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#especially questioning friendship sometimes
urwhorecrux · 3 days
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⋆ ˚⁀➷ ₊˚⊹⋆ dating steve harrington headcanons
warnings. some suggestive stuff, fluff, mentions of kissing + him in his toxic era.
pairing. steve harrington x gn!reader.
a/n. this is kinda short but i've been trying to expand my content more outside of the hp fandom. if you want more hp writings check out my tiktok - r3muslupin
masterlist.
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you spent most of your time in high school hating him, besides maybe that one moment when you were drunk at one of his parties and the light hit him in just the right moment. besides that, you never interacted with him.
after high school you become somewhat close when you find him working at scoops ahoy one day. you both kinda caught up on life and you found out he wasn't dating nancy anymore.
you spent the rest of your summer going up to starcourt mall checking on him, talking for hours, or just visiting him on his 5th break.
you both had been flirting with each other and sometimes even having your fingers intertwined without realizing it, but you finally confessed to each other when you were drugged by russians.
when you officially started going out Robin wasn't slightly surprised, knowing it would've happened sometime soon.
also having an immediate friendship with Robin which Steve couldn't help but slightly question everything you talked about.
gossiping about the kids' love lives and their little arguments here and there.
he adores leaving little kisses on your forehead, neck, hands.
he actually loves when you show him pda, like he loves pulling you onto his lap or loves when you mess with his hair in public, even if he swears he spent hours getting it that way.
he gets so protective of you especially with all the crazy things in hawkins.
for a while he refused to let you get involved in it, but eventually it happens anyways. throughout that time he's with you the whole time, never letting you out of his sight.
he makes mistakes such as getting jealous and getting upset at you, but he later on realizes and always feels terrible and apologizes.
the most important thing is that he'll actually admit it
he's mostly bringing you flowers or your favorite candy to apologize for it.
he loves late night drives with you, wether you guys blast music or just sit in an empty parking lot and talk, he's just at peace with you.
he also loves gifting you a little present when it's least expected, it's one of his love languages tbh.
he's always telling people how lucky he is to have you, but really, you feel lucky to have someone who cares for you as much as he does.
also acts of service! another one of his love languages.
cold? his jacket's been ready for you the whole time. you didn't eat today? he already had a random snack ready for you in his pocket.
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leslutdepointedulac · 14 hours
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Did Nicki really love Lestat?
I feel like there's sometimes a question in this fandom as to whether or not Nicki truly loved Lestat, or if it was all a 'ruse' of sorts. Some people will say that there was no love there, either at points, or just overall. But personally, I'm inclined to disagree. The way I see it, Nicki did genuinely love Lestat, especially at the beginning of their relationship.
They knew each other as children and, to an extent, they grew up together. This already puts them in a relatively close relationship with each other. This relationship between them starts out as just a friendship, but of course this evolves into something more.
When Nicki presents Lestat with the cloak, it's him who is acting rather flirty towards Lestat, not the other way around with him leaning into him and saying
"Only the impossible can do the impossible."
A week later when they're in the room at the inn, Nicki is the one who leans in and initiates that first show of intimacy, by kissing Lestat. Granted they were drunk at the time, but Nicki doesn't give me the impression he goes around kissing just anyone, even while intoxicated. I think the fact that they were drunk was just the perfect excuse/opportunity for Nicki to act on his feelings towards Lestat.
Further down the line, when they're in Paris - and at this point have been together for several months - Lestat returns to the theatre after his 'disappearance'. One of the first things the other actors do when Lestat initially arrives, is call Nicki to tell him that Lestat is back. And once he turns up to join the others in greeting Lestat, the actors immediately part to make way for Nicki to come through. I think they all knew there was a deeper level of connection between them. They share a very long and tender moment together, which the troupe allows without disturbance. Personally, I see that hug between them as coming from a place of love, heartbreak that they had been separated, and relief that they're back together again. Yes, Nicki had previously been, and still was angry and hurt that Lestat had supposedly left him, and without any warning. Especially considering Lestat was - as far as everyone else was concerned - perfectly fine during that time, only for him to turn up out of the blue with little to no explanation as to his whereabouts. I think Nicki's anger at this was partially down to Nicki being terrified at the thought he had lost his lover, and he couldn't hold his upset in.
Skipping forward to Nicki's turning, in my opinion, his very recently experienced trauma, combined with his already fragile mental state, were both amped up x100 by said turning.
The way I see it, Nicki got overwhelmed by the recent events and his mental condition clouded his mind causing him to lash out at the one person who he loved the most. Lestat. The reasoning for him lashing out at Lestat specifically, being because he was so immensely hurt by Lestat's disappearance, with him returning acting as though nothing had happened. This understandably angered Nicki, and mixed with his strong feelings for Lestat, it all bubbled up and exploded in their faces.
I think Nicki said what he said to Lestat during their last proper interaction, because he was deeply hurt and quite frankly, he just wasn't well. I don't think he was seeing/thinking clearly, and was probably also confused by the very sudden and drastic changes in his life. This led to him taking it all out on Lestat out of a need to blame someone for everything that had happened. Lestat just so happened to be the easiest and most obvious target for Nicki to let his anger out on.
Eleni tells Lestat in her letters to him, that even the mention of his name in Nicki's presence is enough to send Nicki over the edge. But I think this was down to his mental instability, along with his lingering hurt that had festered in his mind for so many years at that point; he wasn't in his right mind and so wasn't able to give appropriate reactions to his former lover.
Before Nicki goes into the fire, he gives his violin to Eleni, with the instruction to send it to Lestat. He also says how he had originally intended to give it to him the last time they saw each other, before Lestat left Paris. In my opinion, I don't see why Nicki would've had his violin that Lestat bought him, sent to Lestat, right before taking his own life. And there is a chance that he did this with malicious intent, as a way to taunt Lestat, but in my mind, I feel as though there was some lingering care left for him. I don't know that there was any love remaining on Nicki's part, I'll be honest, but I do there was some semblance of care left in him. I don't think this is something Nicki would admit to anyone, even himself, and I also don't know that he was aware of this - that it was more of a subconscious feeling. But I still think, regardless, there was something still in Nicki that cared even just a little bit for Lestat, albeit buried beneath the darkness in his mind.
Re: Nicki's interest in the violin and his comment about wanting to 'go down' in Paris, I think his initial interest in the violin was genuine. But when people around him *cough his father cough* told him to abandon the idea, that's when it turned into a thing of spite. However, I do believe there was still an honest love for playing. Even after Nicki had gone mad, playing the violin was something he turned to as a source of familiar comfort through his dark times.
As for Paris, it was Nicki's idea in the first place for both him and Lestat to run off (although, yes, it was more of a joke when he said it.) But I think he genuinely wanted him and Lestat to get away from the village that had been suffocating them both for so many years. When Nicki said he wanted them to 'go down', I think that was also as a result of his unstable mind, and his hurt at the recent events being taken out on Lestat. There may very well have been elements of truth in what he said, but overall, I think it's just yet another example of his inability to contain his pain.
Of course, none of this excuses the way Nicki treated Lestat in the end, but I think to simply say it was all because he didn't love Lestat is missing out on taking a deeper look into the reasons why he did and said those things. To denounce the love Nicki felt for Lestat seems unfair to me given his situation. That said, of course people are allowed to interpret what they like in their own way, and if someone's read on it is that Nicki didn't love Lestat, that's their opinion and is perfectly warranted.
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lovelygarbageday · 10 hours
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Angel Dust & Lucifer Headcanons: Friendship Edition
Lucifer is nervous interacting with Angel at first because Angel seems so confident and sure, but they bond quickly over Fat Nuggets when he comes with Angel to the lounge.
They love talking about Fat Nuggets and KeeKee together.
Most of Angel's innuendos fly over the king's head. Angel Dust spends a lot of time correcting Lucifer about modern slang. Sometimes it sticks, sometimes it doesn't.
(What do you mean there's a difference between fuck you and fuck you up? Don't they mean basically the same thing?)
They both have silly senses of humor. They love watching cheesy romantic comedies together on the couch with Niffty, Charlie & Vaggie.
They also love having bitchfests together about people annoy them, mostly Alastor and Valentino.
On the rare occasion when they go one for one while drinking, Lucifer unintentionally drinks Angel under the table
Lucifer teaches AngelDust how to preen feathered wings, so that Angel can offer to help Husker. With the combination of multiple arms and height, no one cleans Lucifer's massive six wings like Angel Dust does.
In return, Lucifer expertly paints Angel's nails on his 6 hands. He loves reminiscing about doing this for Charlie when she was little.
Lucifer doesn't have a Voxtagram, but AngelDust does.
When he posts a silly selfie of Lucifer, Fat Nuggets, and himself, the post absolutely explodes. Thousands of questions, comments, criticisms, trolls, and interactions occur, especially thirsty comments
It's the first official image of Lucifer that's been seen by the public in decades, other than the drone footage from the fight against Adam and they need MORE
Charlie and Vaggie follow Angel's safe-for-work posts on Voxtagram. Vaggie spends the night comforting Charlie after she reads a traumatic amount of thirsty comments about her dad on the post.
Lucifer declines to create his own Voxtagram account, but does allow Angel to post occasional images of the two of them, mostly doing pretty safe for work things, like movie nights, face masks, and a very memorable pic of them drinking fruity mixed drinks by a pool.
Velvette delights in promoting these posts because Hell's public loves watching the porn star and royal hang out, plus it gets under Valentino's skin
Valentino can't actually do anything about the Voxtagram posts because they increase Angel's popularity and jump up sales of his porn too much
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noodleblade · 2 days
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(BD & ratchet anon) i'm honored you got inspired by my ask! tbh it was just a thought that had been rolling around in my head for a while now and i just wanted to share it :)
but yes! i think a very quiet and comfortable friendship would strike up between them! since it's canon ratchet starves himself for the rest of the team, i like the idea that BD would notice and try to get ratchet to take better care of himself. (especially since BD would feel a little guilty that they have one more mouth to feed b/c of him)
i do think things would get like 5x funnier once KO arrives b/c KO and ratchet would NOT get along. i'm imagining the two of them sniping at each other while BD is just in the background. sweeping the floor. tidying the datapads. wiping the berth. ( ratchet tells BD that's he's surprisingly handy and ratchet's been considering getting an assistant lately would he be interested in a new job? and KO is just 🔪🔪🔪)
Teehee <3 Thanks for the inspo! I'm always thrilled to talk about non-canon friendships and I think they have sooooooooooo much potential for a very fun dynamic!
GUH ;-------------; Breakdown is used to keeping an eye on Knock Out so unintentionally he does the same for Ratchet. For Knock Out, it was always just how their partnership worked and he enjoys caring for him, but for Ratchet, he can see the wear and tear clear as day and can't understand how the Autobots are going forward like this. He brings Ratchet his ration every day (especially when he notices the medic sometimes forgets in order for Bee or Arcee to top off on what they need). He takes on the heavy lifting around the medbay ("no need to wear yourself out doc"). He even offers to oil up Ratchet's finger joints. Ratchet's response is a firm, balking no but a few days pass and he kind of warms up to the idea. Cue the most awkward night ever where Breakdown does maintenance on Ratchet's hands with surprising delicacy. When pressed, Breakdown just shrugs and mentions he likes doing it for Knock Out and misses him. Ratchet kindly doesn't ask more questions about Breakdown's weird position.
The KOBD reunion is teeth-rottingly sweet but Ratchet ruins it immediately by just being there. Knock Out can see how comfortable Breakdown is and gets immediately threatened. Not only is Breakdown his assistant (the absolutely screaming match he gets into with Ratchet for even offering Breakdown a job), but Knock Out prides himself on being Breakdown's medic. No one else. He critiques the repairs that Ratchet has made to his assistant. He is tempted to redo all of them and Breakdown has to placate him and calm him down. It becomes Breakdown's new role- mediator of the medics. Its becomes a very integral position in the medbay.
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laniemae · 5 months
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Hmm
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mabaris · 2 years
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When I say that I wish Morrigan was a lesbian, I don’t just mean that I wish she was romanceable by a female warden (GOD. I absolutely do tho). That's half, but the other half of that is that she feels like the perfect opportunity for a story about compulsory heterosexuality, and that's just as important to it.
She talks a lot about how she was sheltered and has little to no firsthand experience of the world. She knows only what she’s seen and what Flemeth has told her, but part of her journey centers around realizing that Flemeth is not always right, and that there's more to life that her mother could never have told her about. (The grimoire, sure, Flemeth would never have shared with her. But what really stands out to me is that when you gain her friendship, it's something she never anticipated. Because Flemeth taught her there was no point in that kind of relationship, and she believed it unquestioningly.)
Morrigan is no stranger to sexuality (because, well, she says that she's seen her mother bring men home), but it stands to reason that she has very little idea of how it relates to herself. If she has any experience at all up to this point, it's in a similar fashion: seducing people for her own benefit, ie intentionally manipulating them, generally so she can save her own skin (and thanks to the fact that the devs forgot to put female templars in the first game :) it’s implied that these have to have been men)
(And with a male warden who tries to romance her, she says that initially she was planning on doing the same to him: she strung him along because it served her goals, and she wasn’t expecting to actually develop feelings for him in return. She wants to create an old god baby, and she needs him to be the sperm donor. That's it.)
She knows only what she's seen from her mother (or what she can reasonably deduce by herself. She knows how babies are made). She thinks things like love and romance are foolish, and Not For People Like Her, so it makes perfect sense that, in her mind, having sex with men would be one of those things that you're just supposed to do. Even if you get no pleasure from it. Even if it disgusts you. Because you should feel nothing for the other person—otherwise, you're weak and naive.
But I'm enamored with the idea of Morrigan who still doesn’t have experience with friendship or love, who plans on seducing the male warden (which, in this situation, would be Alistair, until she realizes he’s too infuriating lol) because she has the same endgoal. But in the meantime, she makes her first real friend in a female warden, and doesn’t know how to explain things because she doesn’t have any frame of reference for what platonic friendship is supposed to feel like, but surely this can’t be right.
Just like in her romance as it’s currently written, she doesn’t know how to handle serious feelings, and she definitely wouldn’t know how to handle romantic or sexual feelings for someone who isn’t a man. That isn’t one of the things she knew could happen. It's unique because in this case, it's not comp het from society, because she doesn't participate in one. It doesn't stem from any kind of malice or ingrained bias.
It's the blind spot you don't even realize you have, in the same way that she has no reason to know what a flamingo is because she grew up in a bog. It's just the result of being sheltered.
#dragon age#morrigan dragon age#like. i can’t very well say ‘no one is writing meta abt morrigan’ when i won’t say my thing#pls be nice this is just my opinion#this is actually so important to me tho and like. absolutely crucial to the way i approach her#i’ve always been afraid to say something bc i’ve just had Bad times in other places#getting backlash when i say ‘this is my hc for this character and their gender/sexuality’#i’m just here to have a good time and sometimes having a good time means avoiding the thing i want to say#idk whenever i post the meme i’ve made. the john mulaney raising his hand i think emily dickinson was a lesbian#ppl have always gone ‘yeah shes BI for sure’#and look i don’t want to step on ppls hcs or make it seem like i’m trying to erase bi people by saying she CANT like men if she likes women#but i'm not just saying that bc i want to romance her as a lady. there's more to it than that#i’m OBSESSED with her friendship with a female warden and it feels like such a better segue into romance than what we got#like. the first flirt line with her is the 'you’re very cute to ask so many questions'. SHE starts it. to deflect#and not to say there can Only be one but 'girl help I was flirting with you to save my own ass but then I caught feelings for real'#is kind of zevran’s thing too and imo it works better with him#I know this is an incredibly reductive way to look at it but it's kind of weird that that's the catalyst for 50% of the romances in the gam#also i’m just like. tired of the wicked temptress trope In General and idc that 'this is different bc she's not CoNvEnTiOnAlLy attractive'#now I. wouldn’t actually trust the writers to be able to do this well#especially considering all of the other problems I have with the writing in origins specifically lmao#i cant stand the sexism that's 'oops i know we invented this world from scratch but it still has to be there :) because uhhhhhhhhh–'#and this kind of involves playing along with that#GOD also the. every man wants to believe two things about a woman: that she's helpless and that she finds him attractive. lesbian behavior#mine#morrigan
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violetclarity · 5 months
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gotta love the feature of depression that's like, can't tell if people in my life are actually being annoying or if I'm not handling things well and therefore overreacting to things that would normally not bother me!
#are my friends oversharing without asking and using me as an unpaid therapist#or am I just unable to handle any outside complaints/negativity at this moment no matter how valid#a question I ask myself daily#sometimes it's pretty obvious like I told one of my coworkers today that I was in a car accident this weekend#(it was a fender bender and I am fine)#and her next sentence was about how tired she was etc. until she circled back to asking me about the accident#(you'll notice she has been downgraded from friend to coworker bc she does this shit all. the. fucking. time.)#another friend texted me unprompted about her car issues#and when I responded to commiserate and also told her about the accident#she was surprised that I'd been going fast enough that I was in pain from it#(again I am fine. just sore.)#like in that case I probably shouldn't be pissed that she texted me about her car issues out of the blue#bc we had already talked about it and I do want to be kept up to date on my friends' lives?#this is the story of me at almost 29 realizing that I've let a bunch of my friendships devolve into#me being a receptacle for other people's problems and complaints at all times#and now I don't know how to set boundaries or get myself out of this situation#especially since this is the pattern I've developed with like...most of my friends#it's super cool I don't hate it at all#ask people if they have capacity before you bitch about your life#also if anyone has the lead on a cute cottage in the void where I could just exist and not have to speak to anyone#or have any responsibilities whatsoever#for like a week or two#PLEASE lmk#a bitch needs an actual break
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joelscurls · 2 months
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stalemate
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pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader
words: 7.2k
summary: Frankie Morales is your best friend — until a drunken hookup tears you apart.
warnings: 18+ minors dni; friends -> enemies -> lovers, TF characters without the TF plot, no Tom (in this house we hate Tom), alcohol consumption, smoking, angst, jealousy, pining, Frankie & reader being idiots in love, explicit smut, size kink, brief mentions of drunk sex, bad / regretful sex (between reader & OC), oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, multiple orgasms, use of pet names (bebita, querida, baby, etc.), grilled cheese as a love language, happy ending, I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything!
a/n:  thank you so much to @javisashtray & @pedgito for beta-reading this for me <3 this is for all my frankie lovers out there (aka bitches with good taste). dividers are by cafekitsune. follow @joelscurlsupdates for fic notifications! enjoy :)
Frankie Morales makes the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had. Perfectly golden bread; gooey, melty cheese — just the thought of it makes you drool. He says he has a secret ingredient. Won’t let you in the kitchen while he cooks for you, lest you find out. 
Sometimes, upon entering his apartment, you can already smell melted butter. He’ll have started on one without even asking if you want it. He knows you always do. 
Sit, he’ll shout from the other room. I’ll be right there. Feel free to put something on — but please, not 13 Going on 30. You’ll thank him and question his distaste for Mark Ruffalo in the same breath: you’re the best, but it’s not my fault Matty is the dream man.
He’ll bring you the wafting plate along with a Corona, and insist that you eat before it goes cold while he makes one for himself. Ever the gentleman, ever the friend — at least he was.
Because the two of you haven’t spoken in a month; not since the drunken hookup that you’re both pretending didn’t happen.
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You’d laughed the entire cab ride home from the bar. That last round of tequila shots had left you feeling good, all warm and giggly, and Frankie mirrored you in the backseat with his drunken grin. Eyes glassy, lips pulled wide, he’d smacked you lightly on the shoulder as you recalled Santiago’s pitiful loss in that third game of pool. “When he pocketed the eight-ball…” he trailed off into another fit of laughter. 
“And then—“ you attempted, voice caught in your throat as another giggle barreled out. “—the cue hitting his drink!” Your entire body folded over, hands braced on Frankie’s thighs as the two of you struggled to regain composure. Through labored breaths, you squealed. “He’s never going to live that down!”
After a few particularly stressful months at work, you lived for these nights out with your friends. You’d met Frankie through your best friend Mal, who was dating his friend Benny, and your circles had eventually meshed into one. Sometimes it felt like it had always been that way, like you’d known the guys your entire life.
Especially Frankie.
Your friendship was a special one — punctuated by frequent trips to the movies to watch the latest horrible slasher film; by nights spent yapping on the phone about nothing in particular. He’d become a constant in your life. Never, in your right mind, would you even dream of doing anything to jeopardize that— 
“You look really hot tonight, by the way.”
He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have. But then it was you who leaned in closer, you who rested your hand on his hip and plucked the Standard Heating Oil cap off his head, placing it atop your own.
It was you who kissed him first.
He deepened it though — that was all him — large, restless hands grasping at your sides, your back, your face; tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to press against yours. He’d groaned into your mouth when the cab stopped at the curb in front of your building. Cursed under his breath when you pulled away.
And then, your voice ragged and breathless, you’d asked, “do you want to come in for a bit?”
It was a mistake. A horrible, blissful mistake. Waking up with sticky thighs and Frankie’s thumbprint bruised into your hip, you’d found his side of the bed cold; your inbox empty. He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. Still hasn’t.
The aftermath is cursory glances. Half-assed greetings and pleasantries murmured across the bar. Which you don’t mind, really. You don’t want to speak to him. He’d probably just feed you some lie about losing track of time, not remembering what happened that night.
You wish you could forget it.
The visual is fuzzy; fleeting. But his voice — god, his voice — it still rings in your ears, drips at the nape of your neck like a leaking tap: fuck, baby, knew you’d take my cock; feel so good wrapped around me.
Your friends don’t know. They can’t; they wouldn’t let you live it down. Benny has made plenty of offhand comments already about you and Frankie being perfect for each other, having the same stubborn disposition. Mal does nothing to shut him up. Instead, she encourages him. Tells him he’s so right. 
You’re pretty sure your eyeballs are going to fall out someday from glaring too hard.
Because you’re not perfect for each other — far from it, actually. Fuck, you can’t even communicate effectively. How could you ever be in a real relationship? 
Not that you want that. Frankie is…well, Frankie. Sure, he’d felt undeniably incredible on top of you, inside of you — but he isn’t the type to settle down. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever heard Frankie talk about dating. 
Besides, he’s clearly not interested in being anyone’s anything right now. Not even your friend. 
It hurts; cuts deeper than you care to admit. Just weeks ago, you’d spent an entire weekend at his place, marathoning the X Files and gorging on cold pizza. Now, he won’t even look your way for more than a few seconds. 
Won’t make you a fucking grilled cheese.
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It’s a Friday night, which means you’re meeting your friends at Sid’s. The glow of neon seeping through the windows of the old dive bar is warm and inviting as you step out of your rideshare and make your way toward the doors.
Frankie is sitting at the bar with Santiago when you enter. Hunched shoulders, narrowed eyes trained on his bottle of Corona, he appears detached from whatever Santi is saying to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you stroll up to them — not until his friend’s hand lands hard on his back, pulling his attention away from the beer. He offers a half-assed hello and an even more half-assed half-hug, and then he’s sliding back onto his barstool. 
Ever-oblivious, Santiago doesn’t seem to notice the way Frankie curls in on himself; the way your back is up like an agitated cat’s.
Mal and Benny turn up minutes later, immediately ordering a round of shots for the group. You down the liquor eagerly, not bothering to lean on salt and lime to numb the sting. You want to feel it. You order another before joining Mal and the guys at a pool table in the back, letting the acid slide down your throat with no more than a wince as Santi racks the balls.
“Alright Fish, you’re up,” he says. “Me and you. Whoever loses buys the next round.”
You watch as Frankie quirks a brow at him. Takes a swig of his beer. “You sure you want to make that bet, Pope?”
Santi grins; nods confidently. “Hell yeah, I do.” The rest of you don’t bother to suppress your laughter. You catch a glimpse of Frankie, head thrown back, his broad, glistening neck exposed, and you have to fight to ignore the sudden panging in your chest.
When Santi inevitably loses, you order a vodka soda. You’re already feeling a bit tipsy after two shots in less than twenty minutes, so the drink goes down smooth; quick. There’s a rush to your head as you settle back at the bar and fiddle with the wrapper to your straw, letting the slightly soggy paper roll between two fingers.
You barely notice when Frankie slots in a few seats down, your attention drawn only when you hear his voice. It’s deep — sounds just like it did when he had his chest pressed to your back in the dim light of your bedroom — and his intonation nearly gives you whiplash. 
When you snap your head up to look at him, you find he’s speaking to a woman. Her back is turned to you, long, dark hair tossed over her shoulder and her elbow resting casually on the bartop, but you imagine she must be beautiful by the way Frankie is visibly fawning over her. You’re staring, you hear her tease. Can’t help it, comes his reply.
Something like discomfort builds in your throat. Rises up up up. You take a long sip of your drink, letting vodka and sugar push it down. 
You’ve never seen Frankie flirt with anyone, apart from you. It’s strangely unsettling, listening to him smooth-talk her. I’m a pilot, you know, he brags; could take you up in the sky someday if you wanted. Her giddy squeal comes seconds later; really? You’d do that for me?
You feel bad for her. She doesn’t know yet that all he’ll do is disappoint her.
He feeds her lines as you sip on your drink, citrus and grain burning only when he tells her: yeah, I came with friends; they’re all over there. Gestures toward Benny, Mal and Santi standing around the pool table in the back.
Scoffing, you stand from your seat at the bar and retreat to the patio. You don’t bother to check if Frankie is looking. 
It’s cooler here, a sobering breeze carrying salt air with it as it wafts by. A few patrons have spilled outside, most smoking on faintly glowing cigarettes as they talk and laugh boisterously among themselves. You’d planned to sit alone, to plant yourself on a bench and enjoy your drink in solitude. But then a stranger is approaching you — a man, cigarette grasped between two of his fingers — and he’s asking you for a light.
He’s in his mid thirties, if you had to guess. Curly, dark hair sprouts every which way from his scalp; rounded, green eyes studying you as he awaits a response. He’s tall, though not as tall as Frankie.  His shoulders aren’t nearly as broad and his chest isn’t quite as wide. His t-shirt hangs loose around his torso, swallowing his narrow frame — dissimilar to the way Frankie’s button-down clings to him. 
Then again — why are you even comparing? Maybe the opposite of Frankie is exactly what you need. 
You’ll have to seduce this stranger first, though. Not that it seems like it’ll be very difficult. His eyes are already raking over you, lips turned up at the corner as you take a casual sip of your drink.
“I don’t smoke,” you admit apologetically. 
“Ah — that’s alright.” 
He has an accent; midwestern, maybe? You don’t bother to ask. You don’t care, really. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is—
“You here all by yourself?”
“Yeah,” he laughs at your lack of subtlety. “Are you?”
“No,” you say. “My friends are inside.” Lowering your voice, you add, “but I was thinking about leaving soon.”
“Why’s that? Early morning tomorrow?”
You shake your head. Rub at your neck as if working out a knot, a contented hum pushing past your lips at the press of fingers into skin. Your stranger’s eyes trail rather conspicuously downward.
“Just over it,” you sigh exasperatedly. “I’d much rather be home…in bed…out of these clothes.”
You pull gently at the strap of your dress, as if you can’t bear the sensation of it against your shoulder any longer.
Your stranger’s gaze darkens, and the grip on his box of cigarettes grows tighter.
“You uh — want some company — once I find a light?”
Too fucking easy.
“Sure,” you giggle.
He slips away only for a minute or two, giving you just enough time to second-guess yourself. You know nothing about this man, not even his name; only that he smokes American Spirits and smells like tobacco. Should you really go home with him? 
But then you think of Frankie inside  — talking up a woman at the bar, pretending that you don’t exist — and that just about makes up your mind for you.
Your stranger reappears, now-lit cigarette dangling from his lips. The tip of it rages red and angry, and you think you know how that feels.
He smirks at you as he stuffs the pack into the front pocket of his jeans. An unceremonious silence hangs in the air as he sucks on the filter and puffs out a string of smoke. You wait patiently for him, quietly. 
He snuffs the butt of his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. Takes your empty cup and discards that too. 
Can’t wait to get you home, he whispers in your ear then. You feign arousal, peering up at him and batting your eyelashes. Me neither, you mewl. Let’s go.
You lead him back through the bar, finding Mal and letting her know that you’ll be going. She seems a little perplexed, quirking a brow at you as you grip tightly onto your stranger’s arm, but she tells you to have fun anyway. Text me, she mouths as you make your way to the exit.
You only get a few feet, though, before you’re intercepted.
Frankie is blocking the door, arms crossed, a panic-stricken look on his face that you can’t quite comprehend. “Hey,” he says, “can I talk to you real quick?”
Your stranger backs off. Lets go of your arm and starts out the door. “I’ll wait outside,” he says, slipping away with a wink before you can protest.
The bar is bustling with noise, people in every corner drinking and laughing and dancing. Strangely, though, you’ve never felt so alone. So vulnerable. And you hate that Frankie has this power over you, the innate ability to make you feel so fucking small. It’s infuriating, it’s—
“Are you sure you want to leave with him?”
“Excuse me?” you scoff. 
Frankie stares you down, face red, eyes inky-black. “You don’t know this guy, do you? What if he’s a murderer or something? Or like — a pervert?” 
He’s grasping at straws, you know it. It’s why you laugh; roll your eyes. 
“What are you, my keeper?”
“No, it’s just — I’m just concerned for your safety, okay?”
You’re briefly stunned. After weeks of ignoring you, he cares about your wellbeing? How can he be so hypocritical?
“I’m fine,” you bite back. “Why don’t you go back to your girl at the bar? Worry about getting yourself some instead?”
He’s wounded, if only slightly. His lips part like he might retaliate, but he’s silent. Dejected. Satisfied, you brush past him. March out the door without so much as a parting glance.
Finding your stranger leaning against the bar’s brick exterior, you force a smile. He outstretches a hand and you take it, reluctantly. “Ready to go?” he asks. 
You’re not so sure anymore, but you nod anyway. Squeeze your stranger’s bicep and preen under his lustful gaze when he tenses in your grip. “Yeah,” you purr. “I’m ready.”
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Cold air bites at your toes the following morning. It wakes you from a deep slumber; bitterly pulls you into consciousness. Confused, you yank at the covers. But a mysterious weight holds them in place, and only then do you remember then that you’re not alone. 
Eyes sliding open reluctantly, you scan the room. Your dress from the night before is draped over the chair in the corner, your stranger’s clothes piled up on the floor nearby. He snores next to you, an arm raising to hang above his head, and you shift. Slip out of bed and pull a t-shirt on before padding into the bathroom.
Early morning light spills across tile, bounces off the mirror above the sink. You squint, shuffling over to the window and yanking the blinds closed. Then you check for damage in your reflection. Your makeup from the night before has stained your cheeks and your eyes look as tired as you feel, but otherwise there appears to be no physical evidence of your rock bottom.
The sex wasn’t great — not even good, really. Your stranger had lasted all of three minutes, had fanned his hot breath across the shell of your ear as he came, and then collapsed on top of you. Rolled over and drifted to sleep. He’d started snoring before you could even process what had just happened.
Cold water splashed across your cheeks does nothing to cool the burn of regret that scorches your skin. You feel uncomfortable, almost as if your body is tainted, now, remnants of your stranger leaking from between your thighs as you steady yourself at the edge of the sink. 
He must’ve heard the tap, or maybe the pounding in your chest, because he emerges seconds later. He yawns and stretches, feline-like, in the doorway. “Hey,” he mutters. “How’d you sleep?”
“Pretty good,” you say, eyes twitching slightly as you will them to stay put above his waistline. 
“You always up this early?”
You nod. It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that you’d nearly jumped out of bed at the sight of him still there. He doesn’t need to know that for a split second, you’d almost hoped it was Frankie.
He asks if you want to get breakfast. You shake your head in faux-sympathy. “Sorry, can’t. I was hoping to get some cleaning done.”
“I could stick around and help,” he offers. 
Jesus Christ. Just take the fucking hint.
“That’s so nice of you; I’m just more efficient by myself,” you lie again. 
If Frankie were here, he’d grab the cleaning rags out of the closet just off the kitchen. He knows where they’re kept: second shelf, on the left. He’d wipe down the counters and the coffee table while you’d work on clearing dishes, disposing of pizza scraps. And he’d probably put on his dad-rock playlist — against your wishes — though you’d inevitably find yourself dancing to Foo Fighters and giggling when he’d sing along and mess up the words.
It begins to sink in then, as you shoo your stranger, now dressed, out the door, that your attempt to use sex as a way to get Frankie out of your head was useless. He’s still there, refusing quite adamantly to budge, all mussed curls and big eyes and deep voice. There’s no evidence that he’ll be leaving any time soon.
The revelation renders you nauseous. You spend the rest of the day with a hangover that you’re sure has not been induced by alcohol. And by the time night falls, darkness descending over your bedroom like a fog, you still feel sick.
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A week later, you drag yourself to Benny and Mal’s for their monthly game night. You’d tried to get out of it, told Mal you haven’t been feeling great — which isn't a total lie — but she’d begged you until you broke. 
Will is coming, and it’ll be the first time we’ve all gotten together in over a year, she’d whined through the receiver. 
And then-
I know things were weird between you and Frankie last time at the bar, but you can’t let that stop us from seeing each other.
How do you know that, you’d asked, chewing on your bottom lip, the phone tucked between your ear and your shoulder.
He basically moped around the rest of the night after you left. Kept bitching about you leaving with that guy. He seemed really…agitated. You don’t have to tell me what happened, just please don’t bail.
So you’re here, steeling yourself as you climb the steps to the front door, hoping that if nothing else, you can make it through the night without strangling Frankie for his lack of discretion. 
You enter the house with baited breath.
Your eyes immediately catch Frankie, tucked into the corner of the sectional, fingers wrapped tightly around his beer. He meets your gaze briefly before letting it slip to the floor by his feet, as if he’s trying to pretend he hasn’t seen you at all. 
“Hi,” you try.
He looks back up at you, or rather past you. Taps his fingers along the bottle for a long moment. “Hey,” he says finally, to the wall behind your head.
“How have you been?” the words come out forced, almost foreign. You shift your weight awkwardly and he sighs. 
“Fine. I’m fine.” 
“Right,” you mutter. More silence. “Me too, in case you were wondering.”
“Good,” he says, voice cold. “That’s good.”
You’re not sure whether you want to slap him or kiss him. Because as infuriating as he’s being right now, he looks gorgeous, denim shirt hugging his biceps, his shoulders; stray curls peaking out from under that stupid Standard Heating Oil hat. You yearn to rip it off his head, run your fingers through his hair, nip along the sharp line of his jaw; the broad expanse of his neck.
You long to feel something other than the prominent ache that’s permeated your body for weeks, now. And you fear that he’s the only one who’d be able to alleviate it.
Your mouth opens again just as Benny emerges from the kitchen. Whatever words you were about to utter are lost in the ether as he pulls you into a suffocating hug and thanks you for coming. 
“Mal’s in the kitchen,” he says. Grabs a handful of Lays from a bowl on the coffee table and shovels them into his mouth. Still chewing, he adds, “we got those wine coolers you like; they’re in the fridge.”
With a hurried thanks, you slip away unscathed.
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You find Mal crouched in front of the open fridge, rustling through a produce drawer stocked with beer cans. 
“Hey,” you announce. 
She seems almost surprised to see you when she cranes her neck toward your voice, despite your promise to show. Eyebrows raised, mouth slightly agape, it’s as if she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. She pulls another drawer open. Fishes out a wine cooler and passes it to you with an outstretched arm. 
You take it in one hand. Help her up with the other. 
“You’re here,” she says, and it sounds like more of a question than a statement. 
“Yeah. I said I would be.”
“I know, I know. It’s just — I wasn’t sure. The whole Frankie thing…” 
“It’s nothing; I promise,” you lie. “Water under the bridge. We’re fine.”
She quirks a brow at you, disbelief coloring her features, but she lets it go. Closes the fridge with a thunk and adjusts her sweater at the hem. “Good,” she says. “I don’t want you two ruining game night.”
It’s half a joke, but you know deep down she means it. She takes this all very seriously. Back in college, she’d forced you and your suitemates to play Cards Against Humanity with her every weekend. None of you had the heart to tell her when it started to grow monotonous, and so the tradition carried on well past graduation, eventually evolving into a new tradition with new friends.
Games bring people together, she’d said once over a round of Monopoly that had stretched well into the night, resulting in delirious laughter and a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.
You’d believed her at the time. Now, you’re not so sure that it’s foolproof.
The two of you rejoin the guys in the living room, Santiago and Will having shown up in your absence. You greet them as Benny pulls out a stack of game boxes. Settle on the couch, as far away from Frankie as you can manage.
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It starts during the second round of Charades. 
The first round had gone fine — good, even. Teamed up with Santi and Will, you’d avoided eye contact with Frankie for the whole of it. Focused only on guessing Santi’s horribly-mimed clues in between handfuls of trail mix and sips of watermelon-flavored bubbles.
It’d felt a bit like old times, all of you in one room again. Mal snuggling into Benny on the loveseat; Will catching his brother up on time spent touring the country, giving motivational speeches to recently discharged veterans. He’d asked you how you’ve been as Santi studied his next word, and you’d remembered then that everything was very much not how it once was.
And you hadn’t missed Frankie’s discomfort at the question; the way he set his beer bottle down on the table with a bit too much force, glass clanging against wood. Though if Will noticed too, he hadn’t said anything. Just moved into a story about some woman he met on the road that reminded him of you.
Santi’s turn had ended with a whopping zero points for your team, and now Frankie is standing at the front of the room, unfolding the scrap of paper in his hand and reading it to himself. In the lull, you find yourself staring at him, eyes near glazing over at the sight of the tiny paper pinched between long, thick fingers. Fingers you remember the reach of, the weight of. 
He crumples the paper and stuffs it into his pocket, signaling that he’s ready to go. Mal flips over the sand timer on the table. And you almost don’t notice at first when he starts, mind occupied by equal parts lust and annoyance, that he’s fucking mouthing the phrase.
You watch, enraged, as Benny squints to read his lips. He raises his hand excitedly and jumps to his feet; yells out the answer with a sureness that Frankie affirms with a nod. 
“That’s right. It’s the Empire State Building.”
“That’s fucking cheating!” you shout, a bit angrier than the situation calls for, and the room grows quiet. Fury coursing through you, you add, “are you fucking serious, Frankie?”
You feel the eyes on you; the awkward sheen you’ve cast over the room. Mal shifts across from you, glaring when you turn to face her, and you laugh defensively. 
“What, nobody else thinks that’s unfair?”
“Please,” Frankie sneers. 
“No, she’s right,” Santi tries — ever the peacemaker. “We’ll just add a rule going forward; no mouthing the words.”
“Fuck that,” you hiss. “I want their point taken away.”
Frankie scoffs from the other side of the room. “Bullshit! We earned that before the rule was added.”
You’re fuming now, standing to get a bit closer to his height; though he still towers over you. Mal is right on your heels, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to placate you. You brush her off. Take another stride toward Frankie.
“There shouldn’t need to be an official rule against it, Frankie. It’s common fucking sense — which clearly, you have none of.”
Visibly offended, he says nothing. Just tenses his jaw.
“Why did you come tonight?” you continue, voice more level now; direct. 
You hear your name uttered behind you, tone pleading, warning. You ignore it. 
“Seriously, why?”
He’s quiet for a long, drawn-out moment, eyes pointed at the floor again.  
“What are you talking about?” he spits, finally. 
You laugh, amused and irritated, and these things somehow feel one in the same. “I mean, clearly you don’t want to be in my presence or even acknowledge my existence — unless it’s to cockblock me — so why are you here?”
His brows furrow; lips twist. For a second, you think he might actually leave. He adjusts his cap, jangles the car key in his pocket — but Benny stops him before he can take a step.
“Just — cut it out, okay? Both of you.”
“He’s the one-“
“I don’t care,” Benny interjects. Scanning the room, you catch sight of Santi and Will and Mal, all visibly agitated, and you sigh.
Guilt washes over you, then. The twisting of Santi’s face, Mal’s doleful stare, the wordless look exchanged between Benny and Will. All confirm your fear that you’ve effectively ruined their night. 
“I’m sorry,” you mumble. 
Frankie echoes your apology. Still, the others aren’t impressed. 
“I don’t know what’s been going on lately with you two, but you need to figure this shit out,” Benny says. He sounds like a parent: stern and slightly disappointed. “Can you please just — go in the other room and talk through it?��
Though you haven’t much cared for Frankie’s opinion as of late, you still turn to him to gauge his reaction. He appears just as hesitant as you are, just as guilt-stricken. But something more lurks behind his eyes — something like fear, anxiety. Why, you aren’t sure.
You raise a brow at him, a wordless question. He answers with a sigh. 
“Fine,” you both say at once.
“Thank goodness,” Mal chimes. Herding you two like cattle with a hand on each of your backs, she leads you out of the living room and into the adjoining hallway. 
Her voice drones behind you as you make your way toward the third door on the right. Shall we continue the game?
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The guest room is primly kept. It appears almost untouched at first glance, though you know that to be untrue. You’ve stayed here before, after blurry nights spent drinking shitty gin and singing karaoke. That must’ve been years ago now, though, after Mal and Benny first bought this house, and you begin to wonder if your tumultuous friendship with Frankie only made you neglect your friendship with her. And that only adds to the anger stirring inside of you — because what was it all worth, if it’s ended up like this?
Frankie closes the door behind him with a click, and the air in the room feels exponentially thicker. 
“What the fuck was that?” you hiss. 
He scoffs. “Me? You’re the one who freaked out and started an argument over nothing!”
“It wasn’t nothing. You were cheating.”
“Please.” He rolls his eyes. Takes two steps toward you. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.”
“Oh,” you laugh, “so you are aware that you’ve been an asshole?”
He says your name, voice suddenly lower, softer. Your entire body tenses as you struggle to keep strong, to not think about how it sounded in your ear in the midst of pleasure.
“I wasn’t trying to be-”
You throw a hand up; silence him. “Well you have been,” you groan. “You’ve been a huge fucking asshole. You hurt me, Frankie. You were my best friend, and then you just… stopped returning my texts. You won’t even look at me when we’re in the same room together. Did you regret it that much?”
The room goes still. You watch as Frankie’s chest rises and falls arduously, his eyes settling on you. They’re dark, pupils blown wide, squeezing shut as he exhales long and hard.
“No.”
You quirk a brow at him, confused.
“No?”
“No,” he repeats, averting his gaze. “And that’s the problem — I didn’t regret it at all.” His eyes lift slowly, finding you again, voice more sure when he adds, “I’ve wanted it for a long time”
You can barely comprehend what he’s saying, your heart climbing its way out of your ribcage and up your throat. You gulp, feeling the shape of it there as saliva slowly slides past. 
He takes another two steps forward, mere inches from you now, and your breath hitches.
“Do you know how difficult it’s been to look at you without getting fucking hard?” he whispers. “How many times I’ve fucked my fist in the past month imagining it was you?”
Your mouth falls open, stunned. “That girl at the bar-”
He shakes his head. “I thought maybe if I fucked someone else, it would help.”
“And did it?”
“I didn’t — I didn’t go home with her,” he admits, a little bashfully. “I couldn’t do it.” 
His hand lifts, then, cautious and shaky. It finds its way to your face, grazes your jaw so softly you’d think you imagined it if you couldn’t see.
“Why not?” you squeak.
He nods, as if he’s finally accepting something he’s known to be true, admitting it to himself before he does so out loud.
“Because she wasn’t you.”
It feels as if your entire world has spun on its axis. 
Without thinking, you wrap your hand around Frankie’s neck and pull him toward you, crashing your lips into his with a groan. He’s quick to respond, desperately tangling his fingers in your hair and winding his tongue around yours, a broken moan slipping from his throat. 
For a long moment, that’s all it is. It’s clashing teeth and restless hands; the draw of blood and the taste of it, earthy and metallic on your tongue. It’s the two of you, reconciling for lost time and unshared feelings and the overlooked need for each other through tangled bodies. 
And when you finally pull apart, his lips are swollen and his eyes are glazed over, and you’re sure you don’t look much different.
“Frankie,” you whine as his mouth latches to your neck, warm and wet. He doesn’t retreat; just hums against you. 
“Need you,” you say breathlessly. “Need you to touch me.”
His large hand skates down your front, under the waistband of your leggings. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, and your knees buckle. You lean into him, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest as he begins rubbing small, deliberate circles into cotton. 
Lips trailing up to your ear, he nibbles at the lobe. Presses his tongue just behind the shell of it and sighs. “Been wanting this since that night. Want to make you feel good. Want to do it right.”
You mewl in response, high-pitched and too loud, and you have to bite into his shoulder to keep from crying out again. He’s still working you toward the brink, pace relentless, beseeching you every time you buck into his hand. 
There you go baby, that’s it; I got you. 
You know he does, can feel the support of his unoccupied hand at the small of your back, holding you to his strong body. And god, how you’ve missed the feeling of it pressed to yours. You think that that alone could make you come.
You feel yourself slipping as your orgasm approaches, legs slumping underneath you more and more with every pass of his fingers. “Frankie,” you warn, teeth still anchored in his skin. “I’m going to-“
The words are muffled, but he gets it. Presses down harder and works his fingers faster. “Come on baby,” he growls in your ear, “come on.”
Your orgasm hits you so hard that you collapse, your body dead weight in Frankie’s grip as you writhe. He grasps onto you tightly, working you through it with his unyielding touch, swiping back and forth, back and forth as the final waves crest. 
You’re panting when it ends, and still when Frankie helps you to the edge of the bed. Perched there, staring up at him with glassy eyes, you realize you’ve never felt so sated and so needy at the same time.
“Frankie?”
“Yeah, baby?” 
“Please fuck me.”
He should probably say no. After all, you’re in your friends’ guest room, people just a few hundred feet on the other side of the door. But then again, he’s already made you come.
You watch him consider it, eyes flickering to the door and back to you, dark and deep and pooling with want. 
In the end, he can’t help himself.
“Can you be quiet, querida?” 
You nod, though you’re sure that even if you said no, he wouldn’t care. He’d do just as he’s doing now: pressing your shoulder, encouraging you to lay down on the bed; helping you pull your sneakers off, then your leggings, then your shirt; stepping back to marvel at your half-naked form before him. 
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and your entire body heats from the inside out. You feel like you’re on fire, his stare keeping you alight as he undresses down to his boxers.
He climbs over you with a hand on either side of your head, pressed into the mattress. The lip of his hat bumps you, and you immediately rip it off of him, tossing it aside and tangling your fingers in dark curls. 
You tug at them, dragging him down until his face is hovering just above yours, and he responds with a strangled moan. His body pressed to yours now, you can feel the weight of his hard cock against your clothed pussy. Your mouth finds his again in a languid kiss — slow and deep. You feed each other sighs and moans, taste each other’s longing. His hips roll into yours with every exhale, teasing you — reminding you, and you feel like you’re steadily going insane.
He pulls back, panting. Rests his forehead on yours.
“Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at the strap of your bra. You nod furiously. Lift the upper half of your body so that he can undo the clasps.
Breasts suddenly exposed, you feel your nipples begin to harden. Frankie groans at the sight of them, so pert and needing. Wordlessly, he dips his head, buries his face in your chest. His tongue wraps around one of your nipples and you cry out, hand flying to your mouth in an instant. 
“Oh fuck,” you moan into your palm.
“Feel good?” he asks, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he shifts his focus to the other nipple. You feel so sensitive everywhere, the heft of his tongue going straight to your clit, and you can barely answer him. A shaky yes tumbles from your mouth — the best you can do. He hums, so low the vibrations burrow under your skin and barrel through you, and you keen at the sensation.
“God, you sound so pretty,” he sighs as he rolls one of your stiff peaks between two fingers. His other hand drifts down your body, dips between the two of you and pulls your panties aside. 
“Fuck,” he curses, fingertip brushing over your seam just barely. “You’re soaked, bebita. That all for me?”
“Mhm,” you whine. “All for you Frankie; fuck-“
He’s shifts down your body, hooks both arms under your legs and drags you toward him in one swift motion, leaving you no time to process before his tongue is on your pussy. “Have to taste you,” he babbles drunkenly, plunging into your leaking cunt and lapping at you.
“Oh, oh shit,” you moan as he drags his tongue up to your clit. “Please baby, please.”
“I know; I got you,” he soothes. Then he begins to lave your clit with the soft flat of his tongue, warm muscle encircling the throbbing nub. Wide eyes staring up at you, he observes intently. Responds to every sound, every tell with a switch in direction or an increase in pressure. He’s so attentive, so desperate to make you come on his mouth, and it sends you into a sort of delirium. 
Your second orgasm hits you out of nowhere, slams through your body with so much intensity, you don’t even have the strength to warn Frankie before your release is gushing all over his face and, undoubtedly, the bed below. 
He growls against your cunt. Comes up for air and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he tugs his boxers down and frees his aching cock. Notches at your entrance without detaching his lips from yours.
It’s a stretch — you recall it being so last time too — though the alcohol had done wonders to loosen your body. Now, you feel every devastating inch of him as he pushes in. He’s gentle. Tells you how good you’re doing as he feeds you more and more of his cock. There you go, that’s my girl, taking it so well for me. And for some reason, him calling you his nearly makes you come again. 
He notices the way you preen in response. Thumbs across the slope of your jaw as he settles inside you. “You like that, baby? Like me calling you mine?”
“Yes, Frankie — fuck. Want it.”
You don’t specify whether you mean him or his cock. You’re not entirely sure. Not that it matters. You know he’ll give you both, give you anything. Can feel it in the way he gazes at you through heart-shaped eyes as he lets you adjust to him.
 “So fucking beautiful, you know that?”
Your eyes roll back and saliva pools in your mouth. “God,” you breathe.
“I’m serious,” he says, finally beginning to move. The slow drag of his cock brushes your g-spot and you gasp. “Was so stupid before, fucking you drunk. Wanna remember every second, every noise you make, every inch of your perfect fucking body.”
“Jesus, Frankie.”
He pushes back in with one deep thrust. Sets a pace that, while not rough, definitely isn’t gentle. You begin to babble and writhe under him. Hook your legs around him so he can get even deeper.
He groans. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”
“It’s so fucking good,” you cry. “Feels like fucking heaven, Frankie.”
“Nah, that’s you.” He lets his head fall on your shoulder, drives into you faster. Pants into the crook of your neck. “Perfect fucking pussy.” 
It ends all too quickly — with your fingernails dug into his back and his sweaty curls sticking to your forehead. Your cunt clenching around his cock, pulling his orgasm out of him just as yours begins to roll through you. You free fall from the cliff’s edge together, breathless moans spilling between your slotted mouths, his warmth flooding you and leaking from the place you’re still connected.
As the room around you slowly comes back into focus, you hear the sound of distant laughter. Benny’s boisterous chuckle and Mal’s much softer one. Clearly distracted, they’re likely blissfully unaware of what’s just happened. You giggle, covering your face as Frankie pulls out.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, prying your hands away. 
“We’re gonna have to get them a new bedspread. We just defiled this one.”
He stands, then, pulling you upright with him. You squeal as blood rushes to your head and your vision goes staticky. 
“Worth it,” he smirks. Gives you a chaste kiss. “Got my girl back.”
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You dress and rejoin the group as inconspicuously as possible. Pray they don’t notice the way you’re wobbling on your feet, or the sheen of sweat that’s coated your skin. 
“You sort everything out?” Santi smirks knowingly as you reassume your place on the couch, Frankie settling back into the corner.
“Yeah,” he mutters, refusing to make eye contact. 
“It’s about time,” Benny shouts from the kitchen. Frankie’s head shoots up, pivots toward his voice.
“What do you mean?”
He emerges in the doorway with a shit-eating grin. Mal stifles a laugh from the loveseat.
“Just saying it’s about time,” he shrugs. “That’s all.” 
Shit; apparently you hadn’t been as quiet as you thought.
The others chuckle as you and Frankie exchange a mortified look. The embarrassment is short lived though, Will clapping his hands together, asking what game you all want to play next.
An hour later, after a couple rounds of Codenames and another wine cooler, you head out the door with Frankie right beside you. It feels odd, not hiding anymore. But more so, it feels right. 
He leans you against your SUV under silver moonlight. Kisses you with plush, soft lips against yours; restless hands roving up your sides. Pulls back with a suspiciously large grin.
You cock an eyebrow at him. “What?”
“Nothing,” he says. “Just glad I stopped being an idiot.”
“I don’t know about that,” you tease, and he smacks you gently on the arm.
“Come over?” he asks, his hand draped over your waist. 
You think on it for only a second. Nod. “Yeah. As long as you make me a grilled cheese.”
“That can be arranged.” 
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end notes: thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider commenting and/or reblogging :)
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theambitiouswoman · 8 months
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Questions To Ask Yourself If You Want To Become The Best Version of Yourself
What do I really care about? What things are really important to me?
What am I good at, and where do I need help? What am I strong in, and what could I get better at?
What do I want to achieve soon and later? What things do I want to do soon, and what are my bigger, long-term goals?
Am I trying new things and not just staying comfy? Am I doing things that might be a bit scary but good for me?
How do I deal with problems and when things go wrong? What do I do when stuff doesn't work out?
Am I nice to myself when things don't go well? Do I treat myself kindly, especially when things are tough?
How do I use my time, and what's most important? How do I plan my day, and what things matter the most?
Am I learning new stuff regularly? Do I keep finding out new things?
Do I have a good balance between work and fun? Do I make sure to have enough time for work and for things I enjoy?
Do I have good friendships and avoid bad ones? Am I friends with people who make me feel good?
Do I take care of my body? Am I eating well, exercising, and sleeping enough?
Do I think about my feelings and thoughts? Do I pay attention to how I'm feeling and what I'm thinking?
How do I deal with stress and make myself calm? What do I do when I'm stressed out?
Do I help others and make the world better? Do I do things to make people's lives nicer?
Do I have good habits and get rid of bad ones? Are there things I do every day that are good for me? Are there things I should stop doing?
Do I learn from what people say about me? When people give me advice, do I listen and try to get better?
Do I say no when I need to? Do I tell people when I need space or when something isn't okay for me?
What makes me really happy? What do I like to do that makes me feel great?
Do I use money wisely? Am I good at saving and spending money in smart ways?
Do I believe I can improve and get better? When things are tough, do I think I can get through them and learn something?Am I being kind to others and making them feel good? Do I treat people nicely and make them happy?
Do I learn from things I do wrong? When I make a mistake, do I figure out how to do better next time?
Do I try new things, even if they scare me a little? Do I give things a shot, even if they seem a bit scary?
Am I spending time with people who care about me? Do I hang out with folks who like me for who I am?
Do I eat healthy foods and move my body? Am I eating good stuff and getting some exercise?
Am I sharing and helping others when I can? Do I give stuff to others and lend a hand when I'm able to?
Am I paying attention when people talk to me? Do I really listen when others are speaking to me?
Do I take breaks and do things I enjoy? Do I give myself time to rest and do things I like?
Do I say sorry and make up if I hurt someone? When I make someone feel bad, do I apologize and try to make things better?
Do I imagine good things for myself in the future? Do I think about cool stuff I want to do?
Do I stop and relax when I'm feeling stressed? When I'm worried, do I take a moment to calm down?
Do I ask for help when I need it? Do I tell someone when I can't do something on my own?
Do I try my best, even when things are tricky? Even if it's hard, do I give it my all?
Do I pick up after myself and keep things tidy? Am I good at cleaning up and keeping things in order?
Do I use my time for things that matter most? Do I do important stuff before other things?
Do I think about good things that happened today? Do I remember all the nice things that occurred?
Am I okay with making mistakes and learning from them? Do I know it's okay to mess up sometimes and learn from it?
Do I show appreciation for the people around me? Do I let others know I'm thankful for them?
Do I take deep breaths and relax when I'm upset? When I'm mad, do I breathe and try to calm down?
Do I believe I can do better and keep growing? Do I think I can get better at things and keep getting smarter?
Am I happy with who I am right now? Do I like myself just as I am?
Do I feel okay when things don't go as planned? When stuff doesn't work out, do I stay calm?
Do I think about good things about myself? Do I focus on the nice parts of me?
Do I let go of things that make me sad? When something makes me upset, can I move on from it?
Do I notice when I'm feeling worried or scared? Am I aware of when I'm feeling nervous or frightened?
Do I believe I can do things even if they're tough? Can I do hard things if I try?
Do I try to make my mind peaceful? Do I relax my thoughts when they're racing?
Do I find things that make me feel relaxed? What can I do to feel calm and at ease?
Am I patient when things take time? Can I wait without getting upset?
Do I talk kindly to myself in my head? Do I say nice things to myself in my mind?
Am I curious about things and want to learn? Do I like to find out new stuff?
Do I think about good times and happy memories? Do I remember fun things that happened before?
Do I try to understand how others feel? Can I tell what others are feeling?
Do I imagine nice things happening in the future? Can I think about good stuff that might come?
Do I take time to rest and be by myself? Do I give myself breaks and quiet time?
Do I let go of things I can't change? Can I forget about things I can't do anything about?
Do I believe I can do things even if I don't know how yet? Do I think I can learn new things?
Do I tell myself I'm doing a good job? Do I give myself a pat on the back?
Do I stay calm even if things are really busy? Can I be relaxed even when things are crazy?
Do I know that I can make mistakes and it's okay? Do I understand that everyone messes up sometimes?
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imxnotxhere · 4 months
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Azriel Fic Recs
** Updated 25/02/2024 **
A collection of amazing fics I think everyone should read. Also an appreciation for the writers that carry this fandom on their back.
One Shots:
@tadpolesonalgae
unchained - smut - really hot, i think there's going to be more parts but im not sure
stockholm syndrome - smut, dark!az - please check the warnings before reading!
birthday girl - fluff - very very cute
dreamy - smut - i think everyone needs soft dom!az
@azsazz
the caress of murder and moonlight - smut, rhys x azriel x reader - "Rhysand and Azriel are having a secret meeting out in the woods. Upon hearing your scream, the race to save you, and you thank them in the only way you know how."
after hours - smut, modern au, office au - "You and Az work in the same office and you've been crushing on each other for quite some time. Late at the office one night, he decides to do something about it."
body and soul - vamp!az au, smut - recommend checking the other parts
dirty work - smut
leisurely - fluff
@leafsandstarlight
forced revelations - fluff - "While on a mission with Azriel, reader is tricked by a creature into revealing that her feelings for the Shadowsinger go beyond mere friendship."
bad idea, right? - smut - "You stopped sleeping together months ago, but when Azriel invites you back to his place after seeing you at Rita's you just know you're going to fall right back into his bed."
@acourtofmenandthirst
love you in the dark - angst (really heavy on the angst)
@azrielhours
soft spot - smut, fluff - "Azriel is very particular about his lovers; typically hard-hearted women chosen so they don’t develop an emotional attachment. Reader is one of these lovers, except she’s the sweetest and cheeriest on his roster. This causes Az to begin breaking his rules about intimacy, especially when she unwittingly ends up at his home for work one evening and spends the night."
take care - fluff - "There Was only One Bed trope, reader and Az stay at an Inn overnight, they take care of each other."
i want you to rest - fluff - 10/10 comfort fic - "Reader has a nightmare while on a mission w the boys. Azriel comes to the rescue, brings her to his room to comfort her. She doesn’t want to sleep so he stays with her through the night."
lessons on relief - smut - "Azriel is the last of the boys to lose his virginity"
@azrielbrainrot
i'll be here - fluff - "You feel a little out of place at a celebration in the House of Wind and a certain Shadowsinger comes to the rescue."
such a perfect place to start - fluff - "Something happens that has you questioning the nature of your relationship with the shadowsinger."
maybe we could be the start of something - fluff, modern au, band au - Your friends invite you to a bar and you could never imagine who you'd meet there."
darling i'd wait for you even if you didn't ask me to - fluff, modern au, band au - "You have a really bad day and Azriel is there to help you through it."
@serpentandlily
no going back- angst - "Azriel has been your mate, your husband, your love for centuries. But a certain Archeron sister has him questioning your relationship after all this time. You soon find out that there are simply things that can not be unsaid or undone. And sometimes, there are things you can’t come back from."
@fever-fluff
take my hand - angst, fluff - "Azriel really wants to hold your hand, but he's afraid that he'll hold it too tight."
@writingcroissant
just a little crush - fluff - "Everyone secretly longs for Azriel, but Azriel only longs for her."
hands - smut - "Azriel has really nice hands. And he knows how to use them, too."
@azrielscrown
innocence - smut, fluff
@gothicbabydollz
azriel x archeron!sister!reader - smut
@honeybeefae
desperate times - smut - "While tending to Elain's garden you come across a mysterious flower with an even more mysterious pollen. As the effects of it start to hit you, you have to fend for yourself to get the edge off...or do you?"
@writingsbychlo
be yours - fluff - "you ask azriel how it's possible he's still single."
@lalacliffthorne
idiot - smut - "a fight gets out of hand, and suddenly, everything´s turned upside down"
@safetypinxtales
lonely with you - angst, fluff - "it seems like everyone's found their mates, except you. On a sleepless night you turn to your friend, in hopes that being alone, together, will feel slightly less lonely."
@prythianpages
i've been waiting for you - "Azriel finally meets the one he's been longing for. His mate."
Series:
@tadpolesonalgae
i can't bring myself to hate you - angst, smut (only one chapter for now at least) - this fic is my roman empire, literally obsessed with this. prepare for the pain and to kind of want to hit azriel over the head
the dregs of tragedy - mer!az
eat you up - smut, dark!az - please check the warnings at the beginning! if you're ever in a mood for dark!az this is the perfect remedy (stockholm syndrome is a sort of epilogue? for this)
teeth and talons - smut, demon!az - "you’re accused of witchcraft and sacrificed to the shadow creatures, only to be saved by their ruler who’s suspiciously in sudden need of a bride…"
@azsazz
cupid's chokehold - fluff, angst - this is such an interesting concept - "You are a Cupid, a nearly extinct creature of Prythian. When you get caught trying to shoot Elain with your arrow, well, it's a little hard to explain what you're trying to do."
@leafsandstarlight
inadvertently yours - fluff, angst, smut, fake relationship and arranged marriage are classics for a reason - "As Eris Vanserra’s most trusted spy, you‘ve found yourself spending a surprising amount of time with the Night Court’s Spymaster. When your rendezvous with Azriel is discovered by High Lord Beron, the only way to protect the alliance is to pretend that you and Azriel are madly in love."
annual visit - fluff, smut - human reader, modern(?) au - "Each year on Halloween, Azriel visits the mortal lands with his friends to partake in the human debauchery that occurs. When he meets reader at a local bar, he can't take his eyes off her no matter how hard he tries."
@pellucid-constellations
of oblivious minds - fluff - "You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore."
@utterlyazriel
how long have i searched for you? an eternity my love - fluff - "azriel finds his mate in the most inopportune time and he convinces himself you haven't sought him out for good reason. he couldn't be more wrong."
@azrielbrainrot
i laugh like me again, she laughs like you - angst - "Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time."
the devel i revel in - demon!azriel - "Your duties take you into the forest often but one day you feel compelled to explore further. What could go wrong?"
@acourtofwhatthefuck
bluebird - some fluff and angst for now
studious part 2 - smut
@lalacliffthorne
bat boys roommates - fluff, modern roommates au - there's multiple parts to this au and it's azriel x reader but rhys and cass appear a lot as reader's roommates
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feybeasts · 9 months
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I really don’t know if this is like. For anyone. But as a 33 year old autistic, I’ve spent a lot of time having to deal with a wide variety of folks in various jobs, and it’s forced me out of my shell. I dunno if you’d call ‘em masking behaviors or just… guidelines, but I thought I’d share some stuff about how I try to go about dealing with socializing with folks, especially neurotypicals, in the hopes it might help folks like me who, growing up, didn’t have a rulebook for this stuff.
It’s by no means comprehensive, but maybe some of you can use it:
Open with kindness, folks are a mystery until you get to know them, but if you’re polite and assume the best unless proven otherwise, nine times out of ten, they’ll be the same way!
If someone is rude or disrespectful or unkind off the bat, it truly is a problem on their end, not yours. I know that’s one your parents might have thrown out without explaining, but genuinely, my experience has been that people aren’t good about compartmentalization, and they tend to let their bad mood spill out.
Similarly, it’s your right to disengage if someone makes you uncomfortable. You don’t owe someone your attention if they’re rude or too forward, and it’s not your obligation to correct their behavior. It’s okay to just move on!
Remember people aren’t mind readers- I know for folks like us, feelings can be Big and Present and Overwhelming, but from the outside, people might just assume you’re being sullen or grumpy. It’s helpful to explain yourself, what’s going on- don’t give ‘em your life’s story and try to lead with kindness, as above, but explaining where your head is at can help folks understand why things might be hard for you.
People REALLY like to try to fix stuff. If you tell someone who cares about you what’s going on and they try to throw a buncha stuff like “well have you tried this” or “maybe you should do this” at you, they’re generally not trying to tell you what to do like you’re wrong, they’re just not sure how to help and are doing what comes naturally- trying to fix the problem. It can help to open any venting with “hey, can I vent about this?” Since then the expectations are set.
People can only operate on the information they have, so it’s better to over-explain than not explain at all. Don’t throw out every single detail of what’s going on, just the basics, but “I’m feeling frustrated because of some unexpected news” or “Well, I’m kinda struggling with my relationship with a friend” can be enough for folks to understand things at the ground floor.
There are very few people in your life who are capable of taking on the weight of a friend’s problems on top of their own, and it takes time to learn who those people are. I know folks like us can make friends quickly and rush into trusting them implicitly, but people can sometimes take a while to show you who they are. And not every friendship is gonna be as deep as we’d like it to be. This is okay, of course, not everyone has to be best buds, but it can help a lot to take the time to wait for those people to show who they are.
Ask questions, listen to people, and know that it’s okay for there to be silence. It’s very easy to get excited about what’s stuck in your craw on a given day, but remember that from the outside, people might get worn out if every conversation is about what you’re fixated on. It’s a give and take, so try to consciously remind yourself to make sure to listen and give them room to speak too! It means a lot when you do that for people!
When you don’t know if someone is ignoring you or if they’re mad at you or what have you from a lack of information, remember that oftentimes it’s a product of ignorance, not malice. Again, you know how you feel about a situation, but they probably don’t. A conversation turning from what you were talking about, someone ceasing replying to you, not answering a question, etc is more often just unaware than they are actively being malicious.
Remember that it’s on other folks to tell you if there’s a problem between them and you, not on you to sleuth it out. If they aren’t properly communicating with you, that’s on them, not you- try not to beat yourself up if someone doesn’t talk to you about something before a molehill becomes a mountain, that’s a mistake all kinda folks make, and it’s something some people never learn.
Most of all, remember that for all the talk of social cues and neurotypical behavior, the truth is, everyone kinda… sucks at this social thing. All you really control is how you approach it, so if you do your best to come into a relationship of any kind with kindness and love for yourself and respect for others, most of the time you’ll come out ahead!
ADDENDUM: BIG one here- if you think you did something wrong, apologize! I don’t mean a big like- sobbing show of contrition, don’t grovel or write paragraphs, but if you speak over someone or say something that doesn’t land or make any little social mistake here or there (everyone does sometimes!) a simple little genuine “oh, my apologies!” Or “oop, my bad!” Not only makes them feel better, it can make you feel better too!
Hope some of these help folks!
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seolis-world · 27 days
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college beomgyu as your fubu..
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a/n: so here is another fubu headcanon of mine, and this time its beomgyu! yay~ it is inspired from this post. i was obsessed with that edit and immediately know i had to write this.
wc: 431 :>
warnings: smut MDNI, college setting, sneaky link? fwb? fubu?, hickeys, public sex,
fuckbuddy!beomgyu who you agree to be just casual with, but has seemed to be bothering your mind lately
its so bad, you're getting flashbacks of him railing you whenever you zone out in class
you keep thinking about those soft, plump, and tender lips and how he is too good at using them.
fuckbuddy!beomgyu who likes to leaving marks all over your body, it would be literally anywhere- at your lips, neck, tits, tummy and inner thighs (don't even try to cover it up or he'll just add more..)
and his eyes, those sleepy tired eyes that would only light up whenever he sees you, all those intimate eye contacts you share, and the way he deeply stares at you even though you're just talking
its always messy makeouts with fuckbuddy!beomgyu - he'll have you sat on his lap, kissing eagerly, hands running and squeezing all over your body, grinding at each other, and letting all whines melt into the sloppiness of the kiss
fuckbuddy!beomgyu who has this habits that he only does with you, that make others question this so-called "friendship" of yours
he loves fidgeting with your clothes, puts his hand on the back pocket of your jeans, toying the strap of your sleeveless top, playing the hem of your skirts, and inserts his hand inside your ripped jeans
having playful banters with him >> getting all flirty, and taking advantage of the incredible sexual tension you have
fuckbuddy!beomgyu who has a high sex drive, but not just him- you are equally insatiable, always teases and challenge each other till the other gives in
you would always end up fucking almost anywhere you could think of, at a public restroom, someone else's bedroom, in an empty classroom, storage room? anywhere!
you cant help it he is impatient, one time you were already parked at the front of your place but he said he cant wait any longer and just you fucked in the car
fuckbuddy!beomgyu doesn't mind being loud
if you don't want to make a noise? he'll just fuck you harder. trying to make him quiet? he'll just get louder
fuckbuddy!beomgyu has a camera dedicated to you, loves taking pictures or video of you and the mess he made with you (with consent of course)
he likes it especially when he pans the camera at your fucked out face (sometimes painted with mixtures of his cum and spit)
its quite amusing really, how he'll sit next to you in class the next day, both of you acting all normal and innocent like he hasn't you bent over for him last night
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a/n: here is yeonjun's ver, should i make other members as well? no promises, but if so..
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andvys · 6 months
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I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 11
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Warnings: none really, mentions of smoking and drinking, reader punching someone....
Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler , slight Eddie Munson x fem!reader
Summary: Steve watches you from afar, confused about your relationship with the metalhead.
Word count: 4.9k
A/N: @mysticmunson you're always my biggest help and inspiration, thank you, angel🤍
series masterlist
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“Will you hold still?”
“I’m sorry!” 
“Why are you so shaky?”
“I-I don’t know.”
You drop the eyeshadow brush on the desk and put your hand on your hip, sighing as you look at Chrissy who looks more nervous than ever. She is still wearing a hoodie, the cheer uniform is hanging over the back of your chair. You have been trying to do her eye makeup for the past twenty minutes.
“Lay down.”
Her eyebrows shoot up, confusion takes over her face, “why?”
“Because I can’t work like this, you keep fidgeting – seriously, what’s up? You are never this nervous.” 
You and Chrissy always get ready together whenever there’s a basketball game. Usually she does her makeup herself but tonight she asked you to do it, she wanted something similar like you, just with more color.
She seemed happy and excited when she came over but now she seems like a nervous mess. Every time you move closer to her, she starts fidgeting, it’s not the first time you had noticed her doing that. You have noticed a lot in the past three months. 
Heather and Chrissy kept being secretive, oftentimes you would catch them whispering before they’d notice you in the room, they share glances that you don’t understand. They still make you feel left out. You confronted them a while back but neither of them gave you any answers to your questions, it upset you and it caused you to distance yourself from them a little. 
They had started to make you feel the way he made you feel. The constant lies, the whispers and them going behind your back had gotten to you. It triggered some feelings that you thought you had left in the past. 
They were upset when you stopped answering their phone calls and when you would cancel plans but you couldn’t be around them when they refused to talk about the very obvious issues they had with you. You would never drop the friendship, you would never leave them behind, they mean too much to you to just kick them out of your life but you needed some distance, for your sake. 
You made a new friend, Robin Buckley. Eddie introduced you to her back in January, they had been friends since middle school – back when he was still a theater kid. 
You instantly hit it off with her, she is nice and she is very different from Chrissy and Heather, which is why she didn’t feel comfortable hanging out with them yet. It’s a miracle that she gave you a chance considering that ‘popular’ people make her feel extremely anxious and uncomfortable – which you can understand now that you see things from a different perspective.
To most people, you are still the ‘the queen of Hawkins High’ but to some you are one of the freaks now. They glare at you, they whisper about you, they call you names and point their fingers at you, especially when they see you with Eddie, who feels guilty about the treatment you are getting from some of the people that used to be in your friend group when you were still with Steve. You don’t care though. 
You don’t care what other people think of you. 
But you do care what your friends think about you, your friends who still keep secrets. 
“Yeah Chrissy, why are you so nervous?” Eddie chuckles as he looks up from his magazine, glancing at the two of you. Wiggling his eyebrows at her. She glares at him and rolls her eyes, which only makes him chuckle again. 
Eddie knows why she is so nervous, it’s obvious why – well, it’s obvious to everyone but you. It didn’t take him long to figure it out. The subtle glares and the attitude he sometimes gets from the usually nice cheerleader isn’t because she doesn’t like him, it’s because she is jealous of him. Because she likes you. 
And she knows that he knows, she realized it after he started teasing her with small comments and the smug looks he would throw at her when he’d catch her checking you out. At first, she was scared. Scared that he would tell you something that she had been trying to hide for so long. Eddie promised not to tell though. 
Chrissy lies down, a small huff leaves her lips. You get on the bed and scoot closer to her, reaching for the eyeshadow brush, you dip it into the blue eyeshadow before you lean down. 
She is looking at you – staring at you. 
“Close your eyes,” you chuckle. 
“O-Oh right,” she whispers and closes her eyes. 
Eddie puts the magazine down, he leans back in his chair and puts his arm behind his head. He looks at you, you are already wearing your uniform, your hair and makeup is already done. He watches the way you bend down to get closer to Chrissy, your skirt rides up a little, exposing your spandex and more of your skin. He really really doesn’t want to look at you in that way but he can’t look away either. 
You are his friend and he really loves your friendship and how easy things are between the two of you but you are beautiful. 
And you are sexy. 
You suddenly turn around and glance at him, you catch him staring at you. Eddie’s eyes widen but he plays it cool, smirking at you. Your eyes flash with amusement, you raise your brows at him, a smirk tugs at your lips. 
“Stop staring, Munson.”
Eddie gives you a cocky grin, “I can’t look away from a beautiful sunset.”
You furrow your brows and a laugh escapes your lips, you shake your head at him, “what does that even mean, you dork?” 
You turn back around, still smiling. Chrissy snorts at his words. 
“Okay, tell any sane person to look away from two cheerleaders straddling,” he says. 
“Eddie!” Chrissy mumbles, opening her eyes to look at you with a disapproving frown. 
You grab one of your pillows and turn around, throwing it at him, “perv!” You laugh.
He catches it and presses it against his chest, he smirks at you, “can you do my eyeshadow too, sweetheart?” He jokes.
“Shut up,” you chuckle as you turn back around. You reach for your makeup bag and look for the glitter you bought when you went shopping with Robin, yesterday.
Chrissy leans on her elbows, she glances at Eddie who is checking you out again and then her eyes move back to you. She can see the shine in your eyes, the smile that you are trying to bite back, the flustered look on your face. 
It annoys her. 
Eddie is amazing and with him, you would actually be in good hands. He is a much better person than Steve ever was. He wouldn’t hurt you, especially not the way he did. Eddie makes you smile, he spends more time with you than Steve did, he buys you little presents that he surprises you with, all the time. He takes you out on dates that ‘clearly’ aren’t dates because you are just friends. Eddie comes to basketball games – he comes to basketball  games, just for you.
Eddie would be a good boyfriend, there is no doubt about that. She is not sure if you like each other or not but it seems like it. She should be happy for you and she should support it but the green eyed monster inside of her just refuses to let her be happy for you. 
“Are you excited for the party?”
Chrissy snaps out of her thoughts, she looks into your eyes again and nods. 
“Are you gonna wear the dress you bought?” 
She closes her eyes again when you lean back in with the brush. She feels your fingertips on her cheek when you tilt her face to the side. She takes in a shaky breath. 
“Should I?” 
You hum. 
“You look pretty in it.”
She smiles at your words, “I do?”
“Yes, you always do, Chris.”
She blushes and her smile grows bigger, “thank you,” she whispers. 
You smile down at her, “you’re welcome.”
After you finish her makeup, Chrissy takes her uniform and goes into your bathroom to get changed. You clean up the small mess and put away all the makeup and the brushes, you grab your favorite lipstick and walk over to the mirror, you can feel his eyes on you as you start applying the lipstick. A smile tugs at your lips, you glance at him through the mirror. He’s wearing the same smile as you. 
“What?” 
He shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck, “nothing.”
You furrow your brows, you smack your lips together and look at your reflection one more time before you turn around to face him. 
“Why are you smiling?” 
He shrugs and gets up from the chair, he grabs the green hair bow and walks towards you. 
“I like watching you get ready,” he says. 
“You do?” You smile. 
He nods, “mhmm.”
He stops in front of you and looks down at you as he holds up the green hair bow, “turn around.”
You turn around, facing the mirror again. He steps closer to you. You can smell his cologne, it’s a new one. It smells even better than the previous one he used. The smell of smoke always lingers around him though, nothing can hide the smell – not the cologne, not the aftershave, not his shampoo which surprisingly smells like apples, not the cinnamon from his favorite gum. 
Eddie’s hands are gentle, his brows are furrowed in concentration, he presses his lips together as he puts the bow in your hair. 
Something about this makes you giggle. Eddie being in your bedroom isn’t unusual but him helping you get ready for the game, putting a bow in your hair is very unusual. 
His eyes flash with amusement as he raises his head to look at your reflection in the mirror, “what’s so funny?”
You shrug and continue watching him, “just you helping me get ready for a laundry basket game.” 
He snorts. 
“I’m helping you get ready for your performance and I’m only going there for you, sweets.” 
Your heart warms at his words. 
“And then you’re also coming to the bonfire party with me.” 
“With you.” He nods. 
“Alright, I’m done,” he grins and flicks your ponytail before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a tight hug, leaning his chin on your shoulder, causing you to giggle again. 
You grab his forearms and lean back. 
“Do you hug all your friends that way?”
He chuckles and pulls you even closer, “nah only the special ones, babe,” he smirks and buries his face in your neck, breathing in the smell of your perfume and body wash. 
You giggle and tilt your head to the side, “how many special ones are there?” 
“Just one.”
You narrow your eyes as you turn to look at him, he smirks at you still. 
“You’re my very special one.” 
He isn’t joking about that, despite the teasing look on his face, he is saying the truth. You are special to Eddie. You haven’t been friends for that long, you started talking last summer, back in august but you have only gotten really close after your breakup with Steve. It feels like you have been friends for much longer than that though. The moment you first started hanging out, you instantly got attached to each other. Not a single day goes by when you don’t spend time together, he loves being with you and you love being with him. 
Things feel natural, easy and just good when you are with each other. 
You look into each other's eyes for a moment, not speaking, not moving, not doing anything. Sometimes that’s enough. 
A smile tugs at your lips as you look at him. His smile grows as well and before you know it, you both start laughing for no reason. 
Chrissy walks back into the room to see you in his embrace. She clenches her jaw and rolls her eyes in annoyance. She clears her throat. 
You and Eddie look away from each other, the smile still ever present on your faces. You don’t notice the jealousy or the bitterness on her face. He does. 
“Can we go?” 
You glance at Eddie who nods at you with a shrug. He is definitely not excited for the game, you told him that he doesn’t have to go but he claimed that he wants to go, for you.  
You smile at them both, “let’s go!”
-
Things between Steve and Billy were tense all night. You could tell from the moment they walked out into the gym, the glares they sent each other were more intense than usual, they wouldn’t pass on any opportunity to ‘accidentally’ bump into each other and not to mention Steve’s bleeding nose, he tried to hide it but he kept wiping his nose and you noticed the blood on the back of his hand. 
He looked angry and frustrated. You noticed it, right away. 
She didn’t. 
Despite the tension and the weird energy that surrounded one of the best players on the team, they still won against the opposing team and took another win home, which of course has to be celebrated.
Lovers Lake is filled with people, the bonfire party that had been planned for weeks is in full swing, loud music is sounding through the speakers, the smell of burning wood mixed with the smell of the crisp spring air brings you comfort. The cold months are over and the warm weather is finally approaching. 
The beer you have been drinking all night makes you feel a little tipsy but you feel calm and the stars in the sky make you smile as you lay on the grass with Eddie. He lights up a cigarette and blows the smoke up into the air. 
You turn your head and look around, a few people are sitting by the fire. You see Chrissy and Heather talking to a few girls from the cheer squad. You see Nancy sitting on a log with Jonathan, they are both laughing, leaning closer to each other, Steve is sitting on a different log, he is holding a red solo cup in his hand, he looks into the fire with a dull look on his face. 
You raise your brows, you look at the three of them. Odd. Shouldn’t he be the one next to her? Shouldn’t he be the one whispering to her? Shouldn’t he be the one making her laugh? 
“Do you think there’s more out there?” Eddie asks, pulling your attention away from him. 
“Hmm?” 
Eddie repeats his question and you turn back to look at him, he is pointing up at the sky, “like aliens and shit.”
You scoot closer to him, looking at the way he squints his eyes as he smokes. 
“Hmm, maybe,” you shrug, “I think there’s more than just aliens though.”
“Oh, do you?” He asks, turning to face you, “tell me more.”
“I think there’s other universes.”
He raises his brows, waiting for you to explain more. 
“I think there are different worlds, different versions of us – like, maybe there's a version of us fighting interdimensional monsters right now,” you joke, which he seems to love. 
His eyes light up at your words and he laughs. 
“Maybe we are slaying a dark wizard right now – what was his name again, Vecman? You know the one from your new campaign?” 
Eddie laughs loudly and he shakes his head, “it’s Vecna, sweetheart.” 
You roll your eyes and snort.
“Right, we are killing Vecna, right now.” 
“Are we normal humans or?”
“No, we have superpowers.”
“What kind of superpowers?” 
You put your finger on your chin and look up, “hmm… you got super strength, super speed,” you pause and look into his eyes, his skin looks pale beneath the moonlight, his eyes are dark. Your eyes widen, “you’re a vampire!” 
His jaw drops, his eyes widen, “I’m a vampire?” 
“Yes!”
“That means I had to die – wait! Did you bring me back from the dead? You know, since you’re a witch?”
"Absolutely,” you giggle. 
“That’s so sick, sweetheart.” 
“Right?” 
You both giggle as you stare at each other. His eyes fall to the chain around your neck, the one that he had put on you earlier tonight. He reaches his hand out and touches it. 
“Maybe we are both rockstars in a different world.” 
“Both of us?” You laugh, “I can see you being a rockstar but me?”
“Hush. You are helping me write songs and you can play guitar now – well a little, never as good as me but yeah,” he says, cockily. Smirking at you. 
You shake your head, snorting at his words. 
“Maybe you are my groupie.” 
“You wish!” You slap his shoulder, making him laugh again. 
“Okay okay, not a groupie – you are the lead singer and I’m the sexy guitarist.” 
“Mhmm.” 
You lie back again and look up at the stars, a grin takes over your face, “or maybe you are my groupie.”
“Oh absolutely, I’d totally be your groupie if you were a rockstar, y/n.”
You and Eddie are in your own little world, you always are. You don’t care about anything or anyone else when you are with each other. The rest of the world melts away when you spend time together. 
You don’t care about the people around you or the awful music that one of the jocks picked out, the prying eyes of the judging girls from the cheer squad. You just don’t care about anything. 
You don’t even notice the curious eyes of your ex boyfriend but Eddie does, after you get up to get a new drink. His eyes find a sulking Steve Harrington, who is still sitting by the fire. His girlfriend is long gone and so is her friend, Eddie doesn’t bother to look around for them. He keeps his eyes on Steve, watching the way his eyes follow you. Eddie wonders why he looks so miserable, because of Nancy and Jonathan or because of you? It seems to be the latter, he could be looking for her but instead he is watching you. 
A sigh falls from Eddie’s lips, how stupid can someone be? He wonders.
Suddenly, Steve straightens his back and his expression changes from miserable to curious and tense? He turns his head, looking right at him. Eddie raises his brows when he finds himself locking eyes with him. Steve looks confused, his eyes flicker back and forth between you and him. 
Eddie follows his gaze to see what confuses him so much. He is looking at you and at the guy who is shamelessly checking you out as you laugh at something he said to you.
Eddie snorts. Of course. If there is one thing that he got used to when going out with you then it’s you being hit on, every damn time. 
The guy is tall, probably taller than him. His shoulders are broad beneath the flannel, it’s clear that he’s some sort of athlete. He looks familiar but Eddie doesn’t recognize him. 
Curiously, Eddie watches the interaction from afar, sipping his beer. 
You are holding a drink in your hand, you have to crane your neck to look into his eyes. Eddie can see the smile on your face, you nod to whatever he is saying to you. He steps closer to you, pretending not to hear you properly, he leans closer and licks his lips when he looks down your shirt.
Eddie rolls his eyes, “douchebag.” 
The music is loud but he still hears the approaching footsteps, narrowing his eyes, he almost laughs in surprise when he sees Steve. Getting up, he dusts the grass off of his jeans and finishes his drink. 
Steve stops in front of him, when Eddie sees the look of disbelief on his face, he almost bursts out laughing. 
“I’m not selling tonight,” he mumbles. 
Steve shakes his head, furrowing his brows at his words, “I don’t wanna buy anything.”
“Oh, to what do I owe you the pleasure then, King Steve?” Eddie asks, mockingly. He expects Steve to look annoyed but he doesn’t, just very confused. 
“You’re not gonna do anything?” Steve asks. 
Eddie chuckles, his brows draw together and he tilts his head in question. 
“What do you mean?”
Steve raises his hand, pointing his finger at you and the guy who is now holding his hand out to you – you are writing something on his palm, presumably your number. 
Eddie rolls his eyes again. 
“This guy is flirting with her,” Steve mumbles.
“I’m not her keeper.” 
Now he looks even more confused, if he didn’t look so serious, Eddie would have laughed. But then he realizes why he looks at him so shocked. Steve must think that you and Eddie are dating and he doesn’t understand how he as your ‘boyfriend’ just lets you flirt with some other guy. 
Steve sighs, he turns around. Eddie watches the way he stares the guy down, a look of distaste appears on his face.
“That’s Ray, he used to be the captain of the basketball team. I always hated that guy.” Steve mumbles. 
That’s a lie. Steve used to look up to him, when he was a freshman in high school and he was new on the team, Ray had seemed like the coolest guy around, he was the most popular guy at school, the girls loved him, the boys wanted to be like him and so did Steve until he became popular too and he realized that he could be even better than him. Ray was just a popular guy but Steve Harrington became the King of the school. 
A title he used to be so proud of is just an embarrassing part of his past now. 
Steve is certain that you and Eddie are dating. He could just ask to be sure but he thinks that it’s too obvious. You are dating. But why are you flirting with the former captain of the basketball team? Why are you writing your number on his hand? Are you in an open relationship with Eddie? 
An open relationship is something you never approved of, you always made that very clear, not that Steve suggested something like this. Tommy always joked about it to Carol and you looked disgusted and always voiced your opinions on it. 
What happened? 
Did the hurt change you so much?
Ray walks away from you and you turn around, walking back to Eddie when someone else steps in front of you and both Eddie and Steve sigh in annoyance. 
Billy Hargrove. Always there to ruin the night. 
“Getting bored of the freak?” 
The smile on your face falls, a sour expression takes over and you tense up. You can’t stand Billy. Not only does he keep trying to get in your pants while he has a thing going on with your friend, he also keeps insulting Eddie and picking fights with Steve, which shouldn’t be any of your concerns but something tells you that Steve’s bleeding nose and the bruise on Billy’s jaw has got something to do with you. 
“Fuck off, Billy,” you mumble, trying to move past him. He doesn’t let you. He steps in front of you and chuckles. 
“Don’t be like that, baby.”
You scrunch your face up in disgust, “don’t call me that.”
His eyes move up and down, he looks at your exposed skin and you suddenly regret wearing a low cut shirt. 
“Ray Parker, huh?” He smirks, licking his lips, “going for the jocks again? The freak ain’t doing a good job at satisfying you? You know, you can just come to me instead of going for some retired team captain.”
“Jesus, shut up, Billy.”
Billy chuckles, his eyes twinkle with lust as he continues to stare at you, “when will you stop playing hard to get? We both know that you will end up under me at some point.” 
If you didn’t feel disgusted by him already, you would definitely be now. Anger rushes through you and you roll your eyes. 
“Keep dreaming, Hargrove.” 
"Oh, I will." 
You clench your jaw as you look into his blue eyes. You hate the cocky look on his face, the self assured expression that he always has. The smirk that he wears. God, you want to punch him. 
You go to walk past him and surprisingly, he lets you walk away this time but then he says something that makes your blood boil. 
“Yeah be a good girl and run back to the freak, no one else will fuck that loser.” 
You halt in your tracks and you clench your fists. You had always been protective over your friends but especially him. Eddie may be good at pretending that the bullying doesn’t get to him, he learned to ignore them or to throw some punchlines back but you are not going to stand by and watch how others degrade and belittle him. 
You turn back around and his smirk grows when he notices how angry you look. 
“I never thought you’d be into some trailer trash a–” 
You never punched someone before but you always wanted to know what it feels like to slam your fist into someone’s face, someone that you can’t stand. You didn’t think that it would hurt so bad but the look on his face and the bruise that he will wear later on, makes it all worth it. 
His head snaps to the side and he looks stunned for a moment. 
You hear the gasps around you, the chuckles from a few boys. 
A part of you expects him to hit you back, you are no stranger to his anger issues. The reaction you get isn’t one that you expected though. He furrows his brows and suddenly he bursts into laughter, his eyes flash with amusement and his pupils dilate even further. 
You want to punch him again. 
“Shit baby, I’m even more into you now,” he smirks. 
A groan of disgust falls from your lips and you turn around to leave before he can do or say anything else. 
Eddie and Steve stand there with stunned looks on their faces. Eddie looks impressed and proud, a smirk is tugging at his lips. 
Steve’s cheeks are flushed, his eyes are wide and his lips are parted in surprise. Out of all the things he expected to see tonight, this wasn’t one of them. The feeling that rushes through him is intense. 
You should have punched him a long time ago. 
“That’s kinda hot.”
Eddie snorts at Steve’s words. 
Yeah, it was hot. 
“Damn, sweetheart,” Eddie whistles, smirking as you walk back to him. He sees the way your eyes flash with confusion when you notice Steve next to him. “I didn’t know you had such a mean right hook.”
You roll your eyes, laughing. You don't even acknowledge him.
“He had that coming.” 
Eddie throws his arm around you, he pulls you into his chest and leans down to kiss your cheek sloppily, not caring that your ex boyfriend is staring. 
“That’s my girl.”
He wonders what Billy said to you to make you this mad. 
“You gonna hit me next, big girl?” Eddie jokes. 
You giggle, biting down on your lip, you look into Eddie’s amused eyes, completely dismissing his presence. You pull away from him, he looks at you curiously, eyeing the smugness in your eyes. Before he can react, you reach your arm behind him and slap his ass. 
Eddie’s jaw drops at the smack he received, he snorts at your action, squinting his eyes at you, he tries to give you a mean look which only makes you giggle again. You step back when you realize what he’s about to do. Just as he tries to swat your ass, you run off, giggling. 
Eddie doesn’t hesitate to run after you, trying to catch you. Your laughter is loud as you run away from him, pushing past the groups of people as you near the forest.
Steve's brows are still raised and his face is still stunned. 
Many emotions went through him today; anger, sadness, irritation, jealousy but mostly confusion.
He watches Eddie grabbing you from behind, he hears your squeal and he sees the way Eddie kisses your cheek, again.
He blinks and forces himself to look away, only now noticing how wrong it still feels to see you with him.
But it's not wrong, right?
It's not wrong because you aren't his anymore.
He let go of you because you had asked him to, because he loves her, because he wants to spend his life with her.
He still has love for you, he always will but you are a part of his past now, a past that keeps calling him. The past that keeps haunting him in his mind and in his dreams.
Sometimes when he can't sleep at night, he stares at the telephone on his nightstand and he wonders what it would be like to call you, to hear your voice again, to ask you how you are doing, to ask if you are happy with the life you are living now that you are strangers to each other.
Sometimes he wants to call but he never does. You won't pick up the phone. He is sure of that.
But, if you called, he would pick up the phone, anytime, without hesitation.
next chapter
-
tagging friends & mutuals
@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @hellfire--cult @screammunson @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can @sherrylyn628 @nemesis729 @xxhellfiregirlxx @trashmouth-richie @somethingvicked
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snowy-vee · 1 month
Text
ALL MINE (3)
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oblivious loser bsf! ellie williams x posesive popular bsf!fem reader
n/a: I may have rushed things! but I prefer to trust the process and cook a little bit more. I hope you all like it. Also, does the taglist works how I've done it or there's another way to do a taglist?
trigger warnings;; mention of vomit (1), idk if catalog it into violence because there's none but intense argue(?
Pt.1 HERE
pt.2 HERE
pt.4 HERE
Inform yourself about what’s happening and how to help! FREE PALESTINE, FREE CONGO.
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Ellie was in such a boring class that she barely noticed when it ended and people started to pack up; a few of her classmates were waiting for her at the entrance of the door, so she hurried out with them. They discussed the topics covered in class today as they walked to the dinning hall.
“Ellie!” you called out, causing both her and her classmates to turn; you were on the opposite path from her, so you had to run a bit to reach her side faster. You opened your gym bag and pulled out the folder Ellie had left in your room last night after studying together. “Your folder, you said you needed it today.”
You were dressed in your cheerleading uniform since you had practice right now. Ellie, who had been a little dazed watching the movement of your skirt as you ran, nodded, feeling her cheeks burn, and indeed, you looked so pretty, especially when you said goodbye and turned around, showing the small bow in the back of your hair.
“Sometimes I forget you’re friends with someone so popular. How is it possible that you’re friends with her?” one of them said, mesmerized by your presence, like the rest of the group
“Well, we are, best friends,” Ellie asserted with a smile. It’s true that she was annoyed when people questioned your friendship, but she was happy to have you as a friend, and perhaps she also enjoyed the feeling of envy from others…
“Yeah but she is popular, pretty, hangs out with her kind of cliché, goes to every party invited ¡Hell! She could be an influencer if she wanted to… and you are you”
“Hey, I have my own charm” Ellie said softly feeling a little bit offended “Whatever, we’ve been friend for so many years and that’s what matters”
“Really? Then do you know if the rumours about her and Abby are true? I think it’s the hottest gossip on campus, the cheerleading captain and the captain of the women’s basketball team.”
“They’re all lies, don’t believe any of that. She wouldn’t be with someone like Abby,” Ellie said, dismissing the comments, and she sounded so sure of what she was saying, especially because you assured her of it the same night of the party.
Finally, you had arrived home, you were so tired that as soon as you got to your room, you collapsed on the bed.
“At least change before you throw yourself on the bed,” Ellie leaned against the door of your room. You nodded, kicking off your shoes and getting up to grab your pajamas; you began to undress in front of her, caring little, as it wasn’t the first time.
Ellie, without changing her position, watched as you slowly untied the knot of your top and let it fall, exposing your purple bra, unbuttoning the button of your skirt and slowly lowering the zipper. The skirt fell quickly, revealing your white panties with purple bows matching the bra.
She bit her lip as she looked at your body until she reached your collarbones; there was a hickey, and it looked recent. “Did… Abby do that?”
“Hmm?” You looked at her, she pointed to her collarbone, making you look at yourself in the mirror, seeing the hickey.
‘Shit, I told her not to leave marks.’ you thought rolling your eyes mentally
“Did she do that to you?” Ellie had a slight grimace of disgust as she asked the question, obviously she noticed.
“Of course not! It was some guy I was dancing with.”
“You swear? Because you know that I do not like Abby at all.”
You fucking knew it, that’s why when you were mad at her you used to call Abby. You knew how much it would hurt her, you had no idea why they hated each other and everytime you asked her she said that she had her reasons and was protecting you.
“I swear, I would never do that to you. Abby does want something with me, I think she’s obssesed with me, she’s telling people things that never happen, spreading false rumors,” you sighed as you finished putting on your pajamas, approaching Ellie and putting your hands on her shoulders. “At the party today, she tried to talk to me and go further, but I told her no, to leave me alone, she got really mad and threatened to keep spreading rumors, and I told her I didn’t care.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this? I could’ve defend you.”
“Oh, Ellie, please, I know you can but do you know how many rumors there are about me? I don’t care what others think; I care that you trust me. Do you trust me?”
“Completely,” she smiled before you kissed her on the cheek and let her go while you went to the bathroom to remove your makeup changing the topic.
Ellie smiled too, of course she trusted you, that’s why she was now in front of her classmates denying the rumors, no matter how much you didn’t care, she wasn’t going to let people talk nonsense about you. No one knew you like she did.
“Are you sure? Because Abby has been telling the whole team how much of a naughty bitch, how good she could take her seven inches strap, other nasty things I can’t repeat and that she had video proof…” the guy beside Ellie spoke while looking at his phone.
“What? Unbelievable! Isn’t that like revenge corn?” Another girl said looking at his phone as well.
Her smile dropped. “What did you just say?”
She stopped walking, and with her, the group. The guy who said that showed her his phone, it was a group chat with the football and basketball team, and Abby had sent different pictures that one could only see them once. “You’ve seen them?”
“N-no she hasn’t showed them yet but would do it soon…”
“Can you confirm that she was talking about her”
“It’s pretty much her name and physic description, yeah,” Ellie licked her lips, nodding slowly.
“Does anyone know where Abby is right now?”
(What happened in the fight?)
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
You began to climb the stairs to your floor, Ellie and you lived on the first floor so it took less than a minute, phone in your hand, calling Ellie for the twelfth time. Since you finished practice, you had been calling her to come pick you up without getting a response, not even a message.
By the time you were turning the keys and opening the door, your whole body was filled with worry, but seeing her shoes, you felt a little relieved. “Ellie? Hey, if you’re not going to come pick me up, let me know beforehand! And answer my calls even if it’s just for a second! You had me worried.”
You took off your shoes and left the keys at the entrance, noticing her backpack lying on the floor with all her things scattered about. You sighed, leaving your bag on the kitchen counter and crouching down to start picking up her things. “Ellie?”
You finished picking up and placed everything inside. The door to her room was halfway open, and you could see the light was on. “Don’t you hear me calling your name?”
You entered the room, placing the backpack next to the wardrobe. Ellie was sitting on the edge of her bed with her back to you. The atmosphere felt so tense that it made you involuntarily swallow.
“I want you to be honest with me,” she said in an intimidating tone, suddenly a shiver ran down your spine. “And I want the truth, if you lie to me…”
She let out an incredulous laugh. “If you lie to me again…” Your breath caught, thinking about what lie you had told Ellie, all small except for… Impossible, Abby wouldn’t spill, you had Abby under control.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s wrong?” You tried to approach, but Ellie raised her hand.
“Stay where you are, or move away from there.”
“Ellie-”
“Shut the fuck up!” she interrupted you. “Did you or did you not fuck Abby?”
What you were praying that wasn’t the problem was exactly the problem. You didn’t know where to hide, your legs seemed to want to flee, you wished the ground would swallow you up at that very moment. You tried to say something, but your lips were trembling. Were you going to lie again? No. It was obvious that she already knew everything; she just wanted to hear it from you.
“Did you or did you not fuck Abby?” Ellie repeated the question, now more demanding and intimidating, making your eyes start to fill with tears. You hated confrontations, especially if it was your fault.
“Yes,” you whispered, looking at the ground and clasping your hands, embarrassed by how ashamed you were starting to feel.
“What? I can’t hear you.”
“Oh my fucking god, Ellie! Yes, I fucked her, I fucking did!” you exclaimed, tired of how tense your body was becoming. She nodded slowly, getting up from her bed and turning to face you. “What the fuck? What have you done?”
Her lip was split with dried blood on it, she also had a bruise next to her eye and a split eyebrow. Your concerned face made her chuckle. “If this worries you, you should see Anderson.”
You unconsciously approached, trying to touch the wounds, but Ellie stopped your hand at that moment. You were maintaining such intense eye contact that it seemed like you were communicating. You were asking her to let you clean her wounds and disinfect them; she was asking you how you could betray her like this.
“You lied to my fucking face. Was it funny?” Her grip felt more painful. “What? Were you two laughing at me behind my back?” You two were close, but Ellie started taking steps closer to you, so you had no choice but to take some steps back until your were was pressed against the wall.
“It’s not like that, Ellie… my wrist- you are hurting me,” you said, feeling tears running down your face.
“Not like that? And how the fuck was it?” She screamed, making you feel smaller and making you cry more. “Explain it to me! Because I can’t understand why the fuck my best friend went behind my back to fuck the person I hate the most out of everybody on the fucking earth. Oh God! I knew you were a whore, but I never thought you would sacrifice our friendship for some sex.”
You couldn’t answer as you cried; for a moment, Ellie loosened her grip on your wrist, and you could see her eyes also filling with tears. You couldn’t hate yourself more at that moment.
“Why? I just want to know. There has to be an explanation for you to do this to me.”
“It meant nothing, I swear, it was just a few times, nothing serious,” you tried to excuse yourself, wiping your tears with your hands, but it was useless, they kept falling.
“Did she give you the hickey?” You sighed exhausted, looking at the other side, but she grabbed your jaw, forcing you to face her and look her in the eyes. “Answer.”
You nodded. Ellie let go of you, shaking her head, raising her hands in the air, defeated, watching you slide until you were sitting on the floor.
“Incredible… When was the last time except for the party?”
“That morning… She was the one who drove me to class; we did it on the couch. But then I ignored her once we got to class, that’s why you saw me arguing with her in the hallway.” You didn’t even know why you were giving so much explanation.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
Ellie really wanted a clear answer, but it seemed so pathetic to tell her that you were fucking Abby to mentally punish her for annoying you. It was your way of torturing her without her finding out because many things Ellie did annoyed you, especially when she didn’t do things your way. You knew perfectly well how she would react if she found out, but you never thought it would hurt you so much. You shrugged, looking at her; you didn’t know what to say, but you knew what not to say.
“I can’t see you right now,” Ellie said, grabbing her jacket and leaving the room.
“Wait, where are you going?” you asked, almost crawling to follow her. “Ellie!”
You shouted her name, but the door slamming shut was enough to make you shut up and leave you there, alone on the floor, crying, and you could have kept going if it weren’t for the sound of a phone. Ellie’s phone.
You approached the bed where it was, seeing that she was being called. Dina was calling her and also sending messages; you managed to read one above:
Dina&lt;333
Of course, you can come to my house, but are you…
As if someone had kicked you in the stomach, you ran to the bathroom to vomit until you couldn’t anymore. You had pushed Ellie towards Dina yourself.
No, that’s not how the story should continue. Everything was going so well. After the party, Dina started ignoring Ellie all week, and she barely wondered why the raven-haired girl wasn’t talking to her like before, because Ellie was busy looking out for you.
She would leave her classes directly to find you, not giving Abby a chance to talk to you. She accompanied you at the beginning of your classes even if it meant she was late for hers… She was there for you 24/7, and it was so perfect for you. What was the mistake you made? Did you make it, or was it Abby? It was her. She ruined your precious environment and your relationship with Ellie.
At least that’s what you thought as you grabbed your keys and quickly left the house. Oh, you were going to fuck Abby. Fuck her UP.
taglist;; @boobdrug @lovelyxbaby @pedropascalsbbg @cherryimaa
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seattlesellie · 10 months
Text
not about love ♡ (part two)
ೃ⁀➷ read part 1 here | part 3 | part 4
pairing: college!ellie williams x fem!reader
synopsis: ellie and you are practically best friends, and what is a friendship without underlying romantic feelings, unclear boundaries and a very, harsh state of constant denial?
warnings: ellie’s mean in order to cope with her feelings, shes also a loser, sexual tension, smut, masturbation (e!)
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“What are you doing?”
Fuck. your heart practically just leapt out of your chest. You dropped Ellie’s phone onto the ground, where it landed with a muffled thud. You looked like a deer caught in headlights.
In a flurry of quick movements, both Ellie and you instinctively reached down to grab the fallen phone. Your hands darted toward it, but Ellie's reflexes proved quicker as she snatched the device before your fingertips could even make contact.
Come up with an excuse. Now. You weren’t looking, you didn’t see. Your finger slipped, you had something in your eye, some fine dust, blurring your vision. You didn’t see anything. Tell her, quick.
Ellie unlocked the screen swifter than a startled cat. Fucking face ID. She froze, a soft, involuntary gasp leaving her throat. She thought she had imagined, for sure. It couldn’t be, her dirty little secret, exposed. It’s like that time Joel caught her searching up “Girls kissing” on YouTube when she was just a scrawny, slightly awkward thirteen year old. She remembered how her breath hitched. How her fingertips felt like they were melting. How he told her that it’s okay, that kids get curious sometimes, that she shouldn’t feel ashamed of herself. She remembered how hot she felt in the face, how she sniffled like an idiot in front of the the bathroom mirror. There it was again. Shame, and embarrassment, and… Anger. Her fists clenched tightly. She was speechless. And she was pissed.
You sat there in stunned silence for what felt like an eternity, a vacant pause stretching out for a seemingly endless five seconds before you spoke.
“I didn’t… I… didn’t see — It’s, Finger slipped and…” You were babbling frantically. Good job for coming up with an incredible excuse. Didn’t see, finger slipped.
Ellie was stood frozen in front you, cheeks as red as a plump, Pinklady apple that laid in the sun for a tad too long. You took pride in yourself for always knowing what Ellie was thinking. When she was sad, you knew. When Ellie was stressed, you could feel it in your bones. It was like a sixth sense. To you, her face was an open book, her emotions unabashedly revealed through every flicker of expression. Your senses weren’t kicking in at this moment. Was it her? Or was it you?
“Why…. Why were you going through my pictures?” Ellie's voice quivered.
Even as she questioned, she did not meet your panicked gaze for a second. Her throat was dry, and she felt like swallowing her entire fist. Why did she let you even come here? You, and your stupid games, your distractions, the way you make her feel, the way she wanted to rip her heart out of her chest and hand it over to you, there, it’s yours, take it. Be mine. She shouldn’t have let you come, but she did. She always did, and now, she really fucking shouldn’t have.
“I was just… On there, Ellie, I didn’t see, I just opened and closed it, It’s nothing just…” your voice was shaky. You always were, and always will be, such a bad fucking liar. Especially with her.
“It’s for your birthday” Ellie blurted out, hastily tucking the phone into her pocket. Her emerald eyes briefly met yours, but she swiftly averted her gaze, fixating on the black Converse shoes adorning her feet. If you thought you were a terrible liar, god knows Ellie was worse. She wished she could claw her short fingernails into her calloused palms. You did good, she thought. Good fucking save. She cleared her throat, and burned her gaze through you. People who lie don’t make eye contact. There you go, Ellie. Genius move.
“My birthday?” you questioned, toying with the soft flannel material adorning the bed beneath you. You definitely just saw a piece of dust and had to remove it. you definitely weren’t fidgeting, not at all.
“Yeah… Just something Dina really wanted me to do…” she huffed, a hint of exasperation lacing her words.
“Like, collect pics of you and put them on a canvas and shit… I don’t know” She shrugged. Good fucking save.
You chose to believe. oh, you.
“Oh… I’m sorry for ruining that” you mumbled quietly.
The fast thumps of her heart slowed, like when she told Joel someone got on her computer and searched up those words. Wasn’t her, never her. You’re so naive!
“It’s chill” she sniffed, her body slightly relaxing. She sat back down on the rolling chair, and tried to go back to her studies. She felt her back sweating through the thick material of her hoodie. It’s chill. She quickly spun to face you. The wires of her brain connected again.
“By the way… uh… That pic of you sleeping? Took it because I thought you looked dumb” She laughed dryly. Fuck, it was so fucking awkward.
You bit down a soft pout.
There you fucking go again, with those sad looks you give her, the ones who make her throat go drier than the Sahara desert and her heart clench. The same expression she imagines when she… fuck. She felt so stupid.
“Oh… Cool” you muttered. Cool?
“Yeah… looked like fucking Snorlax over there… Had to do it, y’know?”
It’s like the shitshow was never ending. What is she going to do next? Call you a stupid bitch? Punch you in the face? Her teacher once told her that kid’s are mean when they like someone. But she wasn’t a fucking kid, she was twenty years old.
“Yeah..." you forced a giggle, nervously biting your nail.
Ellie lowered her gaze to the ground and clicked her pen obnoxiously. She was always one to fidget when she had to distract herself from something, But you weren’t just something. you weren’t just someone. Ellie felt a droplet of sweat dripping, and itching the back of her ear. She really had to fucking go, or you have to fucking leave.
“I gotta go” you muttered, giving Ellie a polite smile.
Thank fuck.
If you stayed there for a second longer, your faucet would start leaking. It wouldn’t have been the first time you would have burst into tears in her room, either. The lump in your throat was growing bigger and bigger, painfully tugging at you.
“Where?” She questioned. Be cool, Ellie. You don’t care. Hide it, burry it.
“Uh — Project” you muttered. You swiftly grabbed your purse and dorm keys that laid on the wooden table. That purse had it’s own story to tell. Ellie and you bickered about it once. She couldn’t understand why you insisted on bringing that useless thing with you every damn day, it was college, not a nightclub. “What the fuck do you even put in there — Oh fuck… thats fucking heavy.” “I’ll carry it for you, you’re too weak n’shit”
Oh how utterly ridiculous Ellie looked holding the studded bag, contrasting her red flannel and ripped baggy jeans. She couldn’t have cares less - She was holding your purse, she was doing it for you, and for a second, just a little one, she almost felt like your girlfriend.
“Okay” she mumbled.
You stood there staring for a second too long.
“See ya…. Bro”
Fuck did you just say?
“The fuck did you just say?” Ellie spat. she looked, amused?
“I said I’ll see ya” you said softly.
You didn’t even know where that came out of. Revenge? What a stupid fucking way of doing that. You felt embarrassed with yourself. The word felt so… silly leaving your mouth.
You nervously toyed with the fabric of your skirt. If only you could drill a hole into the ground, jump inside and live there forever.
“Did you just call me bro?”
Ellie huffed, a cocky smile resting on her lips. There she was again, old cocky Ellie. It only took one thing for you to say. Funny how she got like this just right before you planned on leaving. She was a coward, and a tease, and a fucking loser.
“You call me that all the time.” you stated, that damn pout she wanted to knock out of you laying on your lips.
“S’annoying” you mumbled under your breath.
You truly were ready to leave. Were you a coward too? did the unspoken, undeniable tension in the room pump through your veins as much as it pumped through hers?
“I call everybody bro, Dina, Jesse, everybody. You’re pretty much the only one who thinks its annoying” Ellie said, spreading her legs slightly. God, would she stop that? Your face was getting warm.
“I’m not everybody”
Direct.
The room fell quiet.
Ellie’s heart was beating like a hammer through her chest. Her gaze, serious for once, burned through you. She stood up, the chair creaking at the sudden movement.
You gulped.
You could hear her heavy breaths infiltrating your already hazy mind.
“No you’re not” Her voice was raspy, almost as quiet as a whisper.
She looked you up and down. Animal and her prey. Her palms were sweating.
You swiftly opened the door, and left.
“Fucking fucking shit — fucking shit” Ellie was panting. What the fuck was that. Was she delirious again? Did she take something? Did you lace her fucking weed? She kicked the small dinosaur lego with her foot.
She was throwing a fucking tantrum. It lasted for and hour and a half, before she came down from it, her brain feeling sore and the vein on her forehead pulsing.
“FUCKING HATE HER” she wrote down on her journal until the pen left a hole through the page.
When Ellie closed her eyes, no earlier than 3AM, she felt sick to her stomach. She felt like punching herself in the face.
She fumbles, on and on and on.
When Ellie’s mind started to race with pictures of you, her hand started to wander too. It was impulsive, and perverted, and it happened every night.
Her veiny hand was working like a clock. Harsh circles abusing her clit. It was almost painful. Almost. And it felt so fucking good, too.
Her phone was in her left hand, a picture of you flashing on the screen. The brightness was turned all the way off. If the brightness was low, maybe it would have been less dirty, she thought. Maybe it could save her.
She pumped her fingers in and out of her wet cunt, hissing and moaning obscenities.
When Ellie almost reached her high, she was whimpering. Whimpering your name.
“Fucking hate you” She hissed.
“Fucking hate that stupid face — Oh shit — Oh fuck”
She was almost there.
Her slick was running down her sweatpants covered thigh. She couldn’t even bother taking them off.
“Fuck you”
She felt herself squeezing around her fingers, tightening up.
Closer.
“Fuck, Slut, Shit - Fuck, I fuck -“
She grunted, fastening her pace.
“I fucking love you - fucking love you” Ellie whimpered frantically as she rode her high.
She was sound asleep twenty seconds later.
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doobea · 5 months
Text
WHEN THE SUN RISES - SAE ITOSHI
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synopsis: You have doubts about your relationship. Sae provides reassurance.
contents: early established relationship, gn!reader, fluff, reader is a tad insecure, mentions of other couples and pda, talks about all things mushy with love word count: 1.1K a/n: waaahh cant believe i didn't post anything for my husband on his birthday im so terrible - this is something short and sweet ;-; i haven't posted anything in a bit bc I've been so tired lately LOL
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You have doubts. 
Doubts about your work performance, test scores, your friendships, and sometimes the future — you know, the less important things. 
Your least favorite doubts are the ones about you and Sae. 
He’s not a bad boyfriend by any means. You’ve been dating each other for a while now, just shy of six months, and it’s been going well. Like any other college couple, you spend your free time together either marathoning a shitty reality TV show, studying, or eating at the local diners near campus once in a while for a ‘fancy’ burger and pizza date night (which Sae hates, by the way, but he goes because there’s nothing better around). You don’t blame him for these doubts because it’s just the way he is. You’ve always known this, along with everyone else around you. 
“Itoshi Sae? Yeah, he’s pretty cold and blunt.” They’d say in a hushed whisper. 
Another would agree, followed by an exaggerated shiver. “I heard even professors are scared of him.”
They’re annoying rumors and passing comments you've gotten somewhat used to. So you don’t blame the gossipers at your school either. Who you do blame are all the couples you would see, whether it’d be at school, at the grocery store, and sometimes even your own parents. Seeing things like holding hands, hugging, and even kissing each other goodbye sets something weird off in your chest.
And, well, you’ve known Sae for a while. You know that maybe he isn’t the type to be comfortable with these things, especially in public. And maybe you’re not going to guilt trip him into doing things that are out of his ordinary. But here’s the problem.
You do want to experience all of it.
“Sae?”
“Hm?”
“Do you like me?”
Your question throws him off just a tiny bit. He fumbles slightly with his flow of writing before catching himself and throws you a questioning look from across the table. 
It’s the midterm season so every floor at the university’s library is packed. All but the top floor, which is mainly reserved for graduate students, who are rarely even on-site. So you two manage to snag a booth in the corner by the bathrooms and water fountain. You’ve been studying for about two hours straight and the thought of going over the rules of the Krebs cycle again haunts you so you let your doubts take over. Hence, why you blurted out the question that’s been burning on your mind for the past week. 
“I do, why do you ask?” He doesn’t sound bothered by it, so you take that as a good sign.
But how do you go about asking him to show that? Maybe asking upfront would be too demanding right now. You decide to dance around the subject a little more.
There’s a moment in silence, your eyebrows creased in deep thought before you finally speak, voice clumsy and almost rough sounding. “When did you realize you liked me?”
He answers without missing a beat, eyes never leaving his notebook. “Dunno.”
Well, that wasn’t the answer you were expecting. 
“Huh?”
“What?” Sae breaks his focus and stares at you, as if you were the one who had said something weird. “You asked and I answered.”
“You have to explain with that sorta question, you know?”
In just the tiniest of motions, Sae frowns. He’s holding his breath for a few seconds in preparation and his eyes soften. “I’m not sure when I fell in love with you.”
Woah—wait love? This is also not what you were expecting out of this conversation either. Is it too late to go back to studying now?
Sae picks up the worried look on your face and manages a soft chuckle. “You know when the sun rises?”
You’re patting your face with your hands now, hoping to eliminate the burn on your cheeks. The sweat forming in your palms doesn’t help at all. And, frankly, you’re confused by his question. “Um, between six and seven?”
“Well, yeah,” he laughs again and you’re not sure if that was the answer he was looking for. “But it always rises, right?”
“Right,” you say slowly, still confused by what he’s trying to get at.
“I’m not sure when I fell in love but whenever the sun rises, it reminds me of you,” Sae explains with a leveled expression, ignoring the little surprised squeaks from your direction. “It’s been like that for a while now and brings me comfort whenever I do wake up early to see it rising.”
“Did you get that line from a K-drama or something?”
He rolls his eyes and fake scoffs. “Thought you wanted an explanation?”
“Well,” you bite back a giggle and continue, “you never struck me as a metaphor type of guy.”
“And you never struck me as the jealous type.” 
You grow hotter because wow guess you haven’t been that great at hiding away your feelings—or maybe your boyfriend is just that good at being perceptive as he is being a top honor student. “Was it that obvious?”
“When you’re looking at other couples and grumbling right after then yeah, it’s pretty obvious.” Sae’s tone doesn’t carry any ounce of tease and he gives you a fond look. It makes you feel slightly guilty and embarrassed. 
You shrink deeper into the booth, holding your textbook up to your face. “Sorry…”
The seat next to you dips and a familiar pair of hands gently snatches the book away from you, revealing Sae’s rare soft expression again. 
“Don’t be,” He reaches over to ruffle your hair before moving his laptop and notebook over to your side. “Plus, you shouldn’t worry that much, I’ll always be with you.”
A pause and then you decide to blurt out your other burning question because things are already out in the open at this point. “Would it be alright if we start doing more couple-ly things together?” 
“Mhm,” he’s about to dive back into studying but stops, humming in thought. “What should we do more?”
“Well, aside from me,” Sae deadpans and you straighten your posture. “Sorry, sorry, what I meant to say is I guess more PDA? Holding hands would be a good start.”
“Okay,” He says quietly and drops his pen, carefully interlacing his fingers with yours.  
Sae’s hands are warm, maybe even sweaty if you’re not mistaken. You look up and oh — his cheeks have the tiniest amount of red on them. Probably no different from the resurgence of warmth you’re currently feeling too.
“Better?” Sae asks and squeezes your hand.
“Yeah, better.” You squeeze back. 
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