#anyway enjoy enough pity party from me

[xamaxenta]

lovewings

[fallow-hollow]

five stages of grief

…ft! kabru x gn! oblivious! reader

…tags! pining, confession, kabru is a bit of a freak about this, oblivious reader, reader is an adventurer

…word count! 2671

…notes! spreading my kabruganda to the masses!!! kabru is my me so I very much enjoy writing him

denial

At first, Kabru was so convinced that there was something behind your happy-go-lucky exterior.

You were so skilled in the dungeon, able to make it down to floors that even he hadn’t traversed yet. So you must have a good grasp on tactics, not only in battle, but also when socializing! Yes, maybe you read people expertly when they’d respond in kind to your friendly behavior…..

During the stage where you’re acquainted but don’t know much about each other personally, he spends so long crafting theories about what’s going on inside your head.

His party members get sick of hearing about it halfway through the second week.

Once you meet again in person, he’s ecstatic to have an opportunity to take a closer look at your inner workings. His words and mannerisms are calm and purposeful, but there is a certain spark in his eyes, almost trying to illuminate your thoughts and feelings with its shine.

Over the course of the conversation, Kabru starts getting a bit confused at his lack of new findings about you. It takes you saying something particularly damning for him to finally reach the dreaded conclusion.

“I don’t usually run into you in places like this.”

Kabru had encountered you one evening after exiting his room and seeing you and a few party members at the bar. It was nothing short of a strike of luck, and most certainly not him deliberately staying home that evening because he’d overheard your plans to go out.

“Hm?” You perked up, looking at him with a blank expression that was quickly replaced with a kind smile. Even trying to look closely, he couldn’t find anything present in your face except for a simple joy.

He would approach you with long strides, placing one hand on the back of your chair as to be friendly and intimate, but not so intimate as to make you recoil from a touch. The wink he gave you was with the eye facing away from the others on the opposite side of the table, ensuring most of them wouldn’t notice his flirtatious gesture.

“Want me to buy you a drink?”

Immediately, you raised one hand in polite refusal, your smile turning into more of a sheepish one. “Oh, I don’t know if I’d be able to pay you back. I wasn’t going to splurge much tonight anyway….”

As you talked, Kabru pulled up a free chair and sat down, a gesture that cemented himself in the conversation and setting. He noticed when he sat down in the middle of conversation, it made people less likely to turn him away than if he were still standing.

“No, no.” when he shook his head, his dark curls did a swishing movement. Once he looked back at you, he gave a half-lidded smile, only a tinge sultry in hopes you’d pick up his hints. “Your company is more than enough payment for me.”

Your party could only stare on with absolute pity as you waved your previously raised hand dismissively, giving what Kabru could only assume was a reassuring nod. Why did you think he needed reassured….? What did you think he meant?

“It’s completely fine, no need to be polite! We’re beyond such niceties at this point, I’d say. After all, I consider us to be at least a little bit friends, right? You don’t need to buy me a drink just to hang out!”

For a brief period, Kabru felt as if his whole world was spinning around him, before then shattering at the unknowing sledgehammer of your words. These statements and mannerisms suggested something far more than just a passive rejection…… no, it was something much darker.

You truly were as dense as a brick wall.

anger

Kabru doesn’t always react….. too calmly when people defy his expectations.

He’s able to keep a smile on his face just fine, but on the inside he’s screaming.

What do you mean there isn’t more? Where’s the scheme? The ulterior motive? The familiar secrets he can unravel and use to his advantage? Is it so bad that he wants there to be more?????

I’ll be honest, the man experiences his fair number of homicidal thoughts about you. In a strangely romantic way!

You’ll be chatting away with him, each remark and flirtation absolutely flying over your head, and inside his mind he’s just going I should gut them right here and sort their bones and vitals by size if they won’t let me dissect them the mental way.

And then seconds later he’ll go haha what was that! Anyway yes tell me more about the cute bird you saw last week.

I think Kabru does a lot of journaling, so he has a fair number of notes about you. Sometimes they’re drawings of you with notes about your appearance and physical mannerisms, other times he writes more free form about his thoughts regarding you. When he gets particularly frustrated, the writing can became scratchy or heavy handed to the point that it’s unreadable or nearly tears the paper.

The silence and solitude of the night was briefly interrupted by Rin rolling over in her sleeping bag. She was just beyond the range of the firelight where Kabru was still writing, and he could only barely see the way she squinted at him through her own tiredness.

“What are you scribbling about so late at night?” The mage would try to start another sentence, but be cut off by a yawn. If she was trying to be intimidating, it certainly wasn’t working. “Go to bed, Kabru, or else you’ll wake up to being sprayed by an undine if I have anything to say about it.”

That was a rather unpleasant thought….. even if the threat wasn’t legitimate, Kabru recognized that he’d probably spent far more time writing than intended. It was embarrassingly easy to get distracted when it came to you….just another thing that irked him about you. Yes…..’irked’. That’s most certainly the word.

“I’ll wrap it up soon, sorry to disturb your sleep, Rin.” With a grumble, the girl rolled back over, leaving Kabru to glance at his notebook for just a brief moment more before closing it. The writing was near illegible, but he still knew the words by heart:

‘I wouldn’t mind if they were scared of me. Maybe, if they sat on the other end of my sword, trembling and wide-eyed like human prey, I’d get to see a truly untouched side of them.’

bargaining

After the shock and rage subsides, Kabru tries to make you realize his feelings through pretty much every method imaginable except for confessing.

It feels like the man always appears at your side, always claiming he ‘happened to be in the area’ or something similar. And you never even question it, infuriatingly for him.

Your party members often tell you that something is up with the guy, that he’s hanging around you a suspicious amount but never being fully transparent, but you’d feel so bad about being suspicious of him when he’s done nothing but inquire about you and even offer gifts on rare occasions!

Kabru isn’t exactly the richest of adventurers, so gifts or treating you isn’t a regular occasion, but it’s certainly something he resorts to as a last ditch effort to try and get you to realize that he’s interested in you romantically.

Once he even tried to offer you a flower, but you still didn’t take the hint.

When you saw the flower in Kabru’s hand that day, your first thought was being so flattered that he remembered your conversation about which ones you both liked.

“Oh, Kabru!” You exclaimed with pure joy, causing the man to become embarrassingly excited that perhaps you had finally noticed the meaning behind all his gestures. Were you finally moved and wowed by his considerate, perfectly planned gift.

Clapping your hands together, you would beam and say, “You liked my favorite flower so much that you wanted to get one for yourself?”

A fly could’ve soared down Kabru’s throat in the time of that pause, but you paid it no mind, instead eagerly awaiting his reply.

The look on Kabru’s face was a completely blank smile, his bright blue eyes seeming to have almost burned out like a pair of oil lamps. Then, as he regained his composure, those lights flickered back on again, albeit wavering slightly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take it yourself? If you like it so much, I’d be happy to let you take it home.” Poor Kabru, he should have learned by now that hints have no effect against the impenetrable fortress that is your cluelessness.

Your grin was the nail in the coffin, letting him know you had something in your head that was absolutely not anything he could anticipate from anyone else. “But why not use it as some decoration? Your party members always talk about how sparse your room is, and it could even remind you of me when I’m away! Here—“

You ushered him closer, a hand now on the small of his back giving him sparks that teetered between pleasurable and painful. The free hand gestured to the plant he held so delicately, pointing out different features like the petals, stem, and so on. “I can even tell you some facts about it; that’ll help you enjoy it that much more deeply whenever you see it! And you’ll remember our conversation!”

The way you could be so resistant to his advances yet so sweet to him could be nothing short of torturous sometimes.

depression

For a while, something fairly rare happens to Kabru: he falls into a slump.

He spends a long time in the dungeon, slashing away at monsters as if it might help him clear his head. His teammates notice that he can get more aggressive in combat than usual, but never really ask him about it.

He also becomes more spacey during mealtimes, and while some peaceful silence is nice, having Kabru of all people be so uncharacteristically quiet for so long.

It comes to the point that something similar to an intervention happens one day after dinner.

“What’s up with you, Kabru?” Mickbell wasn’t one to beat around the bush, immediately starting his line of questioning while looking at his teammate, void of mischief or amusement. “You’ve been all broody and silent all week. Can’t just expect us to not ask about it.”

“What Mickbell said,” Kuro concurred almost immediately after.

The tallman did his best to blink away his tiredness and offer a more confident look that he usually used when trying to rally his team under an idea or calm them down. “I didn’t mean to make you guys worry that much about me. It’s just something I’ve been personally interested in, so it’s not something you guys need to worry about.”

“A personal problem?” Rin cocked a brow. “If I know anything about what interests you, it’s probably a person.”

“Haha, caught me red-handed like always.” He raised his hands in faux surrender, though Rin didn’t seem to be put at ease by the gesture, so he tacked on another statement. “I was surprisingly stumped on what tactics to use when talking to a certain person, it’s really got me thinking.” Averting his gaze to the side, he could almost conjure an image of your grinning face in the corner of his vision. “It’s pretty exciting, though, so I don’t mind.”

“Ugh, I knew it!” The half foot threw his head back in exasperation, causing Kuro to extend one arm behind him in case he fell. “It’s that brick-headed adventurer you’re getting all cozy with, isn’t it?! What, you thinking of starting a new party?”

While Mickbell was busy stomping his foot to punctuate his accusation, Holm merely hummed. The gnome usually stayed pretty impartial to matters like this, but that didn’t mean he could always resist throwing in a comment or two.

“I’d be stumped too if I thought about human interaction like a battlefield.” His tone of voice remained soft, but his words were still quite pointed. “You really have to be upfront about your feelings sometimes, you know that? At least, if Mick’s description can actually be trusted.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?!”

After those two broke down into petty squabbling, Kabru could merely try his best to mask his realization behind a tight-mouthed grin.

Holm was right, and he hated it more than anything.

acceptance

Okay, this is the part where Kabru actually bites the bullet and talks about his feelings. Truly a miracle of life.

Kabru can have a lot of trouble being fully vulnerable due to feeling like he’s losing control, so he does his best to maintain control over the rest of the outing. He arranges the time, location, even makes sure to get there first. It’s the most he can do to not feel completely helpless at the whims of his own fickle heart.

When you arrive, a new wave of nervousness hits him that’s almost like nothing before. Kabru has slain men without a second thought, and here he is resisting the urge to tremble because he has to tell his crush he likes them.

He starts off with small talk, sort of building up to his confession while also beating around the bush just a little. Asking you how you’ve been, if you’ve done anything noteworthy, if you’ve meet any new people…..

Eventually, Kabru decides that if he waits any longer, he may instinctually try to hide his intentions in the long strings of small talk he’s making, so he finally takes that leap.

He said your name, and your eyes flickered up to his face. Even if you were spacey at times, you never stared past him or through him whenever he was addressing you. It made him feel….strange. It was odd to feel truly perceived at times.

“Can I be….. terribly honest with you?” He cards his fingers through his curls and closes his eyes, and you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly beautiful he looked.

“Of course,” you responded without thinking. Not like you ever needed to think twice about your appreciation for the man. More than that, really.

There was stillness, and all you could hear was Kabru’s deep inhale through his nose. He intended to phrase it more eloquently, he really did, but when he opened his eyes again and saw you waiting on his words with baited breath, there was this instinctive fear that maybe this would be his only chance. That you would walk away or disappear, leaving him with only the memory.

He didn’t want just a memory.

“I want you to know that I love you above all else.”

Your mouth hung agape like his had many times in response to your own remarks. Were it not for how shocked he was at his own words, he would have chuckled at how cute you look.

Before he could even scramble to elaborate on his uncharacteristically blunt comment, you blurted out in a similar fashion, voice slightly raised and head perked up,

“You really feel that way?!”

Faced with your blushing face, Kabru could only affirm the feelings that you promoted from somewhere deep within him. “Yes, I’d been trying to win you over for a long time, really.”

If you were flushed before, then now you were nothing short of flooded with embarrassment from ear to ear. Despite this, you were smiling, wobbly and sheepish. “I mean, it’s not like I’m shocked in a bad way or anything — I always thought you were really wonderful, too wonderful for me anyway. I really never thought you were pursuing me of all people!”

For the longest time, your denseness had given Kabru untold grief. Upon seeing you state it so plainly, however, he just couldn’t find it in his heart to be upset. Not when it was one of the things that made you so fascinating.

“I’d sort of figured as such, yeah.”

[reidspharb]

The Moment I Knew

*Part two

Summary: Spencer misses your 25th birthday and that’s when you realize your relationship can’t be fixed.

Word count: 800 or something idk ICBA shes a short one

Warnings: angst, Reid is a shitty boyfriend in this one

Note: hi this was written at 3 am and I’m new to writing so if this sucks sorry anyways but I got this idea from Taylor Swifts song by the Same name and I thought I would write it so yeah enjoy

Sure, you were so happy all your friends were there and everyone was having a good time… but you couldn’t help but think about Spence.

It was 10 pm, the party started at 8 and he still wasn’t there like he promised. You couldn’t help but think about him coming through the door right now, gifts in hand as he did on your last birthday with that baby I’m right here smile.

You knew he couldn’t be here, and you knew how much he valued his work, but, he wasn’t even on a case far away… he was here, in Virginia, and he couldn’t even call to wish you a happy birthday.

Your eyes were locked on the door most of the time as you socialized. People asked about him, about your relationship, and the most you could give them was a sad smile and a dishonest word about how great everything was going.

“So how have you been,” your friend Sarah said as she laughed and took a sip of her drink “I mean I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!”

you plastered on the brightest fake smile you could and mustered up an answer just normal enough to get you by.

“I've been okay, you know, with work and everything.”

All you could think about was him, how he said he would be there. He told you- no he promised you weeks in advance that he would be here. But he’s not.

You felt stupid, standing there all dolled up in your tight black dress and red lipstick. You thought maybe if you dressed up nice he would make sure to be there, but then again, there you were with no one to impress.

You knew it was hopeless, there you were on your birthday staring at the door and watching the clock tick as everyone around you danced and laughed. You looked around the room, trying to spot him in the crowd but who were you fooling, you knew he wasn’t there.

As you listened to your loved ones sing happy birthday around you, you could only hear his voice in your memory. When you blew out those candles your only wish was for him to be there with you. You should’ve been so happy, but he was the one thing missing.

Then it was 1 am, and you were barely tipsy. you already had a nervous stomach, you knew drinking would only make it worse. By now you were sick of everyone being around you, you just wanted to be alone. You stumbled to the bathroom over some discarded red cups and locked yourself in there, tears burning at your eyes when you saw yourself in the mirror.

You did your makeup the way he liked it too so that if you sent pictures he really wouldn’t miss it, such a naive thing to think you told yourself. You heard a knock on your door and there were your two best friends, Tegan and Oliver, mixed with the emotions of seeing them staring at you with so much pity in their eyes and Spencer being away made you break down.

Tegan held you as you sobbed, mascara dripping down your cheeks with every tear.

“He said- he said he would be here…”

“I'm so sorry, love bug, I wish I could grab him and rip him into pieces. You deserve so much better.” Said Oliver, holding your cold hands.

You felt so embarrassed, sitting there in front of your friends crying about some stupid boy. But he was the one who meant the most to you and he wasn’t there.

The next morning you woke up on your couch, head pounding. Your apartment was trashed, there were plastic cups scattered all over the room. As you stepped over them to get ready for the day, you felt a sharp pain in your chest as you heard Spencer’s familiar ringtone playing from your phone.

“Hey doll, it’s me” he sighed on the other line of the phone.

“Hi, Spencer.” You mumbled. You knew it would hurt to say his whole name instead of the nickname you’d been calling him since the day you met him.

“I'm so sorry I didn’t make it babe I was caught up in paperwork and I lost tra-“ you interrupted his rambling, you didn’t care anymore.

“It’s fine. I’ll talk to you later Spencer.” You hissed into the phone before hitting the red button on the screen and setting your phone back down on the counter.

That was the moment you knew.

That was the moment you knew that this would never work out.

[sanemisstalker]

SANEMI and GIYU, but they're into you and still kind of gay for eachother? Polycule Headcanons. Kinda NSF_W.

(rip to the girl at the ortho that had to watch me write these) I don't really care for giyu x sanemi until they're like, fighting over a third party. Idk they give classic shoujo love rivals to me. I'm like, actually so delusional for this threeway, the idea eats me alive everyday. Anyways-

-Sanemi fucking hates Giyu, and Giyu hates Giyu, so atleast they can bond on that. You, however, don't really hate either of them. If anything, you're just... vaguely amused by their individual antics. Vaguely.

-more apparent is the annoyance, not hatred, very needed distinction, and the attraction. Both of the men are very annoying in their own special ways, and very attractive in equally individual ways.

-Sanemi's low-boiling attitude, but also eerie sense of confidence gave him enough unspoken Charisma to win over most who could get past the first couple of hurdles. He's disastrously goregous, and the scars only add to not only his general mystique, but also his crippling beauty. They're like trophies he's tucked away.

-Giyu is the kind of man to deny being called pretty, but his face isn't subjective. Despite his lack of general social skill, moments spent with Giyu where he's soaking in every piece of information you give him, those begging eyes and lips parted in thought. Most would call him concentrated, you'd argue he's understanding.

-Sanemi is attracted to Giyu's off putting personality rather directly. Though not the picture of social awareness himself, Sanemi's attraction to Giyu started as a pity of sorts. Watching Shinobu rail him for breathing was comedic, but kind of heart fluttering for Sanemi. There was something about Giyu that read as lost. And Sanemi found himself growing slightly protective. He'd never say that, though.

-Giyu didn't know if he was a masochist or not, but there was something about Sanemi's occasional outbursts that both annoyed and enthralled him. Even as Sanemi sought his guts on the ground, Giyu found himself admiring the man's starch emotional drive a little too queerly. Those loud moments and mumbles were all the same. A man unashamed to speak whatever came to his mind.

-Sanemi also finds Giyu to be incredibly pretty after a kiss. Giyu's got this starry, empty eyed look on his face after every kiss Sanemi gives him. Completely liquid in Sanemi's hands, but entirely defiant about it.

-And Giyu loves that feeling. More than anything, really. Well, maybe he loved the feeling of your eyes landing on the two of them in one of their occasional spats... more.

-neither of them were stupid. Not to eachothers tossed looks or yours.

-Sanemi was the first to approach you. He was gruff and defiant, despite coming onto you of his own accord.... well, he didn't really come onto you, but when it's Sanemi, those 'stay away from me for your own good's are indistinguishable from puppy dog eyes and pleading cries.

-Sanemi admits he was stupid to believe this wouldn't cause problems. Suddenly, you were all over him. And he really enjoyed it, even if it struck fear into his bones.

-Giyu was sure this was simply another thing he'd failed at. You nor Sanemi owes him anything, but seeing you both... interact. God, he'd rather you all just fuck infront of him. How unlucky could he be that both objects of his desire turn to eachother. It was what he got for being selfish. This was god returning his stupidity.

-but then you made your move on him, and Giyu didn't remember entirely how he ended up sandwiched between you and Sanemi, hands in places that made him nervous... but he wasn't going to bite a feeding hand.

NSFW

-Sanemi's sex drive is notably larger than Giyu's, but he's much less likely to initiate. Having the both of them willing and in the mood isn't rare, but it is something you have to work for. So most times, you all are having individual sex.

-Sanemi is more likely to sit out and watch. It's impressive, really. His self control. He almost looks lulled by the act. Comfortable, but hard. It's like a practice in denying temptation.

-You and Giyu love to give head. Sanemi is often left with cum dripping down his thighs and a blushing cock that drips with spit while you and Giyu makeout above his nearly unconscious body.

-On really desperate weeks, Sanemi will cum upwards of thrice a day.

-None of you have strict sexual dispositions, which leads to some interesting situations.

-Sometimes Sanemi is fingering both you and Giyu at the same time. Sometimes Giyu is burying his cock deep inside of you while Sanemi is next to you, cucked and degraded. Sometimes you will the men to perform particularly embarassing tasks for each other just to see their faces get red.

-Sanemi once instructed Giyu on how to fuck you correctly, moving Giyu's hips for him, rubbing your clit so Giyu could 'focus'. You and Giyu both came crying because Giyu wasn't allowed to stop until he got it just right, resulting in both of you overstimulated and brain dead by the endof the night. Sanemi praised your performances thoroughly.

-The day Giyu wrestled Sanemi to the ground was particularly arousing. Sanemi had a shocking pliablity you all hadn't seen before. He submitted so willingly to Giyu that it was almost tear inducing. Giyu couldn't help but fuck him into the ground for wearing such a submissive face while you held his head against your own groin, Sanemi making quick and enthusiastic work against your sex.

-you once convinced both of them to serve you as topless maids. You can't even recall how you got Sanemi to do it, but God be damned if you weren't delighted when they knlet down by your legs while you sat, eagerly awaiting your next command.

[highvern]

Track 2: Barely on My Mind - The Regrettes

“I had a feelin' you were a devil in a fancy suit, But I'm comin' back after you”

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: exes, implied cheating, toxic relationship

Length: ~300

Note: 2 down 11 to go hehehe. healthy relationship cheol vs toxic jeonghan

Like, comment, reblog, enjoy!

Mixtape Series: Me & You Masterlist

main masterlist

This blog is intended for 18+ only! MDNI or you'll be blocked!

Oh you’re fucking kidding me. You think, pausing on Jeonghan’s newest Instagram story.

Two days. You’d only been broken up for two days and he was already soft launching another girl. Her long auburn hair whipped across her face, conveniently obscuring her identity. But you knew who she was. It was the same girl Jeonghan told you not to worry about, swearing she was only a friend. He said didn’t even know her that well anyway.

Liar. 

You knew he was lying. Her Instagram was filled with pictures of Jeonghan, either him right next to her or somewhere in the background. She’d tag him on her story. And when you met her at a party a few weeks ago she smiled like she knew some secret you’d never be privy to, eyes cutting to Jeonghan beside you when he told her you were his girlfriend.

It’d been the last straw. You’d told Jeonghan the constant paranoia was too much. Too many pitying looks from his friends, or conspiratory giggles from the girls who hung around them. Whispers and suffocating tension every time he brought you around. An abundance of tears when you finally let yourself accept what you needed to do.

Jeonghan hadn’t argued. Didn’t try to persuade you with sweet words or empty promises like before. He simply scoffed, turned around, and walked out of your apartment. 

Straight to the person he knew would affirm all your doubts.

He wanted a reaction out of you, that much was clear. It wasn’t a coincidence he'd so blatantly advertise what he was doing in his new free time. Or who.

Two can play that game.

Jeonghan was the first person to view your late night Instagram story; a blurry picture of a masculine hand wrapped around the curve of your thigh, the dark interior of the car obscuring the everything else.

Thank god Seungcheol felt bad enough for introducing you to Jeonghan to agree with your scheme.

INCOMING CALL: DO NOT ANSWER

One point you. Jeonghan zero.

-

Taglist: @tomodachiii

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[traumxrei-archive]

【 trapped in a daze 】

summary: 'reaching out to you, i cannot have it; but i'm drawn to you' (or, the floydyuu college au that no one asked for but i delivered anyway >:D)

word count: 3.4k (yeah...intense brainrot...)

warnings: college au so all chars are aged up, depictions of drinking and throwing up, some cursing here and there, and. making out. haha.

a/n: this originally was supposed to be krista's request for the 600 followers event, but then it kinda evolved into an...entirely different thing.... this was also lowkey inspired by this song drunk-dazed. n e ways, i hope you enjoy ^^

It wasn't supposed to be like…this.

This being lips against their mouth, the distant blare of party music so far in the back of their consciousness because this kiss was so all-consuming and— Sevens, this was all but too much for their heart to handle.

Looking back at it, the only reason that Yuu had come to this party was to watch over their friends and make sure they didn't drink themselves into an early grave. Their whole plan was to sit in a corner somewhere and try to avoid getting alcohol splashed on them, or worse, thrown up on. But well, nothing ever went according to the plan, did it?

By the fourth hour of the party, the bass from the music was making their head throb. Yuu took a quick look around the room. Ace was chatting up a storm in the middle of a group of students, and Jack was on the other side, playing magnetic darts with Sebek. Deuce and Epel were playing Twister, and maybe it was time that they intervened lest they accidentally sprain something out of sheer stubbornness not to lose.

Yuu was slowly making their way through the crowd when their arm was tugged, almost hard enough to rip from its socket. They whirled around and— Floyd Leech was there, grinning at them coyly, "Shrimpy~ Where ya goin'?"

"I'm saving those two idiots from getting hangovers," They managed to wrestle their arm away from Floyd, who pouted lightly at their actions.

"You aren't going to play with me tonight?" Floyd's words were innocent, but the look in his eyes was anything but.

Yuu swallowed. Curse their past self for even promising the slippery eel anything— especially when that thing was a kiss. Sevens. What was past-them thinking?

Maybe they should rewind a bit. Back to the day that they had the absolute pleasure of meeting the infamous Floyd Leech.

They remembered it very clearly. He had caught their arm in the exact same careless way, demanding that they "played" with him with that stupidly handsome grin on his face. And— with the pretense that they were either going get into something shady, or worse, disappear from the face of the Twisted Wonderland— Yuu did what any normal person would do.

They had kicked him in the nuts. (Which, quite honestly, they do not regret.)

After seeing the university lanyard around the taller’s, or person-who-would-be-taller-if-he-wasn’t-keeling-over-in-pain’s neck, they had paled. They definitely weren’t about to add ‘physical assault of a fellow student’ onto their permanent record.

Yuu had apologized.

Profusely.

Over and over again.

(Something that they regretted because looking back at it, Floyd never once looked mad at them kicking him, only mildly amused. Now-Yuu wondered if it was all an act after all, a pitiful response to illicit their sympathy.)

But after all their efforts, Floyd still wouldn’t let them go. The clock was ticking; they had an important lecture to be at, but the menace wouldn’t let them budge an inch out of that hallway.

Instead, he proposed that terrible-horrible idea of letting him kiss them sometime. The logical side of their brain said it was a nonsense offer to kiss a stranger. But the part of their brain that wanted to leave this situation said that he was a stranger anyway and they would never have to meet him again. And, after all, they had kicked him in the balls on a Monday morning. So one kiss wasn't such an expensive price.

At least, that was what Yuu thought before their friends informed them of Floyd's notoriety. (“You promised the Floyd Leech a kiss?” Ace, of all people had exclaimed, “He literally almost chewed someone’s arm off last semester!”) Predictably, they spent every second after learning the fact regretting it ever since.

Floyd had hounded them day in and day out, and their pride was the only thing keeping them from giving in to his childish demands. Even though it was “just one kiss” they certainly did not want to see the smug satisfaction on Floyd’s irritatingly handsome face after he got what he wanted.

"Later, Floyd," The present Yuu acquiesced, forcing themself to relax slowly. The more they argued with Floyd, the more time wasted getting Deuce and Epel away from breaking all their bones on the Twister board.

"Imma hold you to that. No running, okay?" The eelmer had pressed an uncharacteristically soft hand to the top of their head, before stalking off in the opposite direction. The crowd seemed to part as he got near, and they would've been impressed if they were any other person. Instead, they sagely wished that they were one of the crowd who Floyd Leech didn’t know of. (Then again, would life have been boring without Floyd Leech? That they would never know.)

Now Floyd-less, Yuu made quick work of dragging Epel and Deuce to a couch near the more-sober-but-still-buzzed dart-throwing duo. All the while they both complained loudly about how they “would've won that Twister game” if not for their interference. (For reference, Yuu was quite sure they were on the losing team)

Deuce had snaked an arm around their waist, still arguing with Epel as the other was using their shoulder as a pillow. Meanwhile, Sebek had planted himself on the end of the couch, starting to lecture the two on "safe drinking habits" that the famed "Young Master" had taught him.

Yuu was definitely going to ask for compensation in the form of hard cash once all this was over.

"Could you guys...get off?" They pushed out, trying without success to untangle themself from the pile of drunk humans attached to them.

Jack chuckled, "There's no getting out of that mess without actual intervention."

"So intervene for me," They said sharply. Of course, Jack did nothing but back away, his tail swishing in mischief. The nerve. Even with his golden boy reputation, they didn’t get any special treatment.

And it was with that opportune timing the infamous Ace Trappola decided to grace them all with his presence. But before he could say anything, he was throwing up all over the front of their shirt.

Sevens. Of course, in a room full of strangers it had to be Ace who threw up all over them.

"Oh fuck," The ginger groaned, immediately collapsing to the ground. They sprung up immediately, assessing the damage. Aside from the horrible stickiness of their shirt, it seemed that Epel and Deuce somehow managed to avoid the spray.

"Disgusting," Deuce wrinkled his nose, latching onto Epel instead as they grabbed a handful of tissues from the table to wipe their shirt with.

Ace at least had the decency to look apologetic, "I'm so–"

"Just…don't drink anymore, get a glass of water instead," They dismissed the ginger's guilty stare. "I'm going to attempt to salvage my shirt. We're leaving soon, so Sebek, call a taxi." After making sure that Ace wasn't going to immediately retch again, they started their search for somewhere to wash the vomit off their shirt.

Yuu stumbled right into what looked to be a bathroom, sighing loudly as they ran their hands under the tap. It was just their luck that the bathroom was empty—

"Shrimpy?" The shower curtain slipped open, and sprawled out in the bathtub was fucking Floyd Leech.

What the actual fuck.

The night could not get any worse than this.

Actually, a part of them whispered, it could. Floyd could've had company. Now that would've been infinitely worse. But he was blessedly alone. (This would be the only time Yuu was glad that Floyd was alone.) The eelmer seemed to appraise them, mismatched eyes flicking down to their shirt, the still-running sink, and then back up to their face.

"I didn't throw up," Yuu said sharply, feeling the need to explain that they weren't that idiotic. And then they did a double take, because why would they need to explain themself to Floyd Leech? When they looked up again, Floyd was holding out the jacket he previously wore.

"Don't tell me you're gonna walk around in that all night?" The varsity jacket clinked as he shook it around, and they weighed out their options. The first option was to go home with a shirt half-soaked in Ace-puke. (Gross. Disgusting. Not to mention unsanitary.) And the second option was—

"My arm's getting ti~red~"

Yuu rolled their eyes. Typical Floyd, not even letting them finish a thought. They grabbed it out of his hands without a second thought. The jacket was simple enough with ‘Leech’ emblazoned across the back. And right below it was Floyd's basketball jersey number.

"Impressed?" Floyd prompted, casually propping his head on the tub. "You can have it if you want."

"No," The word was already flying out of their mouth before they could formulate a proper thought. They tried again, "What's the price for this?"

"Boo~ It's just a small favor," He stuck out his tongue. "I'm no Azul, y'know? 'Sides it was starting to get stuffy."

"You guys are close enough for me to be wary," They said curtly, stepping toward the other. It was an odd sight, Floyd looking up at them, still very much comfortable in the tub.

They dragged the shower curtain shut, "If I find you peeking—"

"I'm no perv, Shrimpy," Floyd laughed airily.

Yuu slipped off the stained shirt, running it under the water. Wiping at their torso, they eyed Floyd's jacket. At least it smelled clean, something like tequila and a sharp cologne tangling pleasantly in the air. They finally pulled it on. The jacket was ridiculously big. (Which made sense, considering that Floyd was a giant. Floyd and his twin, Jade, were notorious for somehow breaking the human limits of height. Then again, they weren’t exactly human, were they?) And it already felt ten times better than wearing the puke-shirt. Not like they would tell Floyd that.

And now they had a choice. They could just...leave. The door was unlocked, and Floyd couldn't see them. They would wash the jacket and give it back to Floyd on a later date and be on their merry way. But their conscience prickled slightly. (A terrible thing to happen, especially when it concerned Floyd.)

They dragged back the curtain once more.

Floyd's eyes opened sleepily, "Mmm, I thought you ran away again."

"Again?" They echoed, before backtracking. "No, wait, I just wanted to say thank you before I leave."

"So you were planning on running away," Floyd finally got up, ducking under the curtain bar and stepping out of the tub.

And then he froze. His eyes stayed pinned on their figure. And suddenly the bathroom felt a little too small. They didn't know what he was staring at, but it was starting to unnerve them the longer it went on.

"Um, Floyd...?"

That broke his stupor, lopsided grin returning, "Hey, that's the fourth time you've said my name."

Their brows furrowed, "You were counting—?”

"Could I get that kiss now?" Floyd asked. Their sentences and thoughts skidded to a halt at the wild pitch that was thrown their way. He was always interrupting them, one way or another.

"Now?"

"Now," Floyd said simply, and— since when was he that close to them? The little bastard. He had been slowly backing them up into the wall as they were trying to process everything. They were about to protest when he spoke again, "Or wouldja like me to kiss you in the middle of the cafeteria tomorrow? In front of everyone? That'd be nice too."

"Fine. Now," They sighed, their back hitting the tiled wall. "How do you wanna do this?"

Floyd hummed, "Do you always ask people 'how' they want to kiss you before kissing them?" One of his hands settled against the column of their neck, rubbing at the skin there. They just prayed that Floyd couldn’t feel the racing of their heartbeat against his fingers.

"I don't know, do I?" Yuu exhaled shakily from their mouth as Floyd's chest pressed against theirs. "Guess you'll have to ask the people I've kissed."

"Talking about others when I'm here?" Floyd's tone stayed low even as he whined, and in the dimness of the bathroom, they could see his dual-colored eyes spark with excitement. "I'm hurt, Shrimpy."

"Doesn't look that way to me," They muttered, eyes fluttering shut out of reflex as his hair brushed against their cheek.

Just as they thought Floyd would kiss them, he spoke again, "A young eel's heart is more complex than that."

Their eyes crept open, "Are you actually going to–"

Floyd didn't waste time interrupting them with his actions this time, finally capturing their lips with his own.

Floyd's lips were in no way soft or warm. No, instead he had no problem going against the cliches, his cold lips giving them goosebumps as he pressed in harder. They made a surprised noise when Floyd slipped his tongue into their mouth. There was the sweet aftertaste of tequila against their tongue, even as Floyd smirked against the kiss.

They could feel his teeth skirting dangerously along their lips before he finally bit down. A mangled sound was pulled out of their throat, their nerves singing at the sensation before they shoved hard at his chest, jostling him away.

"Hmm, too much for the first kiss?" Floyd asked, tilting his head sardonically. "But kissing's pretty on you, Shrimpy." Their breaths were coming out in harsh pants and it was annoying how unfazed Floyd looked.

"Did– Y-you bit me–" They tried to look at the bathroom mirror but Floyd's face was crowding against theirs once more.

"Okay, then let's try again," Floyd said lightly, his fingers coming to cup their face once more.

They kept their arm braced against his chest, "It was supposed one kiss."

"Hmm, was it?" Floyd tilted his head. "Well, do you wanna kiss me again, Shrimpy?"

Yuu pursed their lips, gaze subconsciously dropping to the curve of Floyd's mouth. Did they want to kiss Floyd Leech again? Maybe. Would they rather drown in a pool of tequila than admit it and give Floyd the satisfaction? Obviously.

Fuck, tequila. Their tongue swiped across their lips, and they could almost taste the sweet flavor of it.

"Tick tock, Shrimpy," Floyd's voice was a lot closer now, his head now nestled onto their shoulder. "I'm getting bored."

His lips traced over their jaw and they inhaled sharply, "If you're b-bored kiss someone else."

"Don't want those other minnows," Floyd mumbled against their neck, his teeth scraping over their skin. They shivered at the sensation before pressing a hand to their mouth.

"I..."

Yuu didn’t get to finish.

The door slammed open, and they made eye contact with a very confused-looking Deuce.

"Yuu? What are you–?" Deuce seemed to register the intimidating figure that was latched onto them at that moment, his eyes widening. Right. They never locked the door to the bathroom.

"Aha, it's that Macky that's always with you," Floyd said in a humorless tone. In fact, he seemed rather...pissed.

"T-the t-taxi’s here, w-we're going home," Deuce's eyes shifted nervously between them and Floyd, and oddly, down to their neck.

And just as Yuu was about to speak, Floyd spoke up once more, "Shrimpy's with me. So get lost before you get hurt~"

A bewildered expression crossed Deuce's face and Yuu just sighed. If they leave now, they probably didn’t have to see Floyd Leech ever again. Their “favor” had been repaid, and Floyd would have no reason to seek them out. It was the rational thing to do, right? But on the other hand…

Fuck being rational.

"What he said,” Yuu let their hand squeeze at Floyd’s shoulder. “If I don't come back tomorrow he probably disposed of my body in a dumpster, or whatever. Tell everyone to get home safely." And they could feel Floyd physically flinch at their agreement.

There was this overly delighted smile on his face as he pressed a kiss to their nose, "Shrimpy, what're you saying~? I'll take very good care not to hurt you, promise." And they belatedly wondered if they were still drunk from the singular cup of soju Ace handed them a few hours ago. Agreeing to stay with Floyd Leech was definitely not on their list of things to do today. But they already decided to follow their heart, right?

"Now scram, Macky."

Deuce did not need to be told twice. He turned on his heel and immediately shut the door behind him. Floyd strolled up and locked the door.

"Floyd."

"Mhm?"

"Don't actually murder me."

"I won't if you give me another kiss~"

Yuu huffed, their palm cradling Floyd’s face as they pulled him in, “You’re insufferable.”

And that was how they got there. Floyd’s lips were still insistent against theirs, albeit softer and gentler than before. He seemed to be intent on prying sigh after sigh from their lungs, clever lips smirking against their own. Thinking about it now, it wasn’t such a bad place to be, if only Floyd would shut up with his comments.

“Are we dating now?” Floyd murmured.

“We haven’t even gone on a date yet?” Yuu raised a brow as Floyd pressed his fingers against their neck for the nth time. “Wait— you like me?”

“Shrimpy, you’re playing with me,” Floyd’s giggles echoed against the walls. “'Course I do. Don’t you like me too? Isn’t that why you kissed me again?” Well. He got them there. Maybe it really was their petty pride that was getting in the way of them realizing the kind-of-massive crush they had on the other, with the way their cheeks felt hot at the insinuation.

“See~ You do~” Floyd’s smile was sharp before it was soft, but they couldn’t help but avoid his gaze. “And for the date, let’s go now.”

Now that got their attention, “Floyd, it’s probably 3am.”

“We’ll go to McDonald’s,” Floyd announced resolutely, and Yuu would’ve found it funny if they didn’t find it utterly ridiculous.

“You can’t just—” It was with that opportune timing that they caught a glimpse of themself in the mirror. “Floyd Leech. Did you give me a fucking hickey?” 

"Hmm?" Floyd met their gaze, grinning coyly. "But it seemed like you enjoyed it. And it looks good on you, Shrimpy."

They held in the scream threatening. to bubble up their throat, “That was why Deuce was— Oh, I’m never going to live this down.”

“What about McDonald’s though?” Floyd asked, all while they were having a stage three mental breakdown over the fact that one of their best friends had not only caught them making out with someone but with a hickey on their neck. Not to mention the jacket, it must've looked like they—

“Forget about McDonald’s, I’m going to die out of shame right here,” Yuu muttered, sliding down the wall slowly. Floyd must’ve found that amusing, because with the strength only an eelmer could muster, he hoisted them into his arms.

“You can’t die on me now. I’ll treat you to McDonald’s and you’ll be alright,” Floyd said cheerily, as if an oreo McFlurry could somehow magically fix Yuu’s reputation with their friends.

They clutched at his shoulder, “Nothing you can say will make any of this better.” 

“Really?” Floyd stopped, halfway through unlocking the door. “Y’know, earlier, I was staring at you, right? It was because you looked too good in my jacket. ‘S like it was made for you, or something?”

Whoever made Floyd Leech this flirty should really go to hell.

They delivered a swift palm to Floyd’s chin, hiding their face, “O-okay, I got it. You win. Let’s just go to McDonalds.” And there was this very satisfied look on Floyd’s face; the very definition of a cat that had gotten the cream all for himself. The exact smug look that they had been dreading to see. But well…it didn’t really feel too bad to be on the receiving end of it. Especially not when Floyd started humming happily under his breath.

Not exactly where they thought they would be by the end of the night, but if a trip to McDonald’s at 3am after a party was what a relationship with Floyd would be like, then they probably wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. Except maybe their reputation back. (Okay, that last part was definitely lie.)

thank you for reading this college au fic ! tbh i had a lot of fun writing a more expressive yuu ++ frat boy! floyd's shenanigans >:D if you'd like to read more of my stuff, come check out my masterlist <3

[ranposgirlboss]

~late night car drives with bsd charas~

this is an idea i got while listening to depressing vocaliod songs, SO HERE WE ARE!!! these are just some hc i have about how it would go, some charas are COMPLETELY platonic!! (this is mostly platonic in the 1st place tbh) this is my first time writing on this app, and i haven't written anything online in a few years, so if the formatting is weird, PLEASE TELL ME IDK WHAT IM DOIMNHG

chara list: dazai, chuuya, poe, ranpo, and yosano

GENRE: fluff fluff fluff and sillies

enjoy!!

-----------------------------

DAZAI

-HESSS DEEEEEFFF THE TYPE TO BRING YOU ON LATE-NIGHT DRIVES!!!!!

-he would probably be going to some weird ass convenience store with you at ungodly hours in the morning 💀

-HE EITHER SINGS THE MOST DEPRESSING SONGS OR THE MOST UPBEAT SILLY SONGS THERE IS LITERALLY NO IN BETWEEN

-i feel like he would mess with you and fucking drift the car when yall turn

-lets just say you get close to dying more then once 😁

-one time when yall tried to sneak out, kunikida caught yalls asses (your ears still hurt to this day from the mouthing off you got from kunikida)

-all in all, VERY FUN TO GO OUT WITH!!! WOULD RECOMMEND IF YOU WANT CHAOS!!!! OR IF YOU LIKE ALMOST DYING 10 TIMES IN 30 MINS <3333

CHUUYA

-ok so i know i said late night CAR rides BUT CMON WHO DOESNT WANNA RIDE A COOL ASS MOTORCYCLE WITH CHUUYA!??!?!?/1

-mf has HORRIBLE ROAD RAGE!!!

-i hc that when chuuya gets really pissed and the person is super rude to him, he fucking makes their car float...LIKE FULL ON 😭

-AND THEN HELL MAKE THEM SAY SORRY

-but other then his road rage, its honestly pretty chill

-i know that he has a BANGER playlist, I JUST KNOW IT

-i fell like he'd also play around on the motorcycle a bit, BUT AT LEAST HE WOULDNT NEARLY KILL YOU UNLIKE DAZAI (눈‸눈)

-id say its pretty nice and balanced, with enough calmness to make it enjoyable for the most part, but enough thrill to keep asking him to take you out <33

RANPO

-just gonna let you know right off the bat, his ass is NOT driving 😂

-there is a high chance that he JUST woke up and started banging on your door because he had cravings and well, he ran out of his snacks...so OBVIOUSLY he had to bang on your door, its important!!!

-and even if he was completely awake...he would get yall lost so fast

-so you were driving him

-honestly? its kinda funny to see groggy ranpo walk around and try to grab what snack he wants at the convenience store when he's barely awake

-bro literally drops the bag like 5 times (you picked it up all 5 bc you kinda pitied him rn 😭)

-he basically ends up sleep walking his ass outta there

-the ride is mostly quiet, mainly because ranpo falls asleep on the way back

-imagine if you played heavy metal and woke him up

POE

-HE WOULD DRIVE WITH YOU FREQUENTLY, DUE TO HIM BEING A NIGHT OWL

-these car rides would be so peaceful

-ngl he would probably sometimes take you out just to drive with you (its not like gas is a problem for him anyways 😭)

-HE HAS SUCH A GOOD PLAYLIST OF SONGS TO JUST SIT THERE AND DAYDREAM TO

-doesnt seem like a talker tbh, he might ask you if you want to go anywhere specific, but you guys mostly just listen to music together (he saves the story telling for another time <3)

-I FEEL LIKE HE WOULD MAKE A PLAYLIST THAT LIKE KIND OF HAS A STORY LINE SO IT WOULD BE SO FUN TO DAYDREAM TO THE SONGS CUZ YOU COULD CREATE YOUR OWN STORY TO THEM

-you hold karl in your lap and pet him like you're an evil villain (cannon)

-very calming and relaxing drive <33

YOSANO

-UGH IM SO GAY FOR HER

-ngl she kinda gives dazai vibes, in terms of playlist

-there has been more than one occasion when she just drunk-drove you

-LUCKILY YALL DONT DIE??!?!?!??! HOLY FUCK

-shes a small talker, OR A GOSSIPER WHILE YALL DRIVE

-yall just have so much fun talking about the ada and everything that's going on there <333

-would scream the lyrics to any 2010's throwback song, while having a (hopefully) safe dance party

-very fun to be around, and even though she drunk drives, shes def safer then dazai

-----------------------

THANK YOU FOR READING THIS!!!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

PLEASE SEND ME REQS I BEG OF YOU

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Congrats on your 100 followers! 🥳🎉

I'd like to request "Such a sweet, innocent angel." with Poe ❤

Hi my love!!! Thank you so much for sending this in!! I hope you enjoy it!!!

100 Follower Celebration:

Pity Party

Poe Dameron x Fem!Reader

You slammed the door of your room with a loud bang, shaking the terracotta walls of the barracks. Hot cheeks and hotter tears streamed down your face as uncomfortable emotions wracked through your body. Rage. Embarrassment. Hurt. Rage again. Rage yet again. Maybe you were being dramatic, but it was possibly the worst officer meeting you had had in your entire career in the resistance. Perhaps you were being reckless in the latest mission. Perhaps you did play with your life too much. But did you rescue the latest informant from the First Order base? Yes! Did anyone get hurt? Not really! No lives were lost and the only person who was really in any danger was you, so how was it that you were the one being berated and insulted in the post op meeting? How was it that you had to endure being called insolent and childish and unfit in front of the entire squadrant and Leia? And when you defended your actions (with some colorful adjectives) you were chastised by Leia herself and ordered to stay on base for two weeks as punishment for disobedience and not respecting your superior officers.

Leia tried to talk to you after the meeting, but it was already too much shame to bare. It was embarrassing. You were already one of the youngest on the squad, and the youngest in your position. You had worked so hard to get here, and you devoted your all to the resistance. You honored Leia and you honored the cause. But that damn temper… it made you feel like a fraud. Like you didn’t belong.

Face down on your lumpy cot you scream into the even lumpier pillow you smuggled on base, letting all your frustration out, when you hear a knock on the door. “Hey Kid? You in there?”

Without moving an inch you yell, “Go away Dameron. I’m not in the mood!”

He lets himself in anyway, he always does. You feel the bed dip beside you as he makes himself comfortable and smacks the back of your thighs, “Heard you got grounded. Way to go Ace.”

You peak out of the pillow to see him smirking. Though you hated your temper, your fits of passion were all too delicious for Poe to ignore. It’s one of the reasons he loved you so much, and forced himself into your life. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He laughed boyishly, pushing your body over to make room for himself next to you and to let him see your face, “Awe come on kid. I’m sure it wasn’t that bad!”

You frowned as you mumbled out, “I cussed out Captain Lovak in front of Leia. Maybe I kicked over a trash can. Maybe I do have a temper.”

In a mock gasp, Poe clutched his chest like his mother used to do decades ago, “you?! No!! You’re such a sweet and innocent angel!! I don’t believe it! You’re so cool headed!”

You groan and throw your face into Poe’s chest, earning another round of laughter from Poe, “I hate my life. Leia hates me. I’m never going to be allowed on missions again.”

Poe just shook his head, stroking your back soothingly, “Awe man kid. You really are a mess aren’t you? C’mon don’t beat yourself up too bad alright? I mean it’s only two weeks. You could’ve done so much worse. And honestly Lovak has had it coming for awhile now. If it wasn’t you it was going to be someone else.”

Still mumbling in his chest you sniffle out, “I don’t think I’m cut out for this Poe… maybe I should resign.”

Poe doesn’t like that talk. Not at all. No one is going to talk about his girl like that. No one at all not even yourself. He pushes you up to make you stare into his eyes, “Alright alright that’s enough. Ok? I’ll accept tears and yelling but I won’t accept you saying lies ok? You ARE cut out for this. You were MADE for this. You got a little out of control. So what? Now you know. You don’t get too crazy with missions. You don’t raise your voice like that in officer meetings. When you get riled up you come to me ok? We’ll talk it out and cry and figure it out. But what we are not going to do is discredit all the other amazing things you’ve done and will do. You got that?”

You nodded limply, tears still falling. Poe shook his head, eyes darkened with firmness, “I wanna hear you say it.”

“I got it.”

Poe nodded, kissing your forehead with conviction, as if sealing a promise. You laid back down next to him, accepting the safety and surety that came with his arms around you. Poe stroked your arm until your breathing returned to an even tempo. Once you had settled, he tapped your thigh again, “Alright kid. Cry time is over. Let’s go.”

You wiped your face, “Where are we going?”

That signature smirk creeped back onto Poe’s handsome face as he ruffled your hair, “Leia’s office. Time to bargain for your flying privileges.”

[bordysbae]

what if the reader likes to journal and shes been keeping a journal where she writes about her relationship with (guy of your choice) before they were like dating or something up until now and she gives it to them on their birthday and it’s all emotional and stuff.

“you kept those?!”

adam fantilli x reader

word count: 1k

sorry i couldn’t help myself but pick adam!! he’s too underrated ugh, but anyways this idea is so so so cute!

you and adam have been friends since before you can even remember. your moms were college roommates throughout all four years of university at michigan. so when they found out that you and your older brother drew, who’s the same age as luca, got into michigan, and that fantillis would be playing hockey there, everyone around you was ecstatic.

your feelings for adam began in the third grade, and you’re a freshman in college now. you guys began dating last year, and everyone was waiting for it to happen. you guys were clearly meant to be, according to both your families and friends, but nothing ever happened until now. of course you’ve had other boyfriends before and he’s had girlfriends, but deep down you always knew that he’ll forever be your first love.

when you starting having these ‘tingly feelings’ around him, as your 10 year old self described them, you decided to keep a diary. you would write in it every time you and adam had cute moments, and you still write in it sometimes. you’ve already filled up one whole diary, and you’re halfway done with another one, but being in college now, you don’t really have the time to write in it. so you thought, why not give the diaries to adam for his birthday?

written in the diaries are things like how once he cut you a slice of pie at the annual fantilli’s friends-giving, or even how you would get jealous that he was playing chel with your older brother instead of hanging with you. the first diary is from third grade to seventh grade, and the second one is eight grade till now.

—

you and adam drove about forty-five minutes to detroit, to eat at a fancy resturant everyone has been raving about. you’re sat at a candle lit table in a restaurant, with a view looking over the city, when the perfect moment comes up to give him the diaries.

“so as your birthday gift this year, i didn’t get you much, but i thought maybe you’d enjoy something a little more sentimental.” you say shyly, as you reach into your purse to grab the two old diaries.

adam let’s out a little chuckle, as he reaches across the table to grab them from you. “holy crap! you kept these?! i remember seeing these in your bedroom as a kid, you’d never let anyone touch them. i remember once me, luca, and drew tried to steal it from your room and you started screaming and hitting us” adam laughs, making you blush from embarrassment.

“yeah well you’ll see why when you open them.” you say, embarrassed that you’re letting him finally read all of the diary entries you’ve written about him over the years.

he cracks open the small book in his hands, and begins to attempt to understand your messy elementary school hand writing. he reads through a few pages and you both laugh about it, and he switched over to the other diary. he opens it to a random page, which happens to be from freshman year.

october 31st 2018

dear diary,

it’s halloween night, and this is the first year since fourth grade that we haven’t gone out together. me and adam swore to never stop trick or treating until we’re both old enough to drive, so that we can go to parties together, but looks like him and his new girlfriend have other plans. adam keeps sending me a bunch of snapchats of him at this stupid party with her head on his shoulder. it doesn’t help that luca and drew went out to a party too, so now i’m at home trying not to cry. i hate having a crush on adam, i never want to feel like this again.

adam looks up from the diary and gives you a small pitiful smile, making you hide your face in embarrassment, “i regret giving you these!” you groan and hide your face in your hands. he reaches across the table and takes your hand in his.

“don’t be embarrassed, i think these are super cute. they’re warming my heart. i can’t wait to read the rest of them, and if it makes you feel any better i had a crush on you during like half of these too. you think i really liked fiona that much? i remember i kept thinking how much i wanted to be trick or treating with you instead.” he blushes.

“you’re just saying that!” you laugh, unbelieving of what he’s saying.

“i’m dead serious! why else would i be sending you snaps you while i’m at a party. i really only dated her cause i was just tired of always getting chirped for not having a girlfriend, she she had a crush on me,” adam chuckles, making you giggle a little bit at the thought.

“i was always right there, y’know”

“i know that now, and boy do i wish i could go back in time and do it all differently. you don’t know how bad i wished i was the one who took you to homecoming freshman year. me and fiona weren’t even matching colors! oh and don’t even get me started on homecoming junior year. you went with one of my teammates, i was pissed!”

“well hey, you did take me to senior prom!” you chuckle a little, looking at your lockscreen photo of the two of you from last year.

“because we were dating then! that doesn’t count”

“yes it does adam! plus all of the stupid relationships we got into during high school just proves we were bound to be” you cheesily grin, making adam smile as well.

“yeah i guess so, but seriously if i could go back and change it all i would. i would’ve asked you out like, i dunno, five years ago!”

“oh sure, cause you definitely had the balls to do that. the real question is, wouldn’t our braces have gotten caught in each other?” you joke, remembering how ugly you both looked with braces five years ago. adam laughs, almost spitting out his water, making you and him both laugh even harder. you guys get a few stares from the older adults around you guys, but you both don’t care. you’re just enjoying the moments with the man you finally get to call yours.

[spideystevie]

💘 could u do hangman with the valentine's prompt: “see, this is the true meaning of valentine’s day.”₁ “box wine and enough candy to kill a horse?!”₂ “you heard me.”₁

me vs making almost all my hangman requests roommate au’s. pry the trope from my cold dead hands! anyway i had sooo much fun with this one, might be my favorite i’ve written so far hehehe i hope you enjoy as much as me <3  - [1.5k] | join the party!

It was your first Valentine’s Day with Jake but not in the romantic sense, though you heartily wished it was. You kept that to yourself because it was hard enough trying to find a tolerable roommate. Besides, you were almost completely positive that he had plans lined up for the day and they didn’t include you.

You’d prepped by stocking up on a variety of candies at the store and a thing of box wine. It wasn’t much but it was enough for you to indulge in while you ran a marathon of your favorite romantic comedies. 

There’s a whole spread of chocolate and other sweets on the coffee table of your shared living room, the box wine close by and your glass already full. The lights are low and you’ve lit one of your favorite candles for the ambience. You’ve cozied up with your favorite blanket and How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days queued up on your TV. 

The movie’s just started and you lean back, sprawled on the sofa with your wine glass pressed to your lips. With the volume a little louder than normal and the lights dim, you don’t even notice Jake coming into the room. He stands near the couch, arms crossed with his gaze on the television. 

“Oh, I love this movie,” his voice startles you. A yelp escapes you and you jump, grateful your glass isn’t as full as before because it would’ve spilled all over. 

“Jesus, Jake!” you scramble to grab your remote and pause the movie. He looks at you completely bewildered. You set your wine glass on the coffee table and finally look at him. You wished you didn’t. Where he should’ve been dressed up for a nice date, he’s instead in those borderline sinful pajama pants of his that drive you insane. It’s your turn to look absolutely confused. “Don’t you have a date tonight or something?”

Jake huffs, his arms falling to his sides. He runs a hand through his hair, the strands sticking up in the wake of his fingers. You try not to stare. 

“No, she bailed,” he basically pouts, throwing himself down on the other side of the couch. You pull your feet and blanket back in the nick of time. You stare at him, eyebrows pinched and a small, sympathetic frown on your face. He scoffs lightly, throwing his head against the back of the couch. “Stop that.”

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything-”

“-The sympathetic look, stop it,” your voices overlap, sentences trailing on top of each other. You purse your lips. 

“Sorry,” you say, sitting up and criss crossing your legs. His eyes are closed, his hair still somewhat standing up from when he’d run a hand through it. You blink, well aware he can probably sense you practically ogling him. Your gaze darts to the abundance of candy and the wine you bought. “You can hang out with me.”

He peeks an eye open, his head turning just the slightest bit for him to look at you. “Your pity party?”

It’s your turn to scoff. You lean across the couch to slap his arm and he bites back a grin. “It’s not a pity party.”

“Looks like one,” he retorts and you roll your eyes. 

“Whatever, you can go pout in your room then,” you say, reaching towards the table and grabbing your wine glass. You lift it to your lips to sip from it, mumbling against it. “Didn’t wanna share with you anyway.”

“I am not pouting,” he says over your mumbling. You raise your eyebrows at him over your glass, nodding at his folded arms and the obvious pouty expression on his face. 

He groans, rolling his eyes though he doesn’t mean it. Honestly, Jake’s rather fond of you though he tries not to let it on too much. Being roommates was a great arrangement for the two of you…if you took away all the moments where he wanted to grab you by the waist and plant one on you. Moments like tonight when he’d found you drinking wine and watching a romcom on the couch in your pajamas.

“Pass me a chocolate,” he sighs, relenting to sharing the night with you. You can’t help but smile with a silent cheer. He watches you throw the blanket off of you as you get up from the couch. The wine in your glass sloshes when you set it down. 

“I’ll grab you a glass!” you call as you head towards the kitchen. An entirely too soft, enamored smile falls onto his face as he watches you go. You fill his glass and yours when you come back. He offers to hold yours while you get situated back on the couch and you let him. 

You sit rather than sprawl this time and toss your blanket over both of your laps before playing the movie again and taking your glass from Jake. As it turns out, How to Lose a Guy is immeasurably more enjoyable watching it with Jake. It seems your entire night is the same way spending it with him instead of alone.

The two of you have emptied the box wine into your glasses and eaten your way through a hefty portion of your candy supply by the time Matthew McConaughey is chasing down Kate Hudson’s taxi on the bridge. A quiet, almost wistful sigh escapes you when he kisses her.

Once the credits have rolled, neither of you make much of a move to choose another movie. You’re both a little tipsy, leaning towards wine drunk at this point. Jake’s content to just sit and talk to you all night. He’s convinced he’s never had a better holiday than this one. 

“See,” you lean forward from your spot on the couch to grab another piece of foil wrapped chocolate. “This is the true meaning of Valentine’s Day,” you unwrap the chocolate and pop it into your mouth. The foil wrapping gets crumbled and tossed onto the coffee table. Jake snorts. 

“Box wine and enough candy to kill a horse?” he asks, voice a little sarcastic as he grabs his wine glass. You nod, swallowing down your chocolate.

“You heard me,” you say, picking up your own glass and drinking the last bit of wine left in your glass. His is still half full and you realize for a moment he might be a touch more sober than you are. At some point during the movie, you’d scooted closer to each other on the couch. So much so that his arm brushes against yours as he leans forward to set his wine glass down. He takes your empty one with it. 

Jake sits up, angling his body towards yours with his elbow resting along the back of the couch. You mirror his position, your head leaning against your palm. He smiles at you, nudges your leg with his foot. 

“Thanks for letting me crash your pity party,” he says and you roll your eyes again. A coy smile takes over your face, giving you away. 

“I told you it wasn’t a pity party,” you all but groan. He laughs a little and you’re only semi-aware of his face shifting closer to yours. His eyes dart to your lips and back up, so quick you blink and almost miss it.

“Was way more fun spending it with you,” his voice has gotten softer, a little huskier though that could just be from the wine. Your lips soften into a small smile, your gaze falling to your lap briefly. A shyness seems to take hold of you. 

“Yeah?” you breathe out, looking back up at him. He nods once, a low hum hanging in his throat. You’re not sure which one of you makes the first initial move. At first, you think it was Jake but in actuality, you realize it might’ve been you. 

Your face had surged forward, your lips meeting his in a slow kiss. His hand not on the back of the couch lifts up to hold the side of your face. You lean into it, your head tilting as the kiss seems to deepen. He tastes like chocolate and box wine. The corners of your lips curve up slightly and your arm that’d been supporting your head comes to wrap around his neck. 

You’re leaning against him, borderline sitting in his lap at this point. It hardly registers in your mind that you’re making out on the couch with your roommate of all people. In every scenario you’d run through tonight, you hadn’t anticipated this being the outcome. 

Jake pulls back, lips a little swollen and slick. You’re sure yours are the same, your chest heaving against his. It’s quiet, the only sounds being your labored breathing. He looks at you with something close to a smirk on his face. 

“Maybe that was the true meaning of Valentine’s Day,” he jokes and you laugh in spite of yourself. He can’t help but press his lips back to yours, swallowing the sound of your laughter. You find yourself falling in love with the feeling of his grin pressed against yours. 

[welcome-back-to-hoimycraf]

fWhip was really hoping this stupid party would end soon. 

Yeah, sure, peace was nice- but did he have to stand awkwardly in a loud room packed to the brim with people he didn’t know to keep it? He sighed for probably the millionth time since he’d got here (and maybe the billionth if you counted the days beforehand), even though it’d only been- what an hour? And he got here before the party started! ‘Cause for some reason, Gem had decided to drag him over to the dumb Overgrown for this dumb party to preserve some dumb peace since “the war only ended so recently”. He didn’t get the point of it.

For one, the Cod-Grimlands war had ended, like, five months ago! They'd already had an entire two weeks of nothing but mending the relationship between their empires, why would they need more? Plus, fWhip and Jimmy had been dating for two of those months, and that’d be pretty peace-preserving, if you asked him. Gem had said something about how Katherine wouldn’t know that since they weren’t public yet, and the fae was only trying to help, but he’d tuned her out. Mostly because they just wanted to feel right in not wanting to be at this stupid party for stupid peace and with no other stupid synonyms because his stupid brain was overwhelmed with everyone’s talking and laughing and touching- Goddess did he hate people touching them.

Ok, they’re sick of this. The Count made their way through the crowd, pushing and shoving probably more rudely than he should be. Whatever, their reputation was already fucked anyway. They maneuvered over to where he’d last seen his sister, hoping a familiar face might help in some way. Maybe she’d take pity on them.

They wandered around the castle like a lost child for about ten minutes before giving up on his search, instead changing course to the open-air central garden.

Thankfully, no one else had decided to follow his lead and the place was utterly deserted. He plopped onto one of the uncomfortable stone benches and brought his legs up on the seat, resting their head on his knees to make himself feel better and hopefully get their brain back in working order. They can't imagine willingly going to one of these parties, let alone enjoying one. He truly didn't understand how people worked. 

A loud voice rang out- something about a new esteemed guest arriving, presumably another emperor. fWhip only groaned and cupped his hands over their ears to block the noise. He was way too sober for this, party etiquette be damned. If they were forced to be here, at least let them get hammered before the sun fully set.  

They lost track of time fairly easily now that the world was blocked out and no one was coming to bother them at every turn. They were kind of hoping they'd sit out here all night until it was socially acceptable to go home when footsteps interrupted their train of thought. He sighed. He really couldn't catch a break, could they?

A light tap of their shoulder both surprised and confused him. This was definitely not the ordinary civilian if they just walked up and touched an emperor like this. 

They raised their head suspiciously and spotted the blonde hair and fins he'd grown oh-so familiar with recently. Jimmy tilted his head as they made eye contact, a soft smile growing on his lips. "You gonna come out from your ball, or are you gonna spend some time with me?"

fWhip hummed in thought for a moment. "Dunno. My ball sounds pretty nice right now."

The cod scoffed before both men burst into giggles. fWhip unfurled and stretched, wincing as his bones cracked and popped back into place. "Ugh- parties," the winged complained. 

Jimmy nodded with an expression that said he'd felt the same way more than enough times. "I feel you there," he sighed. 

fWhip cracked a smile and finally took in Jim's appearance... All of Jim's appearance.

Jimmy was wearing a dress. Jimmy was wearing a dress- the Count's face flushed a shade almost as red as their hair and their jaw basically hit the floor. Goddess, this man was going to be the death of him.

The dress wasn't even distasteful or indecent- in fact, it was rather stunning. It was a long and flowy sundress, flattering his long legs nicely. It was mostly a vibrant green, but had gold detailing that made the whole thing feel elegant with its intricate patterning and loose, translucent sleeves. 

The sound of Jimmy's snickering snapped them from his trance. "fWhip?"

The man jumped, shaking his head almost as if he was trying to shake the thoughts from their skull. "Uh- what?"

"Is something the matter?" The Codfather inquired.

fWhip stuttered a bit. "Yeah, of course something's wrong!" They huffed in exasperation, "You look gorgeous!"

Now it was Jim's turn to blush as he turned away and covered his face with his hands, stammering and blubbering the whole time. "Well- that's one way to compliment someone, I guess," he grumbled lightly. 

fWhip rolled their eyes as they stood up and let their hands rest comfortably on Jimmy's hips, leaning back to gawk a bit longer. "You know what I meant, dummy. I've just... never seen you in a dress before." They paused for a second. "It's a nice change."

"Why, thank you, Count," the fish teased. fWhip only rolled his eyes, the smile creeping onto his face betraying the aloof persona he was failing at putting on. "I thought it would be nice for the start of spring. Helps with the heat, y'know?"

“And here I thought you liked the heat,” fWhip chuckled as they bumped their nose against Jimmy’s.

Jim rolled his eyes fondly. “Yeah, doesn’t mean I like to sweat, though. ‘Specially at a party.”

“I could make you sweat in another way,” fWhip grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at his partner. Jimmy flushed and pushed their face away, causing a mischievous cackle to escape from his throat.

“I’m breaking up with you,” The Codfather deadpanned.

That earned a squawk from the other man and a round of bickering that led into the night. They spent most of the party hiding away from the public, only dropping in to not seem suspicious and to attend enough since this event technically was for them. Eventually, the people did trickle out, and the staff made their rounds to wrap it up. The two found themselves back in the garden, lying amongst the flowers and chatting about nothing. 

A comfortable silence had fallen between them. fWhip had taken to picking at the grass near his head- a bad habit. He always needed something to do with his hands or he’d go mad with restlessness. As he mindlessly tore up House Blossom’s carefully planned and put-together lawn, he let his eyes wander over to the man at their side. 

Jimmy was a sight to behold with his long hair sprawling out across the grass, framed by flowers and his dress fluttering slightly in the breeze. He looked rather… feminine, which fWhip found that they liked, surprisingly. 

The cod rolled onto his side as fWhip opened their mouth to speak, “So, what’s with the change?”

Their response was a puzzled look. “What change?”

The redhead shrugged as best they could while laying down. “Just- you haven’t told me of any desire for feminine things before, and I didn’t think you liked that sort of style anyway.” fWhip’s implication was clear. Jimmy’d never been one for anything delicate or graceful, much preferring the more masculine dress of most Codfolk. Thick pants, long boots, and tunics are what you’d likely find the Codfather adorned in. It was practical for the mud and slime of the Codlands, but also a personal choice. Jim had told them of the years of living in Pixandria that he’d felt pressured to dress a certain way, not yet knowing he was a man. Not out of malice, but more out of societal norm. He’d hated it, basically doing anything in his power afterward to be perceived as a man from any and every angle. 

The blonde hummed thoughtfully as he drummed his webbed fingers on his stomach. “‘Dunno. I guess… I guess I just feel more comfortable now?”

fWhip hummed as a sign for Jimmy to continue. 

“I think that I’m more comfortable in the way people see me now. Like,” the man paused to gather his words, “now that I’m the Codfather and I’ve established myself in the public’s eye, I don’t feel so… pressured? Anymore?” He grimaced in his poor explanation. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m comfortable in the way I present- how I choose to present now.”

fWhip chuckled. “I get that.” And really, he did. They’d finally scrubbed their birth name from all Grimlands records only recently, and their citizens seemed to be calling him “Countess” less and less as the days went on- so they understood Jim’s sentiment. Void, he’d only just tried nail polish for the first time last week! So, yeah, he was well-versed in overcompensating masculinity. “It’s like you run away as far as possible from the feminine side of yourself and then approach it slowly from the other side, right?”

“Exactly!” Jimmy exclaimed, sitting up and leaning closer to fWhip with a wondrous grin. “That’s such a good way to say it.”

The Count smirked. “What can I say? I’m just so great with words.”

They yelped when Jimmy’s finger collided with their face as he flicked them, giggling. “Don’t take it too well, your head’s already big enough.”

fWhip playfully grumbled a bit, but ultimately shut up. “Well, I think you look ravishing,” he teased. “And I’d love to ravish you-”

“STOP.”

[princessprettyprivilege]

Princess Sere’s Ground Resolutions for 2023

Hey, I really miss my blog and I haven’t been as active as I wished to at all. I changed my MOTHERFREAKING MAJOR!!! to AgBusiness from logistics because it bore me and I would’ve regretted graduating with a degree I hated not knowing what could’ve been, so my graduation year was moved up a semester which doesn’t bother me too much.

I discovered I really love fruit plants and I’d love to own my own orchard. Also, I took on a full time job that’s nights only and I’ll have a full class load in the spring. At least it’s in what I’ll enjoy, right?

Anyways, my goal for this blog has always been to help myself and you all benefit from your feminine and pretty privilege, not to become a pity party or venting sessions. There’s over 7,000 of you all, and we’re all in different stages of level up.

It’s unfair to me, yourself and others leveling up if we’re constantly reading depressive sh!t. It’s not healthy, period. We both feel depressed instead of inspired, which is what we both didn’t come for. I’m not a robot you can vent to.

I’m trying to reciprocate the same energy you want, but depression I just can’t do or make posts about anymore. It eats at my creativity, energy and motivation for my blog, and brings me down to your level, plus makes me not want to look at my blog.

I’m purging this energy right now.

My page is for princesses looking to become hot ass bitches that get whatever they want in life just by being pretty and not sad bitches who tie the skeletons out of their closets to their wrists.

Don’t ask me obvious questions that you can find online, through your question or through another source that has more emotional energy to share. Stick to the topics at hand. I don’t know anything about car brands to recommend, what colors you should wear or clothing to wear to what places because I’m only going to direct you to my Pinterest pages. I can only answer for my personal style. The car brand question isn’t against the asker who sent it into my inbox, I just don’t have enough experience to recommend you a multitude of cars since I’ve driven basic ass cars.

If you come with a problem with my posts or me, at least provide solutions or a suggestion. Don’t yell in an empty room. Yawn.

We’re here to level up, lift up others and inspire each other. Keep your baggage to a minimum and ask it privately. I’ll ask you for your real username to send you what I think, to keep leveled down things out of the airwaves, and honestly, I can’t stand looking at leveled down content either. I don’t want to co-sign that anymore. We reciprocate the same energy we want to feel.

High standard energy only. You’re allowed to have a drab day, but leave it outside of my blog. Don’t feel forced to overshare your business either unless we want to get to know each other.

High maintenance habits only.

30 days of forcefully emulating my dream woman. I now have the capital to support my dream, high maintenance woman.

Embody your definition of Luxury, and become It.

[entropical-punch]

Winterkill

I know I haven’t posted in a while, but I found this piece in my drafts and figured I’d stop worrying about it and just let y’all read it. I might go back and finish it at some point, but who knows. Regardless, enjoy!

Warnings: Stalking, non/con, implied kidnapping, threats of and actual violence.

Your side had been losing for a while now.

It was stupid to go up against the Tsaritsa anyway, but your people had hope. Your little outcrop of adventurers, with more spirit than supplies, had barely stepped foot in Szneznaya before the Fatui were on to you. The plan was to sneak across the border, destroy a base or two, and leave, only coming back to do it again once the coast was clear. Of course, the coast was never going to be clear. 

Some of your companions fell to frostbite. Others were captured by the Fatui, too slow to escape their clutches. Your last friend left the camp to hunt for food, and they never came back. If they screamed out for help, or let out a wail of anguish, you would not have been able to hear it over the roar of the wind, the sting of the snow.

Now, it was just you, and as you stared into the pitiful dregs of your fire, fighting as hard as you were to stay alive, the last one of your group, you could barely hold onto hope.

You were about to drift into an anxious sleep when you heard something behind you. A twig snapped, or a flask dropped, whatever it was didn’t matter.  Something had made an impact in the snow despite the blanket of quietness it cast around you. 

That something was a tall, imposing figure, his blank blue eyes and red hair looking all too familiar to you. Here was the eleventh Harbinger, standing before you, dwarfing your shivering form.

"I've been following you and your little militia for days now. I'm surprised any of you lasted this long, but I'm glad you're the last one left. You've been my favorite to watch." His smile curled upwards, tongue darting out to lick a spot of blood on the edge of his mouth.

Your hand is desperate to curl around the hilt of your sword. You shift from looking at him to your bag, wondering if you could possibly grab something, anything, to defend yourself from this man.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you, buddy."

You looked back up at him, only to find the head of an arrow pointed right at your face, notched and a single movement away from ending everything. 

"You look terrified. Oh, I'm so jealous of whatever agents got to your group first. They must've had a lot of fun leading the welcome party, huh?"

Arrow still aimed at you, he crouches down.

"Truth be told, I was only a few steps behind them. Your group looked interesting, might even put up a halfway-decent fight. And then a couple of you fell, but you didn't. I could practically smell the anger radiating off of you, how excited you were to fight for what you believed in. And then you and your party retreated! You ran away! And, well, I couldn't just let you go like that. So, I've been tracking you all for a while, waiting for my chance to really get to know you. And then, your last companion walked away, and, well, let's just say they won't be coming back."

It's this moment when you where the blood on the edge of his mouth came from, what was crusting the tip of the arrow too close to your eyes.

You can barely choke out your question.

"Why are you doing this?"

His eyes widen a little.

"You're trying to overthrow the Tsaritsa, and you didn’t think I was just going to leave it alone, did you? It’s my job,” he said, putting down his bow and leaning towards you, his face close enough for you to get a hit in, but his dull stare had you paralyzed. "Try to make this fun for me, okay?” He lunges towards you, pushing you into the freezing cold below.

His breath comes out in quick, heavy pants, falling on your throat and making your skin heat up. 

“You put up such a fight,” he said, tongue ghosted over your jugular, his canines coming dangerously close to ripping you open, blood staining the snow below you scarlet.

Maybe that’s what he wanted. If he had been hunting you down for as long as he said, he’s been waiting for you. Humans are endurance hunters, after all.

“Can’t believe I finally caught you,” disbelief and yearning combining into one sentence that made your heart beat faster. His hands gripped at your jacket, ripping open the seams and yanking it down, biting down hard on your exposed shoulder. 

You hold back a cry, not wanting him to know how humiliated you felt under him.

“Aw, that’s no fun,” he murmured. “I wanna hear you scream. You know there’s no one around to hear you.”

He wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed. 

Black dots danced at the edge of your vision, mouth hanging open in a desperate attempt to suck in as much air as you could. He was pressing hard enough to crush your windpipe.

Just when you felt yourself on the brink of passing out, he took his hand away, watching you gasp and sputter.

When you finally caught your breath, he was still looking at you, his smile too big for his face. His hand came down to his crotch, where you could see his cock straining the front of his pants. As he pulled down his zipper, you wanted to back away, grab whatever you could and run.

But you couldn't. Who knows how badly he would've squeezed you if you tried. You had been too consumed with your feeble plans of escape that you didn't notice he had taken the hunting knife from your friend and was now holding it dangerously close to the space between your legs. You didn't even get a chance to beg before he took the knife to the rest of your clothes, effortlessly shredding through wool and cotton to expose you to the frigid air.

"I think it's time I take my prize, yeah?" He said, lining himself up with your entrance.

He thrust himself in and moved wildly, in an uncoordinated rhythm highlighted by his ragged breathing, every exhale putting an uncomfortable heat on your throat.

You stayed silent, despite the torture.

"I said I wanted to hear you scream." He stopped moving, pulling away to look at you.

He grabbed the knife again. 

"Let me explain. If you scream out who's taking you right now, if you call me by my title, I won't cut you open like prey and leaves your guts for the scavengers. You know who I am, right?"

You nod, saying, “You’re, you’re, Tartaglia.”

“Damn right,” he huffed, moving faster and faster inside of you, hands gripping and bruising your skin. “You feel so good, too good to leave behind.”

You tense up as he finishes, standing back up to readjust his clothes.

“Get dresses, soldier. You’re my personal Fatui agent now, and there’s a lot I’ll need you to do.”

[cthulhu-calling]

Girl Crush

Natasha Romanoff x female!Reader

Summary : Tony and Pepper's engagement party was supposed to be an opportunity for Natasha to finally see you after a year and talk to you, make amends for what she did. That's until you walk in with someone else.

Warnings : angst, cheating, moving on

Author's Note : Reader has no specified race or body type. I considered making reader get with Wanda but it didn't make a lot of sense to me, honestly. This fic was inspired by the song "Girl Crush" by Little Big Town and I know that song isn't gay but I made it gay anyway. Hope you enjoy :))

Word Count : 1135

At first glance, Natasha would never have guessed that she came with you. She never would’ve pegged the leggy blonde to be your type. Tall, almost as tall as Steve, long blonde hair and perfectly tanned skin, she was everything Natasha was not. Natasha prided herself on being extremely confident in her looks but looking at the woman, currently laughing and joking with Sam, one hand clutching a champagne flute, the other holding onto yours, she had to admit, she feels insecure. She can see the way you look at her, the adoration and love for the willowy woman evident in your eyes and Natasha feels the familiar sting of envy, the fire that rages in her heart threatening to burn this place down. 

Natasha is aware that she has no right to feel this way. She broke up with you. She was the one who called it quits when things got too serious, walking away and leaving you with a broken heart. She hadn’t seen you for months after that. You moved out of the compound, somewhere in the city, close enough that you could get there at a moment's notice but still far enough that you wouldn’t be reminded of Natasha. Now, after almost a year (11 months and 24 days to be precise) later, here you were, waltzing into the party with the statuesque woman on your arm. She knew you would be there, it was Tony’s engagement party and owing to how close you and Tony were, you wouldn’t have missed it for the world. 

At first, Natasha had been glad. Out of sight out of mind, right? Wrong. Ever since you left, there was a weight of sorts that seemed to have taken permanent residence on her heart. When she broke up with you, she didn’t expect that she wouldn't see you again for almost a year. The first two months were misery, waking up every morning and not seeing you in bed or around the compound. The next three months was realising her mistake, calling your number again and again only to be sent straight to voicemail. You’d blocked her. She left you messages and voicemail anyway. She tried asking Tony and Sam where you’d gone, considering they were the closest to you but their lips too were sealed. They wouldn’t tell her anything, not after what she did to you. So, the last six months were spent wallowing in self pity, a bottle of vodka her only companion. 

But now, here you were. Standing with your new girlfriend and your best friend on the other side of the room, completely oblivious to Natasha’s anguish. All she could do now was to find you alone, even if for a moment. She needed to talk to you, to hear your voice. As if on cue, you excused yourself from the conversation you were having with Sam, making your way to the restrooms. This was her moment, it was now or never. 

*

You excused yourself from the conversation, untangling your fingers from Mina’s as you made your way towards your old room. The corridors reminded you of nothing but her betrayal. When you caught her in bed with some random woman, one night after a tiring mission. The way she shrugged off her mistake, not even bothering to follow as you ran out the door. You hated the fact that all the happy memories you had of living here had been overshadowed by Natasha’s betrayal. It was for the best that you moved out when you did. It helped you put things into perspective. It helped you meet Mina, someone you never had to walk around eggshells with, someone who never made you doubt her love for you. Lost in the tidal wave of bittersweet memories, you don’t hear Natasha follow you. You’re jerked out of your thoughts by a hand latching onto your wrist, a touch you know by heart. You turn around to find a pair of mesmerising green eyes that once awoke a myriad of emotions in you but now, all you felt was anger. You pull your hand away as if her touch might burn you, your features morphing into a look of disgust. “What do you want,” you almost hiss. She swallows “Can we talk?” 

You roll your eyes, ready to walk away when she grabs into your arm again, letting it go as if realising her mistake. 

“I’m sorry but please, just five minutes, that’s all I want,” she pleads and you give in, stiffly nodding your head for her to lead the way. She walks into her room, sitting on her bed as you lean on the wall, facing her. You made sure to leave the door open, not wanting to be in a closed room alone with her. 

A few minutes pass in silence and you sigh audibly. “Are you going to say something or can I leave?”

“No, please stay. I just need to figure out how to say this,” she breathes out harshly before continuing. 

“I want to start by saying how sorry I am. How I handled things was wrong,” she pauses for effect but you’re swift to interrupt her.

“How you handled things? You cheated on me and asked me not to come back unless it was to get my shit over text. Wrong is the understatement of the century,” you’re raging, palms curled into fists at your side. 

“No, please, just listen to me,” she begs as she gets on her knees and moves towards you.

“No, this was a mistake. We should get back to the party. This is Tony and Pepper’s day and I’d much rather be there for them then whatever this is,” you scoff, turning to walk away when Natasha wraps her arms around your hips and pulls you close, still on her knees. She rests her head against your stomach, openly sobbing.

“Please, just take me back. I’ll do anything,” she pleads, looking up at you with tear filled eyes, her lips parted in bated breath as she waits for you to say something.

You push her away a final time as her arms fall away from around you.

“No. I can’t trust you again. I won't,” you say and a sense of finality rings in Natasha’s ears. You leave her there, going back to your girlfriend, the girlfriend who’s name she didn’t even care to learn. 

When she finally makes it back to the party an hour later, she sees you in the corner with her, whispering and giggling with each other. The woman  is leaning against the wall, holding you close with an arm around your waist as you play with her shirt buttons. She watches you in your own private little bubble and god does she wish she was her. 

[mycurrent-hyperfixation]

Take A Chance On Me - Chapter Nine (Eddie Munson x Reader Series)

Series Summary: Corroded Coffin is lacking only one thing that could help them win the upcoming Battle of the Bands; original songs. So when a new band comes to town with a lead singer that looks all too familiar and a repertoire of original songs up their sleeves, Dustin concocts a plan that will get you to spill all of your songwriting secrets to Eddie. It’s just a few dates, right?

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Masterlist

Word Count: 6.6K

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader, Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, 10 Things I Hate About You AU

A/N: Yes the angst his here. To be honest I've kind of liked writing it way more than I thought I would. Thank you all for the kind comments that were left on last weeks chapter. They all made my heart very warm 🥰. This series will be coming to an end soon and honestly I don't actually know how it's going to end yet which is kind of freaking me out. But alas I'm sure I will think of something. Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter. Also, I do know that one of the songs I used is by an artist that's problematic, so just know that I don't support them. Again, the songs I choose are purely used for their lyrics. As always, I love you all x

You had told yourself that you wouldn’t watch his set.

After all, you could not quite stand the thought of listening to that song again; the same one that you had helped him write, the same song Eddie had played for you that night in his trailer when the air had been thick and your bodies had been so very close. It had been hard enough seeing him in the confines of the green room, his large eyes so very sad as they quite unsubtly snuck glances towards you every few seconds. But you had not looked back, partly because the sight of the sadness that lingered behind his eyes was hard enough in itself to face, and partly because the sight of that sadness made your blood boil.

What right did Eddie Munson have to be sad? It was him that had done this all, him that had concocted the whole deception, him who had lied and toyed with your feelings even after you had spilled the pains of your past to him. It was him who had been notably absent during the entirety of the past week, him who was still yet to apologise. That sadness was likely just another act, another deception to try and regain your trust once more, and so you would not engage with it; would not engage with him.

And yet it was as if your legs were moving of their own volition as you followed your friends out from the green room and down towards the crowd, Robin turning back to look at you periodically with a concerned expression. It was tiring being the attention of so many pitying looks. So you kept your head held high and your posture rigid even though your hands were shaking by your sides.

“I can wait backstage with you if you don’t want to be alone,” she turned to whisper to you, a reassuring smile spreading across her lips.

“I’ll be fine,” you lied.

The crowd was so densely compact and alarmingly large that none of you even tried to penetrate past the safety of the back wall. At the sight of the stage lights brightening and of the figures of Corroded Coffin beginning to make their way on stage, the crowd erupted in a deafening scream.

Eddie, who normally revelled in such attention, kept his head resolutely down, his gaze never wavering from the floor. His movements were fluid and practiced as he set up—connecting his guitar to the amplifier, readjusting the height of the microphone—and yet each action was done without his usual confident smile out towards the crowd.  

When Eddie turned back one last time to offer each of his bandmates a curt nod, there was the beginnings of his smile as he looked out at the crowd. But this one was different; it was less wide and less genuine and less Eddie so that the sight of it made something hurt inside of you. You turned your gaze away.

“Shall we get this party started?” Eddie called into the microphone, the crowd immediately responding with a round of deafening cheers. Although his smile was different, his voice was just the same; just as confident and teasing and flirtatious as always.  

“This song is dedicated to a girl.” 

You couldn’t quite seem to help yourself as you flicked your gaze back up to Eddie on the stage. He was staring right at you now, somehow having still found you in the enormity of the crowd. And if there was maybe a glint of surprise lingering behind his eyes at your unexpected presence within the audience, you chose to ignore it.

“A girl that I royally screwed things up with.” He said it straight towards you. He said it as if it were only the two of you in the room.

You could feel as Robin turned to look at you, that same concerned expression returning to her features once more. But it was as if, now that Eddie had caught your gaze, he would not let it go as you found yourself transfixed by his stare.

“I thought all my song-writing troubles would go away if I found a teacher. But it turns out that all I ever needed was a muse.”

Whatever small smile Eddie had forced onto his features was long since gone now as he continued to stare down at you. The sadness behind his eyes was so very clear that you were sure the rest of the crowd must have noticed it too. It made you want to cry. It made you want to climb up onto that stage and smash Eddie’s guitar into little pieces. But mainly, it made you want to run, for it made you remember all of the feelings and the emotions and the happiness that you had felt whenever you were in the presence of Eddie Munson, and that thought was too much to bear.  

“And she is the most perfect muse a man could ever ask for.” 

You turned your gaze abruptly towards the ground, hoping that Eddie could not see the tear that had escaped the confines of your eye as it rolled down your cheek. You were waiting for it now; the beginnings of the song that Eddie had played for you in his trailer, and the thought of it made all of your anger and all of your resentment return all at once. In that moment you so wished you hadn’t come, you so wished you had just stayed in the green room like you had told yourself you would. Because you knew that hearing those words that you had helped Eddie write would only break your heart more. It would solidify it all; solidify his betrayal, solidify the fact that everything that you had thought to be so wonderful between the two of you had simply been an act.

“This one’s called Nicotine.” 

You couldn’t quite help the fluttering of your heart or the quickening of your breath.  

Because although the beginnings of the song were fast and loud and just as electrifying as one would expect, and although you had only heard the song with the accompaniment of Eddie’s guitar, now with the bass and the drums intermingled, one thing was still abundantly clear. 

He hadn’t used it. 

Eddie Munson had asked for your help to finish his song—or rather, you had insisted your help upon him before you had known the truth of it all. A song that was funny and fast and wholeheartedly Eddie. A song that was irrefutably good. So good that it would have undoubtedly scored him high among the judges.  

Yet he hadn’t used it. 

And you couldn’t quite figure out why. 

Instead, he had written a whole new song; one that would have taken hours for the band to learn and perfect, one that was unnecessary since the other song had been finished. So in the end you could do nothing other than stare up at Eddie as the song began, altogether quite shocked and altogether quite sure that your features showed this. You could do nothing other than listen. Because then, just as the first verse was about to start, the loudness of the song ceased. 

And then it was just Eddie. 

“Cross my heart and hope to die 

Burn my lungs and curse my eyes.”

His voice reverberated around the hall, reverberated in your head, and then, somehow, reverberated in your heart. It was captivating, seeing this version of him, his voice so raw and clear as it rang out across the hall. He had listened to you, you realised. He had listened to your offhanded comment that you had said back at his trailer, back at the night when everything had been perfect. And where once this thought would have brought a wide smile to your face, now it only had another tear escaping from your eye.

“I’ve lost control and I don’t want it back 

I’m going numb, I’ve been hijacked 

It’s a fucking drag.”

The rest of the band joined back in, and yet although the song was just as loud and electrifying and intense as you had been expecting it to be, now it was almost as if Eddie’s voice floated above it all. He wasn’t cowering behind the noise anymore, and for just a moment you wholeheartedly wished that you could go back to that night within Eddie’s trailer and kick yourself before you gave him the compliment. For his voice was just as captivating and hypnotizing as it had been when he had sung into the silence of the trailer, and you were positive that the judges would think the same.  

“I taste you on my lips and I can't get rid of you

So I say damn your kiss and the awful things you do

Yeah, you're worse than nicotine, nicotine”

You turned your gaze to the floor, unable to face those dark brown eyes any longer; not when they still possessed that sadness behind them, the sadness that didn’t deserve to be there. He had hurt you. He was the one that had lied. He was the one who made you believe that everything between the two of you had been real, that everything between the two of you had been so stupidly perfect. And yet still there were the beginnings of your own sadness that made you want to hold Eddie, that made you want to cup his face within your hands and wrap your arms around him until the familiar gleam in his eyes returned.  

It wasn’t fair.

“We should head back now. We’re up next,” Robin leaned down to say to you.

You were sure that she had seen your wayward tears and you were sure that her sentiments likely came from a place of pity. And yet you were so grateful that she had not mentioned it all. You were so grateful that she had given you an out without making you admit the existence of all the pain you were feeling welling up in your chest.  

So you nodded back, altogether quite sure that you would burst out crying should you attempt to speak, and followed Robin and the rest of the girls back to the green room. It was quiet when you returned, the room empty, so that you found yourself inhaling deeply. You grabbed your guitar from its casing, revelling in the familiar feel of it under your fingers, the weight of it oddly comforting as you held it against your chest.

When the four of you had collected your instruments, Vicki twirling her drumsticks absentmindedly between her fingers, you each made your way to the wings. The last remaining remnants of Eddie’s song filtered out towards you, and you tried to ignore the way the crowd erupted in a cheer so loud that it was practically deafening even from backstage.

But then, suddenly it was as if the noise of the crowd disappeared all at once. Because now Eddie Munson was standing before you, and even though Jeff and Gareth and Mike had continued to walk past you on their way to the green room, Eddie only lingered. He opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it, and then opened it again, but no sound came out. In the end, the stage manager spoke before he could, motioning for your band to begin making their way on stage. Eddie ran one hand through his hair frustratingly and made to leave. You turned away from him to face the stage.

You weren’t too sure why you did it. Strumming the strings of your guitar one last time before heading on stage had never been a pre-show ritual for you, and yet somehow you thought maybe it would ground you if you heard the familiar sound of each string. In the end you were right; strumming your guitar brought all of the noise rushing back towards you, but only because you were met with the most horrific series of notes.  

Everyone stopped what they were doing. Meg, Vicki and Robin instantly turned back around to look at you. Eddie stopped in his tracks. Even the stage manager had the decency to look shocked.  

Because your guitar was out of tune. So violently out of tune that the sheer wrongness of each note that vibrated from each string seemed to echo around you relentlessly. You stilled completely at the sound, not quite believing what you were hearing as you reached down and slowly ran your fingers across each string once more. The same sinful notes sounded again, and you couldn’t quite help from cringing at each one.

“I thought you tuned it,” Robin said, clearly beginning to panic.

“I saw you tune it,” Meg offered.

“I did tune it,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper as you realized that there was a very real possibility that you might be going into shock.  

You looked up as a flash of movement passed you, your gaze coming to lock onto a smile that was dripping with cockiness, the boy offering you a taunting wave before he entered the green room. It was as if all of you came to the same realization at once as the boy disappeared from sight. Meg audibly growled from beside you, Robin threw her hands up to cradle her head and let out a loud groan, and Eddie, who had not moved an inch since you had plucked that first wrong note, somehow stiffened even further.  

And although you wanted nothing more than to follow that boy into the green room and connect your fist with his stupid smirk. Although you wanted nothing more than to repeatedly kick him in the groan until he was incapable of ever reproducing, you remained where you were.  

Because there was simply no time.

It was clear the crowd was already starting to grow impatient from the loud murmurs of conversation that had started up again, and yet the guitar in your hands was still wildly out of tune. So you ignored it all—Meg’s ferocious demeanor, Robin’s continued freaking out, Eddie’s laboured breathing—as you brought the strings of your guitar closer to your ear and began hastily turning the tuning pegs.  

“You need to get on stage,” the stage manager spoke, ushering you forwards.  

The panic began to set in just as you were about to emerge onto the stage, your fingers starting to sweat so that they began to slip from the pegs. You felt like groaning loudly in frustration  You felt like picking up your guitar and smashing it repeatedly down onto the ground. But you only continued to work, your movements frantic now.  

But then there was the gentle touch of a hand upon your shoulder, the action hesitant so that at first you barely registered it. You turned around, bringing your guitar with you as you continued to tune it, to find Eddie staring intently back. He opened his mouth again as if to speak before closing it hastily, and just as you were about to turn away with a roll of your eyes, thoroughly unwilling and unable to deal with whatever it was that Eddie was trying to do within that moment, he outstretched his arm towards you.  

His arm that was tightly grasping the neck of his guitar.  

You looked down towards it, the red and black print so very familiar, and then looked back up towards Eddie. 

“No,” you instantly said. 

“Yes,” he responded. 

“I can’t take that,” you tried again. 

“You have to.” 

You knew he was right, knew that this was the best option that you were going to get within that moment. And yet still you hesitated. Because Eddie had whisked his guitar away from you as quickly as he could back at his trailer. Because Eddie hadn’t even allowed you to touch it. And yet here he was, offering it to you without a second thought. 

“Take it,” he emphasised, and before you could even make the decision to do so your hand was outstretching before you and your fingers were grasping the guitar. It felt heavy in your hands, heavier than it should have and you couldn’t quite tell whether that was just because of its weight.  

But as you pulled it towards yourself, Eddie’s hand still lingered within the air, and for just a moment you thought he had changed his mind. But then he turned his palm slightly more upwards and you realised what he was doing. Swiftly, you pulled your own guitar from around your shoulders and passed it to him, unable to tell whether it was intentional or not when Eddie’s fingers brushed lightly against your own in the transfer. The touch was gentle, delicate, barely there at all, and you found yourself having to physically turn away from him to compose yourself once more. The rest of your band was looking at you expectantly.  

“What are we waiting for?” you questioned, and then the four of you were scrambling to get on stage.  

Maybe it was merely all in your head, but as you emerged onto the stage you could have sworn the crowd cheered less enthusiastically than they normally did. It was most likely only a product of their impatience, and yet you couldn’t quite seem to stop the twisting of your stomach as your nerves returned all at once. 

 

--- 

 

When Eddie finally managed to make his way down into the crowd you were adjusting the microphone stand hastily, plugging his guitar swiftly into the amplifier clearly as a means to make up for lost time. With a quick turn of your head and a nod to each of your bandmates, you pressed your lips up to the microphone. 

“Sorry for the wait, everyone. Technical difficulties are always a bitch.” 

Eddie couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. 

The crowd responded well to your apology, cheering loudly. And although the crowd was huge—most likely the biggest one yet—your gaze still found his. Eddie offered you a soft smile, and although he was unsure whether you could see it or not, it still hurt when you turned your gaze away.  

“The song that we’ve got for you today is dedicated to all the assholes around the world. Because heartbreak is painful, but betrayal is worse.” 

You were refusing to look at him now, Eddie was quite sure, as he tried to catch your gaze once more, your eyes apparently firmly fixated on anywhere but him. Eddie could feel his heart breaking in two so that for just a moment he had to close his eyes. 

“This one’s called Songs I Can’t Listen To.” 

Eddie had fantasised about you more times than he could count, each one lovely and breath-taking and only sometimes sexual. But this image of you now playing his guitar upon the stage was somehow more breathtaking than anything Eddie had ever concocted in the depths of his mind. For just a moment, he couldn’t seem to breath, far too enraptured by the sight of your fingers dancing over each string to fathom doing anything else, no matter how essential the action was to his survival. So he stood there, completely motionless for the entirety of the opening of the song, seemingly unable to bring himself to care about the burning in his lungs.

There was something stirring within him now, something practically animalistic as he watched you play his guitar. It brought images to his mind; images of clothes thrown haphazardly on the floor, teeth clashing against another’s, the squeaking of a bedframe. But Eddie buried the thoughts knowing that he did not get to think of you in such a way. Not after what he had done.

The song was electric, far more fast paced and louder than he was used to hearing from your original songs, and yet just as good. Your face was concentrated as you played, your gaze unwavering from the guitar in your hands just as Eddie’s gaze was unwavering from you. And then your lips were returning to the microphone once more and Eddie’s breath, which he had only just managed to get back, hitched within his throat. 

“There’s a song that I love that you once played for me 

It had all the right chords and a sweet melody.” 

Eddie knew immediately just what you were referring to; the song that the two of you had finished together. In truth, it was his favourite of all the songs he had written, and yet although he had so desperately wanted to perform it here in front of this crowd, he knew that he could not. However small your contribution had been, the song was still a creation of the both of you, and so he would not use it in a competition where you were essentially his rival.

“It was back when we started, when there was mystery

Now they’ve all been erased on my music machine.”

The boys had been furious when he told them they were scrapping the song, and he didn’t blame them for it. He had taken all of their anger and their annoyance and their protests because he knew that he had deserved it. And then he had spent days learning the new song with them, practicing until his fingers felt almost as if they were about to fall off and then practicing some more.

But, in truth, Eddie would have done it over and over again if it meant that you might hate him just a little bit less. He had seen the slight look of surprise flash across your features when he had begun to play—the expression momentarily masking the hatred that now shone through your eyes whenever you looked upon him—and he had revelled in the sight of it.  

“And it’s all because of you 

I’ve got a list of songs I can’t listen to 

And it’s all because we’re through 

I’ve got a list of songs I can’t listen to.”

Eddie felt his breath still once more when your gaze finally returned to his, your fingers never faltering in their movements as they moved across his guitar. Your eyes were captivating, entrancing, hypnotizing in such a way that Eddie knew he would not be able to turn away from them. There was the gleam of hatred somewhere in their depths, but maybe it was just a little bit less fierce than it had been when he had first seen you again in the green room, although Eddie thought it likely only a figment of his imagination.

But there was something else now alongside the hatred, something that Eddie had seen only once before when you had stood before him in the silence of the Hideout as your notebook had been tightly held in his hands. It was sadness, so distinct and clear that Eddie almost turned his head away to hide from it.

“And do you still sing along when you're all by yourself

Or do you switch to the next one, sing for somebody else

When you're cold don't forget how the song kept us warm

We would dance ‘till sunset, I would lay in your arms.”

In that moment, Eddie could quite literally feel his heart breaking. It had cracked, he was sure, maybe not all the way, but definitely a significant amount as if he was some character in a cartoon. Because your words made him remember that night; how very perfect it had all been as you had swayed with him to the voice of Billy Joel, how you had rested your head upon his chest, how he had held you against him. He remembered how the two of you had spilled your hearts to each other, how you had so tentatively reached out to hold his hand when he had needed you most, how your presence was so oddly comforting that it felt like the easiest thing in the world to talk with you. And then he remembered your face inching closer to his, your breath across his cheek, and then, finally, your lips against his own. The kiss had been better than Eddie ever could have imagined; it was better than any single one of his multitude of fantasies. Because this was real; you were so very real against him that it had almost felt like a dream.

“And I wish the music didn't play forever

'Cause I'm feeling like a broken record

And I wish the music didn't play forever

'Cause I'm feeling like a broken record.”

Suddenly, Eddie felt almost like crying.

He had done this, he knew. He had been the one to think of the original plan in the first place, and whilst it might have gotten a bit out of hand due to Dustin’s wild imagination, Eddie was the only one to blame. He had been the one to agree to it all, he had been the center of the deceit. And whilst every smile and every laugh and every emotion he had felt with you had all been real, he had still betrayed you, he had still clung onto every passing comment you had made about songwriting and had utilised it within his writing.

The thought sickened him.

---

Your heart was pumping as you practically ran off stage, a strange concoction of emotions swirling through you as you tried desperately to catch your breath. All at once you felt like crying, screaming, laughing, and a little bit like throwing up, for on the one hand you had just showcased what lied in the very depths of your heart to an audience of people, and on the other hand that audience of people had cheered and screamed back louder than they ever had before.

“That was insane,” Robin cried as the four of you walked away from the wings and towards the green room.  

“They were screaming so loud I could barely hear myself,” Meg said, and although her tone was annoyed, there was the slightest upward curve of her lips that betrayed her.

For just a moment, as the four of you laughed into the silence of the hallway, things were nice. Things were so very nice that it was easy to forget about everything; about the heartbreak and the betrayal and the pain of it all. So that was how you found yourself eventually entering the green room; with a smile plastered onto your features and with a laugh spilling from your lips.  

However, at the sight of Eddie Munson standing within the room, everything returned all at once, and your smile and your laughter fell away. Eddie looked remarkably uncomfortable as he continued to look at you, a shell of his usual boisterous self as he brought one hand up to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly, his tall form slouched slightly. The air had turned awkward now as the rest of the girls noticed his presence, quite unsure how to act in the situation.  

“You guys were great,” Eddie eventually said.

“We know,” Vicki responded.

In truth, you had forgotten all about Eddie’s guitar as it hung lazily from your shoulders, too busy reveling in the pump of endorphins that flowed through you. But now, as the adrenaline from the set slowly started to wear off, it was as if the instrument had suddenly grown heavier. You looked down towards it, instantly being reminded of its existence within your possession, and hastily tore it away from you, grabbing it by the neck and outstretching it towards Eddie.

He looked hesitant as he reached for it, almost as if he did not want to take it back. When his hands wrapped around it this time, they did so on an area of the guitar that was vastly distant from where you were clutching it so that there was no possibility of your hands brushing. You couldn’t quite tell whether the thought was touching or offensive, and so simply turned away when the instrument had been taken from your hands.  

“Y/N-” Eddie tried, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“We’re still getting milkshakes on the way home, right?” Robin instantly cut in, her voice unnecessarily loud.

“Of course,” you responded, trying to ignore the feeling of Eddie’s gaze as it lingered upon you.  

Making your way over to your guitar case, you breathed out a sigh of relief when you unclasped the locks and found your guitar resting safely inside. You had trusted Eddie to take care of it when you had hastily handed it to him in the wings, and for the entirety of your separation with your instrument you hadn’t quite been able to rid yourself of the worry surrounding the safety of it.  

You knew it was unfair.

After all, Eddie had been the one to entrust his guitar in your care first. And yet although you had wanted to trust him, although there was still part of you deep down that knew he would never have done anything to harm your guitar, now you couldn’t help but second guess it all. For whilst there had once been a time when you would have likely entrusted Eddie with your life, everything had changed.  

It was hard to know what to think now as you turned back briefly to glance at Eddie, still standing awkwardly in the room. There was a part of you that wanted to believe he was still the caring and funny and kind Eddie that you had known; the Eddie that cared for kids he didn’t need to care for; the Eddie that refused to let you walk home alone; the Eddie that had held you so delicately and gently against his chest as you had slow danced in his bedroom.  

And yet it was that same Eddie that had befriended you only as a means to win the competition, and it was that fact that stung the most.  

Eddie opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but swiftly closed it as the rest of his band made their way into the green room, all of them apparently incapable of reading the awkwardness that lingered in the air as their boisterous conversation continued.

“Those guys suck,” Gareth groaned.

“Come on, man, you have to admit they’re pretty good,” Jeff responded.

“Yeah, but they’re not good enough to have all those girls at the front screaming for them. We didn’t have girls at the front screaming for us.”

“I wonder why,” you heard Meg mumble under her breath.

“Maybe they paid them,” Mike chimed in.

After ensuring your guitar was in just as perfect a condition as it had been when you had left it, you closed the case and swung it around your shoulders. You could feel Eddie’s eyes watching you as you did so, keeping your own gaze fixated to the floor in response.

“Are you guys leaving?” It was said so softly that you found yourself surprised that you hadn’t missed it altogether. When you looked up, you found Eddie still standing just as timidly as he had been when you had entered the room.

“Why would we wait around just to watch those assholes play?” Your voice was slightly harsher than you had intended it to be, and yet you did not allow yourself to feel remorseful about it.

Before Eddie could respond, Mike’s voice filled the room.

“Does that mean we can go as well? I’m exhausted.”

Eddie hesitated for a moment before responding.

“Yeah, alright.”

Gareth and Jeff seemed just as eager to leave as they hastily made their way over to their instruments and began packing their things away. You turned your attention back to your own bandmates, silently wishing that they would hurry in their packing up so that the four of you did not get stuck with what would be a very awkward walk to the car should the boys decide to join you. Once Robin and Meg swung their own guitar cases around their shoulders, the four of you left without a backwards glance.

“Do you guys think we’ll get into the finals?” Vicki asked as you walked down the hallway.

“I definitely think we have a chance,” you responded.

“It’s hard to tell with the judges though,” Meg said. “Apparently the fan favourite last year didn’t even make it to the semi-finals.”

“Let’s not worry about it tonight,” Robin said as the four of you exited from the stage door, a brisk wind welcoming you as you stepped out into the carpark. You breathed in deeply, revelling in the silence of the space.

“Y/N,” came from behind you and you closed your eyes at the sound of the familiar voice; just as hesitant and just as defeated. Turning only slightly, you found Eddie traversing the hallway.

You pretended not to notice him as you continued on walking, maybe now with a little more haste to your step. The girls followed your lead, quickening their pace along with yours.

“I’m starving,” Robin groaned. “Are we just getting milkshakes or can we get food too-”

“Y/N,” came again.

“I could go for some food,” Meg continued.

“Maybe if we hurry the kitchen at the diner will still be open when we get there,” Vicki added.

You could hear Eddie approaching now, his long legs and quick stride gaining on you. He didn’t run, you noticed, and you thought maybe it was done in an attempt not to scare you away. But now your heart was thundering within your chest, the reality that you might finally have to stand and face Eddie Munson dawning upon you. He was close now, close enough that you could hear the slight pant in his breath, but still you did not turn to face him.

“Y/N, can we please talk?” Eddie tried again.

You whipped around.

“Now you want to talk?”

To say that Eddie was shocked would have been an understatement. He stilled where he was, arm slightly outstretched towards you as if he had been meaning to grab your wrist. His eyes went wide, his mouth opening as if to say something before closing once more. He looked almost like a startled deer, as if any sudden movement would have him sprinting away. But you were angry now, angry enough to ignore the hurt that flashed behind his eyes at your outburst.

“It’s been a week since the Hideout and you’ve been remarkably silent.”

Eddie opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again.

“I thought you wouldn’t want to see me,” he said, and his voice was so soft and so small that you felt like turning away. But you did not allow yourself to back down.

“Of course I didn’t want to see you!”

There was a slight furrow to his brow now, and in all honesty you could not blame him for it. You groaned, bringing your hands up to rub at the muscles in your face, trying to collate your thoughts into something clearer.

“You knew that you hurt me,” you said, trying to fight off the swell of tears that surged behind your eyes. “You knew that you hurt me and you did nothing. So no, we don’t need to talk, because your silence has already told me everything I need to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I know that this all meant nothing to you. That-” you hesitated, swallowing a sob. “That I meant nothing to you. That this was all part of your grand scheme which, by the way, next time you plan to fuck with someone’s emotions to win a competition, why don’t you do some research first because you can literally pay people to teach you how to write songs.”

A stray tear escaped from the confines of your eye and you could feel it as it trickled slowly down your cheek. Eddie watched it intently as it fell and you turned away, making to leave once more. But suddenly you were held in place by a hand coming to encompass your wrist. You pulled away swiftly, and although you had been expecting some resistance, Eddie’s hand slipped away instantly.

“How can you think that?” Eddie’s voice came out as barely above a whisper, and you so wished that you hadn’t turned back around to look at him. Because now there was a sheen behind his eyes, a sheen that likely mirrored your own and you could tell that he was close to tears himself.  

“You’ve given me plenty of material to get to that conclusion,” you scoffed.  

“You thought that everything between us, everything we had, was an act? What about that song then? Was that just another lie too?” Eddie was getting angry now, his voice louder and more firm, his posture straightening until he was once again restored to his natural height. It was intimidating, and yet you did not back down.

“Oh, yes, how stupid of me, the lyrics that compare me to a drug that kills thousands of people per year. The song that says I’m a fucking drag. How romantic.”

Eddie turned away, his hands flying up to rub at his eyes as he let out a groan of frustration.

“That’s not what it’s about-”  

“Well then you better fire your song-writing coach because your lyrics are very unclear. Oh wait, no, sorry, you don’t have one, do you?”

You turned to leave once more as you felt more tears slip from their imprisonment, unwilling to let Eddie see you cry. A heat flooded your face all at once as you realised that your band had been watching the whole interaction intently from only a few feet away, their looks towards you now almost entirely full of pity. And then, not far from them was Eddie’s own band having at some point emerged from the depths of the venue. They looked away when your eyes met theirs, and for that you were grateful.  

“It’s about how you fucking haunt me!”

You stilled in your escape, the sheer desperation laced behind Eddie’s voice echoing inside your mind.  

“It’s about how whenever I see you it’s like I need to be beside you, and then when I am beside you it’s like I never want to leave. It’s about how when I’m with you I can never seem to take my eyes off of you because I’m afraid I’m going to miss something if I look away. And then when I’m not with you, you’re all I can think about; your smile or your laugh or the smell of your damn perfume. I think about you when I’m trying to go to sleep or when I’m driving somewhere or when I’m literally doing anything. And it’s like I can’t function when I’m around you, but then I can’t function when I’m not around you because all I can think about is seeing you again and it’s just so fucking exhausting!”

Your hands were shaking as you unlocked your car, unwilling and unable to glance backwards as you opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. Eddie’s gaze burned into you as you turned the key in the ignition, wiping hastily at the flood of tears that now poured from your eyes in an attempt to see more clearly as you disengaged the handbrake, waited for the last of your bandmates to get into the car, and backed out of your parking space.

You were grateful for the silence that accompanied the car ride home.

---

Songs Used:

- Nicotine by Panic! At the Disco

- Songs I Can't Listen To by Neon Trees

---

Main Taglist

@alicetweven @juggernort @theh3aven @manamitoyota @mimiluvsualot @cherrypieyourface @kaqua @c0untryclub @goldencherriess @emotionaldreamer @givemethesleep @milkiane @miscreantsnopossoms @legendaryfestsoul-blog

Series Taglist

@grungegrrrl @thirddeadlysin @boomitsallie1 @renaroo123 @wordsthatwaterflowersinyoursoul​ @annnnn91 @bakugouswh0r3 @aivilovio @wannabewiedzma @edsforhead

[discodeviant]

HARRINGROVE WEEK, DAY 4: Eighteen | Teen | 2.9k

SURPRISE: The Projection Room at The Hawk 

How Many Candles on the Birthday Cake: 18 years old

Specific Dialogue: “I don’t need another friend.”

Thank you to @shieldofiron for assuring me that the intro didn't suck lol <3 Came from a separate idea I had a while ago and never did anything with, so I hope you enjoy it! 😚

Read on AO3

King Steve…

A burden so heavy that it kept his head down when he was finally single again. Even the freshmen had already been told about him, and they wanted him just as much as the other seniors did. Until October, at least, when they realized just how lame he’d become. But that was high school, and the girls didn’t matter. Nancy didn’t matter; they were still friends anyway, so not all was entirely lost. Steve still had pieces of the crown preserved by Tommy for a while, and then even he turned out to be low, and the king had no subjects.

People weren’t so interesting, then. His best friend was a middle schooler he babysat for 2 hours on weekdays and some Saturdays. Jonathan was an acquaintance at best, someone whose reputation was never high enough to care about it falling lower after his brother had gone missing. He rolled his eyes at the pity thrown his way; if it were Steve, he’d have gone mad. But those days, no one regarded him either, and skipping out on parties doubled his time at home alone to look at himself in the mirror and think he’d lost his charm entirely.

It was February when he looked at Billy Hargrove with more than disdain.

“Hey, man.”

Before, Steve tried not to look at him at all even in the classes they shared, but Billy found a way into his field of view anyhow. He answered the questions that Steve got wrong with just enough edge to keep his attention. He talked too damn much in gym class, and Steve always left with a pulsing headache. He shot spitballs, shoulder checked, knocked Steve down more pegs than he could count—since fucking Halloween.

And then, one day, one cold, sunny Tuesday, he didn’t.

Steve’s heart dropped a little when Billy Hargrove didn’t tease him at their lockers that morning. No spitballs, no shoulder checks, no more pegs. Steve had lost the last piece of his crown to Billy’s silence, and maybe it had never really been there to begin with. He hadn’t slept like a king since the night Barb drowned. In his pool. At his party—his last, artificial little get-together before he was riddled with guilt and nightmares that led him to isolate even more. He wasn’t going to college or getting hitched at nineteen like his parents did, and now he wasn’t even worth Billy’s daily torment. The fall of the king. He felt like a tragedy.

“Don’t wanna deal with Bravo either, huh?”

That was one of many days he’d been weighed down by the dense, foggy storm-cloud in his head. Zoning out since he woke up, voices blending into fuzz and lights making his eyes throb with the dull ache of an oncoming migraine—he skipped History to go outside. Under the bleachers by the running track where no one would see him close his eyes, rest into his palms, remind himself to breathe before he couldn’t. A moment to stop thinking about Billy and all of the reasons why he wasn’t worth Steve’s time either. He was crass and rude and cocky as all hell. His face was too intense when they made eye contact, that smile too wide when he shoved Steve into the the gym-mat wall. Billy played with his hair too goddamn much, and Sometimes Steve wondered what it felt like. No one had curls like that in Hawkins.

Somehow it turned out that his innermost demons had gone to haunt him anyway when he recognized that golden glint through the cracks of the stand. He stood and peered through, careful in case Billy noticed his presence because the guy seemed to have a nose for him. For a second, Billy looked over towards the bleachers, but his head turned back around. He scanned the track, walking quickly with a force in his step that Steve had only seen him with a few times. His fists clenched, and he tossed his bag on the ground by the starting line. Kept his jacket on to stay warm. Stretched a little. Took a deep breath. Ran like hell.

Steve’s head throbbed even worse looking out in the sun. Suddenly he was burning up even in the cold. Billy hadn’t changed out of his gym clothes, still in green shorts and a sweaty t-shirt. He held a steady pace but remained tense for a while, past the bleachers where Steve pulled back into the shadows so as not to be seen. His heart thrummed. Billy’s frame shrunk in the distance the further he went around the curve, then closer when he came back for a second lap. Steve dipped back and leaned forth again. It was too hot. He was too hot, and he had too much energy. Billy hadn’t seen him all day, so maybe he wouldn’t notice then either.

Steve thought he was right when Billy didn’t answer him. “I, uh—honestly didn’t really… get what the book was saying last night. You know, I… I start reading, and it just… poof!” It was harder to run in jeans than if he’d also stayed in his gym clothes, but it wasn’t his plan to follow Billy down the track in a sprint before matching his speed. Billy glanced over his shoulder for a moment before turning it back ahead of him, and still nothing, but he noticed. His fists relaxed, and Steve took that as something. “I don’t know. I guess I’m bored of American history. Rather go back to world—“

“Why are you following me, Harrington?” Billy asked, and Steve nearly stopped in his tracks.

“Well, I wasn’t, first of all. I got here first.” Billy slowed to let him catch up, and they ran side-by-side. “Besides, you haven’t said anything, like, all day. It’s weird.”

“Why, you miss me bugging you that much?”

Steve said, “You wish,” and looked over at Billy to see that his face remained unchanged. Tight lips, flared nostrils, sweat on his temple. He just grunted and stayed quiet for a while.

A full lap later, he finally spoke again, more audibly out of breath this time. “I don’t need another friend, you know.”

Steve huffed and rolled his eyes, and maybe it stung a little. He couldn’t be sure that Billy had any when his sister even rejected to spend more time with him than she had to. “Never said I wanted to be your friend.” Maybe he should have stayed under the bleachers. For the first time, Billy’s gaze blinked down, and his fists tightened just long enough to crack the knuckles in his thumbs. “Do you want me to go? I’ll leave you alone.”

“I didn’t say that.”

So Steve kept running.

When they reached Billy’s jacket again, he finally stopped, and Steve doubled over to catch his breath. “Fuck, thank god.”

Billy laughed, patted his back, and asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine—“ he said, straightening his back and stretching his shoulders, unintentionally pushing away the only gentle touch Billy had ever given him. For some reason, Billy stayed.

“Sure?” he asked, straight-faced again, looking so deeply into Steve’s eyes that he thought Billy was trying to pry something out of him. “You can say no.” The faintest hint of a smile pulled on Billy’s top lip—hardly enough to notice, but Steve did anyway. This time he was the one with no words. “You, uh… wanna get out of here?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s… yeah.”

So they took Billy’s car through Hawkins and around the next town, nowhere to go, no one to stop them. Billy smoked with the window down, still opting for silence over conversation, but Steve found that he didn’t mind his music so much when it backed the open road.

“What were you doing out there?”

“Hm?” Billy glanced over at him, cig in his mouth, eyebrows arched. “Out where?”

“The track. It’s fucking cold.”

He shrugged. “Clearing my head.”

“Did it work?” Steve asked at the cost of another scrutinizing glance. A little softer this time, but maybe his eyes were deceiving him.

“Mostly.”

“Did I ruin it?”

Billy smirked then, and Steve slouched with relief. “Nah.”

—

“You didn’t tell me it was your birthday.”

They’d been doing this thing for a while by then. Being not-friends because Billy didn’t need any, and Steve didn’t want to be his friend anyway. Meeting at the bleachers during class, running in silence, driving, listening, thinking instead of talking out loud. It was nice. They still weren’t friends.

“Was I supposed to?” Billy looked good with the single strip of sun over his face and in his eye when he blinked it away. His eyelashes shimmered brighter than his hair, richer than any gold Steve had ever seen. Smoke between his fingers that he let fizzle out more than he dragged. Maybe people weren’t interesting, but they weren’t Billy Hargrove. They didn’t give him the time.

“I mean. I don’t know. Could’ve got you something,” he said, and Billy smiled, laughing from his nose.

“King Steve wants to give little old me a birthday present.” Then he did take a drag. The hue on his face reminded Steve of their drive two weeks before, when they stayed out late because neither of them had kids to look after. Billy had kissed him and regretted it. Gotten shy before he decided to, even more so after it happened—when Steve wanted to talk about it, to ease the fear in his eyes with assurance that he liked it, that he wanted it again. He thought Billy would ignore him after that, but he showed up at the track like always.

“Friends usually do that,” Steve said, quiet, afraid that Billy would… leave?

“We friends, Harrington? You change your mind?”

He sighed. “No.” Billy passed him the cigarette and let him take a long, slow puff, not looking away even when Steve’s attention was on his lips. “Let’s catch a movie or something.” He handed it back.

“What movie?”

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“If we’re gonna see a movie, I’d rather not hate it.”

“We’ll see what’s playing. Come on.” For a moment, Billy didn’t move even when Steve stood up and fixed his jeans. So Steve leaned over with practiced hesitance, a special blend of careful and domineering just for Billy. This was something he had to take initiative on, so he did without second guessing himself. Billy accepted the gesture, allowed Steve to hold his hand, bring him to his feet and squeeze before they let go to head back to the parking lot. They drove their cars individually to the theater and met back up inside.

The ticket boy waved them in without a word, and Steve paid for their concession, much to Billy’s displeasure. “Not on your birthday,” he said, letting Billy roll his eyes all he wanted, knowing he wouldn’t change his mind. One bucket of popcorn, two drinks, a big bag of M&M’s, and Billy was ready to find a couple of back row seats on the off chance that Steve would hold his hand again, but the pull on his jacket kept him from going through the door. “This way.”

“What?”

“I help the owner out on weekends sometimes. Which means… free tickets, food discounts, and…” They walked through a door marked for employees. “Exclusive seats.” Billy went through with a questioning eye but didn’t ask where they were going. One short flight of stairs later, Steve was knocking on another door that opened not a few seconds later.

“Steve!”

“Hey, Marsh,” he said, letting Marshall—owner of The Hawk—pat him on the arm in greeting. “Got room up here?”

“Of course. Show’s starting in about ten minutes, then I’ll be out of your hair.” So Marshall let them in, and Billy’s attention was immediately on the window that looked out over the auditorium. About a third of the seats were filled with people who didn’t think twice about anyone putting the movie on for them, eating and talking until the lights would dim. “Cool, huh?” Marshall asked him, and he nodded with that nervous-excited face he wore sometimes that Steve liked just as much as all his other faces. Maybe not as much as when he smiled, really smiled, but that was a rare sight to see.

Ten minutes later, Marshall left with the request that Steve keep an eye on the film, which he promised he would. He and Billy sat in the two chairs, watching from their special view, taking turns eating out of their bucket—which sat on the desk—and remaining quiet for a while longer. Steve watched Billy more than the movie, and there were a few times when he’d caught Billy’s eyes looking back at him before they flicked to the screen again. The one time they remained on Steve, he asked, “What are you looking at, Harrington?”

“You,” Steve said, unashamed, whispering like they were in the audience.

“How many chicks have you brought up here, huh?”

“What makes you think I have?”

Billy faltered, eyes wide open as Steve ate another few pieces of popcorn with a grin that didn’t hide how much he enjoyed the moment they were sharing. All of their moments since Billy showed up in his dreary little town, all fire and burning rage that he let go of when they kissed two weeks ago. Steve said, “Chicks get the back row,” and wiped his hand on the knee of his jeans. “But, to be honest with you, I haven’t had a date in months.” Then, again, he reached for Billy’s, slipping his fingers between the gaps and rubbing his thumb along the back. “I come here to clear my head.”

Billy leaned closer and asked, “Does it work?” though Steve had a feeling the question ran deeper than that.

“Mostly,” he said, because all the times he cleared his head let Billy remain front and center.

“Am I ruining it?”

“Nah,” Steve told him, soft gaze peering into one that was hesitant and frightened, ready to bolt at any sign of deception that never came. “You’re the one thing I keep up there.”

“Steve…” Billy was already a nose away, having moved closer against his better judgment, chasing his heart that Steve had lassoed and reeled in so, so long ago.

“C’mere,” he said, whispered so softly that Billy could only hear because of how quiet everything else had gone. But he listened, and he leaned in closer, into Steve’s hand that found its way to his cheek and his hair. Steve kissed him first then, short and salty and buttery and still the sweetest thing he’d tasted in his life.

“Steve,” Billy said again, near-silent into another kiss that lasted longer, that Steve made sure would last until he knew it was real.

“Billy…” He was out of breath, hand gripping Steve’s tighter than ever. “I really like you, okay? I do.” Even speaking, their mouths didn’t separate, and they couldn’t hardly open their eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“What the hell does that mean? Yes, I’m sure.” Steve couldn’t help chuckling. He pressed his forehead to Billy’s, feeling that golden curl trapped between them, scalding like it would imprint on his skin just the same as every other part of Billy that had already. His gaze, his voice, his touch no matter how rough and daunting. They made Steve so weak to recall every morning and night, every time he closed his eyes, all over his body inside and out.

“Not just saying that ‘cause it’s my birthday, are you?” he asked, and Steve shook his head, rubbed his thumb along Billy’s cheekbone and curled his fingers in his hair.

“You’re a goddamn catch. How couldn’t I?”

Billy laughed, and Steve leaned back to watch that smile come and go, trying to hide itself away. “I’m an asshole.” Steve shook his head again.

“I don’t know, you’re pretty sweet to me.”

He blushed, and Steve liked to think he was the only person who could make him. “Sometimes.”

“More than you think.”

The longer they sat together in the dark, the deeper their kisses became, and the closer they sat. Billy was damn near in his lap by the time he had to work the projector, shaky and out of breath but still without a hitch.

“You should come over,” Steve said once he was done with the film, leaning down over the back of Billy’s chair and wrapping his arms around broad shoulders. He played with the buttons of Billy’s dress shirt, doing them up one by one and deliberately brushing his fingers against his chest.

“I gotta pick up Max at nine.” His head leaned back against Steve, eyes closed, forgetting where they were with a hot breath against his ear.

“And I’ve got cake mix that’s not gonna bake itself. Come on, let’s go.” Steve kissed his neck, his cheek, then walked back around to take his hand and stand him up. One last kiss to his mouth before they left for their cars again, on the way to Steve’s house where they still, after all this time, couldn’t just be friends.