#alcohol can be great but we gotta stop making it the be all end all

[vanfleeter]

Coffee Cup Apologies

Characters: Jake x Fem!reader Warnings: 18+. Angst. Anger. Language. Heated argument. Yelling. Alcohol consumption. Jealousy. Embarrassment. Tears. Apologies. Smut. Allusions to sex. Fluff. Kissing. Happiness. Author's Note: I probably missed some grammar mistakes, my apologies. Also if I missed something on the warnings list, please let me know so I can add it!

Valentines Masterlist

You hadn’t seen or spoken to Jake for a few weeks since the horrible goodbye a few weeks ago before the band departed for Europe. What was supposed to be a happy goodbye full of hugs ended with a sour argument over failed confessions. He tried to confess to you his feelings but instead jealousy overpowered when he saw you with another guy. A guy who you kept claiming was just a friend but he refused to believe you. So instead of an intimate, private moment that he hoped to have with you, it turned into a very public conversation.

“Where’s Y/N at?” Jake asks as he pours himself a drink. “I was really hoping to see her before we left.”

“I told you she’s coming,” Josh says as he pops the cork on another bottle of champagne. “She’s running late though. Got out of work later than she planned, but I promise you she’s coming.”

“When she does, can you let me know? I really want to talk to her.”

“Are you finally going to tell her?”

Jake nods his head, his cheeks flushing red and his chest running warm. “I know now wouldn’t be a great time, considering we’re leaving tomorrow for a month-long tour in Europe but I know it can’t wait.”

Josh smiles and lays his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you for finally doing it. You’ve been pining after her for nearly a year and if I’m being honest, it’s painful to watch.”

“Shut the fuck up..” Jake says as he playfully shoves Josh to the side. He chuckles and shakes his head. “There have been multiple instances where I’ve wanted to tell her but I couldn’t.. I chickened out every time.”

“Well tonight is not the night,” Josh says. “I believe you’ll be just fine. This isn’t like being on stage in front of thousands of people.. This is just Y/N.”

–

Thirty minutes drag by and Jake has downed four glasses of champagne. Normally this wouldn’t be affecting him but tonight he’s feeling it all. The nerves and the alcohol mixing in his bloodstream make him a little tipsy.

Josh appears again in the kitchen. “Y/N just got here.”

“Perfect..” Jake responds as he grabs another empty glass and fills it with champagne.

“But wait, Jake, you gotta know something before you go out-”

“Josh, please. I’ve been swimming in alcohol and my nervous system all night.” He says as he steps around Josh. “If I don’t do this now, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Yeah but Jake, she didn’t–” But Jake is already slipping out of the kitchen. “--come alone..” Josh sighs and finishes off his drink.

Maneuvering through the milling people in the hallway, he spots Y/N talking with Sam. But she isn’t alone. He stops midway through the hall, his shoulders dropping as he lowers the two drinks to his sides. She’s introducing a guy to Sam. He’s not close enough so he can’t hear but his eyesight works.

The mystery man she brought has his hand resting on her hip as he shakes Sam’s hand. Sam’s smile looks forced, almost as if he feels awkward.

Not as awkward as Jake though.

Already feeling stupid, Jake retreats back through the crowd and into the kitchen. He sets the glasses on the counter and leans against the granite top on the palms of his hands.

Did he wait too long?

Maybe he should’ve just done it sooner. Even if he did make a fool of himself.

He sure feels like one now.

Reaching across the counter, he swipes the bottle of whiskey and takes a long drink from it. His body tenses with the bottle still pressed to his lips when he hears her voice.

“Look I know I’m late, but don’t start the real party without me.”

He pulls the bottle away from his lips, unable to turn around to face her. She steps to the side to stand next to him and pulls the bottle from his hand.

“I’ve been looking for you.” She says as she takes a drink herself.

“Mmm, well you found me.” He takes the bottle back and takes another drink. “I see you brought someone with you.”

“Yeah! Mark!”

“Mark.. Yeah I know who he is..” He seethes. “Why’d you bring him?”

Her eyebrows pull together in confusion. “Umm.. Josh said to bring friends along and Mark and I were working late on a project so I invited him to come with me.. Are you okay with that?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Jake.. He’s just a friend.”

“Mmhmm, right.. Because friends put their hands on your hips..”

“Jake, what’s gotten into you?”

“Lots and lots of alcohol baby..” He says before taking another drink of the whiskey. “Better get back to your man, wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

“He is not my man, Jacob. I told you that he’s just a friend.”

“And like I said, friends don’t hold your hips like that.”

“You do.” She retorts as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Yeah well I’m different,” He says, jabbing his index finger into his chest.

“Oh so, he can’t touch me like that but you can? What gives you that right?”

“Because I’m in love with you!” He shouts, not knowing the music lulled in between songs.

He looks around, noticing that the whole fucking house just heard him confess his feelings for her. Josh steps out from the sea of people, his eyes glancing back and forth between him and Y/N.

“Oh no..” He mutters.

Jake sets the whiskey bottle on the counter top, his cheeks fully flushed. The heat of the embarrassment that he currently feels wells up in his eyes.

“Jake.. I..” She starts to say.

He steps away from the counter and straightens himself out. “I should go..” He starts to make his way through the crowd of people once more and throws on his shades.

“Jake, wait!” He hears calling behind him. She grabs hold of his arm. “Can we go somewhere in private to talk about this?”

“No..”

“Jake..”

“I said no..” He rips his arm out from her grip. “Just go back to Mark.. I’m sure his daddy’s money will be enough for you..”

“Jacob.. Stop it. You’re being rude.”

“Rude? Me?” He scoffs. “Says the woman who brought another man to my party!”

“For clarification, this party is for the band, not just you.”

“Well,” Jake scoffs again. “For clarification, the band is mine. Therefore this party is mine too! And he,” He jabs a finger in Mark’s direction. “can leave..”

“Jacob, knock it off.”

“No, I don’t fucking want him here! I want him out of my house!”

“Fine, but he leaves, so do I!”

“Fine with me,” Jake says as he swings his arms in the air. “Let him take you home so he can fuck you.”

Now it’s her turn to feel embarrassed. He sees the tears fill her eyes as she glances around at all the eyes still watching them as if this were a drama show.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve that,” She says in a low voice. “But you, Jacob, have stooped so fucking low.” She pushes back him and out the open front door with Mark hot on her heels.

Jake’s eyes land on Josh who only stares at him in disbelief. Turning in his heels, he storms upstairs and locks himself in his office.

–

You tried calling him before their plane left Nashville, bound for their layover in New York before the twelve or so hours flights to Paris. Anything to try to fix this thing–whatever it was that transpired the night before, but instead of answering your call, he ignored it and put his phone on airplane mode before shoving it into his bag.

Over the course of the next three weeks, you tried texting him at the hours you assumed he’d be awake, yet received no answer. Even your texts went unanswered.

You knew he was actively on his phone, seeing him posting random videos on his stories of Parisian architecture. Part of you was angry that he’d post videos, something he rarely does, instead of texting you back at the very least.

You wanted to work this out with him, regardless of what part of the world he was currently in.

—

Jake

—

He feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. Pulling it out of his pocket, he sees a text from Y/N. The fifth one this week. Once she’s texted him, it’s almost like clockwork and he knows exactly when she’ll pop up again.

Opening the text thread, he sees all of the messages she’s sent that he’s never responded to, including today’s text.

“Is that her again?” Josh whispers beside him as they stand in front of a painting. Jake nods his head and puts his phone away. “Why don’t you at least talk to her?”

“No..”

“And why not? Afraid your ego might get bruised?”

Jake rolls his eyes and pulls his sunglasses from where they hang on his shirt and he places them over his eyes. “I’m going outside..”

Stepping out into the fresh air, he looks around the area. He wants to talk to her but at the same time, he doesn’t. He knows saying that he’s sorry won’t be enough.

Walking around the little block, not straying too far from the others, he glances up at the buildings around him. He knows she’d love it here. So he pulls out his phone and takes a video of the building in front of him. He has no clue what it is but he finds the styling of it incredible and he knows she will too.

Posting it to his story with a song attached to it, one he knows she’ll recognize, he closes his phone and goes back to rejoin the others.

It wasn’t until a couple days after the band arrived back home in Nashville that he finally got off his high horse.

—

You were tucked inside a booth at your favorite coffee shop one weekday morning, sipping on the remaining bit of your coffee. The bells chimed indicating a new person’s arrival but you paid no mind to it while you flipped a page in your book.

A presence loomed over you a few minutes later. A single coffee cup is placed in front of you. You look at it and find the words ‘I’m sorry’ written on the side of it. Your heart sinks. Your eyes are unmoving, not willing to look up at the person who’s standing there.

Another cup is placed down in front of you. ‘I was a jerk’.

At least he admits it.

You force yourself to look up. Jake stands there, a solemn look on his face. For once he isn’t wearing his sunglasses indoors, so you can see how his eyes really look. Sorrowful and gloomy.

Putting your book down, you motion for him to sit down. He slides into the booth across from you with a third cup of coffee. You point to it, expecting him to have something written on it. He shakes his head as he gives you a half smile. He pulls the cup closer to him, keeping his fingers intertwined tightly around it.

“I really am sorry..” He finally speaks. “I should’ve controlled myself better than I did.. I embarrassed you…and myself..” He swallows before continuing. “I also understand after that whole incident that you don’t want to continue being friends, especially after how I treated you the last few weeks. Honestly, I wouldn’t want to be friends with myself either if I were in your shoes, so–”

“Jake,” You finally speak up, and cut him off. “I never want to stop being friends with you.” You say as you straighten up.

Jake solemnly shakes his head, his eyes casting down to the cup still being clutched within his hands. “I’m sorry.. I know I should’ve.. I just guess all of the jealousy clouded my own judgment that all I cared about was how I felt.”

“Jake.. Can we… Can we start over?” You say, casting your eyes down to the table top.

He reaches a hand over and places it on yours, giving it a light squeeze. “Of course we can..”

You lift your eyes and he gives you a soft smile. You return the smile and he chuckles.

“So what’s on that cup?” You ask, changing the subject back to the cup that he still clutches in his other hand.

“Oh uh..” He clears his throat. “It’s n-nothing..” He stammers as he pulls the cup closer to his chest.

You arch an eyebrow. You wave your hand in his direction for him to hand over the cup and he vigorously shakes his head.

“Jake..”

“Y/N..”

“What’d you write?”

“I said nothing..”

“Jacob..”

“Y/N..”

“Come on, Jake..” You laugh. “Is it bad?”

He shakes his head. “No..”

“Then let me see it. Please?” He chews on the inside of his cheek. Still he shakes his head and draws the cup closer to his chest. “Don’t make me guess.”

“Hmm, maybe I want you too.”

“Jacob..”

“Tell you what? We play a little game.” He says as he reaches for a napkin and the pen you were using to annotate inside your book. He draws out the hangman set up on the napkin with a certain number of dashes.

_ _ _   _   _ _ _ _   _ _ _   _ _   _   _ _ _ _?

You look up at him in confusion. “What?”

He arches an eyebrow and smirks. “Start guessing..”

“Is there an A?”

He puts on a thinking face before nodding his head and scribbling down the letters in the correct spots.

_a_   _   _a_ _   _ _ _   _ _   a   _a_ _?

“Oh this is going to take a while..” You sigh.

He chuckles and leans on the table. “Just keep guessing.”

A few more minutes pass and so far you’ve gotten a few words.

Can I  _a_ _   _ o _   on a  _ a_ _?

“Can I blank blank on a blank…” You mutter. “Can I fuck you on a table?”

Jake’s eyes grow wide and he smacks his palm to his face. “That is clearly an A,” He laughs. “Not a U. Also, ‘table’ has five words, not four.”

You giggle. “So clearly you’re asking me if you can do something..”

“Gee, we’re getting somewhere.”

“Is that fourth word supposed to be you?”

Jake nods his head and fills it in. “Keep going.”

You look over the sentence again and try to fill in the rest of the blanks.

Can I  _a_ _  you on a  _a_ _?

Then it pieces together in your head and you look up at him. “Can I see that?” You ask, reaching out for the pen. He hands it over and you write in the remaining letters.

Can I take you on a date?

You raise an eyebrow at him and he nods his head. “Mmm..” You hum as you jot three small dashes of your own and slide it back to him with the pen.

_ _ _ 

He smiles and fills in the blanks.

Yes

He looks at you for approval and you nod your head. He chuckles and reaches for the cup. Turning it around, he faces his writing to you. Your jaw falls open as you see three words written on the sleeve.

‘I love you’

Such a coy little man.

“You are so slick.” You say giggling.

“Well, I didn’t want to make it easy on you.” He says.

You lean across the table, just inches from his face. “I love you too.”

“Really?” He questions as his eyes flicker from your eyes down to your lips. “You do?”

You nod your head. “I do.”

You lean in a little further and brush your lips against his. “Someday though, you can fuck me on a table.” You whisper quietly so only he can hear you. You gently kiss him before sliding back down into the booth. His cheeks are flustered and he is fidgeting with the pen.

“Yeah.. Someday.”

______________________________________________________________

tag list:

@watchingover-hypegirl @losfacedevil @ignite-my-fire @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @writingcold @jaketlove @mackalah @lexii-nv-c @em-gvf01 @katiegvf @joshkiszkaenthusiast @takenbythemadness @jakekiszkasmommy @objectsinspvce @gvfmarge @heckingfrick @bluemeadows77 @laneygvf @sacredmachine @gvfpal @killerqueengvf @jaketlover @jordinlkiszka @alwaysonthemend @hellowgoodbye @anythingforjtk @hi-hi-hello11 @anthemofgvf @gretasfallingsky @songbirds-sweet @wildbluesorbit @klarxtr @stardustsecret @sunandthemoontwinflames @everyglowinthetwilightknows @sinsofstardust @sparrowofthedawnsworld @josh-iamyour-mama @dannys-dream

Want to be added? Just let me know! 😊

[desire-mona]

siiiigh. todd autism headcanons because im projecting.

(using they/he/she pronouns for todd in this post. will explain but also if u dont agree i dont care, tw for alcoholism. time period is vague but autism hasnt existed as a legitimate medical diagnosis for all that long, so keep it in mind i guess.)

- cannot for the life of him stand welton's blankets. so itchy, just thin enough to not warm you up enough but still make you sweat, not long enough to cover your entire body. yes im making the blanket line in their poem about actual blankets, a boy needs to vent somewhere.

- beyond terrible temperature regulation, ALWAYS just a little too hot which is made worse by her sensory issues when it comes to wet fabric. constant slight agony and it never really goes away. theyre about 5 minutes away from crying about how uncomfortable they are at all times.

- had god awful handwriting until high school, like his teachers could BARELY read his handwriting it was Bad. OOOOOH OH MY GOD THERES A TRAIN GOING BY I CAN HEAR IT HONKING this is a really ironic thing to be pointing out rn but its sooooo worth mentioning. its still honking this is fun. 🚂. anyway. her parents made her spend an entire summer fixing her handwriting bc that was like the One thing her teachers criticised. its Fine now but their motor function simply doesn't deliver in the handwriting department.

- had a VERY INTENSE special interest in aquatic life + marine biology growing up, like read every book about any ocean animal in any library intense. his parents eventually forced him to abandon it because its "not a good career focus" but he still perks up when anyone mentions fish. once talked neils ear off about the biodiversity of coral reefs for roughly 2 hours, neil took her to an aquarium for their first date. rip todd anderson you wouldve loved spongebob squarepants.

- looooves pets, namely cats, but they have Too Sweaty hands all the time so any animal fur sticks onto their hands and just feels. so awful.

- had a brief period in his 20s where he was definitely an alcoholic, started as a social drinker but got too addicted to the feeling of not having to adhere to social conventions quite as hard, especially around other drunk ppl. eventually went sober after they realised they just Cant Stand the feeling of a hangover anymore. autistic ppl r more likely to develop a dependency on alcohol if we do start drinking. just btw.

- gets a Pretty Expansive vocabulary after actually starting to pursue literature. sometimes his family lightly teases him about using big words but it confuses the hell out of him. its just a word she thought would apply best!!

- soooooo obsessed with what other ppls idea of them is, both in an anxious way and out of genuine curiosity. would never ask ppl what they think of her bc she thinks thats 1) very broad 2) seems compliment fish-y and 3) just gonna lead to "i think ur great/ nice/ whatever filler compliment." but the dream is to sit someone (neil) down and just ask him every single question possible about how he perceives him.

- asks a billion clarifying questions about anything someone asks him to do, gets anxious about how many questions he's asking, tries to just figure it out, freaks out about the possibility of getting it wrong, ends up doing the thing perfectly. weekly occurrence.

- never fully grasped the appeal of religion (most definitely grew up catholic or christian or Something) just bc she could NOT let the lack of proof go. ALSO not an atheist bc the vastness of space scares them out of it. religious beliefs r a weird topic for them.

- suppresses a good chunk of his stims in public bc One total time someone looked at him weird while he was chewing on a sweatshirt string and he was like i gotta stop NOW. eventually develops tics and has to mask THOSE in public too. dear god someone let this girl unmask. also i started ticcing while writing that bc my body does this great thing where i only tic when im reminded of the concept of ticcing. its great and totally doesnt make me think im faking them (faking for who? dunno bc it usually happens when im alone)

- DOES in fact stim around neil bc NEIL STIMS TOO!!!!!!!! joyous day when they found THAT out! gets vocal stims of random lines from whatever play neil is practicing for. YEAA ART THOU THEEEEREE was a vocal stim for a solid week and a half which made neil VERY excited (autistic neil. how i love u autistic anderperry)

- velcro is The most evil vile disgusting material to ever grace this mortal realm. he hates it more than anything ever and i mean that fully. the feeling of BOTH sides, the noise, how easily it comes apart, she hates it all.

this is the gender part

never really viewed gender and gender roles as anything to adhere to beyond the fear of punishment if they dont. finds any social convention relating to gender to be Really dumb and meaningless, bc gender isn't (scientifically) real in any capacity, so why treat it like that? for the longest time just shrugged and said "eh, i guess im a boy" bc thats what she was used to being told, and didn't feel particularly drawn to agree OR disagree. eventually realised on a late night that Wait. i dont Actually care what i am. like yeah im a Male i guess but also im just me. my brain doesnt have a gender and i basically am my brain, right? and then never really thought about it again because that's genuinely how little he cares. adhering the most to canon with that mindset, she never really tells anyone (for obvious reasons on top of the overall apathy) and just lets the he/him happen to her but. in my dream world? agender they/he/she todd anderson. and this is MY blog so those are the pronouns im using from now on. i will forever love talking abt how autistic ppl very often view gender differently than allistic ppl, will forever love talking abt how autistic ppl are more likely to be trans. autism!!!

also yes that entire paragraph is just my view of gender, change the pronouns and the todd mentions and its just me. what of it.

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

5. i know you get me, so i let my walls come down

A/N: Chapter 5!!!! Guys, lemme tell you, I changed the events of this chapter soooooo much. Honestly, I’ve made a lot of changes to the chapters, I’ll probably be writing out some extra drabbles and scenes later on that didn’t end up in the main story, ngl. But for now, the story continues!!! I will say, the smut in this chapter was totally unplanned. At first, I didn’t want to cause I already have smut planned for both chapters 7 and 8, but this scene wasn’t that long and I figured you guys wouldn’t complain much, lmaooooo. Anyways, this chapter is pretty fun, I hope you enjoy it!!!

Pairing(s): Tristan x Lancelot, slight Nasiens x Percy

Summary: Lance’s friend group likes to spend the occasional weekend at Percy’s grandpa’s beach house over in west Britannia and this time around, they invite Tristan and his friends to come along.

Tags: Alcohol, smut, explicit sexual content, handjob, slight dom/sub dynamics, sir kink, shower sex

Song Inspiration: Teenage Dream By Katy Perry

Word Count: 4,398

Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Series Masterlist]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9]

[Read on AO3]

[Author Masterlist]

~*~

"Percy!! We need to figure out room assignments, everyone else is gonna be here soon!!"

"Hey, does anyone know what we're gonna do for dinner?"

"Somebody better plan on restocking the pudding while we're here."

"Why don't you just do it yourself, Gawain?"

"Lance, do you think there's enough left in the kitchen for you to whip something up for everybody?"

Lance shakes his head, chuckling to himself as he sets his bag on the floor by the hallway leading to the bedrooms and heads towards the kitchen. He'd missed his friends and all the chaos that came with them. "Lemme take some stock in here and I'll see what I can do, Anne." He tells the bluette standing in the middle of the kitchen, hands on her hips.

"Oh, good. I hope there's enough, I really don't feel like going out in public again today." She admits.

"Rough week?" He questions.

"You have no idea." She groans. "I seriously needed this weekend away. Plus, it's been awhile since we've all gotten together here, I've missed it." She sighs.

Lance nods, walking over to the fridge and opening it up. "Definitely." He agrees. He grimaces at the near empty fridge and opens up the freezer instead, looking over the items inside thoughtfully. "Hey, can you look and see if there's any flour and baking powder in the cupboards?" He asks Anne over his shoulder.

He hears her move to look as he pulls out a package of frozen sausage and tosses it onto the counter, closing the freezer back up as well. "Full bag of flour and half a tin of baking powder. Little bit of sugar in here, too." She informs him.

"Alright, cool. I think I got something in mind." He says, pulling out his phone as he leans against the counter. Just gotta see if Tris is willing to make a pit stop.

'Hey, how far out are you guys?'

'About 10 min'

'Do you think you'd be willing to do me a favor?'

'Does that mean you'd "owe me one" afterwards?'

'Why of course'

'Alright, fine, what is it?'

'Stop by a store and grab some milk and butter, pretty please? Doesn't matter what kind or brand'

'Ugh, okay. Only cause I like you so much ;D'

'Thank youuuuuu. I'll make it up to you, promise'

'Oh, I know you will'

Lance snorts, pocketing his phone and looking up to find Anne staring at him with a smirk. "You talking to your new friend?"

He rolls his eyes playfully. "They'll all be here in about 15 minutes or so." He informs her. "Once they get here, I'll have everything I need to start on dinner."

"Great!" She exclaims. "In the meantime, we should probably make sure that the idiots out there haven't made a mess of things already." She points her thumb over her shoulder and in the direction of the living room before turning around and walking that way. Lance shrugs and follows her, having nothing better to do while he waits.

~*~

Seventeen minutes later, Lance is in the process of defrosting the sausage when he hears exclaims from the living room. "Hey, uh, Lance?" Donny calls.

Lance walks into the living room, eyebrow raised. "Yeah...? What's up?" He questions.

"What the hell are Tristan Liones and Isolde Connors doing walking up to the house!?" He exclaims, half panicked.

Anne gasps. "Isolde is here!?"

"Oh, they finally got here, then." Lance says, a smile spreading over his face as he tries not to seem too excited.

"Oh? "Oh"?? That's all!?"

Lance doesn't answer Donny, instead walking closer to the clear glass wall making up the front of the house and watching as four people come up the stone steps. He spots Isolde and Tristan at the front and two men behind them that he doesn't recognize. He doesn't pay much attention to them, his eyes going back to Tristan almost immediately. It's only been about a day and a half since they'd last seen each other, but Lance was excited to see him all the same. In the past week, they'd spent the night together three more times and gone on two dates. They texted everyday and called sometimes, too. Lance didn't think it was even possible to be so attached to someone after so little amount of time, but the proof is right there in front of him that definitely was. He's been wearing a smile all week and all he can think about half the time is when he'll see the man again.

He's found out so much about the prince of Liones since that first night. He now knows that Tristan's favorite color is yellow and his favorite baked good is cinnamon rolls. His OCD was first diagnosed when he was 9, his Bipolar Disorder was diagnosed when he was 15. He'd had one girlfriend and two boyfriends in the past, all before him and Isolde were revealed to be dating to the public at age 19. When he was a kid, he'd had a dog named Monspeet that was first given to him by his Uncle Zeldris and Aunt Gelda, and the dog passed away when he was 17. He currently only models men's clothing, but he's considered asking to try out some women's clothing as well. Not only does he wear lip gloss, but sometimes more than that. He loves everything to do with the beauty and fashion industry and hopes to one day start his very own line of makeup and beauty products. He's obsessed with space and stars, has been for as long as he can remember. He has a deep passion for learning new things, becoming fascinated whenever he finds out a new fact he'd never known before. Whenever he comes to Lance's apartment, he has a new question about the plants he's growing and the crystals Lance keeps around his living space. Lance happily answers each one.

And so, when Percy calls him up and tells him that he wants to get the gang together for the weekend at his grandpa's beach house, the question of bringing Tristan along tumbled from his mouth before he'd even realized what it was. Percy, of course, said he could, and mentioned that he could bring a few friends along with him since the house was so big. Percy's grandpa's beach house has 8 bedrooms total and with their usual group there, only 4 of the bedrooms are taken, leaving the other 4 completely vacant. Tristan immediately agreed, saying he was sure his three best friends would love to come. One of which is, of course, Isolde, and if Lance remembers correctly, the other two are Jade and Chion.

Lance never told Donny, Anne, or Gawain about him and Tristan. They only know that he invited someone who he's getting close to, which they know in translation to mean dating. He technically didn't tell Nasiens directly, either, but he's certain that Percy told him who he was inviting and the both of them already know a little bit about him and Tristan anyways since they'd caught the two men making out back at the club a week earlier. It's just now that Lance realizes there's something else he's never told them. Tristan is the first guy he's ever dated, and he's never really tried to dig too deep into his own sexuality in the past. He's been attracted to plenty of guys, he's just never acted on any of it. So, given all of that, not only is Donny freaked out by the literal celebrities walking up, he's probably also extremely confused. Anne would most likely be just as confused if she wasn't so happy about Isolde being here. Oh, well. They'll adjust.

Lance walks over to the front door, opening it up as the group of four reaches it and holding it open. Percy comes rushing into the room and stops beside Lance. "Hey, everyone! Glad you all got here okay!" He greets cheerfully.

"Oh, Percy, right? It's wonderful to see you again!" Tristan exclaims with just as much cheer. "These are my friends, Isolde, Chion, and Jade." He points to each one as he introduces them.

"Great!!" Percy shakes hands with each of the newcomers, waving the rest of Lance's friends over. "This is Anne, Donny, Gawain, and my boyfriend, Nasiens! And-" Anne barrels into Isolde with a squeal, interrupting Percy.

"Anne!? I didn't know you'd be here!!" She exclaims as the two embrace quickly before pulling back.

Percy smiles at the two before continuing. "And then there's Lance, of course!"

Lance steps back into view after closing the front door and locking it, sending a wave at the new people in the room. "Hey, guys." He says casually.

Before anyone else can answer, Tristan comes right up to him and plants a kiss on his lips. Lance immediately wraps his arms around the silverette and returns the kiss without hesitation. He hears a choked gasp and a "What!?" from his group of friends and he internally snickers. Tristan pulls away slightly, giving him an amused smirk. "I got you your stupid butter and milk." He whispers, his arm coming up to show the grocery bag he's holding in one hand.

"Well, thank you very much, your majesty. I appreciate the hard work you put in, in order to do so." He whispers back, taking the bag from him. "Now I can make dinner." He says in a normal volume this time.

Tristan gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "Am I finally getting to taste the Lancelot Antin's cooking?"

"Oh, don't get too cheeky now, maybe I'll change my mind." Lance quips.

The prince narrows his eyes at him. "You wouldn't."

Lance sighs. "You're right, I wouldn't. Only cause Anne would kill me if I made us go out for something, though." He points his thumb at the bluette.

"Damn right." Anne grumbles, arms crossing over her chest.

"Huh. Good to know." Tristan has a mischievous glint in his eye as he turns away from Lance. Lance just shakes his head, chuckling at the prince's antics.

Tristan starts introducing himself to the rest of Lance's friends and people start to mingle, so Lance takes the milk and butter into the kitchen, putting them away for now. He then finishes his process of defrosting the sausage and then sets it aside for the moment. He then gets out the flour, baking powder and sugar, setting them on the counter as he gathers up other things he'll need.

A few minutes later, he's just starting to flatten the biscuit dough he made when arms wrap around him from behind. "That's kinda hot, you showing off all your muscles like that. Definitely a view I could get used to." Tristan comments.

Lance snorts. "Is that so?" He asks, folding the dough over and then flattening it down with his palms.

"Mm-hm." The silverette nuzzles his face against the man's back and Lance feels butterflies take flight in his stomach at the simple affection. "Your friends seem really fun and this house is gorgeous. Thank you for inviting us." Tristan says sincerely.

Lance stops what he's doing for a moment to place his hands over Tristan's on his waist. "Of course. A lot of good memories have been made here, I'm glad I can add some with you to the mix." He admits.

Tristan doesn't reply, but his hands start to tremble slightly in his grasp. He's about to question why, growing concerned with the man's silence, but then Tristan just tightens his arms, hugging Lance tighter, and buries his face in his back, humming softly. Lance smiles softly and squeezes his hands before focusing back on the biscuit dough in front of him.

~*~

"Dinner's ready!!" Gawain swats a spatula against the living room doorway multiple times to get people's attention.

Lance shakes his head at her with a chuckle as he passes another full plate of food to the pinkette beside him. Isolde has insisted on helping him every opportunity she gets, including taking food from the kitchen to the dining room. Lance had an inkling that she was trying to get him to like her, which was confirmed when Tristan whispered to him to just go with it. Truth is, he has no problems with her. Tristan already explained to him that she doesn't see him in a romantic way and that they're just friends and nothing more, that Isolde is glad their arrangement is over now. And Lance believes them both, he has no reason not to. Not only does he trust Tristan's word, he trusts Anne's as well, and Isolde is a really close friend of Anne's. And so, he lets her do her thing, not like he's complaining about the help.

Lance passes the last plate to Isolde before making sure all the burners are turned off and putting all the dishes he'd used into the sink. He'd made biscuits and gravy. It was simple and about the only thing he could've made with what they had. He'll go out and do some grocery shopping tomorrow morning, making sure there's some good freezer stuff stocked up for next time they come.

"Hey, do you know where the corkscrew is?" Donny asks him as he walks in, heading straight for the wine cart. Which was completely empty save for the wine and champagne glasses on it.

"Yeah, right here." Lance says, grabbing it out of a nearby drawer. "Whatcha need it for?" He asks curiously.

The redhead starts gathering champagne glasses, sending a wide grin Lance's way. "You're boyfriend brought us the wonderful gift of alcohol!" Lance chokes at the title Donny gave Tristan. Boyfriend. Lucky for him, Donny isn't paying much attention as he tries his best to balance all ten champagne glasses. "Hey, think you could bring that in yourself?"

"Y-yeah, I got it." Lance coughs. Donny then walks through and into the dining room, leaving him alone in the kitchen.

He'd be lying if he said he hasn't considered the title at least once. He has. Just yesterday, in fact. But...is it too soon? They've known each other for 8 months, but they've only been dating for a week. One single week that's been incredible. And when he imagines giving that kind of title to Tristan, and Tristan giving that same title to him in return, it just feels right. So maybe it isn't too soon for Lance, but what if it is too soon for Tristan? He just isn't quite sure what the right move here is yet.

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and leaves the kitchen, finding that he's the last one to enter the dining room. There's a spot open for him right in between Tristan and Tristan's friend, Chion. The purple-haired man has eyes on him as soon as he enters the room, scrutinising his every move as he walks over to the empty chair. Lance just tries his best to ignore the distrust radiating from the man as he takes his seat. Tristan is currently chatting animatedly with the green-haired man on the other side of him. Lance smiles softly at seeing the two getting along so well.

"Alright! Who wants a drink?" Donny calls, drawing everyone's attention as he picks up the corkscrew that Lance had set on the table.

"Please be careful, Donny." Nasiens pleads.

"Don't worry, I got it." Donny waves him off.

"Yeah, don't worry, Nasiens. Donny learned his lesson from last time, when Anne damn-near beat the shit outta him." Lance teases the man, Gawain, Anne, Nasiens, and Percy snickering at the comment.

"Oh?" Jade raises an eyebrow in amusement and curiosity.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Donny grumbles, pushing the screw into the top of the champagne bottle and pointing the bottle in the direction of the kitchen, holding it close to the doorway. Everyone in the room winces at the loud pop as the bottle is opened. Donny then proceeds to fill everyone's glasses halfway, setting the bottle in the middle of the table and sitting back down.

"Oh! Does this mean we can do a toast?" Isolde says from her spot between Anne and Gawain.

"You should do one." Gawain suggests, elbow on the table and her head resting on her chin as she appears to admire Isolde, a look on her face that Lance hasn't seen in years. Well, that's new. Lance makes a note to keep an eye on that.

"Oh, well," Isolde looks around the table, receiving encouraging looks from everyone. "Well, I guess we should toast to new friends. I think I speak for all of my friends here when I say that we're very hopeful for the rest of the weekend. You all seem so wonderful already and this whole place is beautiful. So, thank you." She finishes speaking with a shy smile, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Cheers!" Tristan exclaims, reaching his glass out to clink against hers and then everyone else's as they all do the same.

From there, everyone begins to eat and dinner is anything but quiet. Everyone's chatting and having fun, though Chion seemed a bit uneasy the whole time. Halfway through dinner, Tristan's hand grabs his under the table and Lance intertwines their fingers together. Tristan turns and beams at him, bringing their hands up to his lips and kisses the back of Lance's. Lance then proceeds to look away and act as if the blush growing on his face isn't there as he continues eating, swearing he hears the prince snicker quietly beside him.

~*~

The next day, almost everyone sleeps in, unsurprisingly, and that includes Tristan. Something else Lance has learned about the man is that when he doesn't have anything to do the next day, he really likes to enjoy his sleep. Lance went and got groceries early on, returning with breakfast for everyone, though it ended up being more like lunch for a lot of them. And then it was collectively decided that they would all head down to the beach, as one does when staying at a beach house.

"So, you remember how you owe me one, right?" Tristan comes up to him and crouches down, his hands resting on his knee and his chin resting on his hands.

"Of course I remember. Why?" Lance asks from his place in the sand, leaning back on his hands and his legs stretched out in front of him to allow the water to run over them. His fingers tap against the sand as he stares back at the silver-haired man. 

Tristan gives him a shy smile. "I think I know what I want you to do."

He tilts his head at him. "Really? Ready to cash in already?" He jokes and Tristan giggles, nodding his head. "Well, what is it, then?"

The prince bites his lip, his body doing a small wiggle motion that Lance finds extremely cute. "Be my boyfriend?" He asks quietly.

Lance's breath hitches and he stares into his eyes, searching them for any hint of joking. All he saw was a mixture of anxiety, hope, and affection. "Is that all? Cause if that's the case, then you really don't need to use your favor to get me to say yes." He says, sitting up and reaching out to grab one of Tristan's hands in his. "I was plannin' on askin' you the same question already." He tells him.

Tristan's eyes light up. "So, is that a "yes", then?" He asks.

"Yes, your majesty, I will happily be your boyfriend." Lance grins at him, the sentence making his heart soar.

Tristan squeals slightly, jumping at him and tackling him into the sand, giving him a kiss that takes his breath away. Lance laughs against his lips and wraps his arms around the shorter man's waist, kissing him back with just as much enthusiasm. The silverette holds the blonde's face with both hands and deepens the kiss, swiping his tongue over the other man's bottom lip. Lance accepts him, delving into his mouth and sucking on his tongue, drawing a moan out of the prince.

He pulls back and looks down at Lance. "I think I need a shower. Come help me clean up?" He asks coyly.

"Sounds like a good idea to me." Lance whispers. Tristan climbs off of him and stands up, Lance following suit, and Tristan grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers as he leads them back up to the beach house, leaving everyone else to their own fun.

The two of them quickly make their way to their shared bedroom for the weekend, going straight to the connected bathroom. Tristan turns on the shower and adjusts the temperature as Lance goes up behind him, planting kisses down his bare back as he reaches for the waistband of the silverette's swim trunks and pulls them down, sucking and nipping until a mark is left at the base of his spine. He stands back up as Tristan turns around, stepping out of the trunks pooled at his ankles and running his hands down Lance's sides and over his hips until he's pulling Lance's swim trunks down as well. Lance leans down and kisses the prince as Tristan starts walking backwards towards the shower, pulling the other man with him as he steps inside under the spray of water.

Tristan reaches down and grabs Lance's cock, rubbing his thumb over the tip and drawing a groan out of the blonde-haired man. Lance bends down to grab the backs of both of Tristan's thighs, pulling the man up and placing his legs around his waist in one quick motion, causing Tristan to let out a small squeak as his hands latch onto Lance's shoulders. Lance chuckles as he presses Tristan's back to the shower wall. The silverette arches into him, his body instinctively reacting to the cold tile touching his skin, and the action causes his cock to rub against Lance's. Both men moan into the kiss, pressing closer to find that same friction again.

Lance grabs his bodywash from one of the shower shelves, pulling back from the kiss. "I'm supposed to be cleaning you up, right?" He says huskily as he pours some of the soap into his hands, blindly putting the bottle back on the shelf as he keeps his eyes on Tristan.

"Yes, I do believe that was the intention of this shower." Tristan says, smirking as he runs his nails down Lance's chest lightly.

"Thought so." Lance says as he reaches down and wraps his soap covered hand around both his and Tristan's cocks, holding them in a firm grip and giving one, single tug before stopping and Tristan bucks his hips up, trying to get a continuation of the motion. Lance tsks and changes his grip on the prince, instead grabbing tight hold of his hip and pinning it in place.

Tristan gasps and bites his lip. "I love it when you take control." He comments.

Lance gives another tug, this one quicker. "You implying that I usually don't, little prince?" The pet name slips out, something he'd never called Tristan before, but it gets a very noticeable reaction from the other man.

"N-not at all, s-sir." He stutters out, his eyes wide and dark, the absolute furthest thing from innocent.

That flash of heat runs through his body again at being addressed as such and he pumps his fist as he growls out, "Say it again."

"Sir. P-please." The silverette tries to move his hips again.

"Stop squirming, little prince, and I'll give you what you want." He breathes out. Tristan whimpers, but stays still, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "Good." The blonde whispers, before making good on his promise, pumping his fist and continuing the motion instead of stopping after just one pass.

Both of them groan and Lance starts moving his hips in time with his fist. Tristan lets out a whine and Lance digs his nails into the prince's hip, a warning for him not to move yet. Lance speeds up the motions of his hand a bit, groaning. "L-Lance. Sir." Tristan's voice is strained and Lance presses their foreheads together.

"Almost there, sweetheart, just wait a bit longer." He pants.

He jerks them both off quickly now, chasing both their highs but his main focus is Tristan in that moment. They both moan together as they get closer, the hot water beating down on them without much notice from either one.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Tristan chants, his back arching forward more with each curse and his body starts tensing up, like a coil getting ready to spring, and Lance is feeling much the same way.

"That's it, little prince, let me see you cum." The taller man encourages, and that was all it took for the silver-haired man to fall apart in his arms.

"Oh, Lance!" He shouts, body locking up completely as he cums hard. Lance tries his best to keep watching the beautiful sight unfolding before him, but his own orgasm takes over and his vision blurs as he cries out Tristan's name in return.

Tristan comes down from his high with another whimper, Lance with a soft groan, and both of them become still finally except for the heaving of their chests as they try to catch their breaths. "Damn." Lance says.

Tristan giggles. "I cannot wait to do some more exploring with you."

~*~

A/N: What do you think?? Did you guys like this chapter or no?? Tell me your thoughts, I wanna know!!! I actually got this chapter finished last night but afterwards, I was so tired and felt like I was about to pass out from exhaustion, so I just waited to post this chapter until after I woke up but I woke up much earlier than I planned and Imma prolly go right back to sleep after I finish posting this, ngl. BUT whenever I wake up again, I’ll be working on chapter 6 and chapter 6 will definitely, 100% be out later today, so watch out for that!!! Ily, guys, thank you for reading!!!!

~*~

Tags:

@darkelf-7​

@ivyllamauwu​​

[Lemme know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series and any other stories relating to it!!!]

[ceruleansol]

Writing dialogue is hard

But it can be made simple!

Let’s break it down:

We have dialogue tags, and we have action beats.

A dialogue tag is where we write that the character says something.

“Hey,” he said, “wanna catch a movie?”

An action beat is the action the character does that has nothing to do with what they’re speaking.

“Hey.” He came to a stop. “Wanna catch a movie?”

Now, there’s a plethora of ways to write dialogue, but to make some concepts simpler to grasp, here’s a few things to keep in mind that help keep things compartmentalized for me, at least:

Whenever we have a dialogue tag after dialogue, it does not start with a capital letter unless it’s a proper noun (like a name).

“Yes!” he exclaimed.

Notice how ‘he’ is not capitalized even though the dialogue ended with an exclamation mark. The same would be done if it was a period or question mark.

If an action beat followed, however, it would start capitalized.

“Yes!” He nodded excitedly.

(This could not be “Yes,” He nodded excitedly. The dialogue would need a period before the action beat).

You can mash up the two, of course.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, nodding excitedly.

And that’s the basics! In my mind.

Now onto em dashes because I see those in writing and I get itchy.

Em dashes (—) can be used for multiple things. But before I get into examples, I wanna make clear that you don’t put spaces around them. Please and thank you.

They can set off a list:

“There’s a few movies we could see—Barbie, Oppenheimer, or whatever.”

It can also show sharp changes in direction.

“Yeah, those are great—wait, you’d watch Barbie? Same!”

Taking a break from the two gays dating above—

Em dashes are used to show interruptions, not hyphens/dashes. Just like I did immediately above.

Dashes are used in stutters within words.

“Y-you said what to him?!”

You can use “Y-You” or “Y-you” but you gotta keep it consistent throughout.

Em dashes are used in… it’s not a stutter but like a repeat of whole words:

“Why did—why did you do that?!”

Em dashes can be used to interject a thought (they can also replace parentheses this way):

“He said he would come home—if we’re lucky—before eleven.”

Back to em dashes being used for interruptions, using an em dash with an action beat:

“Hey, you can’t just—” She took the remote back.

Notice the action beat still starts with a capital letter.

If the action is interrupting mid-sentence (not between two complete sentences), then it looks like this:

“Don’t”—he shoved the alcohol swab away—“press so hard!”

Notice the action doesn’t start with a capital letter. Why? I don’t know, man (gender neutral). But again, no spaces around the em dashes.

Idk how to end this. I just wanted a compilation of things I see are typically confused about or unknown in writing.

Hi, I’m Diven, and I’m a proofreader accepting projects rn, and I wrote all this in one go at midnight. Apologies for the weirdness! It’ll happen again!

Helpful resources:

1

2

3

4

5

[simping-for-kamski]

12 Steps of Christmas - ch 2

2. Shock

“Today, we welcome a new member and a returning member into our group,” the therapist said. It was another therapist, and another group.

Leo was the returning member, and coming back felt both like an admission of defeat, and a step in the right direction. He knew he had to get through this, do it for himself this time, because he was the last one left alive. Dad wasn’t there anymore. Leo had no one left to please, and it gutted him. All he wanted was love, affection, and now, he was never getting that. All chances were gone, and he felt like it was all his fault too. Absolutely everything he’d done the night Carl died had been a succession of every worst possible choice.

In a way, it was all too surreal, and a part of Leo still thought it might all just be a very long bad trip.

He sat on his chair and blankly looked at the middle-aged man in front of him. Same unkempt silver hair and scruffy beard, sad blue eyes, old leather jacket and funky shirt. Hank had a problem with alcohol.

He didn’t speak much this time. Leo on the other hand talked.

“I stopped coming and… I guess I just didn’t see the point in trying to stay clean anymore. It wasn’t that I lacked the willpower, it’s that… nothing was changing. The stuff that drove me to this. Even when sober, my dad, he never got it—never got me . He did drugs because it was fun and artsy. He thought I was a loser for using Ice as an escape from all the shit I couldn’t deal with. And frankly… I felt like, why bother? If being high is the only way I can get a semblance of function in my life, if being sober doesn’t make me feel better… Why bother? So, yeah, I stopped coming, I relapsed, everything went to shit, I spent all of my money, got back to begging my dad for cash…” He fisted his fingers hard enough that his knuckles whitened. “I just wanted him to give me a reason to care, but…” He bit his lips. “I pushed the provocation, I got fucking mad at him and his fucking android—my own dad! He-!” He exhaled loudly and massaged his temples. His eyes were pricking again but he wasn’t about to cry in front of others. “All he ever cared about was himself, his plastic toy—that fucking machine that doesn’t feel a goddamn thing, and now… Shit.” He took a long inhale, a long exhale. “I’m not sure what even happened. Argument got heated. I fought with the android. Next thing I knew my dad was on the floor, clutching his chest, clutching that fucking android, talking to him to his last fucking breath, like I wasn’t even there, and police was there and they shot the android. I don’t fucking know.”

“Shit, mate…” one of the seniors of the group whispered—Dino. “You mean… your dad passed away?”

Leo merely nodded but held up his hand. “No condolences or sympathies, please, don’t…”

He didn’t deserve any of that.

“Have you come to take the pledge again, Leo?” the therapist asked.

Leo nodded slowly. “He’s the demon that led me into this hell and now he’s dead, so I… I guess I just gotta bury him once and for all, right?” he said and met his peers’ approval.

The session went on but Leo found himself spinning in a haze. He’d give anything for a smoke. His skin itched and he felt sweaty. He was thankful when it all ended. He didn’t feel all too well and rapidly left to join the bathroom. He just had the time to bend over the toilet before it all came down, burning acid through his throat and nose, prickling, scratching. The sounds he made were godawful and reminded him of the reason why he needed to quit the habit.

“Fuck…”

He wiped his face with toilet paper in an attempt to look just a bit representative before leaving the stall, for the sake of the other person who’d entered the room. He flushed, exited the small cabin and dunked his face with tap water by the sinks. His eyes were bloodshot, his face was still red; he looked just great .

“You’ okay?”

Leo turned to look at the guy washing his hands a sink away from him. Hank. He nodded.

“Yeah, yeah… Y’know… or maybe you don’t…”

“I know.” Hank gave him an apologetic smile. “I know what that shit does to your system. Not from personal experience, but…” He shrugged. “Sorry you have to go through this—Leo, right?” he checked the name. “It’s a brave choice you’re making.”

“I dunno nothing about being brave, man.” Leo sighed, dabbing his face with paper towels. “Head’s all a fuzz even when I’m sober. …Do you like art, by the way? Know people who like art?”

“Why you ask?”

“Got a whole museum’s worth of paintings and sculptures I need to get rid of,” Leo said.

“Your old man’s stuff?” Hank guessed. “Do you need money or—?”

“I need to get rid of it all,” Leo stammered. “It’s okay, forget I said anything,” he apologized and moved toward the door.

“Huh, yeah. See you next time,” Hank replied with a short nod.

Leo nodded back, feeling awkward as fuck. “By the way… sorry you got stuck with that plastic thing at work. I mean… Until next time.” And then a second too late: “Hank.”

READ IT ON AO3

[tiffanytoms]

Do you think one of the reasons why (the vast majority) of Jily fics consist of the same recycled tropes and characterizations is because the Jily fandom (or at least a vocal minority) is less receptive to anything different like fics where the characters are more morally ambiguous/not as perfectly brave+good as they’re usually portrayed?

Hello!

Okay, I am going to answer this question like it was asked in good faith and is not a trap - and really hope that one of the 50 trolls I've blocked doesn't come out of the woodwork bc their spidey-senses started tingling and they just can't wait to yell their Karen opinions at me (I've been traumatized... can you tell I've been traumatized? 🤪)

Yes, absolutely yes. And I would agree it is a vocal minority, bc my anon asks and reader stats have never been better than for my darkest fic. Even the ppl who ended up turning on it were some of the biggest fans/reviewers/ask-senders, etc, so, at the end of the day that's their problem with human psychology and not me.

Morally ambiguous content is DEFINITELY popular, but you got some really loud, obnoxious, morally-superior purity warriors who (can't read warnings and tags), I guess, are here to cleanse all our souls by chastising and bullying others (??) whenever they admit that they like anything different, and that (understandably) pushes ppl back into the shadows. You can one thousand percent enjoy something that you know is bad for you or that you shouldn't. (Hello, sugar? Alcohol? Anything fun? Hahaha) Guilty pleasures are not a crime and reading literal crimes is not a crime. Seriously. You can read about murder and no one has to go to jail! 😱

But let me explain myself further: do I think popular tropes are a bad thing? No! Obviously if so many ppl are writing them, ppl like them! I enjoy them too. I think that's great, write away, but I think there's a problem when ppl are actively trying to stop others from writing anything different bc it's not what they personally want to read. We don't cater to entitled narcissists around here. It's the internet. There's enough room for everyone and ppl gotta learn to share their toys, lol. It is really sad bc over the years I have seen other specific writers (weird that this seems to be a recurring theme...) bullying away several amazing, original writers and that's just all sorts of fucked up. You can't tout this perfect utopian community by ostracizing and lying about anyone who dares to think even slightly differently than the norm. It's dumb as hell, and really insecure on those writers' parts. And frankly, I'm pissed they keep getting away with it.

That being said, let's veer into less nefarious waters and say that these ppl didn't lash out due to jealousy and marking their territory, but bc ppl in general are scared of anything new and what they don't understand. Ppl are creatures of habit, so if enough ppl write Jily in a specific way, that way almost becomes canon. For example, I will never forget my complete 'HUH 🤔' moment when someone was sharing my non-problematic, canon story WAYDTM (so they were clearly a fan) and tagged it as 'OOC'. Bc in my head I was like............. how are they out of character? We literally only know xyz about them and THAT'S IT. But it was completely bc so many ppl had written Lily and James in that specific way that that was almost what was expected. Me making James actually be an asshole at the beginning was marked as 'out of character' even if it made complete sense for the way I told the story.

And to that I say, fuck that.

No one here owns Jily, no one here knows Jily, bc Jily does not exist, they are not real, so write them however the fuck you want. It literally hurts no one, it is a story.

If ppl read the story, cool. If they don't, also cool. But at the end of the day, this is fanfiction over fictional characters, and if you're not allowed to play, then what's the fucking point.

I think it boils down to 2 camps: ppl who want to read/write aspirational Jily, and ppl who want to read/write messy, real (sometimes bad) Jily. Both are completely acceptable and wonderful and AWESOME, and we can have both. We just need both camps to mind their own business (but feel free to travel between them! That's cool!) and live and let live and not pretend like either is better than the other.

It just gets so fucking weird when you have ppl trying to tell you what you can or cannot do. Cut that shit out.

Thanks for the ask 😁 Sorry I got a little heated, this has just been a lot.

[nny11writes]

I cannot express how funny this round of the Sims has been. I have several mods installed, this is important to know.

So Catra develops a crush on Luna Villareal after rudely introducing herself before class and Luna laughs and cracks a joke, the first sim who didn't dislike the rude intro. Catra, being Catra, insta crushes. I think to myself, "Guess I'm not making Glimmer or Adora this time. Go wild you crazy kids."

Catra keeps turning down the offer to join the paragons, works hard and goes home to have Weaver spontaneously yell at or slap her, and gets invited to the football team. All weirdly par for the course. Luna is sweet and silly and basically Adora, so it's kinda hilarious that she comes over every day to hang out in the refurbished garage Catra lives in.

About the time I'm thinking I gotta break these two up before the end of high school because Weaver keeps autonomously being really fucking shady with Luna (as she does), these two idiot teens have sex. Thanks deviant desires. I'm over here making sure Weaver stops being a creep for five minutes to learn the Zappity spell and the teens start banging without protection. No babies, Catra will not be dissapeared by Luna's creepy dad. But Catra's a loyal sim so now she's ride or die in love. Great.

A while passes, Catra graduates early, I'm thinking university might be a way for them to grow apart. I still kinda want to make an Adora sim for this playthrough. Luna runs over right as I'm considering it, bursts into Catra's bedroom and proposes marriage to her.

Yeah, okay, fine, I get it game, no Adora this time. Not like Luna is basically Adora, whatever, it's fine, Catra will be devastated if I say no. So I say yes.

Three days later it's the Sims valentines day and Luna invites Catra out on a date. Weaver is getting high on cocaine and complaining that I don't have alcohol in the house right now because I spent it getting her high quality cocaine, this gets me away from her antics and Catra can wine and dine her fiance. We go to a lounge and Luna keeps collapsing to her knees and crying, I'm so fucking confused. Catra keeps trying to talk to her and tell her jokes. Time is running out on the date clock and now Catra is too depressed between Luna's sadness and Weaver being an addict to even try. This is the worst valentines day ever. So far. Because a car then runs a woman over and now Catra and Luna are freaking out and crying with the crowd while the grim reaper takes his sweet fucking time playing fucking candy crush or something on his tablet, asshole.

The date ends terribly, Luna is still crying, Catra is now depressed and just wants to cry in a shower. I invite Luna to her house anyways hoping to figure out what the fuck that actually was.

Luna has a terminal illness, it turns out.

In a panic I have them elope in Weaver's shitty entryway next to the shoe rack and treadmill. Weaver is doing another fucking line of coke before coming to cheer. The eloping takes an eternity because Luna keeps collapsing. I move her to the household and pulled 10k with her. I'm thinking it's time for Dr. Barber surgery time you know?

No. Luna dramatically collapses into Catra's arms and DIES THERE. Catra is crying and babbling to her. I cannot get her to bargin with the grim reaper who suddenly knows how to use his tablet proving he was being a dick earlier, and Weaver hated Luna with a passion at this point so she's high and celebrating.

I am wondering how the fuck I recreated the heart but much sadder on accident in the sims. Catra is inconsolable and offering a candy skull to the urn. I haven't saved in forever, so I guess we are renovating the house with the money. Catra goes to look at the salt and pepper shakers before retreating to cry in her bed.

I switch to Weaver who's clapping over the whole affair which is less depressing, thinking to myself, "Well at least scumbag is still here? Is this better or worse?". And then she needs a breath of fresh air.

She will not be stopped. I am gobsmacked knowing I can't stop life tragedies, even though Weaver literally cancelled her own desire to beat Catra up due to tomfuckery from the sims gods.

A truck pulls up and kidnaps Weaver.

Catra has 300 smackeroos to her name, got engaged three days ago, married the love of her life, only to have her die in her arms, and now Weaver was kidnapped while she was crying and not around to kick their asses like fuckign McKenzie who keeps robbing us.

I have decided Catra has suffered enough. Right now she has a mindbreak status debuff, is depressed over life in general, and also terrified by the kidnapping. She deserves to do some murder as a treat. I sell enough to make the 5k and go to the cave.

Catra murders and immediately gains enough buffs from confidence and pride that she's temporarily not depressed. Weaver hugs her three times in thanks. The reaper takes so FUCKING LONG WITH HIS STUPID TABLET GOD DAMN that I regret killing that one dude at the other end of the cave he he survived the choke out and ran. Weaver apologies to Catra while I'm distracted scrolling in and out on the reaper as if he'll get motion sickness and peace out faster.

They go home and Weaver has lost her addiction status, which I think is just a bug or a glitch.

They are now living kinda happily together??????????????? Like in the most fucked up way possible, let's not get into that, but what is this?

I immediately make a new game where Catra lives down the street from Entrapta and Scorpia so there can be a meet cute super poly trio to wash whatever that was out of my mouth.

So far Catra has not wandered by despite all her fucking jogging (I am across the street two houses down HOW does she never run this way were Scorpia can see her??). Also the first night at the new house they are robbed at gunpoint and the fucker takes the fridge because Scorpia loses the fight. There is nothing left to eat except the fruitcake from the welcome wagon that automatically makes you sad.

Still better than that last game so far, but like, c'mon the tragedies are set to VERY slow, let my poor girls have a normal happy life!

[kentuckyfriedcapitalism]

watching geoff become sober is honestly inspiring like especially today when alcohol and alcoholism is so common and romaticised like i cant log on facebook and scroll once without seeing a “the only reason i can survive being a mum [insert picture of wine bottles]” and it sucks becuase the way alcohol is glorifed means that theres proably so many young people out there who could have/be in danger of having a real drinking problem but just play it off as funny “hahaha me after my 7th tequila shot” memes. it also sucks too that young people get criticised, looked down on and made to feel invalid for not drinking or not drinking much “wow party poopers” “wow let go a little” “if u cant take a shot without gaging then ur not a real whatever” and if u express concern then u get called ou  for “ruining peoples fun” or “not leting them live their life”. getting over something that is so normalised by the world cannot be easy and i have all the respect for geoff and anyone who has or is recovering from an alcohol adiction

[eddiemunsonswhxre]

Will you make a sequel to infidelity?

yes <3

let go / eddie munson (infidelity part two)

part one

cw: angst, heartbreak, mentions of drugs and alcohol use, i cried, kinda short? maybe a part three idk...

six months later, you and eddie finally talk

--

  for the rest of school year, you avoided eddie like the plague. for six months, you tried your hardest to not talk to him at all. which was proven difficult when for those six months, all eddie tried to do was talk to you. today, the last day of school, he came up to you once again.

  eddie was timid. he knew you hated him, but he’d be damned if he just gave up on you. you were sitting in the library by yourself during your free period, as you normally did, reading a new book. he bit his lip, trying to calm his racing heart before approaching you. he took the few steps towards you, his chains clinking as he walked.

  your eyes snap up at the sound, making eye contact with the metalhead. your heart clenched in pain. everytime you thought you were getting over him, you’d get hit with that pain all over again. he stopped in front of the table you were sitting at and looked down at his hands before he caught his lip in his mouth. “hey y/n,” he whispered, voice sounding scared.

  you gulped a bit as his eyes raised to meet yours. “eddie,” you reply, trying not to feed into him too much.

  eddie twists a ring around his finger and it caught your attention. it was the ring you had gotten him after a few months of dating. of course he wouldn’t take it off. “i just um… i thought you’d wanna know that i uh, i’m graduating this year, with you,” he says, starting out confident but it fading into more of a murmur.

  you feel the knife twist your heart as ‘with you’ echoes in your mind. “that’s great, eddie. i’m… i’m proud of you,” you smile. luckily the bell rings so you’re able to get out of there before he decides you need to have a longer conversation.

  eddie lingers as you leave the room and he feels hope blooming in his chest. maybe there was a chance for you. 

  the two of you didn’t talk again until after the graduation ceremony. you were standing with your family, eddie’s uncle having already left in order to make it to work, and he decided he wouldn’t get another opportunity. he approached you, your family noticing him before you did. he ignored their stares and lightly placed his hand on your shoulder. you turned, knowing it was him by the chill that ran through your body. you hated how your body still reacted to him. “i’m sorry to interrupt, can i talk to you for just a quick second?” he asks, hand still resting on your shoulder. you look back to your family as you debate it before sighing.

  “real quick,” you mutter and follow him to a less crowded part of the cafeteria. 

  you look at eddie expectantly while he tries to put the right words together. “i don’t want this to be the last time i see you,” he rushes out. your heart falters at his words. “can we maybe hang out in the next couple days? i wanna talk about some stuff, way too much to talk about here,” he asks timidly.

  a frown sits on your lips. you know you need to say no, but you both deserve more explanation. right? “tomorrow, um at four we can go to shelley’s,” you say, giving the name of the small diner in town.

  “okay, okay cool, i’ll pick you up?” he says, excited but trying to hide it.

  you purse your lips and glance over to your family. “no, i’ll just meet you there. i gotta go,” you mutter, leaving before he could protest. his excitement fades a little, but at least you were going to talk.

  that’s how eddie ended up sitting in a both at the diner by himself. he held a coke between his hands, taking a sip every once in a while as his leg bounced uncontrollably from nerves. it was 4:06, and you weren’t here yet. he wanted to cry at the thought that you were going to stand him up. you were always early and you weren’t the type to just not come. oh god, had something happened to you? this is why he should have picked you up because what if you got into an accident?

  his worries were soothed when you walked in a moment later. his eyes scanned you, looking effortlessly beautiful as always. “hey,” you hesitated as you sat down. you just hoped this wasn’t a mistake.

  “hi,” he replied, voice a bit shakier than usual. “um, i didn’t think you were gonna come,” he said, sipping his coke.

  you shrug and look down at your lap. “got caught up with steve and robin.” eddie feels his chest tighten with jealousy as he hears you say steve’s name.

  but, he knows he can’t show it so he just nods. “you’re friends with them now? that’s cool,” he asks in fake interest. he already knew you had become friends with them.

  “they are pretty cool, super sweet,” you recalled, a smile covering your lips as you thought of some of your adventures.

  eddie swallows as the waitress comes up to ask if you’d like a drink. you order a sprite, not surprising eddie. “so…” eddie trails, tapping the table with his rings.

  “eddie, just say what you want to say. i can see it’s eating you alive,” you sigh, feeling bad for him.

  eddie looks from you to the table top and shifts uncomfortably on the bench. he bites his lip, scared he’ll scare you away. “i still love you, you know?” he whispers, refusing to meet your eye. it’s silent, and then the waitress is bringing you your drink. you murmur a thank you to her and begin stirring it with a straw. “y/n, i’m being honest…” he insisted.

  he squeezes his eyes shut while waiting for you to respond. you suck your bottom lip into your mouth. you didn’t want to break him. “eddie…” you sigh quietly. that’s when eddie feels his heart break. he had thought that you still had a chance, but no. this hurt more than anything.

  he opens his eyes, keeping them downcast as they begin to water. “you don’t love me anymore?” he chokes out. your own eyes sting when you hear the lump in his throat.

  “no, eddie, i don’t,” you say apologetically. you hated yourself for saying that, but you figured it was better to just rip off the band aid then give him more hope.

  eddie’s head was swimming. he’d really thought… he didn’t want to lose you. he couldn’t. yeah you’ve been separated but he kept hope. he kept a list of things he wanted to tell you about once you got back together, he’d bought you things he knew you’d like, he even planned on asking you to move in. all that, for nothing. “you’re lying,” he denies, pressing his palms into his eye sockets.

  “eddie, i’m not. i care about you still yes, i’m sure i always will. but, i know this is going to hurt to hear, but there’s not gonna be an us again eddie,” you tell him and a shaky sob leaves his lips as his world shatters.

  a tear falls from your eye as you see the man who was once your everything crumble right before your eyes. “b-but why? i stopped talking to chrissy you know? i’ve never talked to her or any other girls since we fought. i never should’ve talked to her in the first place, i know and i’m really sorry. i was stupid and i ruined it all. but i’ve fixed it and if you- if you please just let me i can make you fall in love with me again. i promise i’ll be the best boyfriend ever and- and y/n, i don’t want anyone else but you, i love you,” he rambles, more and more tears streaming down his face.

  you sniffle, this is hurting more than it should for someone you don’t love anymore. “even if i did want us to work out, we can’t,” you say softly.

  “but we can! i’ll do anything please, y/n! i’ve already got a job lined up and i’ll be making really good money, enough to rent us a house and-and buy the stupidly overpriced muffins from that bakery you love so much-,” he goes on, trying his hardest to convince you.

  but you cut him off. “eddie, i’m moving,” you state harshly. his breathing falters and his eyebrows furrow.

  he scans you, trying to see if you were serious. “wh-what?” he croaks.

  you sigh, taking a drink of your soda to calm down a bit. “my family and i, we’re moving to nevada in a week,” you say, avoiding looking at him.

  eddie’s face drops. “nevada?” he questions with a heartbroken twinge. you nod slowly, glancing up at him and his swollen face. “a week?” his voice now high pitched. you nod again and eddie’s lip trembles once more. “you can’t go,” he whimpers, feeling pain spread through his body, stemming from his heart. 

  “i have to,” you whisper, trying to will back tears.

  eddie shakes his head no, reaching to you and grasping your hands desperately. “please, don’t leave me,” he begs, tears free falling. 

  you close your eyes as his words pierce you. “eddie, i need you to let go,” you try to say levelly. 

  “no, no, y/n, please don’t go. please, i need you,” he sobbed. luckily the diner wasn’t too crowded.

  you shake your head trying to pull your hands from his. “i'm not going to stay here, now come on, you gotta let go,” you say softly, stroking his knuckles as a bit of encouragement. “i’m sorry, eddie, but i gotta do this for me,” you say as he lets go of you. you set down some money on the table to cover your drinks, and then push yourself up to go. you leave the diner and don’t look back.

  eddie watches you leave, feeling more alone than he ever had. he officially lost you. and there was no chance of getting you back anymore. on the day you left, he sat in his van down the road from your house and watched as you left in the moving van. the whole time you pretended not to see him. he cried more in those two weeks than he ever had in his life. eddie would love to say he was able to heal from that but he didn’t. he distanced himself a lot and picked up way more hours than were healthy at work. he stopped playing with his band for a while, stopped playing dnd, and only spent his free time drinking or smoking. you had ruined him. but he could never blame you for it. you were the love of his life.

~~

okay i'm gonna try to tag everyone who asked for a part two (before i published this one) here;

@iheartyouyou @jessyballet @f-o-a-writer @alicefallsintotherabbithole @domiscre @mylovelycrazyworld @bambi-laufeyson @darklingbrekksov @eddiemunsonscumsock @chiquitobananas-blog @soph69420world @crustlover @suzie18 @eddie-swhore @snoopwashere @cherryscentedbabe-xo @chquifairy @romanticfall @ladyapplejackdnd @its-nowheregirl @tayburkulosis @ka55iesworld @lexthemess21 @eddiesmunsonsgf @musicmyheart @plk-18 @phantomxoxo @tracymbcm @lovena222 @eddiiemylove @shenevertricks1831 @sweet-creature98 @kateshit841 @meliemelie @yourbutterflyeffect-blog1 @littletittygothgirl @carebearsoftie @todoroki-slut @totallytubular-turtles @chanaaaannel @booksteaandarainyday @100layersofdaddyissues @eddiemunson4ever @pariyak17 @shgehufsdjhfdr @mushroommmsworld @buckay @abiwebb12 @urmomsnumber1 @avobabe87 @totis-things @yeolliedokai @elegantpaperoperatormaker

[delcakoo]

coffee run༉‧₊˚. yang jungwon

request: “hello! hope you are doing great 💖 can i request a jungwon scenario where he falls for someone a couple years older than him but the person doesn't realize his feelings and treats him as a child? he does things to be seen as a man like protecting and gets jealous of older guys? It would be so cute 🥺 happy ending please”

⍣PAIRING ! barista!jungwon x gn!reader

⍣GENRE ! coworkers/friends to lovers, fluff

⍣WC ! 1.9k

⍣WARNINGS ! mention of smoking + alcohol, if i’m forgetting anything lemme know

a/n: hi anonnie ! thank you once more for your request, i loved this idea and really enjoyed writing it even though i did struggle a lot for some reason </3 you didn’t specify the gender, so i stuck with gender neutral reader ! i hope you enjoy barista won c:

saturdays. anyone who works in retail dreads saturdays. it’s the most busy day of the week, which means annoying customers complaining and trying to bargain prices, arguments and people asking for your manager at least once an hour, and a whole lot of stress for all the employees. so when you find yourself walking into the mall where your cafe job was located at 8:30 on a saturday, you sigh.

just by looking at how many shoppers there were, you knew it was going to be a long, long day. on the bright side, you were working with heeseung and jungwon, your two favorite coworkers.

heeseung was a year older than you, and you had to admit he was quite mature for his young age. you wouldn’t be surprised if he got promoted to manager soon, as he always seemed to know exactly what to do in bad situations.

meanwhile, jungwon was two years younger than you. he felt like someone you had to take care of because of the age gap, and he was much more playful and less serious compared to heeseung. either way, they were both fun to work with (and they were hot, but that’s just a bonus) so whenever you got scheduled for the same time as them, you knew work would be much better than usual, even though it was still disappointingly, a saturday.

the duo in question had arrived at the cafe before you, cleaning up before opening time. heeseung washed down the counter, while jungwon sweeped under the many tables and chairs thoroughly. “so, what’s going on with y/n?”

jungwon’s heart starts beating at the sound of your name, pausing his sweeping for a moment. “i don’t know, they still treat me like a kid. i’m starting to lose any hope i had left.” the younger boy has liked you since he began working at the cafe four months ago, and while he has tried to offer hints of his attraction to you, you seem to always pass it off as harmless, friendly compliments.

one time, you’d even called him your younger brother, and he felt like crying right then and there as heeseung sent him a pitying glance.

heeseung sighs, “i know they feel something towards you too, i can tell. you just gotta step it up a notch,” jungwon looks up at his elder, his broom coming to a stop once more, “show them you aren’t just a kid, won.”

he gulps, “i’m not very good at being bold, what should i do?”

before heeseung can respond, the bell above the door jingled as you walk in, smiling at the two boys as they both nod in your direction in greeting. “hey! ready for the saturday chaos?” you watch as they both glance at each other, exchanging an unreadable expression. you decide to ignore it, walking behind the counter to tie on your apron.

heeseung huffs bitterly, “as ready as we can be, i guess.” after rigorously wiping down the last side of the countertop, he throws the used cloth to the side.

jungwon nods, putting down his broom, “there’s a sale over at H&M too, we’re dead.”

you gasp, “seriously? good god.” you look up, checking the clock near the entrance. “oh, it’s 9:00, are we all set?”

“i think so, i can take cashier.” heeseung ties his apron around his waist before walking to the front of the shop, flipping the door sign from closed to open.

“i can do serving, and help our baby make the drinks!” you grin, squishing jungwon’s cheeks between your hand, puckering up his lips. heeseung watches, facepalming internally. when you let go of the boy's cheeks, he only coughs awkwardly. jungwon knew at that moment that he could not take any more of this. before his thoughts could drift any further though, the doorbell jingles again as people start flooding in. mornings were always the busiest.

immediately, heeseung begins taking orders as you help jungwon with making the drinks. most was coffee as usual for the mornings, but there were always the few odd orders along the way.

about an hour later, the customers have slowed down as a young man walks in, smoking. with no other people to deal with, you, heeseung, and jungwon all exchange an annoyed glance before you decide to take charge and call him out. “i’m sorry sir, we do not allow smoking in our shop. in fact, it’s not allowed in any parts of this mall.” you passive aggressively smile at him.

he scoffs in amusement, while the other rolls his eyes. “yeah? what are you going to do about it?” at closer inspection, you notice his eyes are slightly bloodshot, and he’s standing rather unsteadily.

you turn your head to your coworkers worriedly, “he’s definitely under the influence of something, we need to call security.” you whisper, heeseung nods, running into the back to use the phone.

by the time you’ve turned back around, the man has thrown his cigarette to the ground, and began progressing much closer to you, and you realise how he towers over you rather threateningly. he suddenly lifts his hand, making you step back in fear.

luckily, in the blink of an eye, jungwon had walked over and stood in front of you protectively, holding the man's wrist that was raised in the air. while he may be shorter and less built than the older male, he is rather confident in his abilities if worse comes to worst. he didn’t learn martial arts for nothing, after all. “sir, please remain a respectful distance from our employees.” his voice had dropped an octave, and his usual soft expression had become wrinkled with rage as he drops his hand.

once you’ve calmed your breathing, you try to process what had happened. you were so used to jungwon being all smiley and childish, always making you laugh, and showing you silly new tricks for making drinks faster. it felt strange seeing him so.. scary looking. “are you okay, y/n?” he asks worriedly.

you gulp, nodding. “yeah, thank you, won.” well that’s an upgrade from baby or wonnie, he thinks. even if this definitely wasn't the way he planned to change your view on him, he was still happy about it. luckily, before the intoxicated man could do anything stupid, two mall cops walked in right as heeseung emerged from the back. thankfully, they quickly escorted the man out of the shop as you both explained to heeseung what had happened.

besides the fiasco in the morning, the rest of the day was going rather smoothly. you and jungwon are having a great time making the drinks, while heeseung seemed to be busy luring tips out of the female customers. “look at him go,” you scoff, watching a girl place a five dollar bill in the tip jar.

jungwon feels jealousy run through him as he follows your gaze. if only he could be as bold as his hyung. “we get like 30% of that, i’m not complaining.” he replies, tightening the lid of another coffee before sliding it across the counter. “order number thirty two!” he calls.

“true, still surprised those girls fall for his dumb fake smile.” you say once he returns, watching him check the order chart before beginning a new drink.

jungwon glances at you, “do you like him?” he asks bravely.

if only he knew who you’ve begun to like. “what? no way, where’d you get that idea?”

the boy shrugs hesitantly, “i don’t know, just thought you like older guys.”

your eyes widen, “i wouldn't mind a younger guy, it really doesn’t matter to me.” you’ve busied yourself making a cappuccino for the young man who's waiting in one of the booths, and you can’t help but feel his stare even from the back of your head. he was quite good looking, you think as you place the lid onto the cup.

you don’t know why, but you find yourself glancing over at jungwon. no, even if what you feel for him is real, he would never like you back, he’s just a friend from work. jungwon seems to have noticed your side-eyeing, “y/n, you good?” he calls, waving a hand in front of you.

snapping out of your thoughts, you nod. “yeah, yeah sorry. i’ll be back.” you show him the finished drink you made and he nods in understanding, watching as you walk over to the counter. “order thirty three!”

when the man walks up to the counter, you take a closer look at his features. he really was handsome, probably a few years older than you. you grin when he offers you a polite bow, “thank you. say, how many drinks do you think i’d need to buy before asking for your number instead?” he comments smoothly. jungwon whips his head around, the drink he was making becoming completely forgotten.

meanwhile, you’ve decided you have nothing to lose. if you want to get over your slowly growing feelings for your younger coworker, this was the way to go. “hmm, i don’t know, what do you plan to do with said number?”

the man smirks, “i suppose we could arrange the details over text,” he says, watching you take the cup back and begin writing your number along it with the pen that was normally used for writing down orders. jungwons frowns, and heeseung definitely sees as well, sighing disappointedly.

after you wave goodbye to the man who seemed to be the last customer, heeseung breaks the silence of the empty shop. he knew that if anything was going to change, he needed to give you both time alone. “it’s lunch break, i’m heading out.” heeseung calls, and you all say your goodbyes as he walks out. before he left though, you notice the strange shared look between him and jungwon once again. they were both acting really weird today, you think.

you turn to him, “hey, are you okay wonnie?” back to that nickname, he shakes his head.

it’s extremely difficult for him to meet your eyes, but he does, “am i a little brother to you?” he’s not going to let you slip through his fingers that easily. he thinks of heeseungs advice, if he gets rejected, at least he can say he wasn’t a coward.

your lips part, and while you’re dumb, you’re not that dumb. you have an idea on what’s happening, “no,” you reply, “maybe you were when i first met you, but you’re not anymore.”

jungwon is surprised by your response, but nevertheless, takes the hint, stepping towards you slowly. the two of you have never been so close, and he can’t help but feel his heart stammer nervously, unlike his confident, masked expression. “then what am i, y/n?”

you swallow, feeling the hard wall of the counter behind you as he corners you. “what do you want to be, jungwon?” you steer the question back to him, staring right into his eyes.

he licks his lips, “should i demonstrate?” you’ve never nodded faster in your life, eyes closing as he pushes his lips to yours, softly moving against you. when you kiss him back, he sighs in relief, purring as you move a hand up to his hair, rubbing his head gently. when you pull apart, you both smile like idiots.

“how long?” you had to ask, taking his hand in yours.

jungwon feels heat rush to his cheeks, ears turning a crimson red as he scratches his head shyly, “like.. since i started working here.”

you laugh, pushing his shoulder teasingly, “you’re so lame.”

he gasps, “oh yeah? who was flirting with our customers earlier?!”

“oh right, maybe i should text him back.” you wiggle your brows, watching him roll his eyes in annoyance.

he leans down, pecking your lips once more. “sure, you can ask him if he has first date ideas,” he grins, “for us.”

the end! thank you again for requesting anon c:

© delcakoo on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, cross post, copy, etc.

perm taglist: @duolingofanaccount

[nctsplug02]

Hi I'd just love to say I absolutely love your writings and I'd love to ask for a Jen the babysitter of y/n and jaehyun having there own really smutty flirty moment infront of her and jaehyun is basically just Needy for y/n and just trying to show that he is interested in her only if that's ok hope u understand thank uuu

[5:27pm]

genre: fluff and suggestive

warnings: sexual touching, jaehyun is horny.

happy eighteenth jen! <3

jen yawns and walks into the kitchen looking for something to snack on, she had woken up from her nap.

“oh! mr and mrs jeong! hello! welcome back home!” jen nervously laughs when seeing the couple both cooking. “rise and shine, jen. how was your nap?” you ask setting the knife down.

“it was great. i’m sorry for napping so long.” you shake your head. “no, don’t apologize— oh, can you try this paste? i made it and i wanted to get your perspective on it.” you grab the wooden spoon and scoop some of the paste.

you put the spoon in front of jen’s lip and she tastes it. “mmm— oh that’s spicy.” she giggles and covers her mouth. “is it? i’m sorry, love.” jen coughs and shakes her head. “is it too spicy?” jen shakes her head. “no it’s just.. my spicy tolerance is high.” she explains. “oh, i didn’t know. i’m sorry.” she shakes her head again. “it’s fine, mrs jeong.” she reassures you again.

“mrs. jeong?” you hum, going back to cutting the meat up. “may i ask, what’s the special occasion?” you grin widely.

“it’s your birthday, silly. happy birthday, love.” jen blushes. “how’d you know?” her voice now quiet. “i remembered from when we first met you.” jen bites on her bottom lip, she was speechless.

“now, foods almost finished. why don’t you call your friends over for a party? hannie is at her grandparents so she isn’t here. please, no underaged kids though. alcohol is allowed.” jen nods and sits at the dinner table.

jen lifts her head when hearing giggles coming from the kitchen. “stop— jen is in the next room.” she hears you squeal and then the knife being dropped on the cutting board.

“god, you’re so sexy.” jaehyun groans quietly while running his hands all over your body. his lips attacking yours to keep you quiet. “jae—“ you moan into the kiss.

you push him away from you with the back of your hand. “stop, i’ve gotta prepare food.” jaehyun pouts when you shut him down. “later.” you say making him stand up straight with a grin.

jen wanted a small party but it ended up being a big one, lots of her friends came, they brought more beer and presents.

“guys! come to the kitchen, it’s time for cake!” you say turning the music down a bit while jaehyun lit the candles.

everyone starts to gather around in the dining room, jen sat in her personal chair which was aimed in front of the cake. “on the count of three. 1.. 2.. 3!” you counted down.

everyone chanted the birthday song which made jen giggle with nervousness. the spotlight was on her and she got all shy.

after everyone finished the song, she held her hands together and closed her eyes.

“i wish for mr jeong to be mine.” her mind reads and then she blows the candles out.

you were glad that you had bought a small cake, nobody ate the cake. instead of eating it, they smashed it in jen’s face as another present.

“jae, did you want some cake? there’s like.. two slices left—?” your sentence gets cut off by jaehyun smashing cake into your face.

“wow, thanks babe.” jaehyun giggles and leans forward with his tongue out.

you close an eye while jaehyun licks the cream off your face. “yeah, thanks baby. you’re doing a fantastic job.” you praise him while he continues licking it off your cheek.

“okay, i think that’s enou— hm.” you sigh as jaehyun smashes more cake into your mouth. “oh, wow. okay, mhm.” you almost laugh as jaehyun starts eating and licking the cake off your lips.

he wasn’t even helping you clean the frosting off your lips anymore, he was full on making out with you. hands grasping on your ass while pressing you against the table.

“—oh, my god! look, jen, there’s aaron! jen? jen?” jen was too busy glaring at the married couple having a heated makeout session. “jen?” her friend calls out again and looks where jen was looking at.

“aw, old couple making out. cute. anyways, look at aaron! he’s coming over here to talk to you!” jen’s friend smacks jen on the shoulder which snaps her focus from the couple.

jen sighs and grins when seeing her school crush walk up to her. “hey jen, do you wanna go someplace else to.. talk?” jen looks at her friend then at the couple who were still making out, and then back at her school crush.

“sure.” she nods.

you throw the pills to the back of your throat and chug your glass of water. “mm, good morning, baby.” a tired jaehyun walks in shirtless while scratching the back of his head.

“hm, good morning.” you wash the glass and put it on the rack. “do you need some advil too?” he shakes his head. “nope, i don’t have a headache. thank you though.” he captures you by the waist and connects his lips with yours.

“mm, nope.” you push him off from your lips. “morning breath, baby.” he laughs and shakes his head, leaning down and pressing one last kiss on your lips.

you and jaehyun look to the kitchen door when hearing someone’s foot being dragged. “jen?” you call out and a voice answers. “yep, right here, mrs jeong.” she walks into the kitchen, her makeup all messed up and her falsies ripped off.

“did you want some advil? i can tell you have a headache and a hangover.” jen laughs and nods. “that would be great, thanks mrs jeong.” you nod and pat jaehyuns chest. “make coffee, please?” he nods and gives you another kiss before pulling away.

you reach for the cabinet and you grab the advil bottle, shaking two pills into your palm. you grab a glass and fill it up with some water. “jen, love?” the drunk lifts her head and walks over to you, taking the pills and glass from your hand. “thank you.” you nod.

“well, that was hell of a party.” you say while sighing and walking over to jaehyun who struggles with the coffee machine. “it won’t start.” he frowns.

flick.

you flick one of the switches and look up at the sighing man. “it was.. god, thank you guys. so much. i really appreciate the birthday party you guys threw for me.” jen smiles while washing her glass.

“of course, jen. happy eighteenth, my love.” jaehyun pushes his face into your breast with several yawns. “still tired, baby?” he nods, hands rubbing your ass.

jen clears her throat and rolls her eyes when seeing the love birds flirt.

“oh, jen. i think you need a shower.” you laugh, “you have cake in your hair, love. here,” you push jaehyun away and hop off the counter.

“hey, that’s my job.” jaehyun pouts when you jump without his help. “you big baby, sh.” you turn back to jen. “go shower and i’ll get some of my clothes for you.” jen nods and follows you upstairs leaving the poor jaehyun alone.

[stardustprompts]

supermassive game’s  the quarry  sentence starters  change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying   tw :   alcohol mention ,  nsfw ,  death ,  language ,  violence

‘why’d you kill the music?’

‘we’re just in geographic flux.’ 

‘put that in your pipe and smoke it.’

‘I really f’d this car up.’ 

‘oh fuck! oh my god, my heart just exploded!’

‘seriously, do I look like a ma’am to you?! I have at least twenty years before I’m a ma’am.’

(name), don’t be a dick.’

‘what doesn’t kill you will make you stronger.’ 

‘I’ll be right back! I’m going to get some help!’ 

‘you’ve seen the evil dead, right?’

‘I mean, you must be exhausted. I know I am.’

‘I mean you never know ... the universe has a kinda way of, er, working these things out.’

‘you’re a bad person!’

‘a.) it was (name’s) idea and 2.) it was really funny.’

‘oh! boring!’

‘okay wow. the fumes of jealousy are just stifling over here.’

‘you’re a real charmer, you know that?’

‘okay, not gonna miss ya (name).’

‘one more night out in the great outdoors might actually kill me.’

‘freaks. I’m surrounded by freaks.’

‘okay, lets all put out little dicks away and get this show on the road.’

 ‘oh my god, relax! it’s not like we killed someone.’ 

‘in a way, ‘faking it’ is just being yourself but louder.’

‘uh oh, i’m not fired am I?’

‘them’s the rules, you noob.’ 

‘I need you to trust me. like I’m trusting you.’

‘it seems like the stars have aligned for us.’ 

‘high five! touch my hand, (name).’

‘and for the record your analogies are very hurtful.’

‘beep, beep, beep ... uh ... it’s my beerdar. helps me ‘dar’ for beers.’

‘how am I just noticing how super lame you are?’

‘look if you’re trying to scare me it’s not gonna work.’

‘booty? oh, it means like ... um, treasure. or butts.’ 

‘you’re trying not to laugh right now because it kinda sounds like boner, aren’t you?’ 

‘your wit knows no bounds.’

‘I knew that there was a secret sex dungeon around here somewhere.’

‘what can I do for you on this darn - tootin’ - doozy of a day?’

‘maybe we should stop touching stuff.’ 

‘it’s like my mom always said, if you wanna party you’ve gotta bring protection.’ 

‘I’m not gonna fuck a bear.’ 

‘I beefed it.’

‘to be fair, bigfoot is not a conspiracy.’ 

‘whatever happens is what’s meant to happen.’

‘not everyone knows what they’re capable of.’

‘you know I just realized we may never see each other after tonight.’

‘nice! but we’ve already done that joke.’ 

‘the main party’s not gonna die just because you’re off on a little side quest.’

‘we all get performance anxiety sometimes. you just better make your move before a real man swoops in.’ 

‘disqualified for being a dumbass.’

‘oh ‘it was just a game!’ yeah, the fuck it was, man!’

‘you never really get to kiss who you really want in these dumb games anyway.’ 

‘so I’m saying that I like you, too, or whatever.’ 

‘sneaking down here was a little more fun when we thought we could get caught, huh?’

‘you just love having an audience, huh?’

‘you really love fucking with me, huh?’

‘lighten up, sourpuss, please.’ 

‘I don’t want this to end.’

‘do I look like a doctor?’ 

‘are you trying to piss me off?’ 

‘I’m gonna carpe this diem so damn hard it won’t know what hit it!’

‘I’m just desperate to stay afloat in a world where everyone wants to be different.’ 

‘time makes fools of us all.’ 

‘you mean ‘911?’ who says ninety - one - one?’

‘do you have to specifically ask for an ambulance or can you just say ‘help, help!’?’

‘maybe that’s just what they want you to think, man.’ 

‘why does everyone blame everything on bears?’ 

‘don’t write a check that your ass can’t cash.’ 

‘you ran away.’

‘hey ... I’m kinda pouring my heart out here.’

‘didn’t think I was that boring.’ 

‘technology ... it giveth and it taketh.’

‘I’m sorry if it’s not up to your standards, okay? but I’ve been putting in a lot of TLC.’ 

‘well, if you like, I could show you the ropes.’ 

‘sign me up, teach!’

‘S.O.S. this is an emergency ... save our ship ... come on down ... please help us.’ 

‘why didn’t you tell me there was something out there?’

‘fuck! it’s spreading!’ 

‘that was a bad idea.’ 

‘I’m okay, I mean... I’m not but ... it doesn’t hurt.’ 

‘you’re in shock.’

‘you left me back there you asshole!’

‘you don’t have to be a dick about literally everything.’ 

‘I’m not going to suddenly fall in love with you because you’re my knight in shining armor.’

‘can we please not do this right now, seriously! I literally came looking for you as soon as I heard there was something out here.’ 

‘I don’t know what’s going on with you right now but I liked the old (name) better.’ 

‘I only hung out with you because you seemed so desperate. poor, pathetic (name) willing to throw herself at the first guy who came along.’

‘you don’t like me at all, do you?’ 

‘we officially suck as counselors.’

‘you just stepped in some grade a, double prime, go ahead and kill yourself, cosmic type shit.’

‘your only option is to buckle the fuck up and do what I say.’ 

‘I feel like I'm going crazy!’

‘I’m kinda all mixed up but ... more or less intact.’ 

‘watch it man, I bruise easily.’

‘you have nothing to bargain with.’ 

‘sometimes things just don’t make sense. what then?’

‘you know you can talk to me about anything, right?’

‘I’m just saying, maybe there was a slight chance that it was a werewolf.’ 

‘that’s not really a plan though, that’s just like saying ‘let’s escape’ but with a bunch more words.’ 

‘you’re not going to believe it until you see it for yourself.’

‘let’s see how smart you really are.’ 

‘it wasn’t you. I know it wasn’t you.’ 

‘we don’t have much time.’ 

‘please let me go! I didn’t mean for any of this to happen!’ 

‘this isn’t a ghost story, it’s a creature feature.’ 

‘wow, are you flirting with me?’ 

‘how long do you have?’ 

‘this doesn’t feel right. I think you’re up to something.’

‘why are you like this?’ 

‘if I let my conscience slow me down now, everything gets a lot worse for everyone.’ 

‘jesus, mary and jazz hands!’ 

‘stop being weird.’ 

‘look whose finding their funny bone!’

‘I don’t fit into the right box, is that what you’re saying?’ 

‘trauma can bring people together.’

‘just because you’re using ‘logic’ to ‘make sense’ doesn’t mean that I’m into it.’

‘okay, fuck you man! I’m trying to help.’ 

‘I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could take it all back but I can’t.’

‘nobody’s ever gonna treat me the same.’ 

‘I guess I just don’t like to see other people sad.’ 

‘maybe I just like to make people laugh.’ 

‘well, fuck this night, huh?’

‘you stole my knife!’ 

‘pick on someone your own size.’

‘how bad is it?’

‘I keep trying to fix it ... whatever this is ... but people keep getting hurt.’

‘uh, you’re not the boss of me.’ 

‘am I dying?’ 

‘you’ve lost a lot of blood.’ 

‘are we gonna end up in a documentary?’

‘you actually saved my life. for realsies.’ 

‘I just can’t wait to see who they choose. y’know, to play me ... in the movie about how brave I am.’

‘I’m not leaving you!’

‘thanks ... for uh ... not killing me.’ 

‘you think this is over? this isn’t over.’ 

‘why the hell should I trust you?’

‘I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m telling you we can end this.’ 

‘this doesn’t mean I forgive you for what you did to me.’

‘I wanted to spend one more night with you ...  you know together ... like before.’ 

‘we’re not good together. we’re just not.’ 

‘I am sorry. even if it means you’re never gonna talk to me again. I just ... I want you to know that.’ 

‘it’s not long before sunrise. all we have to do it wait it out.’ 

‘we can still come out on top. the past is the past.’ 

‘can’t get much worse than it already is.’ 

‘we have enough on our plates already. stop discovering shit.’ 

‘you changed me. I will never, ever be the same because of you.’

‘you’re the one who has to live with what he’s done.’

‘what we’ve up against is my only chance to end this thing for good.’ 

‘god damn this place has got some uncool vibes.’

‘I bet you think you’ve got it all figured out. I bet you think you’re fucking clever.’ 

‘stop doing a podcast, no one’s listening!’

[nctsworld]

two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k 

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection  GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff  WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap! 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.    

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.  

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.  

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.  

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:  

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”  

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.  

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.  

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.  

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?  

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...  

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.  

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.  

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.  

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.  

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. “You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.  

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.  

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”  

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.  

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...  

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.  

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.  

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”  

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.  

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.  

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.  

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.    

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.  

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone  off to one side.  

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?  

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.  

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.  

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.  

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.  

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.  

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.  

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.  

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.” 

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.  

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.  

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.  

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.  

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.    

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.  

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.  

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.  

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.  

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.    

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.  

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.  

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.  

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.  

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.  

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.    

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.  

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.  

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.  

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.  

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.  

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.  

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déjà vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.  

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.  

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.  

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.  

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly. 

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.  

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.  

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion—  

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.  

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.  

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.  

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.  

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.  

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”    

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.  

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

[abimess]

A loving disaster

Kate Bishop x Reader

Summary: Kate took a liking to you from the very beginning. Unfortunately for the brunette, just being around you turned her into a complete mess. This time, you decide to put her out of her misery. [Requested]

Word count: 712 || Pronouns: not used

Warnings: alcohol

You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)

3K Milestone Blurb Collection | Get notified of my next stories

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"Will you calm the fuck down?! It's just Y/n, you've seen each other a bunch of times!" Yelena complains to her friend, whose leg shaking wildly nearly knocked over the blonde's drink for the third time that night.

You are a friend of Yelena's that Kate had met a few times, and all those times the brunette's heart was racing violently, the brunette's mind foggy enough to prevent her from thinking straight.

All of the brunette's encounters with you ended in disaster, with her making a fool of herself and hating herself for messing things up.

For some reason, Yelena kept creating situations for you to meet, and Kate didn't know whether she was grateful or annoyed by that.

Before the brunette can rebut her friend's previous line, your voice sounds right next to her, causing her brain to short circuit at the same instant.

"Hey, guys! What's up?" You greet as you sit down in the seat facing the two friends'. And while Yelena responds with a casual greeting, the brunette takes a much more intense route.

"Hi! Y/n! Hi! You look great! I mean, you always look great, of course! But today you are, you know, even more so." Kate bites her lower lip to stop herself from talking any further, and the "my god" Yelena muttered beside her didn't reassure her one bit.

"Thank you, Kate, that's very sweet. You look great too." You reply gently, deciding to ignore the brunette's disaster, and Kate smiles gratefully.

"Have you guys placed your orders yet?" You ask then, shifting your gaze between Kate and Yelena, and the blonde shakes her head in denial. "Not yet."

"We were waiting for you." Kate says, trying to sound casual, but then she widens her eyes, rushing to say, "Not that you made us wait, of course not! It's all right, you're right on time-"

"Here, darling, drink this." Yelena interrupts, pushing her drink in the brunette's direction. "Thanks." Kate says in a mumble, scolding herself once again as she chugs the drink.

You smile, amused by the scene, but choose not to say anything about it, and soon the three of you decide to place your orders, engaging in other conversations.

After a while - and several drinks - Kate is feeling more relaxed around you, acting and talking casually. But then Yelena's phone is ringing, and the brunette's heart begins to soar again.

"Excuse me, guys, it's Nat, I gotta pick it up." The blonde says apologetically as she gets up, and you and Kate voice your understandings before she walks away.

Alone at the table, the brunette decides the best thing to do is to stay silent, her eyes locked on her nearly empty glass. Feeling your eyes on her isn't helping however.

"So, Kate, how are you?" You break the silence after a moment, and Kate raises her eyes to yours reluctantly.

"Panicked." The brunette replies amid a nervous laugh. But then you're looking at her with a mixture of confusion and concern, and she smiles shyly before confessing, "You make me nervous."

"I noticed." You say with an amused smile. But your eyes are kind, so Kate allows herself to smile once more before looking away.

"I've also been thinking of a way to ask you out without you fainting." You confess after a few seconds of silence, and the brunette's eyes snap to yours immediately.

"You want to go out with me? Like, on a date?" She asks in disbelief, and you let out an amused chuckle as you nod. "Exactly. I hope I don't make you so nervous then."

"You certainly will." She replies with an amused roll of her eyes, and you smile, finding her adorable.

"But it's okay, I like the way you make me feel." She confesses with extremely rosy cheeks, and you smile. Before you can respond, Yelena joins you at the table again, and the subject soon changes.

After your interaction with her, however, Kate can't think about anything other than your date, nervous about the possibility of her blowing it.

But every time your gaze meets hers across the table you smile sweetly, and the brunette smiles too, a wave of relief washing over her. Everything is going to be just fine.

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I hope you enjoyed it, thoughts and comments are always welcome ツ

[sunmoonandeddie]

and he kissed me right here

pairing: modern!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 6,100

summary: I've always been sure that all I ever wanted was a glamorous life.

warnings: Cuss words, mentions of the Afghanistan war (Bucky is a veteran), angst, happy ending, cheesy romantic confessions, age gap

a/n:  This is based on the song 'Stars and the Moon' from Songs for a New World! It's the first one shot in my musical series! This is written in first perspective, but there is no physical description or use of a name in this!

Twenty-Two

I sighed as I tossed a few more dirty plates into the dish window, wiping my brow. After a shitty dinner rush and an even shittier rush around two in the morning consisting only of drunk ass college kids looking for some sort of carb to suck up all the alcohol in their systems, I was ready to go the fuck home.

“Sweetheart, you head on home now,” the head chef insisted as he watched my head nod slightly as I tried my best to fight off sleep. “Ain’t nobody comin’ in before Melissa gets here. No point in you staying on your feet any longer.”

Louis was a godsend. At sixty-seven years old, you’d think he would rather be anywhere but a diner at almost four in the morning.

“Nah,” he had said when I’d asked him a few months after I’d first started. “My Ginny died a few years back, and since she’s been gone, I don’t really have the stomach to sit around that house all alone.” He had laughed, but there’d been a deep sorrow that had come over his deep brown eyes. “Kids are worried, but… Sleeping the day away is better than laying up at night staring at her side of the bed…”

“You sure, Lou?” I asked even as I headed for the back room where all the employees clocked in and kept their possessions in their own little cubbies. I did my checkout in view of the security camera, just like always. I didn’t want anyone to be able to say I stole anything.

Everyone who knew me knew that I wouldn’t, but I’d worked at two many places where the girls tried backstabbing each other and sabotaging everyone else to get them fired.

Though people were a lot nicer in Louisiana than any of the other places I’d lived.

Louis chuckled as he set a to-go box in the window, nodding towards it. “Mmhm. Long as Buck is getting you home safe.”

I gave him a joking eye roll as I took the to-go box gratefully, grinning at my name written in all caps with green Sharpie on top. “You know you don’t have to make me dinner every night.”

“Yes, I do,” he said, shooting me a look. “How else do I know you’re getting enough food in you, huh?” He pointed his rag at me. “Now you go ask him to get you home. Tell him I said he can clock out, and that he’s supposed to text me when he sees you safe inside. You better not say you’re gonna ask him again just to walk yourself home.” The old man shook his head as I headed for the back door, muttering to himself, “Damn girl thinks I’m gonna believe she’s feeding herself good enough when she’s risking her damn ass walking home alone.”

Despite the fact that I’d put off asking for Bucky Barnes’s service, I really did appreciate how fiercely Louis cared about me.

It had been a real long time since anyone had cared so much.

I hesitated at the back door of the diner, my hand resting against the cool metal.

What if he said no?

Granted, he most likely wouldn’t. But what if he said yes, and he secretly thought me some dumb little girl that couldn’t take care of herself?

What did I care if he thought that?

“I don’t care what he thinks of me,” I huffed as I straightened my shoulders, holding my chin a little higher.

“Stop talking to yourself and get going!”

I jumped in surprise, before shooting a glare in the direction of the kitchen. “Stop listening in on my private conversations!” I demanded before storming outside with new found vigor.

Only to freeze when Bucky looked up from where he was sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette.

God, he was handsome.

“You okay, doll face?” He asked, his New York accent a sharp contrast to the southern drawls you were used to.

“Um… Y-Yeah,” I said faintly, glancing back at the door that I’d come in from. “Um… L-Louis wants me to ask you… Can you walk me home? Or give me a ride? I don’t… I don’t know if you drive…”

“I do drive.”

“O-Oh. Okay. Great.”

“But I don’t have my car on me.”

I peered at him curiously. “Oh. Um… I can just walk by myself. I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna be a nuisance…”

He stood up, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. “Don’t be ridiculous, darlin.’ Come on. I’ll walk you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he began to head for the street. “Besides… It’s a real nice night.”

“Oh…,” I said in surprise at how ready he was to be of service. “Okay. But only if you’re sure.”

A faint smile graced his lips as he glanced at the ground, letting out a faint chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest. “I’m sure, darlin.’ But you gotta lead the way.”

I was surprised by the rapid pitter patter of my heart beat as we walked side by side down the street, the chorus of ‘Yellow Brick Road’ getting stuck in my head on a loop.

Bucky was an enigma that I found myself wondering about more often than not, but I always ended up talking myself out of going there. After all, he was an older man. A much older man. At least fifteen years older than my own twenty-two years, or something along those lines, not that he looked it. The man looked like some kind of rugged Greek god. Like Hades if Hades was born in the eighties. His dog tags clinked together under his shirt as we walked, his metal prosthetic glinting in the moon.

“So how did you end up in NOLA?”

It took me a moment to even realize that he was talking to me, my heart skipping a beat and my face going hot in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked.

His bright blue eyes flickered over to look me over. “How’d you end up in New Orleans?”

“I actually don’t know,” I snorted, avoiding his eyes as I kicked at a few broken up pieces of asphalt. “I just… Picked a bus ticket and ended up in one of the Carolinas. Then I picked another bus ticket and ended up in Minnesota. And then I picked another, and another, and another, and then I actually just… ended up here.” The months I’d spent alone on those Greyhounds felt both so long ago and also like it was just yesterday. “The diner was the first place someone recommended for food that’s good but cheap, and as I was eating my mountain of cheese fries, I saw the flyer that said they were hiring. So here I am now…”

“Huh,” he said, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t take you for the type of person to run off on your own… riding buses all over the country…”

Head tilting to the side, I gave him a long look. “You didn’t? What kind of type did you peg me for?”

Bucky gave me a long look, a single brow raised as though silently telling me that I jumped to conclusions. “Just that jumping from place to place can take a lot outta someone,” he said slowly, his voice low and soothing. “Hell, if you were my girl—” He broke off as his cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, his long hair falling in his face.

I swore my heart had stopped inside of my chest, and I swallowed thickly around the lump in my throat. “Oh?”

He rushed to try to correct his wording. “I-I just mean, a lady should be comfortable. And if I had a g-girl like you, well… You’d never want for anything,” he stammered, stumbling over his words like a flustered school boy. “Hell, I… I’d give you the stars and the moon…”

I was shocked into silence, staring up at him like he was the sun itself. “Bucky…”

“No, no, don’t say anything. I… I know that was a lot,” he insisted quietly, unable to meet your eyes as he stared up at the shitty apartment building you called home. “Hell, you probably don’t want a gross old man hitting on you.” His metal hand, glinting in the low light of the street lamp, reached up to brush against my cheek for just a moment before it quickly dropped. “Just let me walk you home each night so I can make sure you’re safe, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I breathed out, unable to take my eyes off of him as he took a few steps back.

There’s a somewhat playful smirk on his lips as he watched me stumble up the steps, continuously glancing back at him. “Goodnight, baby doll.”

“Goodnight,” I said, barely audible before I finally headed inside.

Bucky kept his word. He walked me home every night, and honestly, there wasn’t a moment that I wasn’t thinking about what he had said, about if I was his girl.

What if I was his girl?

But… with that meant I’d have to give up the life I’d dreamed for myself. I wanted luxury, to never worry about bills or where I was gonna get my next meal or if I could afford to buy the nice work shoes or if I could only get the cheap ones that would fall apart in three months and then I’d just be right back where I started.

I wanted the life that celebrities lived. Hell, I wanted to go to parties on the same yachts the Kardashian-Jenners did, even if I couldn’t fucking stand them.

And with Bucky… I wouldn’t have that.

“So why’d you go on the run anyway?” Bucky asked one night as we sat on the curb, eating ice cream in the Louisiana heat. “I know you told me how you got here, but you’ve never told me why.”

“You’ve never told me how you ended up here or why either,” I shot back, nudging his shoulder with my own.

Somehow the age difference seemed non-existent as we sat there. Honestly, I felt like we were just a bunch of dumb teenagers, shooting the shit and enjoying each other’s company.

Bucky took in a deep breath, his shoulders sinking in a way that made it look like he had all the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I was over in Afghanistan for a long time,” he admitted quietly. “When the war first started, I was 19. I had no idea where my life was going and I had no options except my dad’s mechanic shop. So I enlisted with my best friend, Steve. The one I told you about.”

It’s completely silent except for the sound of an occasional car horn off in the distance.

“Neither one of us knew what we were doing. We realized very quickly that we had no reason being over there, but… but there was nothing else,” he said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. The ice cream he was holding was melting in his trembling hands. “I didn’t know how to do anything else, so I stayed. Steve moved up in the ranks, but I stayed pretty low… I didn’t mind. Kinda liked being the older guy all those young kids could talk to, could rely on… Because they were just like me, getting into a fight that wasn’t theirs because they had nothing else.”

My heart was shattering inside my chest as I scooted a little closer, my knee knocking against his as I tried to give him some sort of silent comfort. He’d been through Hell and made it through.

Bucky let his head rest against mine, his eyes closing as he breathed in the scent of my perfume. “They eventually moved me to some kind of specialized team… Called us the Howling Commandos. I found out that Steve was heading it and he picked me to be part of it. That’s how I met Sam, because he was on some sort of similar team with the Air Force, except it was just him and his friend, Riley,” he continued, taking a bite of his chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. “I am proud to say that I didn’t kill a single person while I was over there. I just couldn’t. Hell, they’re people just like me, terrified and unsure of what’s going to happen.” His lips pressed against my forehead, letting it linger. “But then about five years ago, I was on a mission with the Commandos, Sam, and Riley, and… this bomb went off while we were playing a game of soccer. I wasn’t even in a fight. That thing took my arm and it took Riley.”

Tentatively, I let my fingers find his, holding his hand and squeezing reassuringly.

“Sam decided to come home with me.” There was a forlorn look in his eyes, as though he was right back at that game of pick-up soccer. “After losing Riley… he couldn’t find a reason to be over there. And then Steve decided to stay, and hell, he’s still over there, leading that fucking team…” Glassy baby blue eyes finally found mine, the both of us doing our best to not cry. “I couldn’t face my family for a long time, so Sam asked me to come stay in Louisiana with him and his family, and I haven’t left since.”

“Have you gone to see your family?” I asked slowly, almost like I was scared I’d frighten him if I spoke too loudly, like a wild animal. “Let them know where you are? That you’re safe?”

He turned to look at me, his baby blues shining. “You worried about me, baby doll?”

“I can’t help it,” I said honestly, unable to tear my eyes away. I hadn’t opened up to someone like that in so damn long. “I can’t help but worry about you.”

The way that I felt about Bucky absolutely terrified me, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. It snuck up on me, like a train coming around a bend.

I hated it.

“What do you want out of this life?” Bucky asked on one walk home, his arm linked in mine. He’d become so much more… tactile. If anyone took a moment to look at us, they’d think we were a couple on a romantic stroll.

Perhaps we were.

But I couldn’t help but grin as I looked up at the sky, taking in the warm air. “I wanna live like how the movie stars do… I want a big house on the beach and twenty cars and a yacht and… and…”

He looked at me long and hard. “And you never wanna have to worry about where your next meal is coming from, if you’re gonna have a place to sleep at night…”

For some reason, I’d felt a bolt of panic over whether or not he’d understand. Whether or not he’d think differently of me, but I should’ve known that he wouldn’t. Hell, he knew me better than anyone else.

“You understand,” I said quietly, my hand squeezing his bicep gratefully. “I want to live how the other half lives for once. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

A small smile graced his features as we shuffled along. “There isn’t. But… What about love?” He asked.

“Love?”

“Love.”

Love.

Could I even have love? Did I want it?

“I don’t know if there’s a lot of room for love in my plans,” I admitted after a long moment. “In my experience, love has always just been a lie. A word used to manipulate and eventually abuse.”

Letting out a snort, he let his fingers tickle down my tricep until his fingers intertwined with mine. “I’d show you it’s not… I’d show you what real love is,” he said. “I’d give you every part of me, give you all my strength to help you grow into who you wanna be, even if I don’t particularly care about being famous or rich…” He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “I’ll give you a love story, a life, that’s a million times better than any recycled Hollywood plot… I’ll give you the stars and the moon, if you would just let me.”

I hated the way that he made my heart beat faster, the way my breath hitched. “Jamie,” I breathed out quietly, the two of us having stopped in our tracks to just… take each other in. Live in each other’s presence for a moment. “I…”

“You want a big life… one a lot bigger than little old me,” he said simply, shrugging. His blue eyes were so honest, so loving. So warm. A warmth I hadn’t ever experienced before. “I know. But that doesn’t change that I’m in love with you. And if you ever change your mind…” Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, pressing it into my free hand. “This is where you can find me. I figure it’s time for me to go home.”

We’d come to a stop in front of my building, and I was shocked at how tight my chest felt. My eyes watered as I stared at him long and hard. “Jamie, please… I⏤”

“Don’t say it. It’s okay,” he insisted as he cupped my cheek, letting his thumb run over my skin as though he was memorizing it. “I just want you to be happy, darling. You got that?” His lips pressed to my forehead, letting it linger. “Go get that life you’ve been dreaming of.”

Twenty-Three

I left New Orleans the next day, grabbing a bus ticket after throwing all of my belongings into my old duffel bag. It was time to move on.

But God, did it hurt.

I didn’t stop crying for weeks, fighting the urge to go right back to Louisiana and tell Bucky to take it back, to get him to beg me to stay with him.

But what kind of life would that leave me with? Working in the diner day after day? Never getting anywhere?

But you’d have James, a voice inside my head reminded me snarkily.

Then again, he most likely wasn’t even in New Orleans anymore, if what he said was true when he gave me the business card of his father’s mechanic shop. Was he really planning on going home to New York City?

A few months later, and I’d worked my way all through the southwest to Santa Fe, where I met Pietro.

My heart was pounding as I pressed in the familiar numbers, having memorized them from the business card now soft and faded from how often I held it in my hands like a lifeline. “Come on… Pick up… Pick up…”

“Barnes Tires and Motors, this is George,” a man said in a gruff voice when he finally picked up. “How can I help you?”

“H-Hi, is James there? James Barnes? Bucky?” I stammered out, hands trembling so bad that the old payphone was almost rattling.

There was a pause, and then muffled talking away from the phone.

And then I heard it being picked up. “This is Bucky,” he said.

It felt like the wind had been knocked right out of my lungs. How had I gone so long without hearing his voice?

Breathing in sharply, I tried to figure out the words to say. But my throat was dry and it was like I’d suddenly forgotten the entire English language.

That was all that it took for Bucky to realize it was me. “Baby doll? Baby doll, is that you?” He asked quietly. “I…” He took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “You don’t gotta say a thing, sweetheart… But just know that if you’re in trouble or you need help or… or anything at all, you better call me…” His voice wavered, as though he was fighting tears just like I was. “God, I miss you so much, baby doll. I love you.”

I love you, too.

I hung up before I could actually say the words. “God, I’m so fucking stupid,” I whispered as I leaned back against the wall of the gas station I’d found myself at, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes.

My dumb ass had decided to wander from the bus station, and I’d walked over a mile away. Unless I was staying in Santa Fe for a bit, I’d need to start making my way back.

“You okay?”

In my distress, I hadn’t even heard the rumbling of the motorcycle or noticed the handsome man making his way to me. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I said even as I wiped my nose with a pathetic sniffle.

He eyed me for a long moment, his eyes roaming over my figure. “You hungry? I know a great little place nearby. My treat.”

And well, I was never one to turn down free food.

Even if that ‘little place’ ended up being a food truck.

“You know, when you said it was a little place, I didn’t picture it having wheels,” I said teasingly, licking salsa off of my lower lip. “Though, it is the best food I’ve ever gotten from a food truck before.”

“Oh, come on. This is the best food of all time!” He laughed, shaking his head.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” I snorted, finishing off my flautas.

Pietro looked at me long and hard. “So, are you gonna tell me what the hell was going on to have a pretty girl like you all teary eyed?” He asked, his head tilting to the side.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Was this your plan all along?” I asked. Wiping my hands off on a napkin, I did everything I could to avoid his eyes. “Get me all fed and then question me?” But at the same time, the thought of being able to finally talk to someone about it was so appealing… After a long moment of hesitation, I finally gave in. “I fell in love with a man, and he let me go because he knew that I want a life he can’t give me,” I said. “And I was a bitch who didn’t even tell him I love him back when he said it to me.”

Pietro took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “Damn. You really are a stone cold bitch, aren’t you?”

“Hey!” I indignantly threw a chunk of tomato at him, glaring. “I just opened up my heart, you dickwad.”

“Dickwad?!” He said, blinking at me in shock. “No one’s ever called me a dickwad before.”

I raised a single eyebrow at him. “Maybe not to your face, but they definitely have.” He gave off the vibe of a fuckboy, of a really, really bad fuckboy.

“Well, since you’re running away from your feelings, how about you spend a week or two with me on the road?” He asked with a grin.

I couldn’t help but blink at him in shock. “What?” I let out a laugh, pulling one of my legs up to my chest. “Do you throw that line out to every girl you meet? Or am I just special?”

Pietro threw a chip at me, and I barely managed to dodge it. “No, I don’t. But… You remind me of me. Needing adventure. A life bigger than four walls and a fence.”

Instinctively, I wanted to snap back that sometimes, four walls and a fence could be an adventure, could be the biggest life there was, as Bucky’s face flashed across my mind.

But I couldn’t do that. Not when I wasn’t ready to face the truth myself.

“Come on, sweet cheeks,” he teased as his foot hooked around mine. “Just think of it. The open highway, a rhythm beneath your feet… Nights full of passion and days of adventure…” Pietro’s voice was deep and husky, as though he was trying to lure me in. “No strings… just warm summer rain soaking us to the bone before we find some cheap motel to huddle down in…”

Plastering on a smile, I stood up and brushed myself on. “Thanks, but… I’d rather be drinking champagne, and the quicker I get to LA, the sooner I will be.”

He let me go with a kiss on the cheek and his cell number pressed into my hand, with a promise to come and pick me up the second I rang.

And despite how sweet he was, how wild and funny and charismatic, there was only one man I wanted to call.

Twenty-Four

I sipped at my martini as I sat at the rooftop bar, absentmindedly watching the television that was mounted on the wall as people droned around me. I’d been in Los Angeles for a year, and I’d spent my time finding the best places to find a husband who could give me the life I dreamed of.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, it took connections to build a career, and the best way to get a foot in the door when nepotism was so rampant was by marrying someone in the industry.

My silk dress was the most expensive thing I owned, something I’d saved up for months for, had skipped meals for. And fuck, was it worth it. I could feel the stares, the lingering gazes on the little bit of thigh that was exposed by the slit in the dress.

I’d already turned away several men, able to tell just from their expensive watches and cheap suits and shoes.

It was amazing how all the up and coming finance bros thought they fit in with the truly big dogs.

“Well, hello, gorgeous.”

I turned to see who was speaking, my heart skipping a beat when I realized who I was speaking to.

The world famous (or infamous) director, Tony Stark.

“Hello, handsome,” I said smoothly, my lashes fluttering innocently as I took a sip of my horrible drink.

I fucking hated martinis. Always had.

But ordering a martini was more sophisticated than ordering a frozen strawberry margarita.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked as he motioned to the empty bar stool right next to me, even as he was already sitting down. “Let me buy your next round.”

“I can’t think of anything better,” I said, feeling as though my dream life was already in reach.

Twenty-Eight

“Tony, where are you taking me?” I laughed as I let my boyfriend lead me to the private dock at our Malibu mansion.

Well, his mansion. I just happened to also live there.

It had been a whirlwind of a year since I had met Tony, and he’d bought me that second round. He’d taken me all over the globe, anywhere my heart desired.

But I made sure to avoid New York City, though he never understood why. I would never tell him.

Not when I was so close to my dream. I could practically taste it.

“Come on, come on. I have a surprise for you,” he said, keeping his hands over my eyes. He was sure to keep me from tripping and busting my ass, thank god.

The ocean waves were so comforting as they hit the shore, a sound I’d gotten used to over the past year.

He finally brought me to a stop, quietly telling me to keep my eyes closed. “Okay,” he said finally. “Open them.”

My eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the bright light of the California sun. But I was more shocked by the sight of Tony on one knee in front of me, holding out a box with a sparkling diamond ring in it. “Tony?”

The ring was the size of a fucking meteor. It was easily the biggest ring I’d ever seen.

“You know, I never thought I’d meet someone like you,” he said quietly, his dark eyes shining. But his voice was steady. “Someone who understands me, who doesn’t expect me to change into someone I’m not. You accept me as I am, and that’s why I want to give you the world.” He couldn’t help but grin as he nodded to the right. “Starting with that yacht you’ve always dreamed of.”

I hadn’t even noticed that there were two yachts at his private docks instead of just the one. The new one had SS Princess emblazoned on the side, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh… Tony…”

“So, what do you say?” He asked, bringing my attention back to him. “Will you be my wife?”

“Yes.”

Thirty-Two

Swallowing nervously, I looked down at the business card in my hand for the millionth time, the stock paper soft from how often I’d looked at it in the past ten years.

Hell, just how often I’d looked at it in the past six should’ve made it fall apart by now. Not that I didn’t have it memorized.

I’d finally ended my marriage after being miserable for so long. I’d gotten my yacht, my fancy houses, my career, all the jewelry that I could dream of, and none of it made me happy. Tony and I… never grew. And I never dreamed. Every day was the same, and every day was torture as I realized that I didn’t have the one thing that actually mattered.

The garage in front of me was busy, music blasting and the sound of men shouting to each other as they worked.

Suddenly I felt absolutely ridiculous wearing a Chanel dress and Gucci heels, an Hermés bag on my arm.

BARNES TIRES AND MOTORS was lit up along the top of the shop in bright red letters, though the lights in the ‘r’ of ‘motors’ were out.

I felt like a fool. I had wanted the life I had so desperately that I gave up everything for it. I got the movie star life, my name on billboards and my face on magazines.

But it wasn’t ever enough.

My heels clicked against the blacktop as I slowly made my way towards the front area of the shop, bells clinging above my head to let them know someone was there.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” A man asked as he came around the corner.

He looked so much like Bucky, it punched the air straight from my lungs.

“H-Hi. I’m looking for James Barnes. Is he here?” I asked after a long moment of hesitation. There was no way that the man was Bucky, but I didn’t doubt he was related.

The man raised his brows, wiping his hands on a rag. “My son’s in the shop. I’ll take you to him.” His full head of hair was white, his thick facial hair matching. Even with all the wrinkles on his face, he was a handsome man. Holding open the door for me, he led me into the loud shop, some eighties rock song blasting over the speakers.

I couldn’t help but smile as ‘Rock You Like a Hurricane’ by Scorpions came on. It was one of Bucky’s favorites back when we worked in the diner together.

“BUCK! YOU GOT A VISITOR!” The man shouted, causing several people to look our way.

My cheeks felt hot as I avoided their gaze, hoping they wouldn’t recognize me. I didn’t want to be a famous movie star anymore, a celebrity that had to beg for scraps of privacy.

My mind went numb, my heart stopping inside my chest as he stepped around a gray Ford Escape another man was working on.

He was even more handsome than he was the last time I saw him.

“Can I help y—” He broke off, his blue eyes going wide when he realized that it was me. “Hi.”

All of a sudden, everything I’d planned to say flew out of my head. All of the eloquent words I’d strung together were gone. And I just proceeded to word vomit.

“Did you know that, uh, when you marry someone you’re not in love with, you won’t… you won’t grow into it?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Um… I married a man who could give me a life I thought I always wanted, and he just… sucked.” Eyes stinging, I fought back against tears. “And I thought that all I ever wanted was the life I have now, was the life movie stars and the Kardashians lived. But… But I hate it. I hated every second I was away from you.” I let out a weak laugh, unable to stop the tears. “I wanted to turn around the second I got on the bus in New Orleans, but my stupid stubborn ass didn’t. I should have. I should’ve gotten off and just run right back to you because I… I love you, James. I always have.”

The garage had gone almost deadly quiet, and my heart sank when I realized Bucky looked almost frozen in shock.

“I know that I shouldn’t have showed up like this,” I scrambled to say. “But I… I’ve been trying to get my divorce finalized for two years and I finally did, and I kept telling myself that once it was done, I’d never hold myself back from what I really want ever again. From who I want. If… If you want me.” My face felt like it was on fire, my hands shaking. I shook my head as I took a step backwards. “What am I thinking? There’s no way you’re not married. I… I’m so so—”

Before I could finish the word ‘sorry,’ Bucky had closed the distance between us, his hands cradling my face so gently. He held me like I was made of fine crystal as he kissed me. He kissed me like his life depended on it, like I was the one source of oxygen.

And I kissed him back just as fiercely. “I love you. I love you so much,” I breathed out in between kisses, unwilling to let him go as my Hermés bag fell into the dust and oil on the concrete below.

Bucky smiled into the kiss, his arm wrapping around my waist to keep me pressed to his chest. “I love you so much, darlin.’ God, I’ve missed you…” His nose nudged against mine as we finally broke for air, both of us breathing heavily.

My knees felt like Jell-O as I held onto him. His grip was the only reason I hadn’t fallen to the ground already.

“I’m sorry I was a dumb twenty-two year old,” I said, snorting as he stole another kiss.

“No… Don’t be sorry,” he insisted, his fingers massaging my scalp as our foreheads pressed together. It was like he was scared to stop touching me, like I would disappear at any second. “You were young… You had to go out and make your own mistakes… I’ve just been waiting for the day you were ready.”

All the years apart melted away and all that remained was the two of us, two souls so intertwined that there was no way to truly separate us.

Our lips were half molded together as I said, “I’m never leaving you again. I promise I swear on everything…”

My heart almost stopped inside my chest as I heard someone clearing their throat, looking to see Bucky’s father staring at us with his arms crossed over his chest. “M-Mr. Barnes, sir…”

He gave a crooked smile that was so reminiscent of Bucky that I couldn’t help but grin back. “The Mrs. will wanna know if you’re staying for dinner.”

“Yeah,” I said as I looked up at Bucky, toying with a strand of his hair. “That sounds perfect.”

Later that night, Bucky and I laid in his bed, a mess of bare limbs as his fingers ran up and down my back soothingly. “What do you want from this life, baby girl?” He asked absentmindedly.

Humming, I traced shapes on his bare chest, sometimes pressing a kiss to where his prosthetic met his shoulder, on the tender scar tissue. “You.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, despite the already mischievous look on his face. “Really? Not even the stars and the moon?” He asked teasingly.

I knew he’d give it to me anyway, give me all that he could. But I was sure now that the only thing I wanted from this life was his love. “Not even the stars and the moon.”

[knucklescum]

Red Shadow - Matt Murdock x reader

Pairing: Matt Murdock/Daredevil x reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, violence

“I don’t think anyone is here, Red.”

Tonight had been tough. Clearly Wednesday was the night for crime. Everywhere you went, every shady man you followed had led you to yet another fight. You couldn’t catch a break.

You were lucky to be joined by Red tonight. He seemed to frequently appear at your side, whether it was in the midst of a fight or simply taking a breather on the top of a roof. You appreciated the help, but you were far happier to just have someone by your side.

The two of you were currently sneaking into what seemed to be an abandoned warehouse. The walls were littered with graffiti and there was an overwhelming stench of old.

Red stops in his tracks, pointing a finger upwards.

“Shadow, listen.”

You concentrate on listening out for any signs of life, to no avail.

“I can’t hear shit.” you laugh, slowly making your way closer to Red, anxiously awaiting some sort of attack.

“Stay close,” he whispered. “They know we’re here.”

A wash of red covers your face as you protect each other, thankful that he seems too deep in concentration to notice you blushing.

You ready your fists as the two of you slowly walk through the building. Red is careful to avoid any of the debris scattered around the room, whilst you phase through it with ease.

Suddenly, Red’s arm shoots out in front of you, stopping you from taking another step.

“Aren’t you two sweet?” a male voice echoes from the far end of the building. “The man in the mask and his little girlfriend. I gotta say,” he laughs, “this isn’t a great date spot.”

You shoot a glance at Red, awaiting his command.

“Run.” he whispers.

Something must have been misunderstood, lost in translation perhaps as you charge towards the man you were here to see. And by see, you mean beat the living shit out of.

“Shadow, stop!”

You barely register Red’s voice as you reach the man, pummeling him with kicks and punches before he can even begin to fight back.

The man finally starts attempting to beat you, landing a surprisingly decent punch on your jaw.

You stammer backwards, gathering your strength to go again. As you balance yourself, the man charges towards you, reaching his arm out to swipe at you with his newly found knife. Before he can do any real damage, Red pulls him back and throws him to the ground, knocking him unconscious.

“Fuck, that shit hurt.” you say, reaching your hand up to your stinging cheek. You feel an intense burn as you touch your cheek, finding blood when you glance down at your hands.

“You’re bleeding.” he states, making his way towards you.

“Yeah. Sorry.” you whisper. “Thanks for saving my ass.” you say, wiping your cheek with your sleeve.

“You need to go home, stitch yourself up.” he says, pulling his gloves tighter. “I’ve got it from here.”

“No. I want to help. I’ll be fine.” you say, bouncing yourself up and down to get pumped again.

“You’re not going to help anyone with your blood all over the crime scene. Go home. I can handle this.” he pauses. “I promise.”

You hang your head, sighing in defeat.

“Okay, okay. I’ll go home. Just stay safe,” you say, resting your unbloodied hand on his shoulder, “please?”

He offers you a nod in response before running off into the darkness.

-----

Your surgical skills could definitely use some improvement. It wasn’t often that you got injured this seriously, so you didn’t have too much experience in stitching yourself up.

As you carefully tied off the stitches, you admired your (less than) handy work. It looked fucking awful, but it was clean. Good enough.

Gently sliding yourself into bed, you lay on your side, phone clutched between your two hands.

The Gang gc

Foggy: Cocktail night tomorrow! We all still down?

(delivered 16:28)

Foggy: Fuck you guys then I guess

(delivered 00:41)

Without hesitation, you hurriedly type a message in response to Foggy’s ignored texts.

You: yes yes yes yes yes

You: i’ll be there Fog

(delivered 04:17)

Not bothering to wait for a response, you place your phone down, your body crashing into a deep sleep as soon as you close your eyes.

-----

You woke naturally to the sunlight peeking through your blinds, shining directly on to your face. Casting a glance to your alarm clock, you just about make out the time through your sleepy eyes.

15:04

Shit.

You spring out of bed, snatching your phone from the bedside table as you make your way to the bathroom.

How had you slept in so late?

As you get ready for your weekly cocktail night with your friends, your mind wanders to one friend in particular. Matt.

You’d met each other through Foggy during college; Foggy was dating one of your flatmates at the time which meant you ended up drinking together. A lot. Although the group had changed several times over the years, yourself, Matt and Foggy continued your accidental tradition of Thursday night drinks. More recently, Karen had begun to join you, even getting the honour of being added to the official group chat. 

Matt has always been one of your best friends. When the two of you were introduced, you clicked right away. The two of you would often find yourselves focused on each other rather than any party, deep in discussion as madness ensued around you. As you grew up, the two of you only grew closer, confiding in each other, being each other’s shoulder to cry on, everything.

You could talk about absolutely anything with him. Well, everything except one.

Your powers.

You hadn’t told anyone about your powers, though you were convinced that Matt and Foggy had to have realised by now. You constantly found yourself tripping through walls or accidentally walking through a door rather than opening it. You were unintentionally careless with your abilities sometimes. Someone had to know. But no one ever brought it up.

You definitely hadn’t told anyone about your nightly errands around the city. Not only would your friends worry, but they’d probably be scared shitless. They didn’t know the side of you that beat people up, that killed people. You prayed that they would never find out.

You completely lose your train of thought when you catch yourself in the mirror. The great big gash on your face was going to be impossible to cover. You sigh, bringing your fingers up to trace the large cut. 

They’re going to ask questions.

You brush the thought off - you’ll come up with some sort of excuse.

-----

Stepping out of your apartment building, you check your phone as you begin your walk to Matt and Foggy’s office.

The Gang gc 

Foggy: Matty has requested sex on the beach

Karen: I’m sure (y/n) could sort that ;)

Foggy: Lol

Foggy: Actually (y/n) could you grab some peach schnapps? 

(delivered 11:08)

Foggy: (y/n)??

(delivered 14:52)

You: on my way over now. will grab schnapps, anything else?

(delivered 17:29)

Karen: Tiny umbrellas if you see them!!!

(delivered 17:31)

Now on a mission, you tuck your phone into your pocket and make your way to the corner shop by the office. 

-----

It doesn’t take long for you to arrive at the office, a bag full of booze and other goodies slung over your shoulder.

“The party has arrived!” Foggy shouts, spotting you through the frosted glass on the door.

You swing the door open, raising your hands up and outwards to reach Foggy.

Before you can take another step to embrace him, his eyes lock on to your face, a worried expression gracing his features.

“What the fuck happened to your face?” he asks, pointing a finger at the deep cut on your cheek.

“Aw, you know. Hell’s Kitchen stuff.” you shrug.

Suddenly, Matt appears at Foggy’s side, a similar worried expression on his face, although his eyes are hidden behind his dark glasses.

“You were attacked?” Matt asks, leaning on the desk situated behind him.

“Yeah, but it’s no big deal! I’m fine. I feel fine.” you stammer, lifting up the bag of alcohol in your hand. “Drinks?”.

The two men seemingly forget about your face for now, opting to rummage through your bag instead.

“Karen is going to love you.” Foggy states, pulling the pack of mini umbrellas out of the bag, laying them gently on the table. 

A soft laugh escapes your lips as you place your handbag on the desk, eyes scouring the room for some sort of chair.

“You can take my chair, (y/n)” Matt offers, his voice quiet and gentle. 

You begin to refuse before Matt interjects, ‘I’ve been sitting down all day. I’m more than happy leaning.’ he says, gesturing to the desk behind him.

“Only if you’re sure, Matty.” you say. Matt offers a nod in response before turning his back to you, cracking open two of the beers that Foggy had laid out.

You make your way to the other side of the desk, wheeling Matt’s chair to the spot you had previously been standing.

“Shoot, we forgot mixers. I’ll be right back.” Foggy says, hurriedly snatching up his bag and leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.

There’s an awkward tension between yourself and Matt; he’s not as chatty as usual. He seems to be concentrating on something, almost forgetting that you’re even there.

“Matty,” you gently tap the side of his leg. “Are you okay?”

“Perfectly fine, sweet.”

Sweet. You blush at the name, no matter how casually he said it. 

He shuffles across the table, his legs touching yours as he scoots further on to the table. 

“How is it?” he starts. “Your face?” He looks vaguely in your direction, removing his glasses and placing them gently beside him.

“Sore.” you laugh. “But nothing I can’t handle.”

Matt shakes his head slightly, a worried expression returning to his face.

“What happened?”

You were hoping he wouldn’t ask that. You could lie to Karen, even to Foggy when necessary, but not Matt. You could never lie to Matt. He somehow always knew, no matter how hard you tried.

“I was attacked”. Technically not a lie. You take a sip of the beer that Matt had opened for you, your eyes nervously shifting around the room. 

“How?” he dips his head down closer to you as if he was interrogating you, as if you were one of his clients.

“Just, a - just some guy with a knife.” you say, careful not to stutter.

You were getting dangerously close to lying.

Your heartbeat had quickened, your hands becoming clammy as you played with the label on the bottle.

Before Matt could question you any more, Foggy returned with Karen in tow, the two of them armed with bags of bottles.

Matt shuffles further back from you as you stand to hug Karen, helping her unload the bags onto the table. 

“Did we interrupt something?” Foggy jokes, sensing the awkwardness that had been present since he left.

“Totally,” you laugh. “Matt and I were having hardcore sex on the desk while you were out.”

You glance at Foggy and wink, a look of disgust on his face. You fail to notice the redness creeping onto Matt’s face as you return to your chair, relaxing into the curves and dips left by Matt’s frequent use.

You and Karen talk and laugh between yourselves as Matt and Foggy talk in hushed voices, Foggy pouring out cocktails as they do so.

The conversations come to an end as Foggy holds up two glasses. 

“Sex on the beach!” Foggy exclaims, handing the glasses to Matt, gesturing for him to hand one of the glasses to you. You watch Matt closely as he hands you the drink, confused as to how Matt had understood the non-verbal instruction. 

“Cheers, Matty.” you say, clinking your glass against his before taking a sip. 

-----

You were fucked.

You weren’t sure just how many cocktails you’d had at this point, but it was probably too many. It didn’t help that Foggy wasn’t careful in the slightest when it came to pouring the alcohol, resulting in many of your drinks being far too strong.

Your head was leaning against Matt’s thigh, his hand barely touching the back of your head, just enough to support it. You’d found yourself frequently looking up at Matt’s face, admiring his features, growing more and more desperate to ki-

“(y/n)! Fuck, marry kill. Me, Matt and Karen.” Foggy shouts, causing you to lift up your head from the comfort of Matt’s leg, both of you sitting up straight.

“Come on, Fog. That was a bad question. It’s obvious.” Karen laughs, taking a sip of her drink.

“Hmm,” you laugh. “I’m gonna have to fuck Karen.” you gesture to her. She lazily curtseys in thanks, both of you giggling. “I’m sorry Fog, but I’m going to kill you. I’m obviously marrying Matty.” you say, returning your head to Matt’s thigh as Foggy feigns offence.

“I’m honoured, sweetheart.” Matt whispers into your ear, stroking a hand through your hair.

His sudden touchiness catches you off guard; you can’t stop yourself from blushing.

You see Foggy searching the room for something in the corner of your eye before he lets out a large sigh. 

“I want snacks.” he says to no one in particular. “Someone come to the store with me?” Foggy looks directly at Karen as he asks, attempting to be subtle as he side eyes you and Matt.

“Y-yeah, I could go for some snacks.” Karen says, Foggy helping her up from her seat.

“We’ll be right back.” 

The two of them rush out of the door, leaving you and Matt to yourselves once again.

-----

You pry yourself from Matt’s lap, taking your empty glass over to the sink and filling it with water. In almost an instant, you chug the water in an attempt to sober up. You fill the glass again, making your way back to your spot next to Matt. 

Matt gently guides your head back onto his lap, brushing a finger over the cut on your face.

You’d completely forgotten about the cut.

“You stitched this up pretty well.” he whispers, continuing to trace the cut with his finger. “Better than anything I could have managed?”

“Why are you stitching yourself up?” you chuckle softly, placing a hand next to your head on his thigh.

“You know,” he starts, “Hell’s Kitchen stuff.” 

You can sense that he’s mocking you, lifting your head up to face him.

An unexpected expression covers his face, he looks mad? Upset?

“Tell me the truth, (y/n).”

“I’ve already told you, Matt. A guy pulled a knife on me.” you say, your voice low.

“Please,” he begs. “Just tell me. Tell me what I already know.”

You shake your head, taking a large gulp of water from your glass.

“Matt, I can’t. You wouldn’t understand.” you sigh, sitting further up in your seat.

A sharp silence lingers between the two of you, both of you shuffling uncomfortably. 

You think back to all your nights as ‘Shadow’, and the man who you often found yourself beside. Red couldn’t be further from Matt’s sweet, sensitive personality but the similarities were starting to dawn on you. His physical build, his determination, his empathy for others (for the good guys, at least), his blindness. How had you never drawn these dots before? 

Matt interrupts your thoughts as he stands up, rubbing his brows with his hand.

“You’re Shadow.” he says, simply.

“You’re Red. You’re the- the man in the mask.” you counteract, standing as you prepare for what is only going to be an awful conversation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You could have died.”

“You could have died.”

‘Stop. Stop repeating everything back to me.’ Matt interjects, taking a step towards you.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Matt.” you shrug, stepping back from him. “Why is it okay for you to be out vigilante-ing but not for me?”

He sighs in response, stepping closer to you once again.

“Look, (y/n). I care about you, everyone does. I don’t know what I’d do if you, if you d-” he cuts himself off, rubbing a hand along his forehead once again.

“It’s a good thing we have each others’ backs, then.” you laugh, holding back the onslaught of tears that are desperate to escape.

 “I’m expendable, (y/n).”

“No you’re not, Matt!” you cry, “Not to me!”

You hesitate before continuing. You’ve already shared one big secret with him, what’s the harm in confessing your feelings for him? Nothing could ruin your friendship more than your powers had.

“Matt, I-”

“Don’t.” he cuts you off, turning his back to you.

“I love you, Matt.” you say, desperate for him to react in any way at all.

“No. No you don’t.” he utters.

“Yes I do, Matt. I love you. I love all of you, no matter what.” you cry. “You don’t have to love me back. Just please don’t cut me out. I love you.” you repeat, stepping towards him and catching hold of his hand.

“We can’t, (y/n). You know we can’t.” he says, sighing as he grips on to both of your hands.

You stay silent, waiting for his next move as the two of you hold on to each other’s hands.

“I’ve always wanted you, (y/n). But things - things are too complicated.” he says, almost trying to convince himself of what he is saying.

“We’re effectively each other’s side kicks, Matty.” you say. “Red and Shadow are together. Why can’t we?”

He stays silent.

“I love you, Matt.” you repeat.

“I guess that, you know,” he stutters, unable to find the words. “I suppose we could work something out.” he says, a slight smile returning to his face.

“Oh?”

He steps in once again, your faces a matter of inches apart. 

“I love you, (y/n).” he whispers, pulling his face even closer. “Can I?”

You don’t respond with words, instead opting to close the gap yourself.

His lips are surprisingly soft, perfectly moulding into yours. Both of you hesitate to pull away, waiting until you are both breathless.

“I love you too, Matt.”