting to find a position where I remotely fit in this elementary size school desk. I was coloring and recanting my tales with my one of favorite little boys in the aftercare program, Robbie, in a desk two sizes too small, as we did every day I volunteered since I started this year.

“Sounds like a rough day,” Robbie commented, pushing his wavy, black hair out of his face before resuming coloring an elephant purple. Robbie was a sweet little boy, very mature for his age, every day I volunteered he’d ask me to sit with him and tell him about my day. Even though he was only in second grade, he understood almost everything I talked about.

“That’s an understatement,” I muttered. Robbie never talked too much about himself or his day, even though I asked often, I think something about just listening made him feel better. He always had this sad, lost look in his deep blue eyes, it threw off his childishness and innocence. I worried for him; he didn’t play as much with the other kids; he was too often by himself.

“Alright Robbie, your brother is here, time for you to go,” a teacher called through the doorway. Robbie was the last to leave today, his small footsteps echoed across the room as he walked to the door carrying a too-large yellow backpack.

“Come on, Robbie, I’ll walk you,” I said taking his hand and casting a warm smile down at him. He looked up and gave me one of his rare bright smiles. We didn’t talk; he just happily held my hand. I allowed myself a small, pleased smile, glad that I could make him happy in some little way. It had been too heartbreaking, watching his small form retreat, burdened by his large backpack, and, I had a feeling, other concerns that I could not see.

“Be careful getting home, Robbie,” I said, holding open the door to the parent pick up area open for him.

“Big brother!” Robbie shouted happily, running toward a tall, wiry guy standing in the main office. Robbie’s brother turned, scooped up Robbie, and spun him in the air with a musical laugh. He looked over to thank me and froze. I froze too. I stood, still holding open the door, staring into the bright green eyes of Ryder Grim. Who…laughed? Ryder actually just laughed and smiled and played with his brother. For a second, I thought I might be having a bizarre dream. Or my hallucinations were becoming grossly overactive again.

“This is Kristin, Ryder,” Robbie introduced in a bright voice, immune to the awkwardness of the moment, “She’s my favorite volunteer,” he beamed. My mind finally started working again

“Thank you, Robbie,” I smiled politely, “I actually know your brother, he’s the guy I’ve been telling you about,” I cast a teasing glance toward Ryder.

Robbie looked up at his brother, crossed his arms, and furrowed his brow, “Ryder! How come you’re being so mean to her?” he demanded in earnest anger. Ryder laughed and smiled warmly at him. The hard, stone statue Ryder was nothing compared to warm, fluid, easy-going Ryder. His pale skin glowed with happiness and his love for Robbie was evident in his liquid, bright, green eyes. His angular face and broadness seemed less intimidating now; more relaxed and friendly. If the girls in our class thought he was handsome before, they would faint seeing this sort of flawless.

“She’s much more difficult than she seems, don’t be fooled,” Ryder teased, easily hoisting Robbie on his back, before casting a warm smile my way. I looked away to hide my blush, bracing myself against the door as my knees suddenly turned to jelly. My heart started an erratic dance and I tried to ignore its sudden loudness.

“Thanks so much,” I rolled my eyes, unable to stop from grinning. I stepped aside so he could walk out the door I still held open. Ryder grinned, winked, and walked out the door. I heard it close with a click, but I couldn’t recall releasing it. I stood in the main office for a good five minutes dazed, pondering the events of today and the many faces of Ryder Grim.

2 notes · View notes

the5sosdumpster · 6 years

Text

Displeasure (Ashton Irwin Smut) Part 1

Masterlist

Request

Warnings: smut and cuss words; 18+ minors dni

A/N: Big thank you to my best pal, @thicc-bread for helping edit this!! Also shout out to this anon for blessing us with this lol. Please give me feedback if you guys like something!

Part 2**//

You hate him. You don’t even know him that well, you just know that for some reason he chose you to tease all the time, and it’s getting on your nerves. Every day at school, he seems to search you out amongst the crowd of students, so he could bug you. It was either a snide comment on what you wore that day or something to annoy or frustrate you.

Usually you would get a, “nice outfit, I didn’t know the circus was in town,” followed by a chorus of snickers from his group of friends, or he would say something like, “have a nice trip?” after kicking his foot out in front of you while you were walking in the hall. No matter what you did, you couldn’t get him to stop, so instead of doing what you had been, glaring and quietly walking away, you began to bite back. The first time you did, it seemed to shock him for a moment before his eyes lit up at your sarcastic remarks. Now, bickering became a daily routine between the two of you, to the point where everyone, including teachers, expected it to break out at some point each day.

The thing that bugged you the most, is that recently you’ve been catching yourself waiting, almost hoping to see his familiar mop of curly hair coming towards you. And that worried you.

Today was no different, you were almost done with the day, one class left, but he was also in it, which meant he should be showing up any time now-

“Y/N!”

Bingo. You roll your eyes and continue down the school halls, pushing past people stopped in the middle.

“Y/N!” He says again, this time much closer to you.

You glance behind you and give him a grimace, “what do I owe this pleasure, Ashton?”

He gives you a smirk and slings one arm over your shoulders, “oh I’m sure I’ll think of something, darling.” The nickname sends a shiver down your spine straight to your center, but you ignore it. You open your mouth to make a comeback, but he beats you to it.

“I didn’t know funeral attire was becoming popular,” he says, gesturing to your mostly black outfit.

You only smirk and say, “oh you didn’t hear? There was an email sent out last night saying that bowling shirts are out, and funeral is in.” He glares at you for making a dig at his shirt, that actually made his arms look amazing, but continues on as you two walk to class.

“Must have missed it,” he says before purposefully bumping his foot with yours midair, making you stumble slightly. “You should really watch you step there, Y/N, you’re so clumsy sometimes.”

You shake your head and push him lightly into a group of people clumped in the side of the hall by the lockers, making him receive glares from them as he apologizes to them. When he gets back to you, still walking with a smirk on your face, you say, “oh, my bad, me and my clumsy feet.”

When you two finally get to class, you sit down, him right next to you as per usual, and you get out your stuff, ready for the day to be over. Throughout the lesson, you tried to pay attention to the teacher, but Ashton made it hard as he kept drumming on his desk with his fingers as well as tapping his foot. You tried to tune it out as best you could, and it was working until you heard a quiet, “pst,” next to you making you close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose in annoyance. You ignore him and continue to try and take notes on what your teacher is saying.

“Psst.”

Your jaw clenches as you look straight at the whiteboard at the front of the room, still ignoring him.

“Y/N,” he whispers again.

“What?!” You whisper-yell at him, looking him in the eyes with anger.

“Jesus, what’s got your panties in a twist,” he says with a smirk, knowing he had gotten on your nerves.

You roll your eyes and look at him, “what do you want Ashton?”

He taps his finger on his chin as if he was contemplating his answer, “I can think of a lot of things I want from you, love.”

You swallow thickly as your eyes widen and your thighs clench involuntarily at his answer. When you open your mouth to respond, your teacher interrupts you, “Y/N, Ashton, would you like to share your discussion with the class?”

Ashton just smirks at you with raised eyebrows, interested in your answer. Your cheeks flush in embarrassment, and you shake your head quickly, “n-no sir, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

He looks suspiciously at you both before going back to your lesson. You send a sharp glare to Ashton, which he responds with his smirk and a mischievous glint in his eyes. The lesson drones on and you continue taking notes and trying to keep up with your teacher, until you feel a sharp poke in your arm. Jerking slightly, you look over at where it came from.

“What,” you whisper, looking at Ashton, who was holding a pencil he must have poked you with, in annoyance.

“Nothing just wanted to say, hi,” he smirks, seeing your annoyance turn into anger again.

You look away from him and face the front again only to see your teacher looking at you both with raised eyebrows, “care to explain, Miss Y/L/N?”

Stuttering, you try to explain that Ashton was the one trying to get you in trouble, but he just shook his head and interrupted you, “detention. Today. Both of you.” The classroom lets out a few ‘ooh’s and whispers that you of all people got sent to detention. You glare at Ashton and whisper, “thanks a lot, asshole.”

Come time for detention, you drag your feet and heavy backpack towards the room it’s held in. Pushing the door open, you look around to see the teacher in charge of detention, Mr. Smalls sitting at the desk with his phone in his hands and feet on the desk. You then notice Ashton looking at you with a piercing gaze that made your skin crawl, and you shoot a glare at him. Quickly, you sign in on the paper at the front, and maneuver to the opposite side of the room as Ashton, reminding yourself you’re still mad that he got you here in the first place.

“Alright,” Mr. Smalls states, looking at you and Ashton, “detention is starting now and will end in half an hour. I’m going to go to the bathroom, I want no funny business.” With a sharp look at both of you, he left the room with a loud bang to the door closing.

Sighing, you open your books to try and get started on some of your homework you were assigned today. You got one problem done with your physics when you hear Ashton speak up from across the room, “honestly, don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this.”

You look up at him with annoyance, “well unlike you, I like to have a good record and I actually care about school.” You look back at your book, but you feel him roll his eyes at you.

“At least I know how to live my life,” he says smugly. This makes your blood boil. You glare at him and feel your face start to heat up, “I know how to live my life, thank you.”

He only smirks at you and says, “oh really? When was the last time you did something a little risky, a little.. on the edge?”

You open your mouth to answer, but close it, thinking to yourself. When was the last time you did anything? Lately you’d been so caught up in school, and it seems that you hadn’t really gone out in a while. “Exactly,” he says, getting up and walking over and put his hands on your desk, leaning in close to your face. “Why don’t we do something risky, we’ve got time and I know you want to.” By now you were anxiously sitting in your seat, hyperaware of every breath that hit your skin as he spoke, lips brushing against your neck as he traveled to your ear. “I know you secretly want my mouth on that sweet pussy of yours, I bet you taste so good,” he groans lowly into your ear. You whimper internally at his words and feel your thighs clench at the thought.

“Don’t project your wet dreams on me, Ash,” you smirk.

He chuckles darkly into your ear, “you shouldn’t lie to me, princess, I see the way you look at me when I’m not looking.” Shit.

“You’re so full of yourself.”.

“Like how you want to be full of me?”

“In your dreams, Irwin,” you say rolling your eyes.

You feel his smirk grow against your skin where he’s now leaving small kisses, “is that why you’re breathing so hard, baby girl? I can feel your heart racing, is it because you don’t want me?”

Swallowing, you feel him suck on the skin just below your jaw, and your eyes roll back in a moment of bliss. You open your mouth to let out a groan, but you catch yourself and grab his curls, pulling him away from you. He stares down at you, eyes full of lust, and your eyes flicker to his puffy, kiss-swollen lips, licking your own in hunger.

Suddenly, he smashes his lips to yours, causing you both to moan at the feeling. You feel his hands move the desk in between you two to the side, and you hear your books fall onto the floor, but you couldn’t care less. You slide your fingers through his curly locks to pull him closer giving his hair a tug, making him moan and you smirk. Your cockiness doesn’t last for long, though, as both of his large hands grope your breasts, kneading them and you gasp at the feeling. He takes the opportunity and slides his tongue into your mouth and you feel yourself melting into his touch. One of his hands slips under your shirt and goes to tweak one of your nipples under the bra. You arch your back and throw your head back, and Ashton moves his lips down your jaw and to your neck. His lips suck and bite across your delicate skin and your eyes roll back and you let out an involuntary high-pitched moan when he reaches just above your collarbone. You feel him smirk against your skin and mumble, “found it,” before sucking harshly on the skin there. There was a slight pain as he bit down to create a large hickey in its place, but you loved the feeling. His tongue smoothed over his handy work, and he leaned back to look at it while you breathed heavily below him. He slides your shirt up above your bra, and moves your bra up, allowing your breasts to fall freely. Humming, he leans down and wraps his lips around one of your nipples, rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger. You gasp and pull harshly on his hair as you feel his tongue swirl around the bud and lightly scrap his teeth on it. He then moves to the other and repeats his actions, and by the time he’s done, you’re a moaning mess above him.

“Feel good, princess?” He asks with a smirk on his swollen lips.

You can only groan and nod your head in response, by now you had hardly any control over your motions or reactions. He lets out a low chuckle, “I’ve barely even done anything too,” he tisks as he moves your bra back to place and starts to kiss lightly down your belly to the top of your shorts. “Can I have a taste, angel?”

You look down and see him lick his lips while looking up at you, his hand on the button of your shorts, waiting for your word. You knew you would regret giving in to him so easily, but right now you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “Please,” you breathe out and he quickly unbuttons and pulls the denim off of your body along with your underwear.

He leaves the clothing pooled at the bottom of your ankles and spreads your knees, kneeling down in front of you. “So wet,” he mumbles before kissing down the side of your thigh towards your throbbing center. You groan in impatience as he skips to the other thigh, kissing back down towards where you wanted him most.

“Ash,” you say, about to tell him to do something, but suddenly you feel his tongue run up your folds and land on your sensitive clit. You let out a strangled moan at the feeling of his lips wrapped around the sensitive bud, and your hips buck up involuntarily into his mouth. He groans and places one hand on the side of your hip to keep it down, and the other slowly slithers to your entrance.

“Shit,” you mumble as he slides one finger in and begins to slowly pump it in and out. You tug on his hair as he slides another finger in while swirling his tongue around your clit. His fingers curl and hit just the right spot to send pleasure shooting up your veins. “Shit, Ash,” you groan, and he hums against you, sending vibrations through your body. His teeth lightly scrape the extremely sensitive bud before he kisses down to where his fingers were, replacing them with his tongue. The new sensation had you seeing stars as he allowed his thumb to come up and rub your clit while his tongue dove into your heat.

“Fuck, Ashton, don’t stop,” you groan, and you can feel his cocky smirk play on his lips as he did what you said. He removed his hand from your hip and moved it up to massage one of your breasts, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Ash, I’m close,” you mumble, bucking your hips up now that they’re free. Just as you were about to fall over the edge, you felt him pull away from you completely. Opening your eyes, you look down at him in frustration, “what the fuck?”

He only smirks and stands up, “detention is almost over, don’t want to get caught, do we?”

You glance at the clock and notice he’s right, but you glare at him, “fuck you.”

“Not now, princess,” he says, still with a smirk on his face, “maybe later, though.”

Glaring, you stand up and put your clothes back on, just in time for Mr. Smalls to come back in.

“Detention is over, you guys can go now,” and he’s gone with Ashton right behind him and you standing alone in an empty classroom frustrated and confused.

231 notes · View notes

ellanainthetardis · 5 years

Photo

You can also find the chapter on fanfiction.net and Ao3 if you prefer reading there! Let me know your thoughts!

Katniss wasn’t hiding in Haymitch’s classroom. She had simply made the judicious choice of removing herself from the rest of the school before she killed someone. She had a free period and she didn’t want to have to witness another brawl between two boys fighting over a girl or having to get involved because one of the football players thought it was perfectly okay to assault girls in the hallway. One of them had groped Madge that morning and Katniss had almost broken his arm.

She wasn’t sure what was happening to boys but they had been even stranger and more annoying than usual for close to a week. Every time she met Gale he made more or less covert remarks about Peeta and every time she met Peeta he asked if she had seen Gale and if she wanted to hang out as if he didn’t have dozens of other friends he could spend time with.

Even Madge thought the male population was acting really weird. They had even caught the principal giving flowers to his assistant.

“I’ve been trying to reach her for a week.” Haymitch snapped. He had been on the phone when she had come in but she had still taken a seat, figuring that if he wanted privacy he would tell her so. As far as she could tell, he had been kept on hold for a while. “Look, I want to talk to Mags Cohen. She ain’t answering her phone at home. I know you keep track of your Watchers… If she’s missing…”

On the phone with the Council, then. Katniss propped her head on her hand and watched him get more and more agitated, wondering if she should get a headstart on her homework because after school there would be training and patrolling and she wasn’t really keeping on top of the grade situation. Not that she cared much. There were more important things in life. Like making sure Prim had everything she needed and that the vampire population remained under check.

“What do you mean she ain’t missing?” he spat. “She’s eighty. Don’t tell me you sent her out on a mission at eighty?” He paused for a long time and then snorted. “Yeah, good. Get President Coin on the line. Finally. I’ve just been asking for twenty minutes.” He glared at the phone and then looked back at her. “They’ve put me on hold again.”

“Who’s Mags Cohen?” she asked.

He hesitated and then shrugged, bringing the phone back against his ear. “She used to be a Watcher. She’s a very good friend of mine. And I wanted some information…” He placed his hand on the mouthpiece, which seemed a bit overkill since he was on hold anyway, and frowned at her. “You’re avoiding the new Art teacher like I told you, right?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. For a whole week she had been making unnecessary detours while stealing a peek at the woman every time she could get away with it. She didn’t really see what the big deal was because the woman wasn’t a vampire and she looked harmless – and totally ridiculous, she spoke loud, laughed a lot and twirled her hands in the air when she talked in a theatrical way. And that was without mentioning the clothes. She was always wearing at least one item in a blinding bright color. “Ever gonna tell me why I’m avoiding her?”

Haymitch studied her for a while and then shrugged. “Training exercise.”

That was a lie and she scowled at him. She didn’t like being manipulated or lied to. “You…”

“Yeah, I’m here.” he suddenly said into the phone. “Yeah, Alma, I know there’s a time difference. Sorry for your tea time.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. “I can’t get a hold on Mags.” A pause and then an angry expression twisted his features. “You really think I need a reason to want to talk to Mags? I check in with her every other week, it ain’t normal I can’t reach her.” There was a long pause and then anger turned to worry. “What do you mean a stroke? Why didn’t anyone call me?” Next thing Katniss knew, he was on his feet and pacing the length of the room, almost growling into his cell phone. “I’m her fucking next of kin! And why didn’t Finnick call me, then? I’ve got a right to…” He abruptly shut up and then rubbed his neck. “How bad is it? I could catch a plane tonight…” More silence on his part then. “Yeah. Right. I know I can’t leave my Slayer alone, thanks. Okay. No, everything’s fine here, we don’t need any help. Tell Finnick to call me or I’m gonna strangle him next time I see him.”

He cut the call off and tossed the phone on his desk but he didn’t stop his pacing.

“Is your friend alright?” Katniss asked. A stroke sounded bad.

“Stable.” he grumbled. “Once I get a hold on that little peacock, though… Last week and nobody called me yet?”

She had never seen him that agitated. He wasn’t really forthcoming about his past and she never pried because… She understood wanting to keep some things close to one’s chest. She wouldn’t have liked people asking questions about her parents, her sister or her home life and she appreciated that Haymitch never directly inquired about it. Oh, he had ways of figuring out what he wanted to know, of course, but he never confronted her about that stuff. He gave her her space and she was grateful for that.

Still, she was a little curious. “Finnick’s your brother?”

He had mentioned a brother once and if that Mags was his next of kin… Well, it wasn’t a huge leap to take.

Haymitch stopped pacing and stood frozen, as if she had struck him.

“My brother’s dead, sweetheart.” he said quietly. “Finnick’s… a close friend.”

His voice was calm but she could tell he was anything but. His tone was too controlled, too neutral… Haymitch was hardly ever neutral. Sarcasm was his default answer to everything and anger a close second behind that. When he wasn’t sarcastic or angry, he was bitter. Neutral was… bad.

“Like Mags?” she hesitated.

She wasn’t the only hesitant one. They were on treacherous ground, here.

They weren’t in a habit of exchanging confidences like that.

“Yeah, a bit.” he finally offered. Another beat of silence and then he licked his lips and started toward the window, turning his back on her. “Mags raised me. My house… It was hers. She gave it to me when my first Slayer was called. Maysilee.”

The way he said it was odd, a little dreadful, as if he was waiting for her to connect some dots. He had been raised by a Watcher…. He had said he had known seven Slayers in all but only trained five, herself not included… Were the two Slayers Mags had been responsible for the Slayers in question? But how had Haymitch ended up raised by a Watcher?

“Look, if you want to go to England, you should. I can deal with vampires by myself for a few days.” she offered. What was the worst that could happen? The rumor that there was a Slayer in town had started to spread anyway, vampires were being a little more careful. Lately, on patrol, she mostly found fledglings or very reckless ones.

He turned around and stared at her, his arms folded in front of his chest almost as if he was hugging himself in a weird display of vulnerability. He seemed to be considering it, which told her that Watcher was really important to him because she was pretty sure nothing else would have dragged him away from his duty.

He might always joke about it and claim he had never wanted to get another Slayer but he was as dedicated to being her Watcher as could be. At least when he wasn’t drinking himself into a stupor – that had happened twice so far as she knew of and, to be fair, he hadn’t been expecting her to show up either time.

She wasn’t sure what he would have said if Peeta hadn’t barged into the classroom right at that moment, looking out of breath.

“Ah good! You’re here!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Have you heard about Woof?”

Haymitch rolled his eyes. “What has he lost now?”

Katniss smiled although she tried not to. Mr Woof was always losing stuff – his marker, his car keys, the solution to his math problems… He was a bit old and the question of his retirement was a recurring joke.

“His clothes.” Peeta deadpanned, looking at her and Haymitch in turn.

“Good for him.” Haymitch snorted. “That makes one of us.”

That was a piece of information she hadn’t needed and she glared at him.

“And his heart.” Peeta added with a cringe.

Haymitch made a face. “Tell me this is a figure of speech.”

“I wish.” he answered softly. “It’s all over the school. They found him in his classroom. The police is about to take the body away. I couldn’t get close enough to see if there were bite marks on his neck.”

Haymitch scowled and then bitterly snorted. “Guess this settles that. Ain’t going anywhere, Katniss.” Then he strode toward the door and Katniss automatically bolted out of her chair to follow, Peeta falling into steps next to her. Haymitch kept mumbling to himself. “Wouldn’t be bite marks… That ain’t a vampire M.O.”

“Then what?” Katniss frowned. She struggled to keep up with him, the corridors were crowded with curious students and Haymitch had to bark three times for them to go back to their respective classroom before they managed to get through.

“Demon. Cult. A serial killer. Your guess is as good as mine until I can get my eyes on the body.” he muttered.

It occurred to her that it was where they were headed: to see Mr Woof’s body and she stopped dead in her tracks. She liked her Math teacher. She didn’t want to see him naked or heartless or dead.

There was a small group of people in front of Woof’s classroom. Heavensbee, some police officers in uniforms and a couple of teachers…

Peeta had noticed her hesitation but Haymitch hadn’t. Not that it mattered much anyway because she didn’t see how they were going to sneak into a crime scene to get a peek at the body…

“Stay back.” Haymitch murmured. “I’ll try to get a closer look.”

“There were a lot more cops earlier.” Peeta explained in a low voice. “I think there are only those two left.”

They watched Haymitch approach the group with a – fake or not, it was hard to tell with him – concerned expression on his face. He was welcomed into the group easily enough. Miss Tigris was sobbing and Heavensbee was awkwardly trying to comfort her, greeting Haymitch with something akin to relief… There was a lot of talking between the teachers and the cops…

All in all, it was lucky Miss Trinket erupted in hysterics at that moment because, otherwise, Katniss didn’t see how Haymitch would have managed to go in and out of the room undetected. Lucky for them, Trinket’s breakdown seemed to last just long enough for him to slip in and out without being noticed.

“Do you think she’s alright?” Peeta worried. “I hope she’s alright…”

Katniss took a look at the woman and decided she simply liked having the spotlight directed at her. She really didn’t see why Haymitch didn’t want her to go anywhere near her.

It took Haymitch ten more minutes to extract himself from the group and walk back down to them. He didn’t look happy but, then again, he had just peeked at the dead body of someone he was used to meeting every day in the staff room.

“Someone clawed his heart out. I’m gonna say demons.” he sighed, looking grim. “We’re gonna need to hit the books.”

“Can I help?” Peeta immediately asked.

Haymitch seemed to hesitate but Katniss rolled her eyes.

“He’s just going to show up anyway.” she told her Watcher. “And he’s good at research.”

Peeta beamed at her and it was Haymitch’s turn to roll his eyes. “Okay. Fine.”

“I’ll bring donuts.” Peeta declared

“A little less cheer, kid.” her Watcher chided. “There’s still a dead body.” He paused for a second and then added. “Grab some of those chocolate croissants you brought on patrol the other night if you can, yeah? Those were good.”

°O°O°O°O°

Katniss was turning into a promising fighter but she was hopeless when it came down to research.

Haymitch had her practicing knife tossing in a corner of the library just so he wouldn’t have to listen to her sigh over dusty books any longer. He was also keeping an eye on the clock. With something that ate hearts on the loose, they would need to patrol extra hard that night. He was toying with the thought of separating to cover more ground but he didn’t like the idea of leaving Katniss without backup.

Or at least a backup who wasn’t a sixteen year-old boy without any demon fighting training but who seemed to be a fixed addition to their future. It was odd being three. Watcher and Slayer, that was how it worked usually, although Haymitch’s experience had never really followed that pattern… First there had been him and his brother and Mags, and then there had been him, Mags and Mabel… He and Maysilee had worked in close quarters with a warlock for quite a while… It had been a tandem with both Alina, Cecelia and Jo but, of course, with Annie there had been Finnick…

Thinking about Finnick made him think about Mags and he shut down that train of thought quickly enough. The younger Watcher had yet to call him back and worrying about it… Worrying about it wouldn’t bring him anything.

He washed that thought down with a gulp of his flask, ignoring Peeta’s disapproving blue eyes. Katniss didn’t seem to mind his drinking habits much but the boy had that judgmental spark in his eyes every time he drank some liquor in front of him. Mostly, Haymitch tried to ignore him. When Peeta had buried as many people as he had and seen as many horrors as he did, he could come and judge him all he liked. Until then, Haymitch would keep on drinking. Besides, he was sober enough. He always stayed sober enough when his Slayer needed him.

He closed the Maleficum and dragged Hellish Beasts And Other Demons toward him, hoping he would have more luck there.

For a while, the only sounds in the library were the regular noise of Katniss’ knives hitting the target. She tossed the knives, retrieved them, tossed them, retrieve them… A weird clock in herself.

“I think I got it.” Peeta said suddenly. Haymitch looked up and Katniss left her practice to swiftly join them around the big round table. The boy turned the book around so they could both see the not so nice illustrations.

“Gross.” Katniss cringed when she saw the pictures. The demon didn’t look nice and what it was doing to those people was even less so.

“Succubus…” Haymitch read out loud, taking the book from the kid’s hands. Yeah, that could fit the pattern… He had never seen one himself in all those years. They were rare.

“They say it’s a demon who can look human outside of feeding times.” the boy summed up. “They go on a feeding spree once every few years. The succubus preys on men and tears their hearts out during coitus.”

“Coitus?” Katniss wrinkled her nose.

“It means sex.” Peeta helpfully offered.

“I know what it means, it’s just… Disgusting.” she replied. “So what? This demon just shows up and…”

“She seduces her victims.” Haymitch cut her off, his eyes skimming the text. “When the feeding period begins, her pheromones tend to make the general male population around her obsessed with sex… More than usual, at least.”

“Explains why all the boys have been acting crazy.” she commented, looking at them suspiciously. “But… Wouldn’t you two have noticed? Why didn’t you say anything?”

He and Peeta exchanged a look. A look was all it took to confirm they had both probably been hornier than usual lately. Men didn’t need to discuss those things.

At least, it explained some things. Like why he had been feeling like a teenager again. His hand had been cramping from all the wet dreams he had been having.

“At least Woof died happy. Poor man.” he muttered.

“How do we kill it?” Katniss asked, bringing the conversation back on track. She was also tossing them disappointed glances as if she had been expecting much better from both of them.

“Pretty much everything will do…” he answered, after having looked the text over again. “Wouldn’t go with just a bow though… Better bring knives too, to be safe.”

“Great.” she deadpanned but she also looked impatient for battle. Vampire activity had been slow lately and the thrill of a fight was in a Slayer’s blood.

“But how do we find the succubus?” Peeta asked. “If she looks human, it could be anyone…”

That stalled them all for a second until Haymitch figured it out and snorted.

“I’m a fucking idiot.” he spat.

“Nobody is going to dispute that…” Katniss muttered under her breath.

He shot her a glare but leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “I knew there was something weird about that woman… Thought she was a spy from the Council, that’s why I was trying to reach Mags…”

But maybe it had just been his instincts warning him and his current paranoia about Coin’s policies had clouded his judgment. What had she said? That she had come back to the States to be closer to her family? When her family lived in Los Angeles? It was probably the Hellmouth that she wanted to get closer to.

“Who?” Katniss frowned and then realized. “The Art teacher? That’s why you wanted me to avoid her?”

“Miss Trinket?” Peeta cut in with a desolate face. “But she’s so nice… There’s no way she can be a demon. I mean…”

“Think about it, boy.” Haymitch rebuked. “I don’t know about you but for me the whole horny-thing started the day she arrived. And, like I said, she’s fishy. Besides she’s…”

He let his sentence trail off but he could tell from Peeta’s expression that he didn’t need to finish it.

“She’s what?” Katniss insisted, apparently not on the same wavelength.

Hot. Beautiful. Sexy. Feisty enough to be interesting. Take your pick.

“She looks like a sex demon would look if she was human.” he said as diplomatically as he could.

It took almost a whole minute for Katniss to decipher that one. And then she scoffed. “You think she’s attractive.”

He shrugged. “Sweetheart, demon or not, she is attractive.”

“And you think so too?” The question was directed straight at Peeta with the velocity of one of her arrows and the boy almost ducked behind one of the pile of books.

E tu, Brute, Haymitch couldn’t help but think with a smirk.

“She’s… She’s…” Peeta stuttered to a stop and turned toward Haymitch. “How do we check for sure she’s a demon? It’s just… She’s really nice.”

“Yeah, right until she fucks the heart out of you.” he snorted.

Katniss made another disgusted face. “Peeta’s got a point. I can’t just go killing her if she’s not a demon.”

“You think?” He rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. I’ll be bait. When she turns into an ugly demon, you can come to the rescue.”

“You’ll be bait.” Katniss repeated dubiously.

“Are you sure?” Peeta said, just as dubiously.

He lifted an eyebrow at the kid. “What? You want to do it?”

It was mostly a rhetorical question because there was no way Haymitch would have let him do it but the boy still took a second too long to refuse. And his blue eyes darted to Katniss before coming back on him, his cheeks a little red.

“No. Obviously not.” the kid mumbled. “And she’s not that attractive anyway. I mean…”

Katniss’ expression was dark and Haymitch chuckled.

“Quit while you’re ahead, boy.” he advised wisely. “Alright. We’ve got a plan, that’s good.”

“How are you going to play bait when we don’t know where she lives?” Katniss asked. “Do you know where she lives?”

“Do I look like a fucking phone book to you?” he scoffed.

“The school.” Peeta said. “I mean… They’d have her address on record, right? If we can get into Cardew or Heavensbee’s computer…”

Haymitch checked his watch again. It was late enough that the high school would be empty or close to it. He shrugged. “Well… It’s been a while since I last broke in somewhere.”

Of course, it was never that easy.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #everlark #thg fanfiction

24 notes · View notes

mikeywheelerr · 6 years

Text

The Light

Part 15 of ‘The Tales of Shortstack and Stringbean’ — read on Ao3

one:

‘my love is like a…’ -

The heat wave of 1989 hits the residents of Hawkins like a freight train, leaving them with soaked shirts and glistening brows, and very little way to get cool.

The public pool is constantly crowded, despite the fact that everyone still has another month of school. Responsibilities and obligations drift to the backs of minds, fore-fronted with the constant complaint of god, it’s hot.

And is it. El is seated in the passenger side of Hop’s truck, back stuck to the leather seat despite her constant adjustment. Her feet are up on the dash. There’s an air of complete nonchalance about her, which happens to be utterly authentic.

Hopper sighs and hands the slip back over. “I still can’t believe you got detention.”

“My record was too clean,” she tells him. “Besides, it was a stupid reason. If anything you should be in there yelling at them.”

Hopper grunts. “Whatever happened to lying low, kid?”

“Ended when I mastered levitation,” she quips, and of course it draws a grin out of him. Conversations like this one—fast and quick, proof of progress—always make him smile.

“Alright,” he pulls his shades down to cover his eyes, “I’ll be back at three to pick you up. Don’t be stupid.”

“Right back at you.” El grabs her bag (full of books and paper and whatever else she might need to entertain herself), before she slips out of the truck and slams the door behind her.

Immediately, El is practically enveloped in the hot, stale air. Sure, Hop’s conditioning unit isn’t that great, but it had still been something. She’s almost certain these temperatures are going to kill her.

They’ve already broken her a little bit, anyway; she’s gone from uptight and worrying about her grades, about life, to not giving two shits about anything at all. It could, of course, be written off given they’re all graduating in a couple of months—but she has a feeling she wouldn’t be walking to detention if the scorching waves of hell hadn’t descended upon the town.

The hallways are vacant. Polished tile floor seems to sprawl for miles. Her sneakers squeak against the surface every now and then; startlingly sharp against the silence.

Room E17, a small classroom near the back of the first floor, is where she’s headed. The door is wide open.

But of course, he’s not there yet. No one but the teacher is.

Fuck.

El sets her pink slip on Mr. Murran’s desk, sinking into a chair near the back of the class. Her expression is probably a perfect mask of teenage angst, complete with a brooding frown as she glares out the window.

Mr. Murran doesn’t even look up from his crossword book as two other students file in. El doesn’t recognise them, but the look pretty young, so she figures they can’t be in her grade.

Then something squeaks, a hand slams against the doorway, and there he is.

Strands of messy hair stuck to his forehead, sweat bleeding into the collar of his shirt, eyes wide, lips red, panting. Hot.

He meets her eyes and grins, and she rolls her own in return. It’s your fault we’re here, Wheeler. And to think, we could be doing dirty awful things by the lake right now.

Mike doesn’t reply. He adds his slip to the stack and then ducks right into the chair behind her.

“Alright, you’re all here,” Mr. Murran rises from his chair. “I gotta take a whiz—uh, relieve myself. Stay here, think about what you’ve done, and all that.”

He points at them like dogs, with the stance of someone who never mastered the subtle art of intimidation, but still tries.

He leaves, and it’s not five minutes before the desk behind El’s grids as Mike pushes it closer, and then she’s melting (actually sinking down lower into her chair, eyes fluttering closed) as his lips brush the back of her neck. “Hey.”

El’s breath is short. She swallows, licking the salty perspiration from her cupid’s bow. “What are you doing?”

Mike trails down to her shoulder, and then back up, before pressing a kiss in the curve between her neck and ear.

“Thinking about what I’ve done,” he replies, a hand sweeping her loose curls from one side to the other.

El bites her lip. “You’re not thinking,” she argues. “You’re reenacting.”

He sucks on her neck in a way that’s absolutely going to leave a mark, but her hair will probably cover it. El finds her eyes fluttering closed, completely forgetting about the handful of freshman sitting in the front half of the classroom. Mike’s arm snakes around her waist and lifts the thin cotton of her tank top, fingers brushing her bare stomach—

“Really?”

They don’t jump apart like they used to. It’s more like a lazy, exasperated drift. El pins Mr. Murran with a sharp stare.

“Hey, weren’t you all over Mrs. Litz on Wednesday?” Mike asks, tone a little challenging and a little amused.

Mr. Murran’s cheeks tinge with red. He straightens his back. “That’s none of your business, Wheeler. Please keep your hands off of Ms. Hopper for the remainder of detention, unless you want another.”

Mike raises his hands in mock innocence, leaning back in his seat. El wants nothing more than to groan aloud, or cause a diversion and bolt with Mike, but all she can manage is to throw her head against the desk.

She closes her eyes as her forehead makes contact with the cool wooden top. She circles her arms around her head so that she’s bathed in darkness.

Hands on her thighs. Lips on her lips. Fingers in her hair—raking through it, scraping her scalp; she can still feel it. Hot and burning and dizzying. The way his torso had pressed against her own, the way his tongue had felt with hers. She can’t breathe as the memory surfaces, so clear and raw.

It had looked pretty bad, sure, but they hadn’t really been doing anything this time. Still, Mr. Murran had seen her legs around Mike’s waist with her perched on an unused teacher’s desk and made all of his assumptions.

They’d never do it at school. Especially not on a gross desk. Who would?

Mrs. Litz, comes Mike’s wry voice, interrupting her open stream of thoughts that she hadn’t exactly realised were open.

Her cheeks flame. What do you think you’re doing?

Eavesdropping, he replies. It’s cute that you can’t get me out of your head, really.

El bites her lip. You weren’t supposed to know.

How often does that happen?

Don’t flatter yourself.

Mike scoffs audibly, which looks ridiculous coming from nowhere. He covers it, coughing.

She manages to block him out, even though she really doesn’t want to. It’s just so exhausting, thinking about this stuff and hearing his voice but not being able to act on what she wants, even when he’s less than two feet away.

The hours pass by. After a bit, El pulls out a book. When she glances behind her, she sees that Mike is deep in planning a campaign, or maybe outlining his book. He somehow feels her stare, though, because his eyes meet hers and he pouts like a dog that just got kicked.

El resists, though. She resists, and manages to distract herself with the stupid plot line of the stupidest book of all time. It’s some romance novel she’d found in-between the cushions at Mike’s house.

Of course, she can’t help but imagine her and Mike doing all these things, and it just makes it all so frustrating, because they could be, but they’re in detention, since apparently someone can’t keep his hands to himself.

She slams the book closed, making most of the occupants in the room jump.

Her psychology textbook will have to do.

Mrs. Johnson had assigned them to read the second to last chapter, which El is halfway through. She flips to her dog-eared page.

Chapter 15, Section 3: What Drives Us; Hunger, Sex, Friendship, and Achievement

��I’m gonna rip my hair out.”

“Don’t do that, I like your hair.” Mike leans over her shoulder, reads the title, and grins. “Problem, shortstack?”

El turns to glare at him, but then she’s looking at him, and she sees how dark and absorbed his eyes are.

“Yeah,” she gets unbearably close. “I was hoping you could read this one out loud to me.”

Mike snorts. His gaze drifts to her lips, though. It’s all without heart except that. “Well—”

“Wheeler!”

“I swear to god,” he hisses, before sitting back.

Mr. Murran sends them a last warning glance. Then he’s back to filling in his crossword.

El flips through the pages slowly and lazily, skimming but not really reading.

One in the afternoon becomes two and she still doesn’t have any notes. Does it even matter, though? A part of her wonders. She could probably stop turning in her homework right now and still manage to have all A’s and B’s in her classes.

Mr. Murran scans them. “Seven letter word for a hard touch, present tense?”

“Groping,” Mike pipes up.

“Figures the virgin wouldn’t get that one,” mutters one of the freshmen.

Mike balls up a paper and throws it in their general direction (it of course misses the likely intended target of the girl’s head, because he’s a complete dweeb and can’t aim for shit). “Uncalled for an untrue,” he says. “Mr. Murran has done plenty of things with Mrs. Litz.”

“Thank you, Michael—wait—I have not—”

El bites down on her fist to keep from laughing.

Minutes pass. Her eyes stay locked on the clock, watching the little red arm slowly circle and circle and circle. She might scream.

It’s so hot, so stuffy. She feels like she can’t breathe. There’s only one fan, and it’s on Mr. Murran’s desk, and fuck, if things don’t move faster she might just break it so they can all suffer.

It would only take a twitch, anyway.

All she can think about is Mike. All she can concentrate on is the sound of his pencil on paper, writing blissfully away as she agonises in her seat. She might start writhing soon.

God, humidity makes her dramatic.

El manages to jot down a few things, but it’s all mostly interrupted by El Wheeler and El Wheeler-Hopper and Jane “El” Wheeler.

“Alright, inmates, your sentences are complete.”

She goes about packing away her things as casually as possible, even though Mike is already hovering nearby and waiting for her.

El stands. She shoulders her bag, pushes her sweaty hair from her forehead, and jerks her head toward the door.

The other students are racing down the hallway, yelling loudly and acting like they really did just get out of prison. Mr. Murran passes by them, winks, and ducks into an office.

They walk slowly, though. Hand in hand. Her heart is racing in her chest.

They’re about ten feet from the double doors when the thought of fuck it occurs and she yanks him by the arm, straight into the nearest supply closet.

With the smallest nod the door is locked behind them. It’s dark, but her hands find his torso. Her fingers curl around his shirt before lifting it up and over his head.

Mike pushes her against the wall. “Who needs it, right?”

Then his lips are on hers—forceful and hungry; devouring. Her mouth slants against his own and then it’s all just his tongue and her tongue and teeth scraping against lips. She can’t even think anymore. He tastes like sweat and plain beeswax chapstick, salty and a little sweet.

El runs her hands up and down his back. He shivers against her, and it makes her grin. She loves how responsive he is to her touches, to her kisses. She loves the way he moans against her mouth when her fingers clash with his soft, curly hair.

God, she’d needed this.

Necking Mike Wheeler, with all of the sharp gasps and groping; with the mutterings of her name as she gives him hickey after hickey—it’s pretty much the greatest thing of all time. She’d decided that at fifteen and she hasn’t found an activity that tops it in her book since.

He just falls apart against her, all loose. His hands slip under her shirt to hold onto her ribcage as she presses kisses against his collarbone and his neck and then lower, on his chest. It’s perfect place to kiss, since she doesn’t have to lean up. She can feel his heart beating erratically, sped up, skipping.

“El,” he breathes. She knows if she could see him, he’d look like he’d just been zapped with a taser, or something. Fucked up hair and wide eyes, flushed cheeks, a parted mouth. He squeezes her torso, pulling her as close as humanly possible, before he starts to return the favour.

It’s about time, is what she thinks, and then there are no more thoughts. Just the sensation of him and her, her and him. El nips at his ear. Mike’s breath hitches. Her hands slide up his chest, chasing that little noise and making it better, louder.

“Y’know, I said I wouldn’t screw you in the school,” she manages, “but I’m seriously reconsidering right now.”

Mike forces her back against the wall again. It’s rough, in a way he rarely is, but it drives her so damn crazy. It makes her want more. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she kisses him again, an unrestrained whine escaping her as his hands travel just a touch higher, yes, god, yes.

Is she really about to have sex in a dark supply closet?

Possibly.

Well, she definitely would have.

But then a fist slams against the door.

“It’s Mr. Murran,” a voice calls (absolutely killing the mood, crumbling it, strangling it). “Hopper, your dad is waiting for you outside.”

El slips her top back on while Mike does the same. She could kill this man. She could punch him right in his god-damned face—

Mike opens the door. Mr. Murran is standing there, looking exasperated beyond belief. “Do you know I should give you detention for this?”

They exchange glances. El feels hope bury the dread in her stomach. “Yeah?”

“Well, I’m not gonna,” he holds up a hand to stem their talking. “This once, I won’t, because you’re seniors, and we’ve all been there, and it’s a hundred-and-six fucking degrees outside. So please. Fix your hair, button your buttons, and get the hell out of this building so I can go home.”

Mr. Murran will always be El’s favourite teacher. She can’t believe she ever looked down on him.

They oblige, even after he’s stalked off to get his things. Mike walks her outside into the unbearable heat with a promise of see you tomorrow, shortstack.

God, she’s gonna marry him.

- two: how it begins -

“Where do you see yourself in ten years?”

El shifts in the uncomfortable upholstered chair. “What do you mean?”

“Career wise,” the counsellor—a brown haired woman in her mid-thirties, El figures—elaborates. “Or school wise, maybe.”

“I…” El swallows. “I don’t know.”

She really doesn’t. It’s so uncertain, so dark. She can’t visualise what she’d possibly be doing at twenty-eight, or what she’d look like, or anything.

“Alright,” Ms. Douglas clicks her pen. “Maybe five, then.”

“What am I doing here?”

A blink. Ms. Douglas hesitates. “You received detention recently,” she says after a minute, probably deliberating over her words. “First time it’s ever happened to you. I’m just… a little curious, is all.”

“Would it be so bad if I became a complete screw up right now?” El wonders aloud. “I mean, we only have six weeks left.”

“A lot can happen in six weeks,” Douglas throws out, half-jokingly. She sighs through her nose when El doesn’t even crack a smile. “I just wanna make sure you’re doing okay. Is everything fine?”

“I got caught making out with my boyfriend,” El says. “Everything is great.”

She actually can’t believe she just said it out loud. But then, she’s sort of been doing a lot of things a little carelessly, lately. Talking, thinking… her judgement has been totally thrown off by the heat.

Or maybe, her mind whispers, you’re just growing up.

Douglas hums, leaning forward with intrigue. “Your boyfriend? What’s his name?”

“Mike.”

“Mike,” Douglas repeats. “And how long have you two been going out? A year?”

“Five.”

“Five months?”

“Five years,” El corrects, rolling her eyes.

Ms. Douglas is silent for a moment. She cocks her head, almost marvelling. “That’s a long time,” she remarks. “I’ve never even had a relationship that lasted longer than three.”

“I love him,” El shrugs.

“Do you see yourself dating for ten?”

“Not dating,” is what tumbles out of her mouth, automatically.

It almost makes her stop short. Five years, she thinks.

- three: hypothetically -

She can’t stop thinking about it.

Five years plays constantly in her head, amidst so many various scenarios, but though it all there’s just one constant, present no matter what the circumstances are.

El looks up from the paper she’s writing. It’s on The Catcher in the Rye, which she hadn’t minded much, but she can’t concentrate for two reasons—both of which are manifested by the scene in front of her.

Mike lays sprawled out on the couch in the basement, moaning his discontent at the heat. Like, really; all he’s doing is moaning. His face is pressed into the cushions, making his voice all muffled.

“Mike,” El taps her eraser, “I’m trying to write.”

“But it’s so hot,” he whines. “When is it gonna stop?”

He’s not wrong. The heat is so thick she can actually feel it around her. She hates the way it feels when she breathes; almost like she’s ingesting a liquid. It sticks to the walls of her insides the same way it does to her skin.

But she really, really needs to write this. Even if school is gonna be out soon, it’s still worth ten percent of her grade. A last big project, her teacher had said.

So El stretches her hand out, pulling the electric fan from its place by the fort over to the couch, instead. With a twitch of her head, it starts whirring to life. Why he couldn’t just do that himself…

All is silent for another half hour or so. El manages to finish counterarguing her rebuttals and closing it all off with a flourish, Holden Caulfield was not mentally ill, he was merely affected so deeply by the death of Allie that he lost all sense of faith, and was stripped of his childhood innocence.

“Done,” El announces.

Mike shifts so that his face is visible. “Can I read it?”

“No,” El goes over, grabbing her backpack to slip it in.

Mike pouts. “Why not?”

“Because you’ll just argue with my point of view,” she says.

He huffs. “I don’t do that. Do I do that?”

“How about this,” El drops down so that she’s sitting on him, legs draped over his thighs, “you can read it if you promise to keep your mouth shut.”

“I can’t even say it’s good?”

“Well, you can say that.”

Mike takes it after promising. El watches, stupidly anxious as his eyes scan the paper, taking longer than she expected him to. When he’s done, he frowns. “Why would I argue with this?”

“I don’t know,” El rolls her eyes. “But now you’re arguing that you’d ever argue in the first place, and that’s stupid.”

Mike grins. “It was good.”

“Yeah?”

His hand is on her knee and she has no idea when it got there. She can’t think.

“You’re really good at being convincing,” he comments, handing it back over. El drops it into her bag.

“So what would it take to convince you to… oh, I don’t know, take your shirt off?”

Mike laughs. Then he’s pulling the thin white cotton shirt up over his head, and oh wow.

The muscles in his stomach are even more pronounced given how much he’s been swimming, lately. His entire chest is also covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Suddenly, she can’t remember who she is or where she’s from.

He tugs at her blouse gently—some old pink thing she got from Nancy way back when. “Your turn?”

El grins. Only she doesn’t take off her shirt. But she she does kiss him; long and deep, memorising the feel of his lips against her own, tasting almost metallic with sweat. She straddles his waist, moaning easily when he squeezes her upper thigh beneath her skirt.

Mike leans back, looking dazed, like he’s been punched. His eyes are wide, breath short, cheeks even more pink than they were before. He’s so pretty when he’s like this—when he’s vulnerable and wanting.

Suddenly his lips turn up. El finds herself face to face with a devil-may-care grin.

Mike flips her onto her back. El squeals in surprise, but then she’s giggling uncontrollably as he blows air against her stomach.

“Mike, stop!”

“Ticklish?”

“Yes—” he untucks her shirt and pulls it up, exposing her stomach, and does it again. This time it’s so much worse. “Mike!”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Did you say more?”

“I hate you,” she protests, around uncontrollable giggles.

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” he says. “Because I happen to love you a whole lot.”

He’s said it maybe a thousand times. Before her classes or after a bad dream, when they’re on the phone, sometimes just out of the blue—and each time, it surprises her. It takes her breath away, leaves her stunned. He loves her. He feels how she feels; he gets that churning warmth in the pit of his stomach, and the skipping in his heart, and that fogginess in his brain. He loves her.

El doesn’t even know what she’s doing. She just knows her shirt is now unbuttoned and open. Mike trails his lips—wet and light, leaving goosebumps—all down her chest. He presses soft, sweet kisses against her stomach. There’s something so adoring about it.

Five years, she thinks.

And in five years, clear as day, she sees something she wants. She sees something that clicks. She sees this; him, eyes dark and full of so much emotion, kissing her over and over right here, only her belly is bigger, swollen.

He’s gonna put a baby in there, she realises, so suddenly her breath catches. Obviously not today, or anytime soon. But five years… it’s a long time.

I want him to, comes next. Really, really bad.

“Mike,” El reaches out to play with his curls, pushing some away from his face. “Do you want a big wedding or a small wedding?”

One step at a time, she thinks.

Mike stops. He looks up at her, frowning. “What?”

“Hypothetically. Big or small?”

He’s silent, considering, studying her face. “I want what you want,” he says. “I don’t mind either way.”

“I don’t want a big wedding,” she says. She’s hated the idea forever; being in front of all those people, doing something so intimate, making promises no one else should be allowed to hear.

“Okay,” Mike’s frown slowly fades. “What brought this on?”

“How many kids do you want? Hypothetically?”

“El,” Mike laughs, now hovering over her, their noses so close they almost touch. “I don’t know. Somewhere between one and however many is too much.”

“So you don’t not want kids?”

“Shortstack,” Mike says, “are you pregnant?”

“Oh my god, no!”

Mike laughs when she whacks him, before grabbing her hand to stop it in motion. “I don’t wanna talk about hypothetical kids right now.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well what do you wanna talk about?”

“Nothing,” he replies. Then his lips are all over hers, kissing her so deeply it makes her moan. His fingers are warm against her back. In no time at all, it’s completely bare, and five years is the farthest thing from her mind. All that matters is now.

- four: something soon -

The week of their graduation, Max comes barrelling into El’s bedroom, demanding that she get her ass out of bed and put on something nice, because they were going to a grad party.

El hates parties. Particularly ones involving lots of people and alcohol, which she’d assumed she’d made pretty clear over the years, given that every time she was invited to one she turned it down—not to mention every time they did go, Max usually ended up getting wasted, which left El as her primary caretaker.

They’re just so… obnoxious, and gross.

Even so, El puts on an outfit she hopes passes as nice; a knee-length sundress with little orange roses and her trusty pair of converse. She doesn’t put on makeup, considering it’ll just melt off. Even without the heat wave, the weather’s still been so high.

Instead she smacks on some lipgloss and calls it quits.

Max goes for a more party-friendly look; torn up, acid washed jeans and some old band shirt, cropped just below her waistline, exposing a small strip of her midriff that’s definitely meant to drive Lucas crazy.

Turns out, it works, because within ten minutes the two are nowhere to be found.

And neither, unfortunately, is Mike.

Will stays with her for a while. They talk about how excited they are for Jon to come home. But then El looks up once and he’s just gone.

El hovers by the wall for a while, nursing a cup of beer she’d gotten as soon as she’d arrived. It’s so loud, and there are so many people. She can’t stand it, but there’s no way she’s just abandoning Max, even with Lucas here.

El sips a little more of her drink. And then some more. Before she knows it, she’s downed it in an attempt to cope with the way her breath keeps quickening and her pulse won’t go down.

It helps. She feels so much lighter, so much better. More, she thinks. This time she goes for the punch, which is sweeter on her lips with less of a kick.

She doesn’t know how much she drinks, just that it’s a lot. It’s too much. The world is spinning and she really, really needs to find Mike.

El works her way through the house, pushing through the masses of sweaty bodies.

She reaches the living room, but he’s not there. None of her friends are. It’s just a bunch of popular jocks and cheerleaders—having a last hurrah, El supposes.

She makes to walk off, but someone grabs her hand. El looks down at a meaty fist and finds herself face to face with one of those damn mouth breathers.

He smiles. It’s really unpleasant. “Wanna dance?”

El tries to jerk her arm out of his grip. “No.”

But he only holds her tighter. His name is Tony, she thinks. Tony from the football team. A lot of girls gossip about him in the locker room. El doesn’t know why.

“C’mon, Hopper, it’ll be fun,” he says. “Besides, your boyfriend’s too busy getting wasted outside to even notice. Just one dance?”

His finger comes up to touch her cheek, which she will not allow. “Let me go,” she says. “Now.”

One last chance.

Tony yanks her toward him, puts a hand on her ass, and smiles like it’s no big deal. “I don’t think I will.”

Alright, chance is up.

She really isn’t supposed to do this, but who cares? Who’s gonna believe a drunk Tony over respectable, straight A student El Hopper?

So she jerks her chin, just the slightest bit, feeling the energy pulse through her entire body before it focuses elsewhere, like a magnet drawn to a pair.

Retracting her arm is really no trouble. Tony wails on the ground, clearly in pain. “What the fuck? What the fuck did you do? You broke my wrist!”

“It’s a sprain,” El snaps, rubbing her own. “Next time when a girl says no, she means it.”

“You’re fucking crazy!”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” she returns, sure to keep her voice low, unlike him. El turns to see that most of his stupid jock friends have cleared out. God, did they think he’d screw her right here on the living room couch?

El rolls her eyes. Outside, Tony had said. Mike.

But there’s hardly anyone out front—just a couple of younger looking students spreading toilet paper across the lawn.

Out back, the air is much clearer than the smoke-filled haze inside. El breathes it in, relishing in the clarity.

There’s plenty of people around the pool—not to mention in it. She really can’t blame them, given how warm it is still, even after dark. She remembers older summers, suddenly, when the air had turned cool after sunset. They’d spent them in the woods, near Castle Byers—telling ghost stories and roasting marshmallows; or in Mike’s basement, playing long games of D&D, staying up too late watching dorky movies, and laughing so much their sides hurt.

That’s all over now, isn’t it? She realises, very suddenly. Sure, it doesn’t mean it’s over between all of them… but the innocence, the wonder, the childhood. It’s over.

El wipes the blurriness from her eyes. She scans the crowd and makes sees no sign of him, or anyone else she knows. Where did Will go? Where are Max and Lucas?

El walks around the side of the house, hoping to find some peace and quiet. She discovers, instead, what must be makeout central. There are like three different couples sucking face, all mindless of one another.

The garage door is empty. Music plays from some stereo, not as loud as the house. In the centre, there’s a keg. A couple of guys are playing ping-pong, a few more are clustered around—

Around a boy with dark hair, who’s chugging a shotgunned beer.

Her boy.

It stops El in her tracks, less so because he’s drinking and more because it’s maybe the hottest thing she’s ever seen; watching his adam’s apple bob up and down, shirt stretched up to reveal just enough of his stomach, all without spilling one single drop.

Mike finishes, crushes the can, and gives a little bow. Dustin, who’s beside him, cheers.

El’s eyelids feel heavy, but god, he looks so handsome; with that hand-me-down black jacket Jon gave him and the freckles on his cheeks. He’s just reaching for another beer when she walks up.

Mike grins. “Hey, Shortstack.”

“He’s so wasted,” Dustin chuckles. “He had, like, five.”

El folds her arms over her chest and pretends really hard to be pissed. “This is what you’ve been doing all night?”

“Dustin’s fault,” Mike waves it off. “I wanted to come find you.”

“Uh-huh,” El nods. “Give me one.”

Mike raises his eyebrows. “You sure? It comes out super fast. All comes down to the ideal gas law—PV=nRT. When you poke the hole, you don’t change shit with the volume itself, but you increase the gas moles at the top of the can, and your suction at the hole forces it out quicker—”

“I don’t know what any of that means,” El says. “Just give me a beer, Stringy.”

Mike throws up his hands, takes the can Dustin offers, pulls out the army knife Hopper gave him for his sixteenth, and pierces the aluminium with exact precision.

“Pop the lid,” Mike instructs.

El does. The warm liquid practically falls into her mouth, running past her lips and down her chin. She chugs, as quick as possible, and then crushes the fully empty can.

“Yeah, El!” Dustin cheers. “That’s my badass lady friend, gentlemen!”

Mike is looking at her. Like, looking at her; all heavy and meaningful, biting his lip.

“You wanna get out of here?”

He jumps at the chance. “Oh my god, yeah.”

“You two are so gross!” Dustin calls after them.

The moonlight spills over his bare chest, highlighting the shadows his lean muscles and collarbones create. He’s all sharp, staring up at her with parted lips. Then he smiles, cocking his head.

“See something you like?”

El loves his eyes. They’re dark, and intense; absorbing. She loves that stupid, teasing tone he uses when he’s like this.

God, he’s so cute.

“I see stars,” she replies, leaning down to kiss the bridge of his nose, brushing over a cluster of freckles. They’re better than any constellations. He’s her universe, and his gravitational pull shifted her axis the minute he found her in the rain. She’s totally, completely done for.

Mike’s cheeks tinge with pink. “You’re so pretty.”

El giggles. “You’re like, in love with me, huh?”

“How ever did you guess?”

“We’ve been dating for five years,” El says. Five years. From there to here. What comes next?

“It’s been half a decade,” he marvels. “Hey, why aren’t we married, yet?”

El hums. She runs her lips down his neck, feeling him shiver beneath her. “We’ll get there when we get there.”

“So we’re getting there?”

“Mike,” El rolls her eyes. “You won’t get anywhere if you don’t take off your pants.”

But then his lips are on hers, mouth spending against her own in some sloppy, hot frenzy. He kisses her so hard he makes her moan, pulling her against him.

And that, what with her straddling his waist and all, drives them both crazy.

El breaks away, breathless. Mike whines in dissent, but then gasps (god, yes, she loves that sound) as she moves over to his ear, tugging and sucking on it, feeling him squirm.

His eyes open. He looks almost hungry. Determinedly, Mike undoes the top button of her dress. Then the second, and the third.

She wriggles out of it as best she can, only it gets stuck in her hair halfway off her head.

Drunkenly and stupidly they work at untangling her curls from the button.

“Clutz,” Mike chuckles, tossing it aside.

“Nerd.”

Mike is already working down her neck, though, leaving hickey after hickey. She falls against him, breath caught in her throat until he does it hard enough to release a sound—something between a gasp and a hiccup. Every bruising kiss leaves her skin tingling. It sets her on fire. “Mike...”

She’s never wanted him so much, never needed him this badly.

It’s all it takes to get him to grab her by the waist and flip them, so that he’s on top of her. He holds onto her ribcage, making her feel almost delicate in his grasp.

But he kisses her roughly, making her moan against his mouth. El pulls him a little closer, letting her fingers get lost in his hair, and falls apart at his touch.

The windows are foggy. She’s a little winded, but feels slightly more sober. El finds her clothes, pulling her dress on, fingers fumbling with the buttons. Mike’s hands close over her own. He fastens the last few for her, biting his lip. “Cold?”

“Yeah.”

He offers her his jacket. El puts it on. It smells like smoke, warm and rich. She smiles gratefully, before pulling on his arm so that they’re lying down again.

She fits against him like she was made to. El wraps her arms around him, letting her eyes flutter closed as his fingers interweave with her hair—now loose from its braid and falling down her back.

El traces his jawline. It makes him grin sleepily. “Did you have a good time?”

Anything is good with him. Fuck, just lying here, with her torso pressed against his, is fantastic.

El nods. “Yeah. You?”

“Mmhm,” he presses a kiss to her nose.

Tonight was good. Tomorrow will be too. So will the next few weeks. Then he’ll be gone, and you’ll be alone, because all good things must come to an end.

El feels her insides wither. She holds him tighter, burying her face in the crook of his neck, and tries her hardest not to cry.

She won’t lose him, right? He won’t find someone else? He won’t discover there’s a whole world outside of Hawkins, Indiana, and there’s so many... better, normal girls?

El had worked off insecurities like these long ago. Something about him being him, and knowing how he felt—just being around him, she knew there was nothing to worry about. But now it’s all coming back, and it’s so much worse because she won’t be with him.

El swallows it all down, though; she’s being completely ridiculous, and she knows she’ll only make him feel bad for doing something he wants to do. She won’t hold him back, she won’t be that dramatic girlfriend that stops him from following his dreams.

But she will stay here, in his arms, and breathe him in. She will memorise how his heart beats; two, one, two, against her own. She will memorise the shape of him, the smell of him, the feel of his skin against her own. She will hold onto this, imprint it in her mind, remember it when things get hard. Remember that even if he’s gone, he’s always with her. He’s with her now, in the back of his lightly used Pontiac, half asleep and lazily pressing his lips to her shoulder.

“I love you.”

Mike meets her eyes, concern on the edges of his features just threatening to impose.

She won’t cry. She won’t.

But she will kiss him.

Sweet and soft, yet it’s enough to make her brain melt. She pulls back after a minute, putting her hand on his cheek.

Mike looks at her like she’s his whole world. It makes her feel like she is. “I love you, too.”

“Always?”

Her voice sounds small. She needs this, though.

“Always,” he says, voice confident and firm. He understands even if he doesn’t know why. “I mean,” Mike grabs the chain around her neck, holding the ring up. “Why do you think I gave you this?”

El grabs it. The metal is cool in her palm. She fiddles with it, before slipping it onto her finger, though Mike keeps his eyes on her face.

El bites her tongue. She can’t wear it yet. She can’t. Even if all she wants to do is promise forever, it just... isn’t soon yet.

And so she slips it off her finger, watching the light go out of his eyes. But she keeps it in hand, toying with it. “I want to tell you a secret.”

“Yeah?”

“Every night, when I go to bed, I wish you were with me. And I always think about why I haven’t said yes, and why it’s taking me so long, and how much that must hurt you—”

“It doesn’t—”

“I know it does,” El shakes her head. “But the thing is, I can see it. It’s not that I don’t want it. It’s just that... I want now. I want now without having to think about forever.”

She draws in a breath. “I want forever. I do. I want... I want kids—god, you have no idea how much I think about that—and I want to make you happy, and that’s what this means, you know? I wear this, and that starts. Maybe not right away, but... I just don’t want it to end, yet.”

Mike grabs her hand. The ring presses between their palms, digging into their skin. “Okay.”

She doesn’t realise she’s crying until the tears have spilled over, running hot and ticklish down her cheeks. “Yeah?”

Mike blows one away. It makes her smile. “Yeah,” he says, grinning back. “Soon.”

- five: carpe diem -

It’s the first day of summer break; a day of overwhelming freedom for all of them—but especially El, because she won’t even be going to college in the fall. She can’t shake the constant nagging realisation that this is it, it’s the start of everything.

The end of everything, too.

It’s with these thoughts that she sits by the edge of the lake, arms drawn around her shins, watching the still blue water ripple in the afternoon sun.

(she’ll come here a lot, during the next year; remembering this day, remembering the sound of the Ramones blasting from the radio and Max’s squeals as Lucas throws her into the water. she’ll remember this feeling, heavy in her stomach, like some rock she’ll never be able to rid herself of: nostalgia)

“Hey, Shortstack.”

El lifts her head, squinting slightly in the light until she doesn’t have to. Mike blocks the sun out, his shadow looming over her. There’s some crooked half smile on his face. His cheeks and nose are a little pink, and she knows he’ll have even more freckles in the coming weeks.

“If you’re thinking about throwing me in the lake, you can forget it.”

Mike grins, falling down next to her. “No,” he says, resting his arms on his knees. “You just looked a little sad, I guess.”

El hums. She barely registers when his fingers reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, until they’re gracing her neck, instead.

Mike’s hand trails down, stopping at her wrist. She holds out her own. Their fingers intertwine, so naturally and perfectly. Her hand, small within his—skin smooth, a little darker. His own with the bones all visible whenever his fingers flex, long digits, palm just a little rough from working with computer parts for years.

Will it always be like this? Will it always be so easy? Or will time create some chasm between them, so deep it can’t be filled?

El looks at him, soaking up the sight of Mike Wheeler, her boyfriend.

He looks ethereal, with the sunlight glistening against his jawline and his dark, thick hair falling into his eyes. It’s curled from having gotten wet, brown strands standing out with the golden glow of the day.

She never wants to look at anything, or anyone else.

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Just you,” El looks down at his knuckles instead. “I just...”

Mike leans a little closer. “‘Just’ what?”

With a suddenness that almost strikes her, it’s not about that, it’s about this; about the heat—between and around them. About the sweat on his back and the outline of the muscles on his stomach, clear whenever he draws in breath. It’s about his lips, the lower one caught between his teeth; the softness, and the upward quirk to them.

“Wanna go make out?”

El laughs. “God, yes.”

Live in the moment, she reminds herself. Carpe fucking diem.

Fuck, yes.

Her mouth moves against his own like it wasn’t made for anything else, tongue pressing against his, teasing and wonderfully raw.

Mike draws back, hovering over her. He’s very aware of her legs wrapped around his waist, and how her chest rises and falls with every heavy breath, how her hair falls across the seat; her eyes are wide and her pupils are blown, cheeks red, lips parted. El.

Then she captures him again. This time it feels more fervent. Mike grips her upper thigh, squeezing, and she moans. Oh, fuck, yes.

This is the best thing, the best part; when all of the tension bleeds out of her and she melts against him, open and wanting. It drives him crazy like nothing else can, and it only gets worse with every gasp and sigh.

That feeling rises to a pinnacle when she whispers his name, so full of need. “Mike...”

He’s already pulling the strings on her top. Then, like magic, wow, it’s just gone.

The hand on her rib cage rises just a bit higher, and the way she arches her back—fuck, he’s just done for.

It’s really, really hard to take. It’s hard to move slow, like this, but he does it anyway; he presses heated kisses to her jaw, to her neck, to her collarbone. Sucking and nipping, revelling in her desperate whimpers. El’s nails dig into his back. He’s just about to reach the swell of her right breast when—

“Dudes! For real?!”

A fist collides with the side of his car, so hard it jostles them both.

Mike rips his lips from her skin. Max is leaning with her back against the window, head still shaking. “What do you want?”

“Go away,” El pipes in, completely unbothered that she isn’t even wearing a top.

“We’re leaving,” Max tells them. “We wanna go back to your place, though. Play D&D. Can you guys, like, get dressed and pick up food or something?”

Mike’s head falls against her shoulder. He wants to say no, they cannot, they’re busy—but she taps him. “I’m starving.”

Mike drives, which El doesn’t mind at all. It’s so much better being next to him, with the freedom to put her hand on his thigh, to lean over and pepper his neck with kisses.

He’s grinning. She loves that look; totally shot and trying not to show it. “Do you want me to crash this thing and kill us both?”

El hums, sucking hard enough to bruise. “I want you to pull off,” she says, fingers trailing farther up his leg.

Mike shivers, yes, before swallowing roughly. “Sounds like a plan.”

He does, stopping in some secluded brush, gravel crackling under the tires. El is straddling his lap before the car is even off, and once it is, she knows she has his full and undivided attention.

Mike kisses her. His hands are on her waist, solid and heavy through the thin fabric of her shirt. It’s some ratty old band tee, and she really doesn’t miss it after he tugs it over her head.

“Eager, much?”

Mike chuckles. “Shut up.”

She smiles, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he leans in, kissing her sternum—hard and rough, teeth raking against her skin. Yeah, definitely eager.

It brings a sigh out of her, which swiftly turns into a moan as his lips travel even lower. Yes, please, god.

Mike lets loose some heavy groan, pulling her as close as possible. Here, now, she thinks.

Then and there is what she gets.

Much later, after a campaign that drags on for seven hours, they pull up in front of her house. Mike looks over at her, frowning all helplessly. “Don’t go.”

El unbuckles, scooting over and borrowing against him. “I don’t want to.”

She wants to stay right here, forever, with his fingers playing with her own and her ear against his heart beat. But she can’t, because it’s five minutes until curfew.

When she looks up, Mike is still pouting. His nose brushes her own. El’s eyes flutter closed. She lets herself get drawn in to the feel of his pulse against her hand, resting on his neck; to the feel of his fingers in her hair, of his lips hovering so close.

“I gotta go,” she whispers.

Mike shakes his head. It brings him far enough to close the distance and kiss her. Sweet, soft, amazing.

They go back and forth, caught in a daze. She loves the way his lips feel on hers. She loves the faint taste of his chapstick. She loves him, and she absolutely can’t live without him.

And that’s all it takes to make her stomach drop. That’s all it takes to ruin everything; because she will have to, and she might as well get fucking used to it.

So she draws away, forcing a smile when Mike whines in protest.

“Goodnight, Mike.”

He can tell something is up. He always can. “Hey,” Mike pushes her hair behind her ear, “what’s up?”

“Nothing,” El sucks in some air, trying to even out her breathing. “I’m just tired.”

He also knows, thank god, when not to push.

Mike sighs. “Okay,” he says. Then he plants a last kiss on her forehead. “I love you.”

El smiles for real, easily, then. “I love you, too.”

She slips out of the car, hurrying up the walk to her house. El enters with a good two minutes to spare. Hop and Joyce are on the couch, cuddled into each other. God, I want that, she thinks, suddenly.

(five years)

“Hey, kiddo,” Hopper says. “How was it?”

“Okay,” El shrugs. “I’m just gonna shower and go to bed.”

Joyce smiles. “G’night, sweetie.”

“Night,” El says, to them both. Then she hurries up the stairs to her bathroom. El runs the water and leans over the sink, watching as steam slowly starts to curl upward.

Now, forever, always.

And that’s when she makes her decision.

- six: when we were young -

The night before his eighteenth birthday, they watch Star Wars for like, the millionth time. It’s only the guys, because Max and El are having a sleepover, which basically means by the time the night is over, his basement smells and there’s a shitload of trash all over the place.

“It was a pleasure having you,” he says dryly, as they clear out.

Lucas claps Mike on the shoulder. “See you tomorrow, man.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine,” Mike waves him off. “I’ll clean this all up on my own.”

Dustin grins. “Have fun, Cinderella.”

“That was the lamest insult of all time,” Lucas says.

“Uh, bullshit. My insults are well constructed and comedic, because I’m funny.”

“You’re annoying is what you are,” Lucas argues. “I still can’t believe you think that stupid purr is funny.”

“It is! And it’s a great Chewbacca impression!”

Mike and Will exchange glances as their friends climb the stairs, bickering over one another. “I’ll help,” Will says.

It doesn’t take very long with two of them. Mike carries all the trash upstairs to Will’s departing, “Happy early birthday!”

“Hey, Will?”

Will stops, halfway out the back door. “Yeah, Mike?”

He doesn’t know what to say. He’s just grateful. He’s so, so grateful to have had Will this long, for twelve whole years of his life, since that first day on the swing set. So when he says, “Thanks for helping me,” he means it less about pizza boxes and more about… everything else.

Will shrugs. “Always.”

Mike smiles. “See you tomorrow.”

In the kitchen, his mom is cleaning up the counter. It’s covered in flour and batter and all the other residue that comes from baking a cake. Mike goes over and starts washing the dishes without a word.

“You don’t have to do that, sweetie.”

“I don’t mind,” he says.

They work around each other in silence for a bit. Then she comes over and starts drying them.

“Need anything else?” He asks, when they’re done.

His mom studies him for a moment, eyes gleaming. “God,” she huffs a laugh, drying her eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m being silly, it’s just,” she sniffs, “you’re just so grown up.”

“Mom…”

“No, I know,” she nods. “I can’t help it, I’m sorry—”

Maybe he surprises her when he hugs her, but she relaxes into it eventually. She smells like Chanel No. 5; familiar and safe and comfortable. He can remember being five years old, nestled up against her side while she read to him. He wishes, very suddenly, that he could go back to being that small.

“My baby boy,” she sobs. Maybe she’s thinking about the same things.

“I love you, mom.”

“Oh, Mike,” she squeezes him just a little tighter before drawing back, having to crane her neck a little to look at him. “I love you, too.”

He kisses her cheek. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

“Okay,” she looks like someone just handed her the moon. “Happy early birthday, honey.”

“Thanks,” Mike can’t help but glance at the clock. Two more hours. “Goodnight, Mom.”

“Night, Michael.”

On the way to his room, he passes Holly’s, and sees the door is open just a crack.

Mike pokes his head in, absorbing the magazine cut outs that are starting to cover her walls, and the yellow, daisy patterned bedspread. He wonders if it’ll look the same by Thanksgiving, or if she’ll have grown up a lot by then.

“Mikey,” she practically shoots out of bed, grabbing him by the arm. She drags him inside. “Read me a story?”

“Sure, Holly.”

Holly hands him a novel. He’s pleased to see the front cover is adorned with dragons—seems like she’s taking after him, thank god. The Star Scroll. “What chapter are you on?”

“Three.” They settle on her bed, with her against his side. Maybe things like this don’t have to end so soon, Mike thinks.

Mike flips to the page. “Pol had dreadful memories of his first trip across the straits between Radzyn and Dorval...”

It takes a chapter or so, but then she’s asleep. Mike closes the book and sets it aside, before gently extracting himself from her grip. He leans down and kisses her forehead, thinking suddenly how much he’ll miss this. It’s not like he’ll be across the country, or anything, but still.

When he stands, he finds Nancy in the doorway. She’s leaning against the frame, smiling softly. Mike rolls his eyes. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

“Shut up.”

She fixes him with some intense stare, eyes starting to glisten just a touch. “You know, you’re really sweet.”

“Nancy, don’t...”

He doesn’t know if he can handle this all over again. Why can’t everyone be like Holly; just totally oblivious? But Nancy shakes her head. “No, I’m serious. You are. Now come with me, I have something to give you.”

Mike takes her offered hand with some reluctance and lets her lead him down the hall. “My birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” he says as she closes her door.

“I know, but this is special.” She kneels down and digs around under her bed. “I wanted to give it to you alone.”

Nancy procures a wrapped up... something. She pulls him down onto the bed with her and hands it over. “Open it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she nudges him. “I swear, it’s not a bomb, or anything.”

Mike grins. He gingerly unfolds the paper at the top and pulls out her present.

It’s a photo album.

The cover is made of brown leather, not unlike the notebook El gave him for his sixteenth birthday. Just inside, there’s a small inscription.

To my brother. I don’t say I love you enough, but if you ever doubt it, here’s the proof. -Nancy

That’s enough to make him start crying, god help him, but then of course it only gets worse; the first few pages are filled with pictures of them together as little kids.

Her in a princess dress for Halloween with him in the stupidest cowboy costume ever. Them at the beach, in the basement, asleep together on the living room couch.

“Nance...”

She squeezes his hand. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” He wastes no time pulling her into his arms. Nancy hugs him back just as fiercely. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replies, voice wavering. “God, I can’t believe you’re all grown up.”

“I’m not grown up, I’m crying like a baby.”

Nancy laughs. “I just wanted to give you something special, you know? Something that was just about us.”

“It’s perfect,” he says. “Thank you.”

She shrugs. “I expect something just as cool for my birthday, though.”

“Keep dreaming,” he snorts. They spend a bit flipping through the photos, laughing at the stupid ones and reminiscing. It all seems like lifetimes ago.

His watch beeps, and right on time, he hears her voice in his head. I’m waiting, Stringy. “Shit, I gotta go.”

“Go where?”

“A place,” he replies vaguely.

Nancy’s smile turns devilish. “You little player.”

“God, stop,” he stands. “Can I, um... use your window?”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

“And you’ll cover for me?”

“Yes, you idiot. Now go, before you make El mad.”

He’s late, but she doesn’t really mind. It just gives her extra time to make sure she doesn’t look like a complete mess. Even so, she’s starting to regret persuading him to meet her at eleven at night, in the middle of the sweltering July heat.

El sits criss cross on the cabin porch, waiting, waiting, waiting…

“Hey, Shortstack.”

He looks good. Like, sure, he’s just wearing jeans and some old shirt, but in the orange light the ends of his curls glow like embers, and he’s smiling. Mike Wheeler is absolutely perfect, even when he’s fifteen minutes late.

“About time,” she says, standing.

“How about we pretend you said midnight, and I’m early,” he proposes.

El rolls her eyes. She takes his hand and drags him up the porch steps. “Are you ready?”

“For my super secret surprise?”

That makes El a little nervous, because what if he’s expecting something better, something else? God, why had she tried to be romantic? He’s gonna be disappointed, she just knows it.

Mike seems to sense her hesitation. He shakes his head. “El, you didn’t have to get me anything at all, you know,” he says. “You’re all I ever want.”

El’s heart clenches. “Stop doing that.”

He gives her a bemused frown. “Doing what?”

“Being… effortlessly romantic.”

“I wasn’t trying to be romantic, Shortstack, I was just stating a fact.”

“You’re doing it again!” El can’t help but smile. “Okay, here’s how this works: once we step over this threshold, only I’m allowed to say stuff like that.”

“After,” he nods. “So I guess that means I have to give you your present now, huh?”

“Mike!”

“Relax, oh my god.”

He pulls out a box—a jewellery box, specifically, which means she can’t relax because he spent money and it’s not even her fucking birthday.

Inside there’s a simple golden chain. “It’s for your ring,” he tells her.

God, it’s perfect. Miles better than the silver one she’d been using. It’ll match, and it’s probably real gold, and why does he have to be so perfect all the damn time?

El gingerly takes it, admiring the way it glints in the light. Mike silently works off her other necklace, slipping the ring onto the gold chain. She turns so he can clasp it, and shivers when she feels his lips press against the back of her neck.

“Mike…”

“No, I know,” he grins. “Your turn.”

Inside, it’s pitch black until she turns on the light.

There it is, the blanket fort she’d spent hours making, trying her best to perfectly recreate the one in his own basement. It’s bigger, and not exactly the same, but it still. She’d even added strands of twinkle lights, just because.

El waits anxiously, watching his face.

“I never thanked you,” she says. “For taking me home that night, and giving me hope. It meant so much to me. I just wanted to let you know that, but I didn’t know how, so I figured... my first home in my first house, you know? But this one can be for both of us, not just me.”

That’s when she sees that he’s crying, but he’s smiling, too. There’s so much happy there it’s practically pouring out of him; it’s beautiful.

“It’s perfect,” he tells her. Relief floods her; she feels like a ten ton weight was just lifted off her back. Then he pulls her closer, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her—all emotion and love, all Mike. “You’re perfect.”

El wraps her arms around his waist. “Happy birthday, Stringy.”

Sunlight streams over his face, making him look practically unearthly; skin so white it practically glows, dark curls falling into his eyes. She takes in the pink of his parted lips, the darkness of his long eyelashes as they flutter over his cheeks.

He’s the most beautiful thing El’s ever seen in her whole life.

“You’re staring at me.”

She scoots closer, encapsulated by the heat that radiates off his skin. “Was not.”

“Were too.” His eyes open. They’re gorgeous, brown, and full of warmth. “Happy birthday to me.”

“You’re stupid,” she pecks his cheek. “I should go shower.”

“No,” Mike pulls her close, nuzzling her neck. “It’s my birthday, and I demand that we don’t ever move from this spot, ever.”

“But I have more surprises.”

“Like what?”

“Not telling. That would ruin it.”

He kisses her, soft and sweet, lips chapped but warm as they move slowly against her own. “Please?”

“We’re supposed to meet everyone else at Benny’s for breakfast,” she caves, breath hitching as his mouth presses to the underside of her jaw, bestowing feather-light kisses all down her neck. “You’re evil.”

“Mhmm.”

El runs her hands down his bare back, relishing in the way he shivers at her touch. Mike melts against her. His hand comes up to cradle her head, making her stomach explode with butterflies at how soft he is, how gently he pushes her curls away from her ear, leaving kisses against it that are really just grazing, yet they still set her skin aflame.

There’s something so intimate about this; being with him, alone, in the early hours of the morning. With the way he touches her, how it sends her into a mindless frenzy of needing more, wanting him, being close.

But it’s only right that she return the favour, it being his birthday, and all.

El sinks a little lower, nestling against his torso. She runs her lips over his collarbone, loving the sound he makes—a hiccuping, undefined gasp. It’s much more distinctive when she kisses him a little rougher, over and over, teeth biting hard enough to bruise.

“El...”

She draws back to just look at him; the tilt of his head and his flushed cheeks, eyes darkened and wide, pale skin now peppered with fresh red marks.

He swallows. “Why’d you stop?”

“No reason,” she leans down, kissing his forehead. “But we should really shower.”

“El, no—wait, did you say ‘we’?”

She smiles, slipping his shirt over her head. “Who else?”

- seven: a taste of forever -

On a Friday night, her phone rings.

El’s just gotten back from her shift at the library. She’s about to peel off her clothes, with half a mind to sink into a bath, when she hears it.

“Hello?”

“Come over,” Mike’s voice whines. “I’m bored.”

“But I was gonna take a bath,” she says, flopping down onto her bed.

“You can take one here,” he suggests. “Holly’s driving me crazy.”

El moans, glancing longingly at the door to her bathroom. Mike moans back.

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“You’re the best,” Mike gushes. “I love you. Have I told you that, recently?”

El grins. “Yeah, but you better not stop.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you—”

When she gets there, he and Holly are sprawled out in front of the TV, leaning against each other. They both light up when she comes in.

“Hi,” El kicks the door closed behind her. “What’re you watching?”

“Danger Mouse,” Holly says. “It’s dumb.”

“Oh, thank god,” Mike says, quickly changing the channel. “I thought you were actually enjoying that shit.”

“I thought you were,” Holly says.

“Why would I wanna watch Danger Mouse?”

Holly sticks out her tongue. “Cuz you’re stupid.”

“Well then you’re stupid too.”

“No.”

“Yeah,” Mike pokes her stomach. “It’s genetic.”

El works hard to suppress a smile. “Can you help me with the groceries, Mike?”

“Of course, dear,” he replies, jumping up from the couch. He takes one of the bags in her arms. “What’d you get?”

“Stuff for pasta,” she replies. “It’s Holly’s favourite.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Mike, your parents have been out of town for two whole days. She needs an actual meal.”

He grins, kissing her cheek. “I did feed her, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“I made chicken last night,” he says. It’s so casual, but like, he cooked, she shopped, they’re all grown up.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll make it for you, sometime. I’ll wear an apron.”

“And nothing else?” She teases.

Mike laughs. “Anything for you, Shortstack.”

They sort everything out, but somehow end up back in the living room. They watch reruns of old seventies sitcoms, and by nine, El is way too tired to cook.

All of her beautiful domestic plans down the drain.

“Can we order pizza?”

He nods against her chest, where his head rests. Between his legs is Holly, who perks up. “With extra cheese?”

“Get me the phone,” he mumbles tiredly.

Much later, Mike wakes up from some hazy sleep. The television is on, as is the kitchen light (though it’s vacant). El is nowhere to be seen, but Holly is half asleep on the couch, absently chewing on the ear of her oldest and grossest stuffed bunny. It’s a habit she’s mostly outgrown, only slipping back into it when she’s about to conk out, but trying desperately to stay awake.

“Whatcha watchin’?”

“More stupid Danger Mouse,” she says, voice barely a whisper. Her eyes are glued to the screen.

That’s when he notices the tear tracks.

“Hey,” Mike is by her side in an instant, removing the ragged stuffed animal from the equation and pulling her close. “What’s up?”

All of the sudden she’s curling into herself, broken down by a fresh wave of tears. “I had too much pizza, and Nancy l-left again, and you’re l-leaving too and you’re never gonna call m-me because I’m stupid and l-lame and I’ll never see you again—”

“Holly,” he rests his head on her chin and rocks her back and forth; she’s still that small (or maybe he’s that tall). “That’s not gonna happen.”

“You’re not gonna leave?!”

She’s so hopeful it actually crushes his heart into a million pieces. Mike loses all of his strength, head falling against the couch cushions, but he keeps holding her. “I have to go,” he says.

Her chin wobbles. “Oh.”

“But I’m gonna miss you like crazy, okay? And I’ll come home every weekend, I promise. You can even visit me, with mom. And you’re not lame, or stupid. You’re the coolest kid I know.”

Holly rolls her eyes, a habit she no doubt picked up from him, but she’s smiling a little bit too. He takes that as a success. “You have to be pretty cool to watch Danger Mouse reruns on a Saturday night,” she remarks.

Mike grins. “I swear it’ll be okay.”

“Sap,” she comments. It’s something she definitely picked up from El.

“Maybe,” he admits, not really minding. “But I mean it. And I love you, a lot. Got it?”

Holly nods. Her blue eyes, the ones she shares with Nance, are still watery and glassy, but she still looks assured. “Got it, Mikey.”

Then she yawns, and Mike doesn’t really need another word. He picks her up and throws her over his shoulder, which makes her squeal like always, and then carries her upstairs.

El is in his room. Specifically, on his bed, with her legs folded and her left arm stretched out above her. The ring glints on her finger, and she cocks her head.

“Hey.”

El starts. Her cheeks flush, which makes him grin, and she hastily works the band off her finger. “I was just looking,” she says firmly.

Mike grins. “Sure,” he closes the door and readjusts his hold on Holly. “I believe you.”

She gives him a look; all vexed and provoked as she puts her necklace back on. The locket and the ring jingle as she tucks them both under her shirt, where they’re always hidden. “Shut up.”

She starts smiling at his expression (which is probably all starry eyed, but fuck it, she was wearing the ring again, god, he keeps catching her doing that), until her gaze rips away from him and slips to Holly. “Is she okay?”

Mike shrugs. “I figured she could sleep with us.”

El nods, and so Mike carries his little sister over to the bed and lays her down in the middle. She promptly rolls over onto her stomach. El slides in next to her, running a hand up and down Holly’s back.

“You tired?”

“No,” El’s voice sounds distant. “You?”

“No.” Mike lies down. He puts his head against Holly’s left shoulder, her arm having already snaked beneath a pillow, and closes his eyes. El’s fingers are in his hair a few seconds later, somehow just what he needs. She touches the nape of his neck, and his ear, and then his cheekbones. He loves her so much it actually hurts him just then, like someone’s squeezing his heart.

Then his bedroom door flies open.

Max Mayfield is a rush of red hair and dark eyes. She kicks it closed behind her, probably leaving a shoe-print mark. Holly’s eyes fly open.

“Max!”

Their eyes are wide, and Mike’s heart is pounding. All he can think is fucking Niel, fucking Billy, fucking monsters—

“Your back door was unlocked,” she explains, edging closer. “I... Lucas...”

Mike falls back against his pillows. Here we go again.

El pats the mattress next to her. “He’s okay, right?”

“Yeah,” Max scoffs. “Really great.”

She doesn’t need a second invitation, though. Max kicks off her shoes and curls up between Holly and El. His little sister doesn’t seem pleased with the new addition, though (and Mike can’t say he disagrees). Holly climbs onto his stomach and falls asleep within minutes.

“So what happened?”

He can’t believe he’s asking, but he also can’t help but feel concerned. This is Lucas. It’s Max. They’re stressed and arguing all the time, lately, about the stupidest shit. It’s like Junior year all over again.

Max sniffs. “We just fought,” she whispers. “It was stupid. It didn’t even make sense.”

El takes her hand. “You sure?”

“He asked me to come with him again, and I said no, that I had plans with you, and he can’t just do that to Mike, y’know? And then he started yelling about how I was being selfish and putting our relationship in jeopardy because ‘long distance doesn’t last’.”

“Bullshit,” they reply in unison.

“Look at Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve,” Mike elaborates. “They make it work, and they’re all in different places.”

Max throws her hands up. “Exactly! I literally brought that up! But does he listen to reason? No! He just went on about how every relationship is different and oh my god I think he wants to break up with me.”

“No,” they tell her. El rolls onto her side. “He’s just scared, okay? He doesn’t want to lose you. It’s a really, really hard thing to go from seeing someone all the time to barely ever.”

Max huffs. “That doesn’t mean he has to be an ass about it.”

Mike can’t take his eyes off El. He can’t do anything about the ridiculous explosion in his stomach, but he can’t stop staring, either. Perfect. Wow. Look at her.

“He just doesn’t want to admit it,” Mike tells Max, without looking at her. El bites her lip. “Or be too dramatic about the whole thing, because then he’ll make you feel like your relationship isn’t strong enough, when it is, you’re super strong—”

“We’re no longer talking about me, are we?” Max inquires dryly.

Mike blinks. “It’s all relevant. You are pretty strong, Mayfield. But the point is, he just needs to know you’re scared, too.”

El’s attention seems drawn to the sheets, but then her voice breaks through the barriers of his mind. I am scared, Stringy.

Yeah?

So scared.

He already sort of knew that. But he also knows that he doesn’t even compare to her when it comes to handling bullshit. He’s probably going to be a complete mess, with weekend exceptions.

Max clears her throat. “Can you guys, like, not? I’m in this bed, too.”

Mike raises an eyebrow. “What are you suggesting?”

It makes them both burst into laughter. The tension bleeds away, like a light switch being flipped. Mike lets his head fall back against his pillow as their giggling dies away.

“Hey, idiots?”

“Yeah, Max?”

“I love you both.”

If it were any other day, any other time, Mike would make some teasing comment. But he only has the energy to reach up and tap her shoulder with a fist, which has sort of become their custom, by now.

El throws an arm over Max’s stomach, though. “We love you, too.”

He thinks they might all have fallen asleep grinning like idiots, which is how they’re found by his parents the next morning. A mess of limbs and blankets, with the sun breaking through the curtains and yet another day of planning their lives ahead. They have each other, though, always. And weekend exceptions.

- eight: how i love thee -

August 10th sucks.

August 10th should go down as the absolute worst day in history.

Packing.

They’re packing his things. His clothes, and his books, and all of his other things—all those things people take with them when they leave home.

Mike is in the process of taping another box, while she’s trying very hard not to throw up.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Out of tape. I’ll be right back.”

El is left alone in his bedroom, surrounded by all his sweaters. They’re splayed out on the floor, one in her lap—her very favourite one, with the little green diamonds and the zig-zag patterns. And even though it’s like, eighty degrees, she pulls it over her head.

It smells like him. Like cinnamon and a woodsy cologne, almost like he’s with her just then. El hugs herself, blinking hard.

She spots it, then.

A shoebox, sitting almost innocently under his bed. It would be innocent enough, if it weren’t labelled ‘stuff i’m too chickenshit to give my girlfriend’.

It flies into El’s hand. She bites her lip, glancing at the door. It’s too tempting not to look. Succumbing, El gently pries the lid off.

It’s full of papers. Some are folded up, some are just scraps. There are other things, too; pictures with words on the back and sealed letters—not unlike the ones she was given a few months ago.

El frowns, unfolding one.

It’s a poem. Like, an actual poem. She scans it, eyes caught on certain words and phrases. The end, though, is simple: i’m not supposed to, but i do. i love you.

It’s dated way back before even their freshman year. Thirteen, he was thirteen when he wrote it.

“Oh, Mike…”

There are so many more. Ones about her, about them. They say things she knows he’d probably never speak aloud, yet somehow, written out like this, they’re not cheesy or over the top. They’re just… him.

There’s one on top that’s dated in last month. It’s just a ripped piece of lined paper, that makes her heart stop.

marry me means more than you know. marry me means more than i love you can say. marry me means forever. i think soon does too.

Footsteps. El scrambles to put the lid back on the box, hastily wiping her cheeks.

She slides it back under the bed just as the door opens. “Got it,” Mike says, slipping in. He stops short as soon as he sees her, sitting on his floor in his sweater, with her face probably all blotchy. “El…”

“I found your poems,” she blurts. It’s all she can think to say.

Mike blushes. “Oh.”

“I shouldn’t have looked,” she stares down at her hands, unable to hold his gaze. “I just…”

“It’s okay.” He comes over, sitting in front of her and ducking his head so she can see him. “I was gonna give them to you in like two days, anyway.”

El bites her lip. A tear falls onto her lap, but it’s only one of many—the many that have been building up inside of her for so long; from the fear and the uncertainty and the love.

Mike takes her hand, gently pulling her toward him. He wraps his arms around her middle and hugs her close, pressing his lips against her neck.

Then she feels it. One tear, two. He’s crying, breathing her in and shaking. All she can think is, has he been falling apart, too?

“Mike,” El turns so that she’s facing him. She promptly kisses his cheeks and his nose. He looks small and morose. “It’ll be okay.”

“I don’t wanna leave you,” he whispers. “I can’t lose you.”

It takes everything she has to sob. “You won’t lose me,” she promises.

And somehow, knowing he’s terrified just like her, knowing he’s desperate for things not to change even though they will inevitably, it becomes a truth. He won’t lose her, she won’t lose him. It’s one of their truths, like their love transcends heaven, and his hand in hers is comfort, his arms are home. Their truths, like you found me in the rain, but you’re the sun. Like you belong to me, it’ll be okay, we can make it through this.

He won’t lose her. “You’re losing the sweater, though.”

Mike laughs, holding her just a little tighter. “I figured.”

- nine: they don’t end -

The next day, they make the drive to Terre Haute. The six of them, packed into the Wheeler station wagon. It’s a complete nightmare; they bicker over the radio, who gets to sit where, and what they should do when they get there.

“We’re going straight to the apartment,” Lucas says, for the thousandth time. “And then we’ll get food.”

“Logically, we should eat before we unpack,” Dustin says. “We’ll need the stamina.”

“You’ll need a new ass when I’m done with you,” Lucas grumbles.

El and Max exchange so many exasperated glances their necks hurt by the time they pull into the parking lot. The complex isn’t exactly dingy, but it’s smaller than El expected.

Her heart is pounding in her chest as they make their way up. Mike leads them, since he came here last week to sort some things out and knows where to go. He fumbles with the keys for a giid few seconds.

“Mike, I will kill you,” Dustin warns from behind his box. “Just open the damn door.”

He easily unlocks it, grinning. “After you, dearest,” he says. “Or did you want me to carry you over the threshold?”

“I think that’d piss off your side girl,” Dustin jerks his head toward El, who flips him off with her free hand.

They drop their boxes in the living room. It’s carpeted, unfurnished other than a small couch. The setting is so foreign it makes her skin crawl. This is where he’ll be, when he’s not with you.

(yet in the coming months, it will become her home, too. she’ll have a drawer in his bedroom, she’ll sit with him and Lucas while they study, she’ll eat ice cream and watch soaps with Dustin whenever their visits align)

“Only fifty more trips,” Will says.

They take the elevator each time, because there’s no damn way she’s hauling load after load up the stairwell. With the six of them, they finish getting it all up there fast enough.

It’s when they start to unpack that things get strained.

“Dustin, for the last time, you cannot touch my tapes,” Lucas says. “I have them organised alphabetically.”

“That’s too bad, man, because I already put them on the shelf.”

“You asshole!”

“Dude, I’m just trying to help!”

“Well you’re not helping!”

“Hey!” Will yells, which he never does. “Can we not fight today? Please?”

It reminds them all of where they stand. The reality is, next week, Will’s flying out to California to meet Jonathan at the airport. Dustin is moving into his new dorm at Purdue. Max and El are staying behind in Hawkins while their boyfriends stay here, an hour away. Tonight.

El’s stomach drops. She busies herself by sorting through the tupperware Mrs. Wheeler bought them, putting everything in its rightful place.

“Screw this,” Mike says, after a minute of tense silence. “Let’s go get burgers.”

They walk to the diner, which is just across the street. As soon as they settle into the booth, El feels safe. She feels like this moment, with all of them together, promises something. They don’t end. Ever.

And they won’t. They’ll be okay. They sort of already are; they’re interlinked and connected by tethers that won’t ever fray. They’re the party. They’ll be more than fine, and she knows that in her heart.

Max groans quietly beside El, rolling her eyes while the boys plunge further into their latest nerd debate.

“Yeah? What about Spaceballs?”

Will shakes his head. “That was possibly the shittiest movie I’ve ever seen in my whole life.”

“I didn’t even think it was funny,” Dustin agrees. “I mean, how can you parody Star Wars? It’s like, the greatest franchise ever created. It’s flawless.”

“Oh my god, bullshit,” says Lucas. “It’s riddled with flaws.”

“Yeah? Name one.”

Lucas rolls his eyes. He leans back against his seat, challenged. “Okay, fine. How come Vader never senses that Leia’s his daughter? If all the Skywalkers are Force sensitive, and Vader can sense Luke, why doesn’t he know he’s related to Leia?! He literally uses the Force on her.”

“Maybe he does, and he’s just bluffing,” Dustin suggests, even though it’s so weak it makes the rest of them snort.

“And how about when they’re in Cloud City, and Vader has them disable the hyperdrive? Why don’t they just dismantle the whole engine?! All that does is prevent them from jumping into hyperspeed—he totally enabled their escape—”

“Alright, stop, stop—”

“And don’t even get me started on the holiday special—”

“Stop it!” Dustin throws up his hands. “I’ve had enough! This is against party rules!”

Mike pauses mid-burger bite. “What?”

“The rules state that one must never insult, over-analyse, or construct a negative argument against the greatest film franchise of all time—”

“That’s not a rule,” they all deny, as one.

“Shut! Enough! All of you!”

“Okay, I’m so done with this conversation,” Max announces. “Can we talk about something else?”

Dustin slaps his hand down on the table. “Alright, greatest movies ever made, one to ten—go.”

They buy milkshakes to go, run back across the way, and hole back up in the apartment.

“Wanna play D&D?” Dustin suggests.

They set up on the floor, with the map in the middle and all their figurines spread across it. Mike bunches behind his three-board-folder.

“Alright, so we left off in Elmar’s Wood. The party is scattered. Your ranger scouts ahead, torch lit by the everlasting flames of Galandria. Your zoomer is at your flank...”

“I, for one, am totally dead,” Max announces. “My health is down by half and I lost my fucking bag of holding, and you incapable nimrods didn’t help me fight off those warlocks at all.”

“I was busy with the cave markings!” Lucas defends. “Besides, we’re literally so close to the Black Palace.”

“If I die on the way, I’ll kill you.”

Lucas scowls. “Not if I kill you, first.”

El glances at Mike. I’m so glad we don’t flirt like that.

He has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. And that’s when it hits her.

She knows what she wants in five years. She knows what she wants forever. She knows what she wants now.

El takes his hand, mindless of everyone else, seeing the mirth in his eyes, the way they crinkle at the corners.

While everyone else bickers and freaks out about the possibility of more goblins ahead—or worse, a demogorgon—she knows what’s coming next.

Marry me had become less of a question and more of a proclamation; it means, instead, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. It means, you’re absolutely perfect. It means, you make every day better and I can’t live without you. It’s his not so stupid way of saying something more than I love you.

But underneath all of that, it still really is just a question. And it needs an answer.

“Hey stringbean?”

He turns to her. Maybe she’ll get one.

“Marry me?”

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #mileven #mike wheeler #eleven #stranger things fic #fluff #cuteness #i love my bbys

79 notes · View notes

melaninkpopimagines · 6 years

Text

Deal

Youngjae x Reader

*Requested*

Word Count: 5790

Warning: Smut

Author: Admin Jae

6th grade gym class, you spotted some boys shoving the new kid to the ground while the teacher wasn’t looking. “Hey Asian, you going to do my math homework?! You need to go back where you came from there’s enough immigrants here!” They taunted him. No one to defend him.

“Hey! Leave him alone!” you shouted running towards them. “What! You gonna do something about it” one of the boys shoved your shoulder. “Yeah, I am” you punched the boy square in the face. The boy stumbled back and collapsed on his knees holding his nose. You saw a small trial of blood seep out. “I’m telling on you!” the boy ran off alongside his friends.

He froze in horror, he couldn’t utter a word. “Hey, are you ok?” you asked extending your hand to lift him off the ground. “Yeah, thanks” he said dusting himself off. “You didn’t have to do that” he stated. “Yes, I did. They wouldn’t have stopped” you pointed out. He nodded his head and extend his hand “I’m Youngjae, what’s your name?” he asked. “I’m Y/N” you introduced yourself.

3 Years Later…

“Ready to be fresh meat?” you asked looking at him.

“Fresh meat, meaning?” his eyes widen in horror.

“We’re freshmen. Tiny little freshmen. So many freshmen for upperclassmen to make fun off and bully” you cooed. He didn’t bat an eyelash, he froze completely.

“Youngjae, I’m just kidding. No one is going to mess with you” you soothed his nerves.

“Oh God, Y/N. Don’t scare me like that” he burst in laughter slapping your arm.

First day of High School would have any freshmen feeling anxious. You and Youngjae were stepping into unknown territory. You two stepped off the bus facing the entrance leading to the gym lobby. “This shouldn’t be too bad” you smiled. “I’m not sure” Youngjae replied. You pulled out your class schedule and school map find where the classes were. Youngjae pulled his schedule with yours. “We have almost the same classes just different times” he stated. Youngjae followed your finger as you pointed to his lunch period then to yours. “Hey! We have the same lunch period” he beamed.

The first bell rung for first period. “We’ll rendezvous there” you said. “Good luck with classes Youngjae” you said and hugged him. “You too Y/N” he said hugging you back. You two waved bye. You sped walk to class, you made it on time with one minute to spare. You grabbed a seat. Class started with usual introductions. You were wondering if Youngjae was holding up ok with his classes. You continued your day till lunch.

The cafeteria was crowded, you couldn’t spot Youngjae anywhere. I guess he already found some friends. You grabbed yourself a salad and a slice of pepperoni pizza. You spotted an empty table and took a seat. You felt a tap on your shoulder, you spun your head around. “Hey, sorry. I almost got lost. I was afraid I couldn’t find you” Youngjae smiled sitting next to you. “You should grab something to eat” you suggested. “I bought lunch from home” he said opening his container.

You slid some salad into mouth. Youngjae looked at you disgustingly. “What?” you asked. “How can you eat that?” Youngjae pointed at the cucumber. “It’s easy put in your mouth” you mocked. You grabbed some cucumber with your fork and placed it in front of him. “Here eat it”. “No” Youngjae refused scooting away from you. You knew Youngjae hated cucumbers with a passion. You smirked and pleasantly placed the cucumber in your mouth. “That’s really disgusting” he commented.

“You know what’s really disgusting. That!” you pointed with your eyes. The couple sitting at a table in front of you two were tonguing each other down. Youngjae looked where your eyes were pointed, he frowned. “See!” you laughed, “We’re trying to enjoy our food and we have to see this almost every day”. “Leave the couple alone Y/N.” Youngjae said chewing a kimbap.

“They’re probably in love” Youngjae mentioned. “Do we even know what love is at this stage in our lives?” you questioned. “Mhm, Good question” Youngjae replied. “I bet they probably already had sex” you speculated observing the intense groping. “Honestly, I would rather have sex with someone I care about and love” Youngjae spoke. “Really? Even if they like cucumbers?” you joked “Yes, even if they like them” he said. “Well, Youngjae, it’s your lucky day. Come here and kiss me then” you teased. “Y/N, I couldn’t do that. I would rather do things in private” he added. “Same, I would to. Maybe hold hands or hug” you agreed.

Waiting for his reply, you caught Youngjae staring at the couple intense make out session. The guy was groping the girl’s thigh and biting her neck. Youngjae zoned out your comment, “I’m sorry what did you say?” he uttered turning his direction to you. You looked each other in the eye. Youngjae slightly smirked. “I’ve never seen gawk at a couple before” you observed. “I had a thought” Youngjae began.

“Oh, what were you thinking?” you asked sipping your beverage. “Sex” he spoke. You inhaled too fast, you nearly choke on your drink. Coughing slightly, Youngjae pats your back. “What about sex?” you blurted. “Well, it’s bound to happen sooner or later” Youngjae clarified. “Yeah, but not now!” you exclaimed. “Why, you don’t think it can happen?” he asked. “Not really no” you laughed. “I’m being serious” Youngjae said. “I am too” you remarked.

“Alright, let’s have a bet then” Youngjae challenged.

“What kind of a bet?” you cautioned. “If we don’t lose our virginity by our Senior Year. Then, we have to lose it to each other” Youngjae instructed

You slowly nodded your head. “Are you sure you want to do this?” you queried.

“Yes” Youngjae smiled. You shook Youngjae’s hand accepting bet. “Fine”.

The bell rung for electives to start. “Hey, where’s your next class?” you asked as you walked alongside Youngjae. “Oh, it’s chorus” he smiled. “I’m headed this way. I have Home Economics, I’ll see you on the bus”.

You knew chorus would be a good opportunity for Youngjae to use his vocals. His voice was amazing. It was always very pleasant hearing him sing. When you visited his house, you would play Karaoke with his siblings, Youngjae would make perfect scores.

When classes were over, you were headed to the bus lot. Until, you heard a loud voice coming from down the hallway. You followed a loud voice coming from the classroom. You knew it had to be Youngjae. You snuck a peek inside, Youngjae standing in the center of class with his voice echoed throughout the room. Everyone was dead silent staring at him.

“Oh my God, he’s so good looking” you heard someone commented behind you. You smirked. He was singing a few verses from ‘When I Was Your Man’ by Bruno Mars.

After he sang, everyone gave him a thunderous applause, this was the most you’ve him ever smile. His face was turned red from shock, this was unexpected for Youngjae.

Youngjae heard you cheer for him from the doorway. His cheeks started turning red. “Wonderful voice Youngjae” his music teacher complemented him. She continued, “Alright class is over. Get out my room. I’m ready to go home”. Youngjae grabbed his belongings and approached you. You smiled embracing him in a hug. “That was amazing” you said. “Oh, thank you” he blushed.

You spotted a group of girls huddled together. “Hey Youngjae?” one of the girls spoke you as passed by. Youngjae stopped, “Yes”. “Your voice is amazing. I’m Abby by the way. I’m also in the same music class as you” she smiled. “Oh, nice to meet you and thank you” Youngjae said. They waved good-bye.

“I see you have fans already” you hinted. “I guess so” Youngjae said.

“What time is it?” you asked. Youngjae glanced down at his watch. “It’s almost three. Why?”

“We just missed our bus” you said as you saw it driving past the gym lobby. “Now, we have to the city bus home” you sighed.

“No worries” Youngjae said.

When the bus arrived in your neighborhood, Youngjae walked you home. “Bye Youngjae, I’ll see you tomorrow” you said as you unlocked the front door.

You found your mom in the kitchen cooking. “Hey Mom” you greet. “Hey sweetie, you’re home a little late. I was about to worry. How was your day?” your mom asked.

“Sorry, I forgot to text you. I was with Youngjae, he did a small performance for his chorus class and we caught the city bus home. But my day was pretty good” you replied.

“You and Youngjae have been friends for a very long time” your mom acknowledged.

“I mean he is my best friend” you noted.

“Have you guys ever thought about making your friendship more than its current state?” she cautioned.

You immediately recalled the bet you made with Youngjae. “Mom! Really? No, I don’t think we’ll ever have that conversation” you exclaimed “We’re just friends”. You felt your face fluster in shook.

“Alright, alright! I was just wondering. No need to yell. You guys are really close that’s all” she mocked.

You headed upstairs to start on your homework. “Dinner will be ready soon!” she yelled.

Youngjae with someone like me. I don’t think he’ll be interested in me. We are friends that’s it. It’s going to stay that way. You thought.

After dinner, you retreated into your room to finish the last bit of homework. You read the first chapter of Les Miserables for English class. You slowly drifted off to sleep.

“I miss you” Youngjae spoke as his soft lips dove into yours. He stared deep into your eyes, he wants to be vulnerable with you. You huffed softly feeling excitement. Youngjae wrapped his arms around you pulling you close. He trailed tender kisses down your neck, it felt so good. His hand rubbed against your skin, you quivered from the slightest touch. “I miss you too” you whispered.

You jump frightened as you felt someone tap you. It was your mom. “Who do you miss?” she asked. “No one!” you yelped. “You missed the school bus” your mom told you. “You’ve must have been really tired. I’ll drive you to school. Get dress”

What the hell did I dream?

You got ready and headed downstairs with your mom already in the car. You were silent. “Had a weird dream last night?” your mom broke the silence. “I guess, I don’t quite remember” you looked out the window.

You continued your day at school as normal. You sat at your usual spot in the cafeteria. “Hey, you missed the bus this morning?” Youngjae said. “I know, I was really tired” you replied. “Is everything alright?” he asked. “Yeah, everything is fine” you smiled.

“I want to talk to you about something” Youngjae spoke. “Sure, what’s up?”. “During lunch, I’ll be practicing vocals with Abby. You can come and eat lunch with us” Youngjae beamed.

You nodded your head “Sure”, you said with a slight smile.

For the next few weeks, you ate lunch with Youngjae in the music room. Each time, Abby would freeze in the doorway and narrow her eyes at you. You arched an eyebrow curious about Abby’s attitude towards you. “We’re about to practice, I hope we won’t disturb you” Youngjae cautioned. “Don’t worry about me, I just reading” you smiled. They had the perfect harmony. When they sang, they would look at each other. Abby inched herself closer to Youngjae. He didn’t seem to pay any attention. You scoffed knowing Abby’s motives. She’s trying to drool all over him.

“Thank you for practicing with me Youngjae. We make a great team” she smiled. “We do” he beamed, “I’ll see you later today”. She waved good-bye and exited the door. With Youngjae back turned, she glared in your direction.

You rolled your eyes in disgust. “I don’t like her” you spoke reading over your paper. “What do you mean you don’t like her” Youngjae questioned. “I just got a bad vibe about her” you replied. “You don’t know her Y/N” Youngjae sighed.

“Neither do you” you rose an eyebrow. “Actually, I do” Youngjae corrected. You scoffed and shook your head in disbelief. “What’s your problem with Abby?” he huffed. “She keeps giving me evil glares behind your back” you answered. He nodded his head taking a seat next to you.

“Do you feel awkward being around Abby?” he asked. “Yes, she’s all over you like she’s thirsting for water!” you stressed. He remained silent.

“You got nothing to say about this” you broke the silence. “What do you want me to say?!” Youngjae scolded. “I don’t know. I hope Abby won’t become between our friendship. Youngjae, I care about you and I don’t want you to get hurt” you sighed placing your hand on his shoulder.

Youngjae shrugged your hand off. “I know you do but I don’t need you to protect me. I can take care of myself. We’ve been friends for a long time, but you always baby me”

“I don’t mean to” you spoke softly. You swung your backpack over your shoulders and look back at Youngjae. “Where are you going?” he asked. “I’m getting a head-start to class before the crowd gets in the hallway” you replied approaching the door. You looked back at Youngjae. “Youngjae, you are the closest person I have in my life as a best friend. We’re supposed to have each other’s back. Friends are worth protecting even if the truth hurts”.

You walked out. Frustrated

Men never listen!

You spotted Abby at a corner, in your attempt to avoid any form of contact. “Hey, Y/N” Abby called out. Shit, what does she want?!

She walked over. You folded your arms across your chest. “Yeah”. “I know you and Youngjae are really close” Abby said. “We are” you confirmed. “Neat, is there any chance you guys will hook up?” she asked. “I don’t know, why?” your eyebrow rose. “You guys spend an awful lot of time together. Wherever he is, you’re always there. I would like to be alone with him myself sometime. But, I’m just curious” she smiled. “It was nice chatting with you”.

“You are disgusting” you seethed under your teeth. “I’m sorry come again” Abby said. “You heard me Abby. I didn’t stutter”.

“Listen, Youngjae and I are singing partners. Whether you like it or not?” she stepped closer to your face.

“You better not hurt him” you narrowed your eyes. ��Or what?” Abby walked away smiling.

Next day, you stopped by your locker to gather your binders for your next class. You saw a flyer of an upcoming Winter Musical called ‘Christmas in July’ with Youngjae starring as Christmas. You grinned happily.

Some girls approached the flyer talking amongst themselves. “Did you hear Youngjae asked Abby out?”

You overheard the conversation, you kept quiet with the locker door still open. “No, I didn’t hear about that. Omg, they would make such a nice couple. I can see them together”.

You felt your heart become heavy and your stomach began to knot. Deep down, you were happy for Youngjae but you couldn’t shake the feeling of him with Abby. You took a slow deep breath and continued with your day.

Lunchtime came, you sat your usual spot in the cafeteria. You suspected Youngjae was preparing for the play with Abby. You didn’t take much interest in eating. You heard a familiar voice beside you.

“Hey” Youngjae smiled sitting next to you. “Hey” you softly smiled. “How have you been?” he asked.

“Well, I’m ok. I guess” you huffed “You?”

“I’m good. You know why am here right?” Youngjae asked. You shook your head.

“I was wondering if you’d come support me” he cautioned.

You smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world”. “Great. I’ll see you then. I better get going” Youngjae stood up. “Is it true?” you asked.

“Is what true?” he replied. “Is Abby your girlfriend?”

He sighs. “Yes”

“Wow” you spoke. Taken by your reaction. “That’s all I get is a wow. I thought you would be supportive of me being with someone” Youngjae seethed.

“Yeah, someone that’s not her” you corrected.

“What’s your problem with Abby?!” he snapped. “I don’t trust her Youngjae” you argued. “She’s not good for you”.

“And how would you know what’s good for me? He questioned

“Because…I’m your friend. I care about you. I lo…” you paused. You breathed and asked, “What exactly do you see in her?” “Things that aren’t in you” Youngjae insulted.

Hurt, you still managed to keep your composure “And what exactly is that?”

He didn’t answer. You swallowed hard realizing you had lost your appetite.

“Look, Y/N. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...” Youngjae murmured.

“Well Youngjae. You did” you threw your bookbag over your shoulder and proceeded out to walk out the cafeteria.

You avoided Youngjae. Every call, every text, every door knock went unnoticed. When it came time for his play. You came however you sat in the back of the auditorium. The play ended, Youngjae searched the lobby looking for you with Abby following closely behind him.

“Who are you looking for?” Abby asked.

“Y/N” he looked amongst the crowd.

“Why? We have tons of people that want to see us together” Abby said. “Maybe she didn’t show up”

“Don’t say that” he snapped, “I asked her to come”.

“Well I don’t see her” Abby said.

Youngjae gave up and went back with Abby.

Later that night, you received a text message from Youngjae:

Y/N, where were you? I was looking all over for you. I can’t believe you missed the play. I know you are mad at me but this was important to me. Why weren’t you there?

You left the message on read.

The next day, you noticed when you spotted Youngjae in the hallway, he avoided you. Any form of eye contact was made, he would glare. You still had a soft spot for him, you could never stay mad at him.

For the next three years, he greeted you a glare. The only news your heard about Youngjae, Abby’s name was included.

Each play, Youngjae had performed, you sat in the back of the auditorium with a camera taking a video. You started to pursue an interest in photography and video editing. You joined the yearbook club. Every time, an assignment is given that involved the school choir team, you stayed away.

Youngjae grew more handsome during every performance. You smiled after watching the videos. You missed him.

Prom was approaching, everyone was preparing for it. “Do you have a date for prom?” your mom asked happily. “No” you replied. “What about Youngjae?” she suggested. “Mom, for the thousandth time, he’s with Abby”. Every suggestion involving Youngjae, you felt down on the inside. You miss him but you couldn’t be with him.

You stared aimlessly down at the textbook drifting off to sleep. Your phone buzzed. It was Youngjae.

Youngjae: Y/N, I don’t know where to begin to apologize. I would rather speak with you in person. ☹ Please come outside.

You: Wait, now?

Youngjae: Yes. I’m outside. 😊

You quickly got up off the bed rushing downstairs. “Mom, I’m going outside for a few minutes. I’ll be back!” you shouted.

Your heart was beating so fast, you doubled check to breath. You found Youngjae at the bottom of the porch steps. Youngjae smiled approaching you. You smiled too.

“Youngjae, I..” you began.

“Shhh, I should have listened to you Y/N” Youngjae said sitting on the porch steps. You remained quiet sitting next to him.

He sighed. “I should have trusted you about Abby. You were right all along. I wasn’t thinking clearly and I let Abby into your relationship. I’m sorry” he apologized.

You sighed processing your thoughts together. “What did she do?” you inquired. “We’ve been going through a rough patch. Things became worse when Abby kept telling everyone our business”. You nodded your head. “All her friends kept pressuring us to have sex because everyone was having sex”.

“What?” perplexed by the amount of drama.

“Yeah crazy, right? I never slept with her. It wouldn’t feel right” he said. You nodded your head. He sighed again. You believe there was more to the story.

“What happened after that?” you asked.

“When Abby realized I wouldn’t sleep with her. I found out she cheated on me” he slightly chuckled.

“Youngjae, I’m so sorry” you apologized. “Don’t be. I had a feeling. But when I saw those text messages and photos she sent to other guys. I’m was stupid to think she actually cared about me” Youngjae paused.

“You’re not stupid” you clarified.

“But I let her get between us”

“It’s my fault too. I should have told you this a long time ago but I went to every play you performed” you confessed.

“Even the very first one?” he asked. You nodded your head. “I always had my camera on you.” You smiled.

“Was I good-looking?” he raised his eyebrows.

“Always” you nudged his arm.

You glanced at Youngjae staring back at you. “Youngjae, I…” you hesitated. “I miss you Y/N” he whispered in your ear. “I miss you too” you whispered. He scotted closer to you. He lowered his eyes downward, looking at your lips. You both leaned in, lips softly touching one another. He deepened the kiss, you accepted. He moaned.

You two pulled back. “Woah” you said.

“Do you have a date for prom?” he asked.

“No” you replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering. I’ll meet you there. I have a surprise for you. I should get going. It’s getting late. Night Y/N” Youngjae stood up and planted a kiss your lips before leaving.

“Night Youngjae”

You went back inside the house and found your mom happily sipping her tea. “So, what happened?” she giggled. “Nothing Ma. But a harmless kiss” you smirked. “Oh, so after 4 years he finally kisses you” she stressed. You nodded your head. “Did he at least ask you to prom?”

“No, he said he’ll meet me there. He has a surprise for me” you reckoned. “He loves you” she implied.

“How would you know?” you laughed.

“I’m your mother, I know everything” she continued to sip her tea.

During the entire school week, you witnessed guys going through great lengths asking for prom dates. One guy asked sent a bouquet of flowers and a pizza all to end in rejection. Another guy plastered a banner on the wall, his date said yes. You heard the news of Youngjae asking Abby to be his date besides they were also campaigning to be Prom King and Prom Queen. Flyers, buttons, even t-shirts were being given away by Abby and her minions. Youngjae was nowhere to be found.

Saturday Night came, Senior Prom the one night to have no regrets. The one night to celebrate high school freedom. You wore a lovely long lace backless champagne with a v-neckline. You stepped into the building, the music was blasting from the ballroom. The entire senior class had arrived. In a separate room, appetizers and drinks were being served. The bathrooms were flooded with girls checking their hair and makeup. The theme for Prom was One Night in Paris.

You saw everyone paused as Youngjae and Abby walked in together with her entire entourage behind them. He was dipped in all black suit. You were amazed, he looked extremely sexy. They took a seat a table near the stage. You walked in the food room, Youngjae spotted you walking across the dance floor, he quickly followed.

“Y/N?” he said.

You turned around smiling. “Wow, you look gorgeous” he stared in awe. His mouthed gapped open. “Cat got your tongue?” you asked. “I don’t have any words to say” he laughed. He walked up to you and embraced you in a hug, softly smelled you and let out a soft moan. He was warm to the touch. You’ve never had a hug feel this good before. “So, where’s my surprise?” you giggled. “Not yet, it’ll be later tonight” he smiled leaving a gentle kiss on your cheek. “It better be worth it” you said. “Just trust me” he smiled.

“Youngjae, what are you doing with her?” Abby approached sternly with her girls behind her.

“Exactly what you see me doing. I’m hugging her” Youngjae retaliated. She glared at you again folding her arms.

“It’s alright Youngjae” you said. “It better be alright” Abby chimed in. “Was I talking to you?” you snapped at her. “Go check your makeup or something”. She kept her mouth shut.

“I’ll see you later tonight” leaving Youngjae with Abby.

The night went on, bodies were so close together, the air became hot and thick. You looked over at Youngjae, he looked miserable with her. Why does he still put up with her? Why can’t he just leave her? I wish I could help him?

“Alright ladies and gentlemen. It is time to announce this year’s Prom King and Queen” the principal announced.

Everyone gathered around to the stage. You stayed behind to avoid being crushed.

The principal has an envelope in her had. “By default, we already know who won” she smiled happily. “Drumroll please” she asked. The audience drum rolled for dramatic effect. “This year’s Prom King is.... Choi Youngjae”. The crowd gave a thunderous applause. Youngjae bowed and smiled. He walked onto the stage to receive his sash and crown, he was handed the microphone. “Thank you everyone for voting for me to be Prom King. I greatly appreciate it” he smiled. The principal took the microphone in her hand, “And without further or do. This year’s Prom Queen is…. Abigail Thatcher”. All her friends screamed and cheered for her. She was smiling so hard. She stood next to her man receiving her crown as well. “Omg, I can’t believe this is happening. I want to thank everyone who support us on our campaign. We couldn’t do it without you guys. Thank you so much” she squealed. “Babe, is there anything else you want to say?” she asked.

Youngjae nodded his head and she handed him the microphone. “I have something I would like to say to all of you” he paused.

The whole audience remained silent. Abby still smiling.

“I’m not sorry for doing this. Abby, I’m breaking up with you” he announced.

“Oh my God” you gasped.

“Youngjae, what are you doing? What do you mean you’re breaking up with me? She stammered.

“Everyone, Abby is not as good as she says she is. Abby has been cheating on me for the past two years of high school” he confirmed. The whole audience gasped and immediately started booing.

“Youngjae, you need to stop this. Right now!” she shouted.

“It’s ok Abby. Everyone needs to know who you truly are. It’s over” He said. “I’m giving my crown to someone who’s been really special to me”. He stepped off the stage and started walking towards you.

You heard Abby shouting from the background, “I hate you Youngjae!” and left crying.

The lights shined on you. He smiled and placed his crown on your head. “I’m not a king” you whispered to him. “I know that but the person I love, should be honored” he spoke in your ear. You mouthed “love”. He nodded his head and extended his hand to slow dance. He gently pulled you close, his hands were around your waist. Your arms were around his shoulders.

He nodded. “Yes, I love you”. You smiled happily. “I take it this was the surprise?” you curiously asked. “Well part of it” he admitted.

“What else is there left?” you asked. “I can’t tell you right now” he smirked.

“What about Abby?”

“She’ll be fine” Youngjae reassured. “Besides, it doesn’t matter who you came with, it’s who you leave with”.

He extended his hand and said, “Come on, let’s go”. You took his hand and followed. The entire senior class stood there and watched. Hand in hand, you two couldn’t stop smiling. You both got in the car as he drove to a nearby hotel.

“Why are we here?” you asked as you two walked into the lobby to confirm his stay. He remained quiet until you two were alone in the elevator. “I want this night to be special for both of us” he finally spoke.

Entering the hotel room, one king size bed centered, the currents were draped closed. The tv placed in front of the bed. The bathroom styled with marble flooring, with motion sensor lights. The room was cozy.

Youngjae closed the door behind him and asked, “Remember the bet we made Freshman year?”

“Yes, but I thought you were joking” you chuckled. “No, I wasn’t joking. I meant it.” he walked closer to you. You froze in place, his tone changed.

“Youngjae...” your voice slightly cracked. “I want to lose myself in you” he moaned in your ear. His moan aroused you. You breathed and looked in his eyes, “I do too” you whispered. He didn’t hesitate, he kissed you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. His hands moved slowing down an inch closer to your ass. You turned around to let Youngjae unzipped your dress dropping smoothly to the floor. You faced him only in your lace panties.

He stared in awe from head to toe. You felt exposed. “Please say something?” you said shyly. “You look beautiful”. You smiled.

He removed his jacket and proceeded to unbutton his shirt. You unbuckled his pants. All his clothing fell to the floor next to your dress. You stepped out of your panties. You both stood naked in front of each other.

You two couldn’t resist each other any longer. When your skin touched his, you quivered. Youngjae chuckled. You want to his. Your thigh felt slightly wet, it was Youngjae’s precum seeping out of his cock.

“I’m sorry” he apologized. “Don’t be. Let me get that for you” you got on your knees. You gently jerked him off more pre-cum came out. “Y/N” Youngjae said tilting his head back. You stuck his cock in your mouth and sucked him off. He softly placed his hand on the back of your head. “Fuck” slipped through his lips. Each moment you sucked his cock grew more until it was full length. You went faster. “I can’t hold it in any longer Y/N” he gasped. “I’m about to cum Y/N”. He came in your mouth, your tongue licked along his tip his knees slightly buckled.

You got off the floor and laid with your back against the bed. Youngjae crawled on top of you. Your legs opened for him. He put his whole weight against you. He was so warm. You caressed his cheek and smoothed his hair behind his ear. He kissed you and smiled. “How was that?” you asked. “Amazing”. You chuckled.

Youngjae started kissed your neck working his way down. Each kiss planted gave you goosebumps. “Let me know if I’m hurting you” he said before he parted your heated lips. His tongue explored you. Your nipples peaked from his warm touch. You were breathing heavily. “Youngjae” you whimpered. “Yes Y/N”.

“Don’t stop”. He continued to suck and lick all over your pussy. You never felt this relaxed before, your back arched off the bed.

He suddenly stopped and grabbed a condom out of his pants pocket. He jerked himself off a couple times and wrapped the condom around his cock. He laid on top of you again. You kissed him. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable” he cautioned.

“Youngjae. I want to do this” you reassured him. He nodded his head and lined his cock to your pulsing entrance. You opened your legs wider for him. You held your breath as he inched his way inside of you. You felt a dull pain as you adjust to his cock. You gasped slightly. Youngjae immediately stopped. “Am I hurting you?” he asked. “It hurts a little bit. It’s ok.” you whispered.

“Maybe we should stop” he paused attempting to pull out. You placed your finger on his lips to prevent him to stop talking. “Youngjae, we’re here. Together. Alone. Don’t hold back” you whispered and passionately planted a kiss.

He nodded his head, slightly thrust himself further in you. You pulled him closer to feel all of him. The pain faded away, you engulfed his hard cock. He hoists himself up with his thighs to place his cock at a better angle. His cock tugged at your walls going in and out. You felt tremors of pleasure spread throughout your body. Youngjae buried his face against your neck groaning in your ear. You felt like you were in a daze. “Yes, Youngjae” you whispered. “Are you ok?” he asked. “I’m better than ok”.

He smiled plummeting his cock back inside your wet pulsing guts. “Ah, Y/N. You feel so good” he murmured. His pace quickens, the mattress squeaked a bit each time his hips slammed into you. He gripped your thigh as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Your breasts bounced in unison to his thrusts. You were lost in him as he was lost in you. You cling to Youngjae afraid to be parted from him.

Each thrust made your pussy wetter than before. You were creaming all over him. “Youngjae, I’m so close baby”. “Me too” Youngjae mustered as he continued to keep his pace. You felt every muscle tighten and your upper thighs quivered in shock. You couldn’t hold in any longer. You cried out as cum released. Youngjae’s pace was slowing down, he called your name out as his cum spilled into the condom. He pulled out and disposed the condom. He crawls into the sheets with you. His forehead glistened from the sweat. You both caught your breath. You look over to Youngjae, he looks back and laugh.

“What?”

“I can’t believe you thought I was joking, that was by far one of the greatest experiences I’ve ever had” he said pulling you in his arms.

“Really?” you asked wiping the sweat of his forehead. He nodded caressing your cheek.

You leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on his lips.

“I did. Besides I didn’t think you would want to lose your virginity with me” you explained.

“I don’t trust anyone else but you. You’re more than a friend.”

“What am I then?” you questioned. “My girlfriend?” he hinted

“I like the sound of that”

#got7 #got7 smut #youngjae smut #got7 youngjae scenarios #got7 youngjae smut #got7 scenarios #got7 youngjae #got7 choi youngjae #youngjae got7 #choi youngjae #got7 fanfic #youngjae got7 smut #choi youngjae got7

90 notes · View notes