#gnc!reader

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

Chapter XXVI: So Soft, You Make Me Hard

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summary: it finally starts to feel like a vacation

tags: SMUT minors DO NOT INTERACT! unprotected p in v, vulgar language, adult content, slight angst, mostly fluff, weed and cigarette usage.

a/n: hey........ remember this one? lol. hope y'all still have a little interest bc it's ALMOST OVER! just a few more chapters to go of the Fundamental Differing universe, such as bittersweet feeling. Hope you enjoy!

taglist (closed): @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @lilpotatobean2 @poisonedluv @kellsck @m-chmcl-rmnc

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-- Your POV

It had barely taken a week for the tabloids to run the story: Rockstars can be Softies Too! Corroded Coffin frontman spotted snuggling up to Death Dance Approximately vocalist. Sources close to the star say they’ve been close since the beginning of their joint tour. 

You snort as you toss the Newsweek paper on your kitchen table for Eddie to see. The picture, of course, was staged by you and Eddie: Him in Ozzy-esque sunglasses, hair tied back, in regular clothing wrapped around you, an iced coffee in his free hand. You’re in jeans and Corroded Coffin t-shirt, snuggled into Eddie’s embrace as you sip on your own drink, a toothy smile on your face. You’d called Ralphie, a paparazzo in Boston that you’d grown close to, to break the story. He was more than happy to do it, knowing these photos would likely pay his rent for the foreseeable future.

“Think they’ll buy it?” Eddie muses, sipping his coffee.

“What’s to buy? It’s true. Maybe a bit exaggerated, but that’s just Hollywood.” You shrug, flipping the pancake on the griddle. “Chocolate chips?”

Eddie nods, rising from his seat to wrap his arms around your waist. “I need this tour to be over. I prefer waking up in a stationary bed.”

“Mmm,” You make a sound of agreement, resting your head on his as comfortably as you can without leaving the stove. “Only a couple more weeks and we’re home free.”

“Where is home, exactly?”

You don’t miss a beat. “Wherever, as long as it’s with you.”

He snorts. “Such a sap.”

“Huh, wonder who made me this way.” You giggle, poking his cheek. “You think we can put this whole thing to bed now?” You study the magazine article, rolling your eyes at their word choice: scruffy, angsty, disheveled. 

“Maybe, but there’s something else I wanna put to bed instead.” He waggles his eyebrows at you. Pretending not to squirm at his flirting, you rise from your seat at the table, clearing his empty plate and your own. 

“Though I am absolutely picking up what you’re putting down, I have shit to do today.”

He pouts, batting his big, brown eyes at you. “What could possibly be more important?”

–

“This fuckin’ sucks.” Eddie kicks the gravel from the sidewalk outside the mechanic. “I didn’t even know you still had a car.”

You shrug. “I like to keep my life outside of being a rockstar pretty normal. Unfortunately that includes taking my dad’s car in for routine maintenance.”

“I coulda taken a look for him, yknow?”

“Psh, right. Ask the rockstar to change the oil in my dad’s camaro.” “My life is not too glamorous to do my favorite person a favor.” There’s no humor in his tone, he genuinely wouldn’t mind getting his hands dirty for you. 

“While I appreciate that, my dad would never let anyone besides Theo and himself touch that thing. You know how many times I begged him to let me take it out?”

Eddie snorts. “I remember. And the one time he finally let you, it came back with the tiniest scratch and he’d grounded you for a month.”

“Theo was the one to fix it, and the one to talk him out of a harsher punishment.”

“And despite already being eighteen, you didn’t go out at all that entire month.”

You frown, because he’s right. “God, I’m such a fake punk!”

“Yeah. Total poser.” He shoves your shoulder playfully.

“Well, she’s all set, kid.” Theo strolls up to where you and Eddie are talking, wiping his hands on a stained rag.

“Thanks, Theo.” You fork a handful of cash in his direction.��

“No biggie. Anything for the biggest Boston rockstah I know. And I know a few, ya know, Steven Tyla…” He definitely doesn’t know Steven Tyler, but you’d seen him at a couple parties. 

“Yeah, for sure.” 

“Before ya go, though. Would yas mind signin’ somethin’ for my kids? They’a huge fans. Daughta can’t get enough o’ya.”

“‘Course, sir!” Eddie beams at the recognition, and your heart skips. He really is still living a dream. You nod in agreement, and Theo pulls out a receipt book that he hands you, along with the pen behind his ear. You sign the top corner, 

Thanks for listening, hope to see ya at the gig! and scribble your signature before passing it to Eddie. You peek over his shoulder and watch him scribble,

Keep rock n roll alive! and his big, blocky EDDIE. “How old are your kids?” Eddie looks up, meeting Theo’s eyes. 

“Eighteen and twenty.”

“Do they wanna come see us? We have a show here in about a month.” 

“Seriously?” Theo’s eyes light up, and you can't help but be awed by Eddie’s gesture. 

“You can too, if you want! I dunno if you listen to that type of music, but…”

“You can't tell my kids, but I'm actually a really big fan of both you guys’ stuff.” He lights up as he says it, and it makes you teary. You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to this part, the effect you can have on other, real people. 

“Your secret’s safe with us, man.” Eddie offers out his hand, which Theo shakes enthusiastically. “We’ll see ya!”

—

Eddie’s POV

“That was a really nice thing to offer.” You nudge him, approaching the door to your parents’ house. 

Eddie shrugs off his vest and lays it over the arm of your couch. “Least I could do. We should probably let Steve know to add three to the guest list. You get his kids’ names?”

“Shit. No, but I can ask my dad.”

He nods, still standing awkwardly in the middle of your living room. “Well, uh. What else did you need to do today?” He can’t see what else needs to be done. You’d gone grocery shopping yesterday, and your parents’ place is pretty set for the week. He remembers trailing behind you: dressed in sinfully short shorts and white tank top while he managed to sweat in the freezer section, even if only in a tank top himself.

 The house is clean— with the help of your parents, but mostly because you’ve been anxiously cleaning since this morning. He had tried to help, but ultimately had to excuse himself when you bent over the kitchen counter to wipe it down. 

He wants to touch you. It’s driving him fucking crazy, he hasn’t been able to. He’s starting to feel like maybe you’re avoiding him, though you’ve given no indication that you’re not interested in having sex with him again. His brain is just telling him that. He hopes. 

Even right now, in a sundress and sneakers, he wishes he could bring himself to take you to the alley behind the mechanic’s. But neither of you have made a move. Eddie’s not even sure he’s entitled to. Everything has been on your terms, and he hasn’t had a problem with it. He owes you that, right?

You glance at your watch and shrug. “Dad’s doing an overnight, and my mom’s away on some business trip as of this morning.” 

“Are you implying what I think you are?” He focuses on the wall behind you to keep his pants from tightening.

“Horror movie marathon? Like old times?” If it weren’t for the hope in your voice, he’d accuse you of being cruel.

So he meets your eyes again and stretches his smile as wide as it’ll go. “Of course, sweetheart.”

—

You’re trying to kill him. You must be trying to fucking kill him.

“Whipped cream?” You offer out the can with a mouthful, a bit of cream landing on his cheek. Fighting the urge to use your outstretched arm to pull you into him, Eddie opens his mouth without breaking eye contact. Two can play this fuckin’ game, he thinks. Unfortunately the giggle that slips through your lips makes his knees wobble. 

“So, I have plenty of movies to choose from. Never brought ‘em when I moved out, guess they kept them all safe for me.” You glide over to the crates of tapes next to your television, neatly organized with their titles facing outward. “You in the mood for something really scary first, or something more along the lines of a horror-comedy?”

He’s in the mood for you, truthfully. The short cotton shorts and camisole you’re wearing aren’t helping that, either. “Ed?”

“Hm? Oh, uh, either one’s fine.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him, and through his flushing cheeks he manages to smile back. Through gritted teeth, albeit. 

“You’re being weird.”

“Am not. What about Possession?” An attempt to dodge the subject. 

You seem to let the subject slide, plucking the tape from its case. “Possession it is.” 

The TV yawns to life, and you place the tape into the player, making sure it's been rewound before pressing play. 

“You gonna sit with me, or are you gonna keep being weird?” He rolls his eyes, collapsing on the opposite side of where you are. “Got it.” 

Half of the movie is spent like that, Eddie resisting the nagging voice in the back of his head, begging him to tug you by your ankle onto his lap. You seem blissfully unaware of his internal crisis, munching on microwave popcorn as the TV illuminates the frightened expression on your pretty face. You retreat under the blanket when the scene before you gets to be too much, and for some reason it springs Eddie into action. He crawls from his side of the couch slowly, doing his best not to spook you, and curls his body into your blanket covered form.

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Protecting you from the scary movie.”

“My knight in shining armor.” Your body shakes with laughter, and he joins you. When you stop, you start flailing under the blanket, causing Eddie to release you so you can shove the cloth off your head. You inhale the fresh air deeply before once again descending into a fit of giggles.

“I think we’re safe now.” Eddie looks around dramatically, curly flying on either side of his face. 

“Thanks for rescuing me.” You crane your neck up to reach his cheek, placing a tender kiss against his hot skin. “However shall I repay such a noble act?”

Eddie groans under the heat of your breath against his cheek. “You’re killin’ me, doll.”

“Oh?”

“Gonna make me bust in my pants like a fuckin’ teenager.”

–

Your POV

His words propel you into action, quickly moving to straddle his lap, clad only in a pair of gray sweatpants. You can feel his length underneath you, twitching when you make the gentlest of contact. “And here I thought you didn’t wanna fuck me.” 

“What?” Eddie halts the beginning of your movement, grasping your hips to keep you in place. “What god awful crime could I have committed in the last week to make you think such a terrible thing?” He looks at you with a pout, his eyes dark with want, or maybe hurt. 

“It’s what you didn’t do, actually. I was walkin’ around the house in my underwear, Ed! And don’t even get me started on the shorts I wore to the grocery store.”

“You don’t have to remind me.” His breath is labored, like he’s just run a marathon. You grind your hips forward experimentally, and he whimpers in response. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Jus’ wasn’t sure it was the ri- fuck– right time, y’know?” Your grinding has become more consistent, still slow as the clothed tip of his cock prods teasingly against your throbbing clit.

“Mmm, such a gentleman all of a sudden?” You tease, making sure each word is barely audible, said so closely that each of your breaths tickles the fine hairs of his ear canal. “Where’s the spoiled rockstar that takes whatever he wants, whenever he wants, hm?” You’re being mean, but Eddie squirming and panting underneath you spurs you on. “You just gonna let me tease you like that while you mope because you can't touch me? Because it would be, what? Wrong? You’ve never cared about that shit before.”

“Didn’t wanna ruin anything, didn’t want you gettin’ the idea that I–” He stops short.

“Finish your sentence.” It’s a command. You don’t usually take the dominant role over Eddie in these situations, but you don’t hate the way it’s making you feel.

“Didn’t want you thinkin’ I oh- only wanted sex..” His voice is raspy with want, with need, for you, and you’ve never been good at denying him of it.

“But you do, right? You want sex?”

“I want your trust first.” His eyes bore into you as he says it. 

“Eddie,” You sigh, breaking character to caress his sweaty, flushed face. “You have my trust.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I would’ve kicked you out by now if you didn’t.” Eddie throws his head back to laugh, but it comes out strangled when you grind down on his lap again. “So, now that that’s out of the way…” Before you can finish the thought, Eddie lurches forward, one hand to the back of your neck as the other wraps around your waist, bringing your body closer to his as your lips meet. Your tongue slips sweetly into his waiting mouth, coaxing a groan from his throat that you feel between your legs. 

The movie playing behind you is long forgotten, now white noise as Eddie slips the strap of your tank top down your arm, calloused fingers gliding over your soft skin. Despite your earlier candidness, he’s being slow. Gentle. Almost cautious. In a way, it feels like revenge for the way you’d been teasing him, and you can’t help but relish the way it works you up. 

Eddie finally breaks your kiss, giving you time to breathe while he sloppily mouths your throat, eagerly adding teeth when you roll your hips forward again. His hands have a mind of their own, tugging at the fabric of your tank top until it's bunched at your waist, exposing your chest to the warmth of Eddie’s hot, panting breaths. At this point you’re practically riding his lap, begging for friction as he takes his time with you, like he’s memorizing every inch. 

“Ed, please,” Your voice is strained, broken and shameless.

“What do you need, baby?” He coos, sending you into a tizzy. 

“Need you to touch me.”

“I am touchin’ you, sweetheart.” He runs his finger down your arm with a feather light touch, barely registering over the way your entire body is vibrating. 

“You know what I mean.” You’re pouting, getting desperate. “Thought you wanted to.”

“Hey,” His eyes darken as he stills the rocking of your hips with firm hands. “I want to. But what’s the rush, huh? We’ve got so much time now. All night, even.” His voice holds an air of mischief, and you’re putty in his hands. 

“You gonna tease me like this all night? You don’t have the willpower.” You wriggle in his grasp for emphasis, and he muffles his groan with gritted teeth. You cross your arms over your bare chest, huffing smugly. “At least take your shirt off?”

–

Eddie’s POV

He can’t resist the way you ask, pleading with him to give you something. Eagerly he complies, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it lacklusterly aside somewhere in your living room. “Get that later.” He laughs breathily, and you lunge at him. Before he can adjust to your weight, your teeth have sunken into his neck, contrasting with the plush of your lips placing wet kisses along the column of his throat. Your tongue soothes over the sore marks your teeth have left indented in his skin, branding him as yours. He finds himself excited for the next time he’ll go out in public, wearing the hickies you’ve given him like designer accessories. 

“You wanna go upstairs?” You mumble the question between placing chaste kisses on his shoulder. 

“I dunno, I’m kinda set on the idea of you riding me on the couch.” 

“Eddie, this is my parents’ house.”

“I’ll buy them a new couch.” Before you can argue, he pulls you forward by the neck, his lips slotting into your like puzzle pieces. You seem to give in, letting him win the argument. He can get a couch here by tomorrow if he has to.

–

Your POV

You readjust, sliding the tank top and your shorts quickly from your body, tossing them over the arm of the sofa before claiming your former position, this time with less layers between your throbbing clit and the tip of his leaking cock. 

Before you can work him up too much more, Eddie’s hands are sliding down your form, stopping to lightly twist and pinch at your nipples, chuckling at the way you whine and mewl for him. Replacing one hand with his mouth, Eddie then slips his free fingers to the waistband of your panties, snapping them once and causing you to jump before dipping lower to gather your slick before rubbing agonizing circles on your clit. 

“Jesus, angel, you’re fuckin’ soaked.” His pupils are blown as you’re sure your own are, looking at you with a lovely mixture of lust and love. 

“What can I say, you do it f’me.” You aren’t trying to be sexy, it’s the truth. Eddie doesn’t have to do much to turn you on.

“Feeling’s mutual, doll. Gettin’ me all hot ‘n bothered.” His breath is labored as he speaks, and you can feel his heart racing as you press yourself further into his chest. “Need to be inside you, love. Don’t think I can take much more teasing.” You can’t resist his desperation. You move quickly, letting him shove his sweatpants, now with a damp spot staining the crotch, and his boxers to the ground. His cock springs free from the confines and slaps against his stomach, precum dampening the coarse hair of his happy trail. You lick your lips absentmindedly, and before you can drop to your knees in front of him, Eddie grabs your wrist, pulling you back into his lap. 

“Wait, Ed I’m still– oh, f-fuck.” Eddie drags the tip of his dick against the damp cloth of your panties, causing a sensation that ripples through your core. 

“You gonna say somethin’?” He’s taken control, stroking himself against your hole, fabric doing nothing to cease the waves of pleasure crashing through you. “Use your words, baby.” He’s chiding, condescending as you can only whine in response, the heat between your legs seemingly cutting off the communication between your brain and your tongue. “Tell me what you want, can’t read your mind.”

“Need you to fuck me, baby, please.” The words fall out without decorum, desperate and high pitched like you’re being tortured. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Such a good job.” Relief floods your senses when he pulls your panties to the side, sliding himself easily into your drenched hole. You both moan at the feeling, your walls clenching around his thick cock, his grip a vice on either side of you, not yet ready to let you move. You can only shake your head, too cock drunk to form a coherent sentence. Usually, he’d scold you for not speaking, make it harder for you to get off, but you can tell he’s just as desperate to fuck you, possibly even more than you are. “Need you to move.” He tries to keep his voice even, but you can hear it’s close to breaking, begging. You obey, rocking your hips, rolling forward, each movement accompanied by his own, the head of his dick pressing against the sweet spot inside you each time.

“Feels so good, darlin’, takin’ me s- so well.” He knows you value his praise, regardless of how difficult it is to give it between labored breaths. 

“Missed you, Ed.” You sigh the words, brain too fuzzy to muster up the strength to properly speak to him. 

“I missed you, baby.” Eddie’s head falls into the crook of your neck, kissing the marks he’d previously left on your throat while you continue to ride him. “Not gonna last much longer. Need you to cum for me. Please, I need you to cum.” His fingers find your clit without struggle, like he’s memorized the map of your body. He makes tight, quick circles on your clit as he continues thrusting inside of you, and your walls clench more tightly around him as you feel your orgasm climbing. Finally, as Eddie has pulled your face into his, crashing your lips together as his hand and hips stay moving, you fall apart on top of him, legs shaking on either side of his lap as he watches you ride it out, mesmerized by the look of you; sweaty, panting, bouncing on top of him. You’re still shuddering when Eddie lets go, head buried in your neck as his thrusts lose rhythm and grow eager, no longer worried about getting you off. His noises are guttural, coming from the deep recesses of his body. He spills his load inside you, his cum painting your walls as he mutters sweet nothings: “Fuck, shit, you’re perfect, missed this pussy so much, like it’s made for me, ‘s all mine, mine, mine…”

When he’s emptied himself, body heaving with each breath, Eddie lifts you off of his lap, both of you wincing as he slowly pulls out. “Shit!” You fall into a fit of giggles as your bare butt falls onto the couch next to him, suddenly shy about being naked in front of him. He joins you, cackling as you wipe the sweat from your brow with an exaggerated “Phew!” 

“Why weren’t we doin’ that all week?” He says through laughter, and you shrug. 

“Probably because other people live here?”

“Ugh, what a bummer.” He reaches over to the cigarette pack on the side table. “You wanna smoke?”

[mommycity]

Geto is a tummy grabber I fear. It’s such a mindless activity for him: he could be hugging you from behind and, there we are, tummy grab. Driving? Hand on tummy. It isn’t just a resting hand either. He’s gripping the fupa. Geto gets such big heart eyes when he does, a part of him melts feeling the plush weight in his hands. He loves when you wear tight clothing that outlines the puffy part of your stomach; he’s practically salivating waiting to get his hands all over your soft tummy. God knows how bad he just want to see his pale dick dragging against your soft midsection. he aches to cover it all in his cum and lap it up like a dog. His cock jumps just thinking about you riding him, stomach bouncing from all of the motion. The way he’d run his fingers through your stretch marks and then plant his hands on your love handles and squeeze. The curse user is pretty much purring when you let him cuddle your tummy,he relishes the smell of the sacred skin. He doesn’t care what he has to do as long as he can touch your tummy. Geto absolutely needs it

[alexisaflop]

Wait On Your Song Masterlist

A Steve Harrington x Henderson reader Stranger Things rewrite.

This is a real slow burn fic written primarily from the reader's perspective, but I do like to change it up sometimes. I use gender neutral language for the reader most of the time and don't plan on writing any smut.

Title based on Rock and Roll Suicide by David Bowie

Warnings: canon universe level violence/gore, use of Y/N

All chapters are also on AO3 here and tagged on this blog as #wait on your song.

Chapter 1: The Vanishing of Will Byers

Chapter 2: The Weirdo on Maple Street

Chapter 3: Holly Jolly

Chapter 4: The Body

Chapter 5: The Flea and The Acrobat

Chapter 6: The Monster

Chapter 7: The Bathtub

Chapter 8: The Upside Down

Chapter 9: Intermission

Chapter 10: MadMax

Chapter 11: Trick or Treat, Freak!

Chapter 12: The Pollywog

Chapter 13: Will the Wise

[l3xistentialism]

HAPPY PRIDE Y’ALL

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🩷🤍🩵🤎🖤

I’m offering PAY WHAT YOU CAN readings for the month with options for $10, $20, or $30 readings available.

My little one has expressed having a hard time at school as they navigate understanding their gender & I just wanted to do something for Pride Month that shows them there’s more to the world than what they deal with at school.

If you’re interested in getting a reading hit me up via DM or emailing me directly at [slangincards at gmail dot com] ❤️

10% of proceeds will be donated to The Trevor Project & receipts will be provided at the end of the month.

Expect readings to be sent out within 3-5 days of booking.

Love y’all frfr.

[yoshikis-cat-hairclip]

Heyyyy!!! I saw your haikyuu reacting to kisses post and now I want to request a what would haikyuu boys be like before dating you specifically daichi but please feel free to add other characters!!

Also if you don't mind could I be 🥟 anon??

❝ #⋆˚࿔ ꒰ঌ Haikyuu boys crushing on you 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ! ໒꒱ ❞

tagsજ⁀➴ᝰ.ᐟ╰┈➤.ᐟ.ᐟ GN!reader, fluff

featuring...Hajime Iwazumi, Daichi Sawamura, Nishinoya Yu

warnings .ᐟ : use of y/n, slightlyy ooc for Iwazumi I fear

A/n: AHHHH I love daichi sm. He was suppose to be in the kisses one but then I got tired and just said fuck it and posted it. But I love him smm (also yes you may be 🥟 anon)

★┊[Hajime Iwazumi ] .ᐟ

- he’s so nonchalant…until he’s not.

Like he’ll be very regular around you until you throw a compliment his way

The most awkward smirk will make its way onto his face.

And he’s trying his absolute hardest to act like a normal human around you but he literally just can’t and then as soon as you leave he’s buckling down onto his knees in sheer embarrassment and agony internally

Because— what the hell is his deal? your literally just his friend he should be able to take a compliment (he’s in DEEP denial)

Another thing is that sometimes he’ll just like stare accidently

Half the time he doesn’t even realize it but when he’s disturbed he swears to god his heart palpitates just a little

oikawa takes full advantage of this to scare him, because usually, he can’t. It’s borderline impossible to scare this man.

But boy oh boy when he stares at you there is not a hint of social awareness going in in that brain.

Despite alllll of this, takes him forever to catch on to the fact he likes you

And it would be something painfully simple that would make him realize it too like..

You two walk together, synchronized in each step you take as the rain paves a path on the sidewalk to your house. Iwa holds an umbrella overhead, his bag slung over his shoulder lazily As you talked on and on about your day while he listened silently. Only adding little hums and chuckles once in a while. Too busy committing every little detail of your stories to memory to actually be an active participant of the conversation. But still, he was listening. Every muse, every smile and giggle and jest thrown his way he caught. And when the ground seemed to dissipate under your feet like the was world opening open and sucking you under. Iwa acts. And fast too, Faster than you’ve ever seen him (damn near gave you whiplash). His hand flies to your wrist and pulls you back up and against him. His hands are firm maybe a bit too against your frame, only tightening slightly. The umbrella forgotten somewhere behind the two of you, sustaining the beating of the rain and the rapid nearly audible beating of his heart.

“Jesus— you okay there?” You nod as you slide away from him to sit up right, a small termor could be felt in his hands as you move and they ceed back and to his sides. “Mhm, though now I gotta wash this when I get home..” a small pout forms as you notice you slipped on a dip in the ground of all things; and now your shoes and pants are drenched as the dip had flooded. He wanted so bad to say something but nothing comes out. His throat cranks out air instead of words. Slowly, it turns into a laugh. “Hey..” you murmur, your glare meant to be taken as a warning but doesn’t. “Alright, alright. Sorry. C’mon let’s get you home. I’ll get you something tomorrow, anything my treat.” And Shit free food? Who were you to argue? And Iwazumi was glad you did it to, because if you even looked at him a second longer he would’ve noticed. How red he was and the was his palms became moist.

That evening when he gets home, he thinks over it and realizes then and there that he had fallen, and hard too.

From there internally how he feels about that ranges from “when he sees me” from waitress to screaming, crying, and throwing up that this happened to him of all people.

Tells NO one. And I mean NOBODY.

And it works because nobody even thinks he likes anyone

The way you find out is because it accidentally slips out one time from him. I don’t know how yet, but I’m convinced that’s the case.

₊˚๑ ꒰Daichi Sawamura꒱ ໑‧₊˚.ꪆ

I think he’s the type to notice you in class or something and then spend the whole year trying to get close to you and be your friend

Mostly through school, since he is not the best with introductions,

probably got paired with him for a group project and got your phone number, then from there, you two become friends

It's not very obvious that he likes you; he always acts perfectly normal.

Walking you home? pft-- well that's a common thing! Doing whatever you ask of him with little no questions? He's just doesn't ask many questions! Having a keen interest in whatever you show him and making an effort to learn more about it so you two can talk more? He's just a good friend and likes to be around you!

just his nice, kind, regular, and utterly hospitable self. And it works too because, because he's nice to literally everyone.

however his friends? Yeah they know.

"Oh! yeah I was just hanging out here. Oh this is y/n's class?--" Packkkk it up bucko, you're fooling absolutely no one here.- suga (probably )

Again, It's not extremely obvious when he has a crush but when you know Daichi and watch him when you're around? Very obvious.

it's very much little things like the way he hangs onto every word you say, the way his tone softens just slightly when it's just you two speaking, his stolen glances every now and again.

when suga finds out he is relentless with his teasing towards daichi.

god for BID, you come to visit one of his practices. It's over for him

as soon as you leave; they are on his neck, questioning him about you. If he doesn't? Well, why not just ask the source in the first place!

"hey, y/n right? Daichi's friend?" Tanaka calls, his voice breaking out of the trance you were in, listening to the echo of volleyball's smacking around the gym. He races up to your spots on the stands. "yeah, you're... Tanaka right?" He nods and sits next to you with a bit of hop in his step. "so I wanted to ask you—“ suddenly a smaller boy, noya popped out like a groundhog beside him. “we wanted to ask you, how does daichi act around you? Like do you two walk home together?” “Well— sometimes, we get some food—“ “he buys you food?! No way!” “Dude he never gets us stuff no fair!” “Really? He always does for me no questions asked.” They look like they’re gonna have an aneurysm from his knowledge alone. From there the floodgates just open. Do you work part time? Oh? He gives you things when he passes by? How often does he pass by? Hmmm, hm interesting… “You two!times up we've gotta get to work!" Daichi hollard loud enough to cause a bit of a jump. “but we have three minutes--" "now.”

He apologizes relentlessly over and over again once he gets the time to.

However all the questions does make you wonder…

It takes him a longgg time to build up the courage to actually say something. but when he does he's so romantic and sweet about it.

Flowers, chocolates, the whole nine yards.

He's usually really good with words... that all flies out the window. His hands are sweaty, stiff as a board and is probably on the verge of passing out. while the rest of the team is watching from a window or something

𐔌 . 𓎟 Nishinoya yu ᐟ｡୧ ꒱

Bold. so, so bold.

Play flirts CONSTANTLY with you

"haha you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid" type beat yk

However gets embarrassed immediately if you flirt back

he knows everything about you. Favorite color, food, part-time job, sport(s) you play, friends, he knows it ALL. he's obsessed,

He'll wear something he knows you like, and act's surprised when you compliment him and start twirling his hair and giggling like a schoolgirl

Either that or he puffs his chest out and tries to act so suave and cool

"yeah you know, I was just out, in my car strolling and I saw this necklace and I just- felt compelled to buy it" mind you, he has neither a car or a license or permit of any kind; and he begged his mom to have it.

he tries to act at least halfway decent around you and not be a complete pervert. if anyone brings up anything remotely weird he's done past or present, they will get attacked at his nearest convenience

You get invited to all his games

gives you the biggest grin ever whenever he even touches the ball

he also does just the absolute most when you're around. Complete show off

He blabs about you to everyone non-stop so he is frequently told to shut up. Like at any corner he just HAS to bring you up it's a compulsion atp

despite this, is so chicken at even the NOTION of confessing

"Dude, just get with her already the worst thing she can say is--" "no!! shut up! shut your dirty little mouth Tanaka!"

listen..he's just waiting for the right moment to strike he'll do it ...eventually...

⋆˙⟡ — Requests are always open and reblogs are always welcome!⋆˙⟡ —

[recreationalfanfics]

Yandere Adventurer NSFW Headcanons

*You are responsible for your own media consumption*

Mentions of: Dumbification, intimate dreams, bongage, choking, praise and degradation, dry humping, use of the word "slut", masturbating

General:

- First thing to note about Jesse: he is panromantic, meaning he adored his darling for how and who they are. Does he have sexual urges? Yes and those sexual fantasies of his darling develop as he descends into his obsession. Does that mean he feels like he NEEDS to have sex with his darling? Absolutely not. Give him a fleshlight and his darling's undergarments and he's good to go. Would he want to have sex with them? Yes but if they ain't into it, they ain't into it, but that's fine because he just wants to spend every waking minute being with them.

- Jesse is definetly a switch. Yes, he'd love to use his whip to tie your hands above the bed and watch you squirm underneath him in pleasure but he also would love the idea of waking up to see you straddling him and looking down at him with hungry eyes.

- LITERALLY DOESN'T CARE IF YOUR EXPERIENCED OR NOT, HE IS COOL EITHER WAY. If you're inexperienced then he'll try be as gentle as possible, softly guiding you through it and showing where to touch and helping you. Will absolutely stop in the middle of sex if you have any concerns and it's amazing how goes from seductive to listening to you so patiently and smiling softly at you as you speak on your concerns and he tries to reassure you as best as he can or tweak his whole approach and once you're all good, he goes back to being seductive.

- If you're pretty well experienced, he is absolutely excited to see it for himself. Would love to be beneath you even when he's the one domming/topping because he wants to see if he can make you experience an orgasm like you've never felt before or touch you in ways you've never been touched if you let him.

- Jesse would feel an extreme amount of guilt at first. He wakes up in a coldsweat in his tent in the jungle because he had an erotic dream about the two of you and he just pants softly before he rubs his face and tries to shake it out of his head.

"C'mon, Jesse, the hell's wrong with ya?"

- He knows he has feelings for you at this point, he just isn't yet aware of how dark they are. In the beginning, he'd try to wake himself up as fast as he could when he had those dreams but the deeper he becomes obsessed, the more he allows himself to indulge in them.

- You wouldn't know about this either, since he's very good at treating you same as ever. He might be easily flustered around you a lot more but he plays it off as just lack of sleep from researching and adventuring and thats why he's so weird and out of it. But then you look away and he just stares intently at your ass and shakes his head and goes back to what he was doing.

- If you happen to leave an article of clothing or something in the archives of the university you both work at, like a scarf or a jacket or anything else then it is his now. First he would put them over his pillow and cuddle it and pretend it was you but then one night he had one of his damn dreams again and well, he felt absolutely pathetic as he used it to try and get rid of his boner. When he returns it after it loses your scent, he makes up something like that it was in the lost-in-found but really dirty so he took it home and cleaned it. His heart soars when you smiled and thank him but frowns when you ask: "Jesse, you're honestly the most amazing friend anyone can ask for!"

"Aw, shucks, darlin'...That's-...That's real sweet of ya."

- WHEN YOU TWO FINALLY GET TOGETHER, IF YOU WANT TO EXCITE HIM: use the keys you have to get into his house and wait for him nude. He'll come home, tired and exaughster but when he walks in the bedroom and sees you there with your legs spread nice and open for him. He just smiles like a doofus and is quick to strip and jump in bed with you.

Kinks:

Dry Humping: God he will absolutely hump his hips against his bed or his pillow when he thinks or dreams of you. In general, he'd love how sensual and exciting dry humping is. Like, you'll he bent over one of the tables in your shared work spot and you moan softly and desperately as he grinds his hips against you from behind, or maybe you'll wrap your arms around him and grind against his thigh and palm at the bulge in his pants and he'll squeeze your ass through whatever bottoms your wearing. It's like heaven honestly when he looks down at you and your looking up at him, your eyes dreamy and half-lidded but when he hears footsteps of the annoying headmaster, the both of you are talking about the history of some civilization and once he leaves, you and Jesse look at each other and smile. But yeah, you wouldn't even have to be naked for Jesse to want to bend you over the table, just let him hump you from behind and massage your chest as he leaves hickies on your neck.

Fingering: God please just let him shove his fingers in your hole and give you the most pleasure you've ever experienced. His hands are big and calloused from his adventures and sometimes you catch yourself noticing the veins on them. They'll feel so good as he uses them to squeeze your thighs and they'll feel even better once they're inside you. If AFAB, PLEASE LET HIM FINGER YOU IN THE MIRROR. Lean against his chest and moan and beg as his fingers explore inside of you and fuck you so good that you'll keep a hand on his wrist to let him know that he's not done yet. Let him see himself touching that sweet pussy of yours and how he leaves you so nice and wet. If AMAB, him jerk you off and if you'll let him, stretch out your ass. Just him gently whispering about how good his darling is doing for him as he pumps your cock with his hand and praise you for taking his two fingers so well and being so good for your sultry moans and whimpers.

Brat taming: Yandere Adventurer has the whip and the "fuck around and find out attitude". Jesse is a sweet man but even he has his limits, especially if it's his darling trying to tease him sexually or being a little difficult. When he finally gets his hands on you, he will make you absolutely cry as he somewhat mocks you.

"Aw, whats wrong, poor baby? Don't worry, after ya learned your lesson, Jesse'll take care of you real good. Just hold on a lil' longer~"

Pegging: LOOK, IF YOU WANT TO BEND HIM OVER AND TIE HIS HANDS BEHIND HIS BACK WITH HIS OWN WHIP AND RAIL HIM WITH A GIANT STRAP ON, HE WON'T STOP YOU. If you want to grab his lil pony tail and pull it back so you can hear him beg and yell like a whore in his southern drawl, he is down for that. If you want him to get on his knees and suck on your strap on and then grab his hair and face fuck him with it for the fun of it, HE HAS NO COMPLAINTS. But like, only if you want to tho-

Anything that has to do with you sitting on his face: Please let him eat you out. When you're stressed, sometimes he just thinks that maybe you'd be a little less stressed if you just sat on his face and let his tongue take away all the stress from your pretty little head. If you're worried about hitting him, he will reminded you he got trapped in an elephant stampede and survived somehow.

"...A-Are you comparing me to an ELEPHANT?"

"WHA- NAH, I'M JUST- That definely ain't what I meant! See? This is why ya gotta sit on my face so I don't say dumb shit like that-"

".... Have a good day, Jesse-"

"DARLIN', I JUST MEANT TO SAY YA DON'T GOTTA BE AFRAID OF ME GETTIN' HURT!"

Manhandling: Look, he grew up in a farm in the south so he absolutely is able to to toss, choke, and hold you down but since it helped him realize his own strength, he knows how gentle he's gotta be with you too. But yeah him just holding your wrists above your head as he pins you against the wall and his other arm wrapped around your waist so he can fuck you. Or like, 69 you but HE'S STANDING UP. So if you're sucking him off but slowing down, he can grab the back of your hair and bob your head for you as he does his part to make you feel good.

- Bondage: Loves the idea of tying you up and being tied up himself. HE'D BE SO DOWN FOR SUSPENSION but understands if you don't want to do it, but let him tie your hands together and tie your legs apart. Another thing is that he's escaped ropes before so when you tie him up and he acts all whiny and helpless as you tease him, just know that he's actually enjoying it. Also, about those dreams he's had, he's definetly had one where he got stuck in a bunch of tree vines and was suspended from the ground but was exactly crotch level to your face and instead of getting him down, you sucked him off. He walked into a wall the next day and when you asked about his black eye, he tells you that it was a hitman-

- Choking: It goes without saying that Jesse won't try to hurt you, since, after all, he's fucking you so YOU feel good but he does like it when he leaves bruises on your neck from his hands or small indents if his nails and he licks over them when you're both in the bathtub and he's cleaning you up. If you choke him out? Instantly nutting and he's absolutely shameless about it.

Praise/Degradation: If want to be praised, he's got you! He praises you all time in non sexual ways but moments when you're sitting on his lap and he's planning for his latest trip that he decides to be mean and whisper sweet nothings and seductive praise. For degradation, he's a bit hesitant and would want to talk about it since he doesn't think people who love each other should say things like that to each other but if you're into it, watch him slowly enjoy calling you his cockdumb slut. He also likes praise himself, no matter whose being more submissive that session, but if you want to degrade him, he'll hesitantly allow it but the longer he's with you, please call him a manwhore. A pervert who instantly opens his lega for you and only you. Be smug that you got the most amazing and impressive historian underneath you and his eyes are rolled back as you call him some mean names that don't cross over the line TOO much. Whether you're being mean or being nice, he loves it, but he comes to find out that you being a bit mean to him hits different.

- Overstimulation: THIS MAN HAS SO MUCH STAMINA IT IS INSANE. NO TOY CAN OUTDO OR MAKE YOU FEEL HALF AS GOOD FOR AS HALF AS LONG AS HE CAN. Cry as he fucks you through your orgasm, go numb with pleasure as his mouth licks and sucks whatever it can reach, and whimper timidly when you feel his calloused hands grab you and pull you into him because he promises this is the last tine and he'll be done. Alternatively, OVERSTIMULATE HIM. Put him to the test by using so many toys and vibrators on him while having him eat you out or such or bitting into him. Watch as that happy little smile turns into a lip bite as you make him orgasm for the 6th time that night and how he'll hasp in surprise as you get ready to make it 7.

- Dumbification: He loves watching you turn into a babbling mess. He loves having intelligent conversations with you but he also discovered that he loves it when you talk absolute nonsense because his cock is pounding you so good. He will get dumb with you two and soon you both are just two bodies pressed each other mindlessly fucking and he loves it. He loves that all you can do is incoherently beg for him not to stop and that your whines are the only thing that his brain can hear and that the pleasure of his cock being squeezed by you is the only thing he can feel.

[weebsinstash]

Ok I'm sorry one more yandere Valentino thing because I think about this man more than I should even though I'm 100% building a vision in my head that's probably nothing like whatever we finally get to see in January

He would absolutely say some nasty and I mean RAUNCHY shit right to your face just to watch you squirm but I love the thought of him like losing his temper and saying something the lines of "you're lucky we aren't still alive or I would've knocked you up by now to keep you in line"

cause like. It's a typical Abusive Male Trope yeah, yeah, but for him it almost has a deeper meaning because, he's the emotionally detached bitchy petty catty asshole who's just a big sex loving manwhore, and here he is talking about PREGNANCY? to KEEP YOU AWAY FROM OTHER DUDES? It's about 🤌 the attachment 🤌 the possessiveness manifesting in new behaviors 🤌

Valentino is looking around at all his other conquests who he whores out to fucking LOSERS for cash like Angel Dust is having to blow people in their cars and meanwhile TO YOU completely unapologetically Val just puffs a cigar, blowing hearts in your face "you're lucky your ass can't get pregnant anymore cause I'd make you have my son on your hip and let all these other motherfuckers know you're taken" like??? Imagine him whipping this comment out of fucking nowhere??? Or it's a threat because he thinks you're a being a brat? I'm normal about this man, I'm normal, I'm well adjusted, I don't constantly think about how he's like over 10ft or something unspecified and he'd just be an absolutely terrifying force just being able to jealously cuddle and grab you with 4 arms alone, god knows he probably has powers or something as an Overlord, it's fine, I'm being normal over here, this is A Normal Person's Blog and he's just a nice man who is definitely respectful to women 🙏

[aberrationaldyke]

smack a jack

sevika x black fat dyke gnc reader

game night w pookie + a dyke with sum freek plans and their undeterred partner // regular setting

“alright, alright then…” sevika brings out a deck of cards from a drawer nearby, watching you search through the fridge. their movements slow a bit. “then…just the brew you made then. nothin’ extra.”

your surprised reaction is hid, face nearly stuffed into the refrigerator. “told you those were experimental. and i don’t have any.”

a hum comes from sevika, the package of cards tapping tentatively against their metal prosthetic as they walk closer to your bent over figure. “no, i know you. somethin’ bein’ experimental doesn’t mean you don’t have it.” they brush past you, side-eyeing your ass. “and you hide things in the back of the fridge. guess what i know what’s usually in the back of all that mess?”

soft clinks emerge just as your fingers touch a bottle’s cap with a bit more force than necessary, cutting into your rebuttal to sevika. your position turns into a kneeling one, hands maneuvering the two bottles from the depths of the fridge.

blinking, sevika’s gaze drifts from you, then back, then away again, sights settling on the cards in their hand. their journey to the living room is halted by your stance returning to a standing one.

“see.” sevika gestures to the clear glass bottles filled with an inky, dark purple liquid. “also putting things behind items that can be moved or seen through doesn’t make them hidden.”

now a proper rebuttal can be made, graced by a face-to-face reunion; you match sevika’s expression, mimicking their stance in the same moment before you say, “see,” you copy their tone. your normal voice returning, you continue, “and i don’t know who invited you into my fridge. snooping is not a good look for you.”

sevika’s prosthetic reaches for the bottle you’re offering as you make your way to their awaiting figure in the middle of the walkway, their free hand rubbing across your back while you both walk back to the living room. they let you in front of them to circle the worn but sturdy coffee table, their touch lingering on your baggy clothing.

“sure was for you. thank you very much for your thorough and successful search.” sevika watches you sit down before their own body comes right beside yours. they open the package holding the cards, sliding them out and into their left hand, tossing the empty container to the edge of the coffee table. “do you know you have more plants and plant food than actual food?”

you put a coaster in front of yourself and sevika, fighting back a smile. “my stuff is in freezer. savin’ up for a second fridge for projects.” taking your bottle, you snap open the cap, a lavender mist escaping as you do. “oooouu.”

this earns chuckle from sevika, their shuffling of the cards a subconscious feat while they look at you. then their gaze goes to the bottle and a brow quirks. “as much as i applaud and appreciate your work with these experiments, i don’t think i like you near the edible intoxication part—you got a lil too much goin’ on.”

“why don’t you jus’ flip the cards and pass ‘em out so i can claim my victory?” a small sip of the concoction is taken by you. “what is this one we’re doin’, smack a jack?”

sevika follows along with your action, settling the cards in their right hand while their left opens their bottle. they subtly move closer, processing your latter statement and laughing when they do. before the tip of the bottle touches their lips, they motion vaguely with it in their grasp. “yeah, smack a jack.”

the simultaneous swig of the herbal elixir brings a hum of delight from you and a suspicious, curious grunt from sevika, alongside a mirroring comment, “sweet.”

scoffing, a lopsided smile grows on sevika’s face. “why the hell are you surprised?” their thoughts wander. “you…tested this before you bottled it, yeah? the reason you even have to save up for another fridge is because the last one exploded. which is…i’m still tryna wrap my head around…because you don’t even sell weapons.”

another sip is taken by sevika, despite their apprehension, an evident coolness coming from the recently refrigerated drink. they wince slightly when the frigidness of the beverage sustains the temperature even in the depths of their stomach. setting the bottle back down on the coaster, sevika returns to shuffling the cards a few more times before passing them out to you and theirself.

you hum, putting a hand on sevika’s knee while you take another swig of the drink. “you know so much, yet so little.” the same hand raises to their chin and nudges it lightly. “baby, you gotta pay attention more.”

sevika absentmindedly follows your touch as your hand departs from their chin, a faint grin on their lips as the warmth rushes to their cheeks. they resume to pass out the cards to the piles in front of you and theirself, finishing quickly. they grab their deck of cards, licking over their bottom lip slightly before lightly gnawing on the inside of it.

"ain't a problem for me. i can give you all the attention you want." they reach for your legs, right hand slipping toward the inside of your thigh before gripping and lifting it, setting it over their lap; the motion is repeated with the other, their touch lingering on your calf.

taking your deck of cards into your hands, your eyes flit to sevika's hand before looking at the side of their face. they cast you a side-eye before turning their head to hold you in focus while their brow quirks. with swiftness, the surface of your dark brown skin is peppered with goosebumps while your lower abdomen churns with desire.

"attemptin' to distract me." you point to sevika with your deck. "with those eyes. i know you."

an airy chuckle leaves sevika, their gaze returning to the coffee table. "then let me focus because i don't want these eyes to be part of the rant later when you lose. you don’t even know the right name of the game—it’s slapjack.”

“nine, ten, a big fat hen. smack slap. i don’t care. watch me work.” you clutch your cards tighter, features showcasing your determination.

their bottle is in their hand again for a quick swig, a soft laugh passing through sevika’s nose as they indulge, suspicion of the beverage still high. now on their fourth swallow of the concoction, sevika’s brown skin prickles, the hairs standing at attention. a prominent pulse echoes through their body and your scent is suddenly amplified. the coolness nestling in their stomach is met with a natural heat that makes them squirm in their seat slightly, their gaze flitting to the apex of your thick thighs and the fabric draping across your pudgy stomach.

“ha!” you smack down the first card on the coffee table.

sevika brings their attention back to the game, movements robotic as they put the next card down. they watch your hand jerk out, anticipating. the tenseness in their body dissipates at your reaction, a couple blinks clearing the fog of desire—or at least attempts to.

another card is put down by you with the same force, your more alert state still no match for sevika’s slightly altered one.

snatching the cards up, sevika tosses a glance your way, your impending response omitted as you take a mighty gulp from your drink. patting a very high point on your thigh lightly, sevika says, “take that in slow, baby.”

you quickly depart the bottle tip from your mouth, eyes widening as an idea comes to your mind. “take a drink if you lose the round.”

sevika raises a brow. “that a challenge or your punishment? you’re already down one.” their eyes dart to your moistened lips, heart thumping with anticipation.

feigning a frown, you hold a laugh back, trying to maintain a leveled demeanor as the brew works its way deeper. your response is put on hold when you see sevika slowly leaning toward you, their hand that remained on your thigh softly kneading the flesh. with a grip still on the neck of your bottle, you raise your fist to sevika’s chest, barring their advances.

“you just called me a loser,” you start playfully, “and think you can start rubbin’ on me?”

sevika’s gaze searches your face, seeing if you’ll put the presumed facade aside but comes to a quick realization and diverts their eyes as they begin to think. they smooth a crinkle in the fabric of your pants, the soft leisurewear running along their palm. “just offerin’ a little encouragement is all.”

you relent a bit, letting sevika close in as you watch a small smirk of victory build on their lips. affectionate irritation builds at the sight, the force of your fist against their chest returning, gently stopping them from advancing just when you can feel the warmth of their skin breathe onto yours.

gray eyes stare into yours with a questioning essence while a silent plea beams through the glimmering sights. sevika’s left hand joins the coaxing, caressing your right calf lightly.

“you put the card down next or it’s me?” the smile is evident in your inquiry.

a slight downturn comes to sevika’s lips, an ever-present hunger for the touch and feel of your skin gnawing at their senses. no help from whatever you cooked up and poured into the bottles, the processing elixir mixes with your natural scents, wafting through the air and heightening their yearning. reluctant with the action, sevika straightens and plucks a card from their deck setting it on the table to resume the game.

nearly ten minutes later, it is a surprise to you both that the deck you carry presents itself with a prominent thickness, indicating your multiple triumphs. pity building for your partner quick after the drinks had to be taken after your wins, you brushed off the challenge, taking the swigs along with sevika.

after returning from a bathroom break, you walk back to the living room, the trek slowing as your gaze travels the lengths of sevika’s body, their large, broad figure relaxed against the couch, head laid back. you creep over, watching their steady breath, a smile growing on your face. you position yourself right in front of them, eyeing their spread out legs with a particular interest.

“tappin’ out?” you murmur, looking down at sevika with your arms crossed, confidence overabundant. you study your nails with fake interest, the gloating continuing, “yeah…i would too. how many you got left in your stack five? seven? ain’t no comin’ back from that.”

sevika opens one eye, looking you up and down before the other opens. silently, they straighten up, a low grunt of effort emitting as they do. they reach out and brush their right palm along the side of your thigh, adjusting theirself to scoot closer to the edge of the couch so their face nearly meets your lower torso.

“c’mere,” sevika mutters, their left hand nearing your other thigh before both circle around and smooth over the underside of your ass. they look up at you, gaze soft.

a protest fails to emerge, your arousal heightening and making your dark brown skin spark with more heat than what is already present. it’s those damn eyes. your mouth parts as you nod slowly, taking a step forward toward sevika.

still focused on your face, sevika speaks low, “you win. i give up.” they guide your legs to settle on either side of them, your straddle earning a sigh of relief as your warmth seeps into their body. they take a moment to adjust your posture, their right hand staying on your thigh with a soft grip while the other circles around your waist, pulling you closer.

pliant, your breaths are slow and heavy, fingertips grazing sevika’s jaw. the wordless command earns their attention, their eyes ceasing their venture of your body before meeting your heated sights.

“now you want me? hm?” sevika’s hips adjust under your weight, angling them to feel your heat more.

“you wanting to take a bite a minute into smackjack is no one’s problem but yours,” you retort, tilting your head.

sevika’s lips press against your bottom lip, their thumb slipping past your waistband and rubbing your hip, the ridges of your stretch marks traced lightly. your eagerness kissing back brings a soft moan from their throat, their hold on you tightening as if they would be able to meld your bodies. the motion in your lower body earns a raspier groan and a stutter of their own hips to meet the movement.

a breath is taken, the taste of the elixir and one another lingering on your tongues. “it definitely is my problem. and trust me, i’ll take care of it.”

just injected u into an oc like them avatar machines dew

kinda obsessed w shoola and sevika time to munch

[infernalfears]

thunderbolts spoilers

can someone make a ava x reader fic where reader is the doctor for the new avengers that ava has a crush on and ava comes in injured everyday just to see them but this one time, ava is actually in critical condition and reader absolutely panics. reader gets so worried that when she’s all better, they start tearing up talking about “i thought i was going to lose you.” ava then shuts them up by kissing them

[vhyunjinverse]

The French Kiss

gn!reader x dean winchester

summary: Turns out..you’ve never kissed anyone before, to Dean’s surprise, so he teaches you.

warnings: none! fluff, first time kissing, intense kissing, heavy touching

“Oh come on- you serious?” His mocking laugh made to shrink more into yourself. Sitting there wearing an oversized sweatshirt that covered your legs. You sat there on Dean’s bed in the bunker, only you two in the home-like place. “I’m serious.” You muttered.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?”

“No.”

“I find that to be bullshit- Have you seen yourself?” That made you shiver. You look up at him, face flushed in embarrassment. He popped open a bottle of water and came closer. “I know i’m hot. Trust me, i’m well aware.” You scoff, “doesn’t mean I just go around kissing people, unlike some of us..”

He rolled his eyes at that, taking a seat next to you, “Well, don’t just sit there- come on.” He motions you forward and your body moves on its own, scooting closer to him. This whole thing- You and Dean, it was new to you. For years you kept to yourself until a case brought you to the Winchesters. Since then, you’ve been inseparable. It was only recently you started to feel something for Dean..seeing him in a way you’ve never seen before.

It was days like these in the bunker where you two just talked comfortably- that’s how it started. Your talks together..just You and Dean.

You lean forward, lips puckered, ready to kiss him. But he laughs, “Dude- okay come on. We have to set the mood. Loosen up a bit huh?” His hands move forward, grabbing your chin. Your hands shook nervously… His thumb grazed your cheek, his other hand gently coming down on your thigh. “It happens naturally..” He murmured, lips close to yours. “So I’ve heard.” you swallow nervously, eyes looking at his as they fluttered shut.

“Close your eyes.” you hear him groan. your eyes flutter shut, and then you felt it- Dean’s lips pressed against yours. You couldn’t help the small gasp that slipped out of your mouth. His lips move against yours. It felt strange, you felt light but your heart heavy. Your hands grip his shirt, and he pulled back.

“Well?” He asks, hands still at your thigh, skidding up.

“Is that it?”

“Oh we haven’t even done french kissing.” He laughs as you catch your breath. Dean lays your body back on the bed, slowly hovering over your body. “Let me know if this is too much okay?”

“..Okay.” you murmur, wanting his lips back on yours. “I’m gonna do something different- and if you don’t like it then-“

“Kiss me already please Dean, god.” That makes him laugh and his lips are back on yours in an instant. Your body felt hot, at the touch of his hand going from your thigh to your hip. His thumb grazing over the bone gently. They ran over the stretch marks, making you gasp. Dean took that opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips.

It made you jump- the feeling strange and new. But he’s gentle…something you didn’t expect from Dean in any way possible. His tongue slips over your own, like a blanket. He damn near swallows your mouth whole. He lets out a small grunt, and you could tell he held back some.

You kissed him back to the best of your ability, even when your teeth bumped against his- he said it was okay- you still kissed. Your body was on fire. You couldn’t help but let out a small noise when he pulled back. His lips red, yours swollen.

“Well?” He asks, looking down at you with a small smile. “How was that for our first lesson?”

“First lesson?” You pant.

“Well yeah, doesn’t just stop there.” He scoffs out a laugh

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

Chapter XXV: Just Once, He Talked Back

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev

tags: this fic is rated 18+ MDNI | eddie x gn!reader, slight angst, time jump, slight rpf (nothing explicit or weird just for backstory reasons<3) slow burn, fluff (finally?!)

a/n: this is a shorter chapter!! a lil angsty a lil cutesy. a lotta lore! maybe i’m drawing this out bc i’m not entirely ready to say goodbye to fd yet. idk. don’t look at me!

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog to support the author!

—

Your POV

You throw your phone to the floor, effectively disconnecting your line. Before long, though, you hear it downstairs. “Honey, the phone’s for you! Can you pick it up there?” Your mom calls for you again, and you groan.

“I’m not here!”

“It’s Eddie!” Your mom really isn’t getting it. You reach for your phone, begrudgingly plugging it back into the wall. It starts ringing immediately.

“What could you possibly have to say right now?”

His voice cracks over the receiver. “Baby, please. That picture was taken forever ago. I promise-“

You sigh. “When.”

“What?”

“When was the picture taken, Eddie?”

Pause. Silence. You chew on your bottom lip, regretting your question.

“February.”

“Of this year?!”

It’s Eddie’s turn to yell. “Why does it matter? We hadn’t talked for so long, she’s a friend-“

“There is no fucking way you’re just friends with Kathleen fuckin’ Hanna, Eddie! Did you sleep with her?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me!”

-

Eddie’s POV

There is no right answer to this question, he knows that. The truth is yeah, he did. Of course he did! He was high, and very drunk, and she was so beautiful, so nice to him. And he was so, so lonely. If he recalls correctly, though, he thought about you the whole time. Not that that information would help his case.

He doesn’t want to tell you, but he’s decided against lying to you ever again.

“Yeah, I did.” The line goes dead, dial tone buzzing in his ears. “Fuck!” He slams the phone back into its cradle. “I’m Sorry Wayne, I gotta go.”

“You sure you don’t wanna stick around, let ‘em cool off?” Wayne calls to Eddie from the kitchen table.

“No.” He surprises himself with how easily it comes out. “I can’t lose ‘em again. I’ll come back, I promise.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves dismissively at his nephew. “Go fix it. And quit doin’ stupid shit, would ya?”

Eddie chuckles despite himself. “Yessir.”

-

The flight to Boston only takes three hours, but they’re the longest of Eddie’s life, and he’s gone through alcohol withdrawal. Logan airport bustles with tourists and townies. “Whe’d we pahk the cah?” A dad turns to his flustered wife, who’s got one kid on her hip, another yanking on her hand.

Eddie hails a cab outside before remembering he doesn’t know your address. “Shit.” He mumbles, crawling back out of the taxi and jogging to the pay phone outside.

The operator connects him to Steve. “Hello?”

“Steve, man, hey. Where does Y/n live?”

“In Boston, dude. You know that.”

“No! Their address, I need their address.”

“Why would you need their address? Wouldn’t they tell you- Oh no. The magazine?”

“Yeah, the fuckin’ magazine, man! Now please, where do they live?” Steve recites an address for Eddie to scribble on his forearm. “Thank you. Lifesaver, seriously.”

“Yeah, a few times now.” Eddie laughs with him before hanging up.

-

Your POV

“Coming, jeez!” You wrap your blanket around your shoulders before answering the door, the figure before you ripping every thought from your head. Eddie stands there in a too big sweatshirt and gym shorts, a duffle bag on his arm. Your parents are out to dinner but you were too sad to go, so you’re in your pajamas with a burrito and your second drink of the evening. “What the fuck?”

“Can I explain? Please?”

“Eddie, what—“

He pushes past you into the hallway, closing the door behind him. “Please.” Is all he says, and you resign, nodding as you crawl back into your spot on the couch. He sits at the other end, too much space between you for your liking. No. Stay mad. But how can you, when he’s here? When he came here, supposedly, to make things right?

Eddie huffs a breath, and you focus your attention. “Okay. Explain.”

—

February 1992

Eddie’s POV

Seattle makes him sad now. Last time he was here, it was with you, and you were still his. The Limelight bar is dim tonight, a few locals nestled into corner booths. Eddie sits in one with colleagues, not friends. He’s not sure he has friends anymore, but these people are important, financially. According to Steve, at least.

He takes another swig of his drink, a double jack and coke, hold the coke. It’s been a dark day, still reeling from the news this morning.

As if to torture him, the screen of the tiny bar TV seems to glow, summoning him to watch. MTV returns to the air, the perky host droning on. Until he’s not, when he starts in on “The underground riotgrrl movement.” He growls the word like a confused dog, but then adds. “We have a new single from Death Dance Approximately. This is Choke On It!”

The MTV logo flickers, and then you’re on the screen, right in front of him. You and your band are dressed in suits, spread out behind a pulpit in front of pews full of stuffy adults. The camera closes up on you, in dark eyeshadow and blood red lipstick, glaring into the lense as you sing.

Left for dead to save yourself / Asked for help but got drowned out. / That fire still lives inside of me, / I just hope one day I’ll get to see…” The scene changes, and Eddie sits up straighter. The video portrays a flashback, where the character you’re playing is wearing much brighter clothing, and holding hands with a handsome actor Eddie’s probably met eight different times without realizing it. He’s got an average face, nothing remarkable about him. That is until he turns around, and his cheap costume vest has the words Corrupted Cadaver painted across the back. The logo is eerily similar to the old Corroded Coffin scrawl, from way before the band got big. It isn’t meant to let everyone know, only him. And it hits exactly where he’s sure you meant it, chest stinging from the realization.

The scene changes again, portraying the couple fighting angrily, Mr. Every Man pointing and exclaiming at your character while you cry and scream back. At some point, you throw a plate, and Eddie less than fondly recalls the time you’d almost knocked him out with a coffee mug.

“Drinkin’ alone?” A voice behind him snaps Eddie from his pity party, and he feels its owner take a seat on the booth. He didn’t think so, but when he looks around the booth he realizes all of his company has disappeared into the dark of the bar.

“Yeah, guess I am.”

“Why is that?” She leans in, resting her cheek in her hand as she stares dreamily into his eyes. He’s trying to focus on her face, her voice, the woman in front of him, but he keeps glancing at the television over her shoulder. She takes notice, and follows his eyes to the screen, where you’re burning a pile of what he can assume is your ex’s belongings, makeup bleeding down your cheeks, far more exaggerated than he’d seen on your face before, but not entirely unlikely.

“You like ‘em?”

“What?” His eyes snap back to where Kathleen observed him.

“Death Dance? You like ‘em?” He doesn’t have an answer to that. “I think they’re cool,” she muses. “Y/n is a rockstar.”

He scoffs despite himself. “Yeah, you could say that.”

She cocks an eyebrow at him. “What’s that mean?”

“Nothin’, long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

-

present day

He stops, finally looking to where you sit to find you’ve stood up. You stare over him, arms crossed over your chest. “What did you tell her?” You sound almost nervous.

“I told her about us. I don’t know why she listened, or why she agreed to leave with me. She let me talk the whole time, and I don’t know if she cared or if she just pitied me, but it was nice. It felt good to talk. I hadn’t talked to anyone about it in so long.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. “This is so fucking stupid.”

“Look, I’m sorry, I had no-“

“No, stop. I’m not mad at you. Most of those pictures are me anyway, Eddie. These assholes can’t just mind their own business.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to be quizzical. “What do you suppose we do about that, then?”

-

Your POV

You bite your bottom lip in thought. “We could, I dunno, ignore it?”

Eddie snorts, but his smile fades when he sees you’re serious. “Baby, I don’t think that’s possible. I don’t even remember them taking that picture.”

“That doesn’t really mean much, Eds. You were wasted.”

“Touché.” He grumbles. “But still, I think we should just. Ugh,” He doesn’t want to tell you what he’s thinking, but you wait. You have an idea of what he’s going to suggest. “I think we should embrace it. We’re together, right? In any other scenario, I’d be showin’ you off to anyone that would let me. Why should it be any different now?”

You look at him, study his expression with an unwavering stare. There is no hint of ulterior motive, no desperate urge to make you uncomfortable. He’s the Eddie you’d met six years ago, the one you’d fallen head over heels in love with instantly; just a nerdy metalhead with a huge heart. You can feel your guard crumbling, brick walls demolished, and Eddie’s swinging the wrecking ball. “If you want, of course. We can think of something else, though.” He adds, waving his hands anxiously.

“I want to. I’m so tired of this shit, letting these fuckers harass us. I want to be able to exist without feeling like I’m being watched.”

Eddie’s deep in thought, face scrunched, lips pressed together. “Okay,” He says finally, the pieces connecting in his head. “I have an idea.”

-

Eddie’s POV

“You think this is gonna work?” You lean against the bedroom door frame as Eddie dawns one of your father’s old baseball caps.

He grins, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “Are you doubting my ability to play tricks?”

You giggle, and Eddie feels his face ache from smiling. “Of course not! But these leeches twist everything to fit a made up narrative that people eat up without question!”

“Which is exactly why we’ll give them something so cliche they won’t be able to help themselves.” He’s comparing different pairs of your sunglasses next to his face. “And then, they’ll get bored and move on.”

“I dunno, that last part seems unlikely.”

Eddie frowns, turning to face you. “We don’t have to do this, y’know.”

You sigh, pushing off the doorframe to approach him. You smell like lemon and lavender, and Eddie wants to bury his face in your neck. He resists, though, clearing his throat

“No, I want to. They won’t leave us alone either way. Might as well have some fun with it.” You hand Eddie the sunglasses with rounder frames. “These ones. They look like Ozzy’s.”

“God, I love you.”

—

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @potatobeanpie @poisonedluv @kellsck @m-chmcl-rmnc @veemoon | send a message to be added taglist for this fic is closed!

[mommycity]

Tummy lover Geto who’s furiously fisting his cock when his clothes don’t fit you properly. The way his shirt doesn’t fully cover your tummy, leaving your fupa hanging out and the tight fit causing your nipples to show. The way your tits sit so heavily on your resting chest. God he’s just humping his fist and panting in heat. The shorts you slept over in are swallowed between you ass and highlight your cute little clit. He’s fucking his fist as you mind your business. The way you look on your back, tummy splayed so perfectly above that pussy he wants to devour. He wants you on all fours so he can grab and grope your tummy to plant himself as he fucks you like he wants. Geto’s dick is just weeping with pre cum

[dnvrsmedia]

love at first suture

abigail anderson x medic!reader

warnings: mentions of injuries (no gore)

canon universe setting, no pronouns or r physical attributes used!

°°°

Soft light enters the hallway as the rising sun shines its beams onto Earth, enveloping its warm rays like a blanket on your skin. Puffs of air leave your sleeping lover's mouth as her chest steadily rises at a rhythmic rate. Calm is the state you find yourself in on the rare occasion you wake up before the blonde. Her long hair cascades along her broad shoulders like a warm toned waterfall. On days like these you feel a little bit more filled with gratitude. Never have you believed in soulmates until you met yours. Abigail Anderson was the textbook definition of your other half. She fulfilled every need, want, hope, and dream you could ever have asked for—ever so effortlessly. Love was never easy, but loving Abby was the easiest thing you have ever done.

Your hand moved to tuck a stray piece of hair from tickling her nose. A giggle erupts from your mouth as the blonde scrunches her nose and furrows her brows, trying to get away from the tickling strand of hair. Her body relaxes with a content hum as you free her from the itching. Abby moves into your hand, subconsciously yearning for your touch. No matter how big and scary she looks to others, you’ll always know the true Abby. Your loving and caring partner. Abby who goes to the ends of the earth for what she believes in. Your sweet girl and most powerful protector.

Reminiscing on when you first met always brings a smile to your face. The once tough girl falling into a puddle of mush—flushed beyond belief as you patch her up in the infirmary. You were newer to the area and quickly became one of the most crucial surgeons for the WLF. Abby luckily was not hurt badly, just a few lacerations to various parts of her body. Leaving only a slightly deeper cut on her upper thigh. The blonde stubborn as always, grumbled her way in the infirmary. Nora being the only one to get through her thick skull.

“Abigail I swear to god if you don’t sit your ass in that fucking chair-“ Nora’s voice heard through the groans and chaos of the infirmary.

Your eyebrows shoot up in amusement. In the few months you’ve been with WLF, you’ve known that Abby was not one to be fucked with. The top scar killer, Isaac’s number one asset, was one to be listened to. You had only a few run-ins with the tall blonde. Abby did well in either playing down her injuries or patching herself up. Yet, here she was, being yelled at like a toddler by her best friend. Tail tucked between her legs with an adorable pout to her plush lips. Her thick thighs spread wide after unceremoniously plopping into your open chair. Her pout could be seen from miles away as scoffs left her lips.

“Hi, how can I help you?” You don your nitrile gloves with a ‘snap’.

Abby’s stubborn nature made her snarl before she looked up at you. All of her previous stipulations melt away as her eyes meet yours. The stubborn blond rendered speechless as her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

“Uh-I…um-” Abby struggles to speak as she dumbly points to her thigh.

Nora catches onto her best friend’s actions with a smirk as she nudges Abby’s watermelon sized bicep.

“This dumbass needs stitches on her thigh and bicep. The other lacerations aren’t deep enough for stitches, but a good cleaning should fix it. I’d help her myself but I'm busy and you need more friends, bye!” Nora rushes the last sentence before going into the middle of the storm of hurt soldiers.

Crimson red is the color that peaks under Abby’s freckles. Your own belly betrays you as it flutters w butterflies. Her teeth sitting atop her tucked in bottom lip makes your knees weak. You snap out of your trance, turning to attend to the matter at hand. Your fingers fumble with the suture package before placing your materials on your tray. You sit down on your stool before her.

“How are you feeling? I’m sure there’s no major injuries since your reluctance to be checked out, but this is a pretty gnarly cut here.” Your gloved hand caresses her clothed thigh that currently has a gash in the fabric.

Abby’s thighs tense at the feeling of your gentle finger caressing her. You take that as a symptom of tenseness and pull away immediately in worry. Abby silently curses herself.

“Is that painful there? I could check you out some more to see-” You ramble before being cut off by the blonde.

“N-no i'm okay just wasn’t ready for your touch. I didn't mind it.” She smirks, loving the shy smile that adorned your lips.

“Oh! Okay then, that’s perfect. So I’m just gonna need you to uh take off your pants- or what’s left of them, to stitch you up and send you on your way.” Your eyes veer from her eyes, oozing with nerves. Abby has this effect on you that you couldn’t explain.

Meanwhile, Abby is trying not to lose her shit at the thought of taking her pants off for you. She wished she was taking them off for a different circumstance-

“Uh, *cough*, yeah, th- that’s fine.” Abby tried-and failed- at keeping a cool and mysterious tone. In actuality, her brain was going a mile a minute all because of the beauty in front of her.

She stands and unbuckles her belt in front of you. Due to your height difference as you were still on your stool, her hips stood at face level. Your mouth salivates at the filthy thoughts flooding through your brain. You clear your throat and turn your head in a hurry, pretending to preoccupy yourself with something useless. Once the clang of her heavy belt buckle sounds, signaling it hitting the ground, you turn back to your patient. Your eyes bulge out of your eyes at the sight. You thought her thighs looked good before but holy shit. Her sculpted thighs were something to worship. Yet, this certainly was not the time.

You get through your mini short circuit and immediately get to work cleaning her wounds. The whole time you talk the blonde through what you’re doing. Abby wasn’t stupid, she was actually decently knowledgeable on things of the sort due to her late father, yet she didn’t once stop you to mention she knew what you were doing. She fell in love with your passion to heal others, your passion for your craft. Any frustrations from her patrol melted away as she listened and watched you work. Soft giggles leave your lips as Abby filters in jokes every now and then. If your voice is honey then your laugh is heaven to her. The way your nose scrunched when she said something you found particularly funny or dorky made her heart soar. Your laugh gave Abby a high that no drugs could ever give her.

“You are good to go!” You finish wrapping her bandage securely.

“If you have any questions feel free to stop by, okay? Make sure you’re not doing any rigorous training or activities for at least a few days.” You pointedly look at her with your eyebrows raised. You may be new but you know that all of your warnings will go in one ear and out the other.

Abby laughs at your knowing look, wondering how you could read her so well so soon. Unbeknownst to the two of you, that would only be the beginning.

[alexisaflop]

Wait on your Song - Steve Harrington x Henderson! reader

Chapter 11: Trick or Treat, Freak!

Nancy dumps Steve and you give him a ride home.

It's Halloween morning and too early for your mother's excitement about Dustin's costume. "Look at these pearls," he says and makes some weird noise at the back of his throat. You pull a face, "oh no, don't do that." But your mother eats it up; snaps several photos of "Dusty-bun."

At high school, nobody is dressed up. This morning, Nancy is actually in homeroom, and tells you all about Barb and the private investigator and the fact that her parents are having to sell the house. You decide against explaining that Steve had come around last night and told you all of it already. Instead, you let the familiar guilt settle on you, now with the added layer of having been helping Steve last night when it really should have been her. The taste of bile rises in the back of your mouth.

The rest of the day is spent pretty much in silence. You have a shared study period later in the day and the three of you sit there 'working'. You know you've not answered a single question. Steve looks like he's thinking, but whenever you glance over at him, he is doodling in the margins. Glancing over at Nancy, you smile slightly. Tight-lipped a shadow of recognition flickers across her face. She gets the message that you're in this together - even if you're not sure what /this/ is. Her pencil snaps against the page. Wordlessly she stood up and walked away to sharpen it. "Thanks for your help last night, I wouldn't have got my application in without you." Steve can't quite look at you, his eyes shifting from your hands to your face and back down to his margin drawing that appears to be taking over his entire page. You get the feeling that he doesn't know how to act around you by yourself. Last night, he had constantly fidgeted and hadn't been able to decide how close to sit next to you. Now that Nancy was in the same room, you realise that there's a hint of guilt on his face. "You haven't told her you saw me yesterday, then?" you smirk, already knowing the answer. "I don't want to upset her, she might feel bad about not being the one to help me." Looking over at Nancy, you get the impression Steve is projecting very hopefully onto her. She has a far off look in her eyes and sincerely doubt she would remember what it was Steve asked her for help with yesterday. "She's taking a while, isn't she?" you murmur. Steve's eyes flicker between you and her before going to check on her.

They go into a study room and close the door and you fail miserably at pretending to not be watching. Things start to get heated; Nancy squares her shoulders and her eyes squint at Steve. He's trying and failing to keep her calm. Slowly, you start packing away your things, then Nancy's too. You get the feeling she'll want to leave quickly. Steve draws the blinds, obscuring your view into the room. For a second, his eyes meet yours. His expression is hard and set. But, looking at his eyes, you can see that he is fighting to stay afloat. You can see the guilt that he feels for Barb just as clearly as you can see it in Nancy's eyes.

They aren't in the room for long and when they leave, Nancy is back to not speaking. Wordlessly, you pass her her stuff but shoot Steve an inquisitory glance. His defeated face reminds you that he is just as stuck in this as you are. How do you help someone get through something that legally never happened? Nancy is shooting daggers at Steve so you leave the library without him. In effort to get her to talk, you place a protective arm around her shoulders. "He wants us to play pretend as stupid teenagers tonight." "He doesn't need to pretend; he /is/ a stupid teenager," you tease, hoping for at least a smile. Nothing. "Well you have to come, because me and Jonathan already agreed to go." "I just don't care. It's all bullshit," she says sullenly. "Okay," you're not sure what to say, but you want to get her to talk. Properly. "It's like nobody even cares about what happened to Barb." Just like that, the notion of wanting to help her disappears. You were the one who had watched Barb die. You were the one who had talked Nancy out of her guilt and forgiven her straight away for any wrong-doing she felt like she had committed that night. "Seriously?" your voice is just louder than a whisper but it trembles with rage, "you want to talk to me about caring? Where the hell have you been for the past year? You are supposed to be my friend. You've disappeared to only caring about the person you lost and not the ones who actually care about you. Barb was my friend too." "Y/N, I didn't mean it like that. It's different for you, you didn't kill her." "Have you considered it's just the same for me? That I don't hear her screaming every night? Of course you don't because you never talk about it. You're always with Steve! Which is exactly how you were when Barb was still alive. And I've accepted that your boyfriend is more important, really I have. But it sucks for him that you treat him like crap just as much as you did everyone else." She stares at you. "Why didn't you tell me?" her eyes are watering. Crap. "Because of this. I didn't want to make it worse." "Well, it's not like it's got better is it?" her eyes are still wet but her anger is back. The bell rings and you have science class. Neither of you know what to say, so you just walk away.

The rest of the day was a blur. You feel shitty for not helping Nancy more but the rest of you is angry that she can't see that everyone else is going through the same crap as her. The same guilt. The same grief. Your head is spinning as you walk to your car. And that's when you see Billy. Shit. "You'd look prettier if you were smiling." You flip him off and keep walking. Your heart rate raises as you can still feel his eyes on you. But a ginger girl coming from the direction of the middle school catches your eye. She's smiling at you. MadMax. It had to be her. Dustin hadn't shut up about how cool it is that she skates. And she smiled at you when she saw who you were swearing at. You smile back at her before collapsing into your car and going home.

At home you collapse into the sofa, close your eyes and press your hands against your forehead. "Why didn't you tell me?" Nancy's voice echoes in your head. What if you had told her sooner about the nightmares and the guilt? Would she have listened? Or would it just have made her feel more guilty for ditching you and Barb that night?

You sit like that for about ten minutes alone before the Dustin hurricane came home. You're glad for the distraction from the spiralling questions. "Max called me presumptuous today," he said proudly, chucking his bag by the door. You shake your head, "you do know what presumptuous means right?" He doesn't say anything. "What did you say before she said that?" "I was inviting her to come trick-or-treating tonight with the Party." "And you just expected her to come?" "Yeah, we know where to get all the full size candy bars." "Okay, so do you think she'll go with you?" He shrugged, "Lucas doesn't think so." It's when he's walking away to his room that he mentions the Camaro that almost ran the Party over on the way home. "I am going to kill Billy," you promise him, before heading to your room to find an outfit for Tina's stupid party.

You park a few blocks away from Tina's and walk around. If you hadn't promised Jonathan you would be here, you would be at home with a scary movie right now. But the distraction that is drunk teenagers is almost as entertaining. You we wear red trousers and a loose fitting white shirt with a bandana tied through your hair: a very low effort pirate. You didn't expect to find rum here, but then again you had driven so that's probably for the best. Billy's name is echoing around outside. Not that guy again you complain to yourself. Somehow, you manage to walk through the doors right behind them and end up following them across the party. All the way to Steve and Nancy. She gives you a half-hearted glare. Like you brought these idiots here.

"We've got ourselves a new keg king, Harrington," Tommy proclaims. Steve is dressed as Tom Cruise, although he's leaning pretty heavily on the sunglasses to make it work. His jaw is set as he stares back at Billy. Not on the offensive, but getting prepared to defend. Nancy stalks off. Which kind of proves your point from earlier that she just does not care about anyone else. Billy steps towards Steve, and you prepare to step in between them. "I was told not to expect to see you here, Y/N," Billy turns to you. He's learnt your name from somewhere. You hate the way he says it, like now he knows your name, he can get to you. You lift your chin to raise your gaze in line with his, "For someone who tried to run over my brother this afternoon you're awfully friendly." He almost looks surprised, but not as much as you do when he walks away. "He drinks like he drives," you say, turning to Steve, "like an obnoxious idiot. You good, Harrington?" His face is still clenched together. As though it might all fall apart if he dared to relax. "Yeah. Fine." "We should probably find Nancy." "Yeah, because she'll be so happy to see you," he eyes you up wearily, "why did you even come Henderson?" "Because after last time, I'm not leaving any of my friends alone at these stupid parties." His face softens minutely, "I have to take her side." "I know."

You follow him through the crowd and find Nancy near the kitchen turned bar. "Pure fuel! Pure fuel!" exclaims a kid who you were really hoping was dressed as Dionysus next to the punch bowl. You grinned and Steve couldn't help but also look amused. Nancy on the other hand looked incredibly serious as she went in for her drink. "Woah, woah, woah, Nance. Take it easy, alright?" "We're being stupid teenagers for the night, wasn't that the deal?" You couldn't help but smile. Nancy had never really got drunk before and this was certainly going to be entertaining. But Steve just looked concerned. You felt bad for him that he'd be the one who probably had to look after her when this all went wrong. You survey the punch ingredients and make yourself a red solo cup of juice; there's a very strong chance you'll be driving an incredibly drunk Nancy home. Especially seeing as Jonathan is nowhere to be seen. That's when Steve and Nancy start dancing and you groan internally. Jonathan was supposed to suffer through this nightmare with you. You find a space by the wall not too far from the two of them.

You're not sure how long after that Jonathan turns up. You're surprised to see him actually talking to someone. "I thought you ditched me," you complain once he joins you. "No I couldn't miss … this" he gestures around to the general antics of drunken teenagers. "Agreed, us drivers can all have one drink right?" Nancy joins you to the alcohol despite Steve's protestations. You cant help but agree, "Nancy at least have some water first or something." "Screw you," she glares at you with a hate so strong that you take a step back. Steve watches with interest. He doesn't look sad, just resigned to his fate. And apologetic. Meanwhile, Nancy just refills her cup. "Nancy come on put it down," Steve has his hands on her forearm. "Let go," she insists. Steve does, and surprised, Nancy tips the punch onto herself. "What the hell," she hisses as everyone else oohs and aahs. "Nothing to see here guys," you glare as you follow Nancy and Steve away. You're not sure where Jonathan went, and you end up standing outside Tina's bathroom alone. You don't hear all of their conversation, but its enough. It starts with Steve apologising and offering to take her home. "No you wanted this," Nancy insists. "No I didn't, I told you to stop drinking," Steve's voice is soft but firm. You vaguely wonder how many drunk teenagers he's dealt with over time. "Bullshit," Nancy says confidently. "It's not bullshit." "Bullshit." It's silent for a moment. To be fair you wouldn't know what to say either. "You, you're bullshit," Nancy sounds oddly calm for someone saying something seemingly so angry, so final. "What?" Steve's voice is still soft, but you can feel the defensiveness creeping back in. "Pretending everything's okay… like we didn't kill Barb," her voice breaks a little, like she's begging for someone, anyone, to understand.

Your teeth clench around nothing as the guilt from earlier in the day returns. You couldn't lie that in your darker months of the past year you hadn't blamed Nancy and Steve for Barb's fate. But you knew that really, it's not their fault. Like Steve was trying to tell Nancy, you'd all just been stupid teenagers. If Barb hadn't hurt herself, the monster would have just taken on the next bleeding person in Hawkins. But you suppose Nancy hasn't come to that conclusion. Which is fine, but you really hate she'd stop blaming Steve for it too. It's not like he'd forced you and Barb to come to the party that night. What she says next you don't hear all of because Jonathan appears beside you. But you hear Steve whisper "like we're in love?" "Bullshit." "You don't love me?" His voice wavers; all the fighting, all the uncertainty between the two of them you had been seeing all year seemed to suddenly be revealed to him. "Its bullshit," Nancy is unphased in her drunken state. Suddenly the door opens and Steve leaves. He doesn't seem surprised that you're there.

"Jonathan, make sure she gets home okay. I'll take Harrington." Jonathan nods. You knew how much he and Nancy cared about each other - enough to trust him to get her home. Hell, he'd gotten you home enough times before. After listening to the low-voiced break-up of Steve and Nancy, the booming party downstairs is deafening. Steve is easy to sport and easier to catch up with in his dazed state. "Steve, wait up," you call. He turns back to look at you. Shattered. That's how you'd describe him. Exhausted and smashed into pieces. "Leave me alone, Y/N." "No," you say simply. He doesn't say anything else as you walk with him, but he also doesn't send you away. You've reached the front door when Billy reappears. "Y/N, leaving so soon? And with your best friend's boyfriend? Something stinks," he looks at you and it rockets fear down your spine. "Yeah, I'm leaving, so let us through," you glare. "Not gonna help out your girlfriend Steve?" he says tauntingly. Steve straightens besides you, "they're not mine," he says with gritted teeth. "So you're open to offers?" smirked Billy to you. "Not from you, now move," you shove past him and drag Steve with you. You reach the front of Tina's drive, "How did you get here Steve?" "Lift from some guys on the basketball team," he turns to you as he realises his issue. Tina's house is a good half an hour walk from here, and it's pretty cold. "You don't have to help me, you only agreed to be my friend for Nancy's sake, and …" his voice breaks off but he's made his point. You shake your head, "Come on, let's get you home."

You lead him away from the noise of the party to your car. "Why do you park so far away?" "So that my car can get thrown up on? I'm good thanks." He smiles slightly and sinks into your passenger seat. You start up the car and turn on the heating before turning on the radio. Hang On To Yourself fills the car. "Of course it's Bowie." "See we really are friends," you say as you pull away. "You've been here for me more than Nancy," he says as you go back past the party. You spot Jonathan getting Nancy into his car, you give him a discrete nod. You don't think Steve notices. "I could say the same of you," you smile and glance at him. He's collapsed all the way back into his seat and is staring up to the night sky. "I thought it was temporary. I knew Nance needed time, to get over Barb, to feel better. But, I guess that wasn't the problem," he sighs. "You must have known it wasn't going well," you think of all the bickering, the fact they never went to each other for anything. "Thanks, you're really making me feel better," he laughed harshly. "Sorry." "It's fine, you had to get over her too." You aren't sure he had meant Barb until he continues, "I can't believe you bounced back so quickly from watching her die, to helping Jonathan fight me," he chuckles slightly, "I think you handled it so well Nance forgot you were in the same place she was."

You don't know what to say. The two of you sat in silence for a while, with just Bowie's voice between you: "Smiling, and waving, and looking so fine. I don't think you knew you were in the song." The silence isn't awkward, over the last year of seeing Steve at work, of communicating through eyebrow raises over Nancy's head something had changed between the two of you. It was like you'd become allies in surviving high school - something your middle school self would never understand. The song ends as you pull into the Harrington's driveway. The house is weirdly dark for 10.30 on a Saturday. "Your parents out for Halloween? Back home, no-one over the age of 11 is going out to celebrate." The corners of his mouth lift slightly, "no, business trip. If it's a long way, my mom goes with my dad." "Surely if it's a long way, that's more of a reason to stay with you," you say without thinking. "It's fine," he shrugged and it was pretty clear he was barely holding it together. "Okay," you say simply. You might be more comfortable around Steve, but there are lots of parts of him that you still don't understand. "I just, Nance," he glanced at you, almost for permission, "I can't believe after a year it's just over. I don't understand - I was there for her through everything. And now, she's just, she's just gone?" "I know the feeling," you sigh; thinking of Jonathan. At this point he's all she has left and neither of them have been exactly communicative about their issues. "I can't believe she ditched her best friend as well as her boyfriend in one day. I know I haven't been the perfect boyfriend but- but you? You've been here everyday," his voice raises, and he's beginning to sound more angry than hurt.

"Steve. Steve," you take his forearm gently, "hey, you need to calm down okay? You might be able to fix this with her you know? If you wanted." He groans, "I don't know what I want, Y/N." "And that's why," you reached across him, into the glove compartment. "What are you doing?" his eyes widen slightly. You pull out a pen, "you're going to go inside and go to sleep. But, just in case you realise being alone all the time sucks: here's my phone number." "You know, before tonight I really thought you secretly hated me." "Maybe I do, maybe it brings me great joy to watch you suffer." He rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Harrington. My mom and Dustin both answer that phone, so emergencies only. Okay, no prank calls?" "Thanks, Y/N. I owe you." "You owe me twice." "I guess I do. See you around." You wait until he's safely inside until you start heading home. You turn up the radio and allow yourself to relax. You think of Nancy, and can't help but wonder if she thinks you're just /bullshit/ too. After years of friendship and suddenly your allegiance has changed to Steve Harrington? "It ain't easy, it ain't easy, it ain't easy to get to heaven when you're going down," Bowie tells you as you drive. "I must be going down if we're friends now," you mumble to yourself.

A/N Sorry this took fucking forever i'm really busy now that the sun is out and i can go out and do stuff i wouldnt say they're friends yet. they no longer enemies tho, they allies

[mychemstat]

passenger- ray toro

summary: either it was the budding chill in the air, or the wet dream you had about him, but you could not get ray toro out of your mind. going so far as to ignore him at every chance you got not only hurt him, but you as well. you couldn’t focus on anything, ray consuming every single facet of your brain. when gerard offers you straightforward advice, you actually consider his ramblings, no matter how useless he was when he came to his own love life. you weren’t sure if it was worth blurring the lines of friendship. but you did know that you couldn’t wait any longer.

author’s note and warnings: ray toro/gn!reader. friends to lovers, some frerard mentions, smut, porn with plot, oral sex (m receiving), dry humping, reader gets off on his leg while sucking him off, car sex, no reproductive parts of the reader mentioned, ray is HUNG. reader doesn’t suck they swallow.

“fuck… i’m so close…” you breathed out.

you rocked your hips, thighs straddling his waist. his large hands covered your back, gently pulling you into him as he threw his head back, exposing his neck. your lips latched onto the awfully bare looking skin under his jawline, planting open-mouthed kisses as his hips bucked into yours.

“fuck, i’m not gonna last if you kiss my neck like- ah- like that…”

you felt his pulse against your lips, nibbling on the skin against his collarbone. “then i better keep going, huh?”

he suddenly stopped moving. confused, you sat back up and looked at him, “what?”

“do you want to take a break?” he asked. you tilt your head, bewildered.

“no, do you?”

“do you want to take a break?” he repeated, his face deadpanning.

“what? what’s- going on, are you okay?” you were concerned. why was he acting like that?

his voice was louder this time, “do you wanna take a break?”

“no, i don’t, why do you keep asking me this?”

“do you want to take a break?” you pulled back into reality as ray’s voice broke the daydream you embarked on, not realizing how you had spaced out mid-rehearsal.

it was two in the afternoon, the chill in the air slowly seeping through the crevices of your bandmate’s basement door. chapped lips and a dry tongue had you croaking into your mic, audible gulps following each line of yours. you sweated through your flimsy shirt, shifting weights with the guitar on your neck pulling you down to the floor. restless fingers grasping stray strands of your hair to move them back into place every few seconds, making sure you looked presentable.

the distorted note on ray’s guitar rang in your ears before he muted it, leaning in your direction. the drums in the back trailed off as you practically heard frank’s eyes roll.

you roughed up your bottom lip from chewing on it like fodder. you needed to rip your hair out one follicle at a time. you wanted to scream. you wanted to slam this stupid guitar that strained your neck against the wall and storm out.

a sudden, strange pressure to be perfect in front of your bandmates took over you. before that week, you didn’t care if they saw you fuck up because you knew that they knew how good you are at what you do. you respected the band and the art just as much as they did.

did it have something to do with the sort-of life-changing information you received a few days ago? definitely not, you thought.

so why was it that when you and gerard grabbed coffee a few days ago, and he made a passing comment on the fact that ray, a good friend and the lead guitarist of your band, had a sex dream about you, you spat out hot coffee on his new jacket?

why was it that you had tuned out gerard whining over his ruined jacket because you were too busy trying to calm your heart rate?

why was it that that exact night, you dreamt about making out with ray in the backseat of his car, fogged up glasses, handprints, and all?

and why, of all that is good, did you tell gerard about this? he had not stopped teasing you about it, and it started to feel like he never would.

you could almost hear that sneaky little shit’s thoughts through his expressions- which ray was happily unaware of. gerard grabbed his mic, held it close to his open lips, and pressed his tongue against his cheek repeatedly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, mocking your dream.

it was bad enough that your brain decided to see ray, your bandmate, in such a new light, now you were daydreaming about dry-humping in the back of his car and being called out by gerard for doing so.

if you could kill anyone at this moment, it would be that fucker.

that was the fourth time you messed up at rehearsal. arriving late, sweaty and out of breath to practice wasn’t enough, apparently. it was as if you had to piss off your bandmates further. gerard and mikey’s house was fifteen minutes away from yours, but when you woke up five minutes before band practice, you barely had time to put on a decent outfit let alone eat something, before grabbing your backpack and bolting.

so, when you ran into the brothers’ basement, you were greeted by a symphony of annoyed groans and “finally!”s, unable to meet their eyes.

you wish you started off with tiny mistakes that didn’t matter too much. you wish. first, you missed your cue to sing. second, you simply forgot the lyrics.

and anyone who said third time’s the charm,was a liar, you soon realized. you spaced out mid-song staring at the boy in front of you, long curly hair framing his eyes, fanning out over his soft lips.

fuck, not now, you scolded yourself.

“guys, i’m so fucking sorry, i just…i don’t know what’s fucking wrong with me today-” you ducked your head, hands reaching for the guitar strapped around your neck to free yourself from the weight that felt unbearable at that point.

“i can think of a reason…” gerard quipped sing-songily, cocking an eyebrow at you.

the glare you threw at him was equally as charged, making him motion at his lips as if he were locking them up and throwing away the key.

“maybe you should take a break…” ray repeated, ignoring gerard and readjusting the strap around his shoulders. frank looked like he couldn’t wait for this conversation to be over so he could start playing again. mikey was quiet as usual; he was one of the more easygoing of the bunch. no drama, nothing.

you looked up at ray, guilt painting your visage as you exhaled slowly. you knew you need a break. you know he’s right of course.

you cannot blame yourself either. the fact that you both had sex dreams about each other makes you want to chew drywall. you promised yourself you would not ever fall for any of your bandmates, not even accidentally: a promise that seemed laughably doable after the first week of knowing them.

now that you actually noticed his every movement: the way his curls bounced, the way his fingers moved like butter across the fretboard, the way he could improvise the best melodies at the drop of a hat, the way he threw his head back while experimenting on the guitar that looked like it weighed nothing to him.

it was like there were permanent rose-colored glasses surgically attached to your face that emphasized every breath and blink of the hunk of a guitarist standing in front of you. thinking about him made you feel high, and you hated the amount of pleasure you derived just from recounting every feature of his.

you couldn’t look ray in the eyes. it was way too risky. what if you start giggling for no reason, or acting weird?

“i think i’ll… go home and take a nap. maybe that’s what i need.” you accepted defeat, rubbing your temples and bending over the couch behind you to grab your backpack.

“what you need is to get lai-”

“are you okay to perform tonight?” mikey asks, interrupting his brother, the only other guy to have his head screwed tight.

oh, right. the show.

amongst the whole sex dream fiasco, you had forgotten about all your responsibilities, including the gig you signed the band up for.

you nodded, “i’ll see you all at the gig tonight. i’ll be better, i promise.” you knew they would understand, but that didn’t stop you from feeling the massive weight of guilt crush your shoulders.

“do you need me to drop you off if you’re not feeling okay? It’s no big deal,” ray offered, about to take his guitar off his shoulders.

“no!” you shrieked. too loudly. gerard snickered in the back.

it was bad enough that you couldn’t even meet ray’s eyes, you didn’t think you could handle him driving you home, sitting so close to you, his legs spread apa-

“i can go by myself. you guys should rest up too. we have practiced enough i think… not you, gee, you could warm-up a bit.” you winked at him, hoping the playfulness in your voice didn’t sugarcoat your absolute hatred for him at the moment.

the speed with which you left the stuffy basement that smelled like beer breath, shocked you (you were far from athletic). you preferred working on your music and overanalyzing movies in your own time.

getting out in the open, fresh air made you feel much better. the growing distance from ray left you feeling empty almost like a dopamine detox would.

a slight sense of relief tagged along. the jersey air nipped at your nose as you squinted your eyes and buried your chin in your coat’s neck.

at least the headphones trailing from your ears to your backpack protected your ears against the sharp chill in the air. the thin, dark-wooded trees barely harbored leaves, forming nerve-like patterns against the dark-gray sky. the crunch beneath your converse soothed your nerves a bit as the effect of the numbing cold made you forget everything for a while. the next track in your mixtape undid all that.

it was the song you heard ray play the first time you met him.

this tall nerd in g’s basement, fooling around with his guitar to play what happened to be your favorite song. quietly humming along, toothy smile as he tried new variations of the underlying riff, shaking his head to the rhythm, huge hands knowing exactly what they were doing. the mild scent of lavender in the air as watched his fingers fly across the fretboard, being painfully obvious that you were watching him closely.

you didn’t think you remembered so much of that day. maybe you already had a thing for him, and you didn’t know it.

but how could you not? being in a band with someone who was as talented as ray made you want to become a better musician. plus, the word “crush” made you wince- it was so middle school. it was more than just physical with him.

he was always there for everyone: the responsible one, the one that made sure that when the two rowdy dumbasses, g and frank, were out of line, he fixed it. the one who made sure everyone’s input was considered.

there was no doubt that you found him the most attractive in the band; the mastery of his instrument had you obsessing over learning as much as you could from him. you would spend the most time with him than any other bandmate. sharing a cig when you could, even though neither of you were addicted to it like gerard or frank were, asking him to show you how to pinch the strings even when the band was on a break from rehearsal, him enthusiastically hearing everything you had to say about the most recent movie you saw. it was comfortable. you felt safe with him.

you just never realized how important he was in your life till that day. and that made you want to throw up.

he was just a guy. he was just some dude. he was just a man. he was just a friend.

by the time you entered your apartment to kick your shoes off and lie down on your bed, the words “just a friend” became jumbled sounds. even gaslighting yourself into believing something did not work.

was he ever just your friend?

you tried recounting every interaction with him: every time you walked to his apartment with a new movie stashed in your bag that he hadn’t seen, gifting him a mixtape you made for the songs you wanted him to listen to.

adjusting his glasses for him when they were slightly knocked to the side, grabbing and shaking his thighs when you were excited about something in a movie you liked.

huh, you weren’t completely blameless.

your dreaded gaze shifted from your ceiling to the clock on the wall at three pm. three hours until your gig.

three hours until you had to see him.

you let out a wail of agony into your pillow before kicking off your clothes and shutting your eyes for what you hoped would be fifteen minutes.

you woke up an hour later, groggy and nauseous from the ill-timed nap. you panicked for a few seconds before realizing you were on time for your show.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t played in front of people before. you had performed maybe fifteen shows with the rest of the boys for even bigger bars than you were about to tonight.

but of course, that night was different, because you would carry the curse of knowing you liked someone you should not be liking.

he was your bandmate. mixing business with pleasure was never a good idea, from the countless movies you had seen with ray himself. you knew this was a bad idea. but something about wanting something you cannot have just made it more enticing.

you did know not to let this interfere with the show. your work was always the bigger priority; not some stupid crush that was probably just a temporary effect of the dream.

after tripping on your way to your bathroom sink, you splashed cold water on your face to snap yourself out of sleep. an all-black ensemble; a tank top and jeans; to go with the slightly expensive shoes you saved up for was enough self-decor. you weren’t a fan of showing skin: usually seen with sweaters or cardigans and sweatpants, but you didn’t mind it for performances. especially that night.

yawning and climbing through your clothes, you dragged the tip of the eyeliner over your eyelids and on your waterline before taking your finger and smudging it. you were glad that this sort of rushed make-up satiated your desire to look good. gerard or frank, on the other hand… they went all out.

but to your pure disappointment, it had only been ten minutes.

well, fuck.

when you met your band after that disaster of a rehearsal, you made your ability to make gold out of pure shit work wonders for you. an annoying smile on your face and a strong avoidance of any eye-contact with ray had you at the perfect headspace for the performance.

even when he said hi to you, you simply nodded at him and turned your attention to your guitar in the green room, practicing and focusing on the technique and the order of the chords.

the turnout was more than you had expected. as much as you hated to admit it, gerard was the best frontman, frankie headbanged his way through the show, mikey and ray played next to and off of each other, engrossed in their performances. your stiff, focused posture received multiple side-eyed glances by your bandmates, especially mikey, but you couldn't care less

you didn’t miss cues, you remembered the lyrics, and you, surprisingly, improvised on your solo. just a little more than the bare minimum. you could work with that. you just wanted that night to end as fast as possible.

but of course, just like everything else, gerard had to make your life harder.

your attempt to drink yourself to normalcy didn’t pan out. as soon as you sprinted to the bar to get a drink (or ten) in you, you heard gerard talk about a “kickback” at his place. an afterparty, he explained. it wasn’t like you could tell him no, you lived fifteen minutes away from him, and more importantly, he could sniff out a lie when he needed to.

when you saw gerard sneak out after the show to the band’s van, you followed him, ready to confront him and get away from the crowd yelling and screaming around ray, frank, and mikey.

gerard leaned against the van, lighting up a cigarette, the flame casting a dim orange hue over his face. you catch up to him and flick the back of that idiot’s head.

“ow! the fuck was that for?” he exclaimed, trying to hit you back on your arm, but you were already away from his reach.

“you know exactly what that was for!” you yelled, slamming back into the van's door, sulking, turning to the left to stare daggers into your cherry-haired friend’s face.

“tell me the truth. did you tell ray about my dream?”

“that’s what you’ve been worried about? no, you freak!” gerard scowls, “you know i don’t gossip!”

“then why did you tell me ray’s secret?” you counter.

“because it wasn’t a secret! the others know about it too! he told them!”

“but he didn’t tell me, you asshole. that’s what makes it a secret.” you seethed, trying to flick his forehead.

he covered his head with his hands trying to swat yours away, “okay, alright i fucked up! he just didn’t make it seem as big a deal as you did, so i thought it was okay to tell you.”

oh.

you went back to stand with your back against the van, the cool metal suddenly sending sharp shivers down your spine. a rude reality check. your lungs flattened, a blunt punch to the gut making you instantly nauseous. why did you not think about that? of course it wasn’t a big deal to him. you guys were friends after all. just friends.

the older man, noticing the obvious change in energy, tried covering up, “maybe he wanted us to tell you because he was too scared to tell you himself..”

you stayed quiet, leaning against the car window, letting the chill in the night envelop your sweaty skin. the adrenaline rush of having performed seemed to have crashed as you felt your feet turn jelly.

gerard blew smoke out, ashing it between the two of you. the smell of tobacco and nicotine enveloped you, almost like a comforting hug amidst the sharp twinges of the wind.

gerard extended his cigarette to you, “i’m sorry.”

you didn’t speak. the cigarette fit perfectly between the gap of your index and middle finger, like it was crafted for your digits, you realized, sipping it slowly.

the slow burn of the smoke in your lungs almost made you want to choke almost instantly, but you fought back, blowing out the cloud of cancer.

“i think i see why you smoke… you probably go through this every day with frank, huh?” you tried pullingyour friend’s leg, earning a swift punch on your arm.

“you’re a dick.” he said, choking out smoke, clearly surprised by the sudden jab at the state of his pathetic love life.

“you love me.” you stated with a smile, sucking the last of the cigarette before crushing it under your feet and dragging open the door of the van. “when are we going to learn?”

“before we die, i hope.” he answered you, climbing into the passenger seat.

before you knew it, mikey, ray, and frank ran back to the car, a chorus of laughter following them. you straightened up at the sound of ray’s voice and hoped to god he doesn’t sit next to you in the car.

god, however, seemed to have a personal vendetta against you because mikey decided to drive, leaving only you and ray in the backseat.

frank, for some reason, decided not to come with. said he was “busy.”

99% chance he was about to hook up with a dude whose name frank wouldn’t remember the next morning. scratch that, he definitely already forgot. you admired frank for his ability to fuck randos in bars and then forget about them the next morning. anonymous orgasms, he called them. as much as you hated it, you wanted to be like him. be carefree. be selfish. not some loser who, through the fault of their idiot, red-haired friend, developed a possibly destructive crush on their band member which would absolutely interfere with their day-to-day activities.

ray scooted into the backseat, telling mikey to turn the radio on as he rolled down the window near him, “i feel fuckin alive right now.”

“i know, those cheers had crack in ‘em. not one heckler either!” gerard added with an overtrying smile, clearly trying to recover from the fact that frankie was about to fuck a complete stranger, a whole year after their (secret) one night stand.

you felt ray look at you from the corner of your eyes but told yourself he was looking at your window.

you liked lying to yourself.

he shifted further in your direction and casually laid a hand out. a move so subtle, it would’ve seemed normal to the naked eye. a guitarist stretching his fingers after a show wasn’t uncommon, certainly not questionable. but you. you knew exactly what he was doing.

and you did not care for it.

“he didn’t make it as big a deal as you did.” why. why. why did you do this to yourself.

if it were acceptable, you would have hit yourself but you didn’t because you had to look like you didn’t care. you had to look like you didn’t care that ray could tell you were bothered without you having to say a word. you didn’t care that he was caring and still wanted to talk to you after the way you treated him.

and you loathed yourself for it.

he was nice to everyone. he was observant with everyone. right?

ray, however, did not remove his hand from near your thigh, almost bumping into your leg multiple times as the car rode over bumpers.

“drive properly, way!” you barked, looking back at the buildings and cars whooshing by in a blur.

you tried your hardest not to be part of any conversation by sulking into your seat so much that you hoped you would turn invisible.

by the time you reached gerard’s place, you were positive you wanted to drink yourself into the next morning because you did not want to remember anything. having a crush never bode well with you, and you were starting to think that it would never.

you were the first one at the cooler in his basement to fish out two beers and camp on the right end of the couch. the soft, sinking cushions had you exhaling in relief as you cracked open the beer.

ray, mikey, and then later, gerard filtered into the room, taking seats on the floor, or the ottoman.

and of course, ray sat on the small couch. right next to you.

his thigh pressed up against yours, his (huge) hands covering his knees as he shifted back and forth to make himself comfortable. g threw him and mikey a can each before perching on the ottoman and turning the tv on.

as you chugged the beer, you ignored the heat radiating off ray’s body; the scent of cologne mixed with sweat from tonight’s performance made you straighten your posture. there was a dull throb between your legs from the sudden contact he made, but of course, you did what you did best.

ignored it.

the more you drank, however, the harder it became to ignore it. so much so, that you crossed your legs and leaned away from him onto the armrest for some well needed friction.

then, ray spilled beer on his pants.

it was an accident. ray was fixated on the tv— some cheap horror flick that g thought would be hilarious to make fun of. ray, no matter how tall and buff, was a pussy. so when that jumpscare hit and instead of laughing like g and mikey, his body jerked, he spilled his whole drink on his pants, muttering a string of “fuck”s that caught g’s attention over the loud volume of the tv.

“oh, toro, don’t tell me you fucked up my couch!” gerard whined, again, getting up from his seat, flailing his arms.

“dude, i’m sorry, i wasn’t expecting to jump..” ray trailed off, rising to his feet to look down at his pants. mikey tugged ray’s arm to the door, “come on, i have some clothes you can wear.”

gerard, noticing that you looked… off, offered you a water bottle from the cooler. you chugged the bottle, cherishing the moisture that your dry throat needed and looked at your friend whose gaze bathed you in such pity that you wanted to curl up into a ball and die.

“it’s that bad, huh?”

you dropped your head in his lap, groaning and getting back up to lay across the couch, “g, i don’t know what to do with myself.”

“you were normal a few days ago, why can’t you just... be normal again?” he questioned, humor coating his voice.

“you’re saying that? miss i-wanna-fuck-frank-so-bad-i’ll-sit-through-him-fucking-the-whole-town-before-me?” you snapped, in no mood to joke around.

“touche. i’ll just go fuck myself, i guess.” he got up to walk back to his seat, genuinely sounding hurt.

“i was kidding, g. please tell me what to do. please?” you begged, hoping he would notice the sincerity of your words.

gerard pretended to think about his options for a moment before sitting back down, “fine, only because you asked nicely.” you sat up, ready to hear genuine advice.

“you need to tell him.”

“you have ten seconds to get the fuck away from me before i kil-”

“think about it!” he prefaced, “the longer you let your crush on ray stew, the more painful it’s going to be. just tell him and get it over with!”

not that gerard didn’t have a point, but it’s that you wanted a simpler, less confrontational way of solving this problem.

“what if it makes things awkward?” you whined, sulking your shoulders.

“you know ray doesn’t care about any of that right? he’s like the calmest person on the planet, and he cares about you.” gerard informed, walking back to his seat at the sound of crescendoing footsteps.

ray entered the basement before mikey, a new pair of pants that looked strange at first.

he was in grey sweats, mikey’s clearly, they hugged his legs and rode up at his ankles but he didn’t seem to mind. the moment he walked under the light, your eyes immediately threw their focus on gerard who was also looking back at you, noticing the obvious elephant in the room.

jesus fuck, was he hung. it was hard not to stare at the obvious dickprint against the cotton fabric of his sweats. gerard let out a “look at that” whistle, knowing exactly what was going through your mind.

“these are kind of tight, huh?” ray addressed, to nobody in particular, stretching his legs and adjusting the fabric around waist. a jolt of energy traveled between your legs as you watched him adjust himself in those pants.

gerard, tired of your pussyfooting, talked to you directly, “you wanna go home already?”

huh?

you looked up at him, confused, trying to figure out what was cooking in his head, “what? when did-”

“aww, shucks. i wish you could stay longer. well, i guess ray will have to drive you home since you’ve had a beer already!” he was bad at being subtle, to say the least.

what. the. fuck.

your eyes widened. you wanted to punch that fucker’s face in so bad. you weren’t ready. especially after what you saw.

“yeah, totally, um. are you okay with that?” ray asked you, his lips looking pinker than ever. almost like he was begging you.

no. no. no. nope. you were not-

“sure!” your mouth had a mind of its own.

-you were going with him.

gerard smiled sickly sweetly at you before turning off the tv and walking towards the door, a sign for everyone else to get the fuck out. you flipped him off before turning to ray and walking ahead of him so that you did not see. that.

you couldn’t get the image out of your head. sweet, guitar-nerd ray, had a huge-

“good job performing today.” ray muttered, looking down at you, breaking your horny train of thought.

“oh! uh, thanks. and you were uh-” fuck, quick think of a word, “breathtaking.”

great going, idiot. if he didn’t already know before, he definitely knows now.

“that is the first time anyone has ever used that word for me,” he chuckled, “but thanks…” his voice that was usually husky and light, now levering lower than usual.

at that moment, you wished for any god out there to take you. the embarrassment was too much.

crickets chirped in the starless night as the two of you walked through the stone-laid path between grass. your tank top was purely decorative at that point, doing barely any work to protect you from the cold. ray, a gentleman, noticed you shiver, and of-fucking-course offered you his jacket.

“won’t you be cold?” you asked through chattering teeth, hugging yourself.

“nah, im wearing a thick shirt underneath. you might as well be naked right now,” he commented, eyeing your tank top.

a furious blush rose to your cheeks at his comment. something about the way he said it, made your breath hitch, as if it implied that he had consciously thought about you naked.

ray stopped to give you his zip-up hoodie as he tore it off his torso, the hem of his tight black shirt riding up to reveal the tuft of hair trailing down his underwear. you gulped involuntarily as you watched him adjust his shirt underneath and place the jacket around your shoulders. you never realized just how tall he was before he towered over you; your eyeline was at his chest.

fuck, this wasn’t helping the butterflies in your stomach.

you thanked him, trying not to look into his eyes too much before walking to his car. ray took a beat before starting toward his car again, almost as if he was waiting for something.

his car was new— well, as new as a second-hand car could be—painted in jet black with the plate reading “jet-star” some reference to his favorite comic book series. you chuckled under your breath before climbing in, trying to warm up fast so that you wouldn’t need his stupid jacket anymore, with his stupid scent of soap, cologne, and sweat, and the stupid warmth that you definitely wanted to steal from him.

you tapped your feet nervously against the floor of the car, as if that would get you closer to your apartment somehow.

ray walked over to the driver’s seat, mirroring you and strapping on his seatbelt. he was huge. no, not just like that, but physically. larger than you in every aspect. as his fingers reached for his keys, you noticed his pants shift, igniting every dirty thought in your mind.

fuck. fuckity fuck.

“you comfy?” he asked, looking behind the car. you nodded, noticing that he placed his hand on the back of your headrest and started to back up.

you didn’t know whether it was him leaning so close to you, or the hand he threw over your seat, but your stomach would be a gold medalist gymnast for the sheer amount of times it flipped. you noticed the freckles he had, somehow more prominent under the dim orange light of his car, forming miniature constellations on his face. you were well aware that you were staring but you didn’t care anymore.

it was better you told him. you had been this way for two days already, and your condition was only getting worse. it was like ray had cast a love spell on you, and you couldn’t get rid of it no matter what you tried distracting yourself with.

ray’s eyes flickered to your face, previously brown now hazel under the light. you had never felt safer in your entire life as you did then.

he broke into a smile, “what? is there something on my face?” he asked, his left hand flying to his cheek gauging for something to pluck out.

you shook your head, edge of your lips curving up in fondness, “you know, you’re really pretty.”

instantly, he furrowed his eyebrows, clearly taken aback, “huh-what? where is this coming from? did you drink too much? you know you’ve been acting weird all day, what’s with yo-”

it was time, “g told me, you know.”

he tilted his head, like he was trying to recall what you were talking about, “about wha-”

your heart was in your throat, every beat vibrating your torso. it was then or never.

“the fucking sex dream, toro.” you deadpanned, sitting up and facing him.

“oh. that…” he trailed off, taking his hand off your headrest and resting them on his thighs. “listen, i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, which is why i didn’t tell you. i didn’t want to weird you out.” he explained, avoiding eye-contact.

your gaze was fixated on his face, listening to every single word carefully.

“is it true?” you asked, turning toward him and unbuckling your seat belt since the car was no longer moving. confusion washed over his face as he unknowingly fidgeted his fingers.

“do you feel that way about me?” your heart pounded so hard, you wouldn’t be surprised if ray could hear it too. ray looked ahead, his eyes glued to the road ahead. the faint noise of static from the radio dwindled in the air, alleviating your anxiety just a bit.

“do you?” he whispered, like he just gave away a secret.

you stumbled over your words, not expecting to be interrogated in his place, “i asked first,”

“and i’m asking you now. do you feel… that way about me?” a mixture of hesitance and expectation brewed in his tone.

your palms turned white hot, eyes widening at the accusation. you knew that the more time you took to answer him, the more obvious your feelings would be. on one hand, you wanted to tell the truth. on the other hand, you feared the worst of what could happen.

what if he didn’t feel the same way? what if this was just a ploy to get you to confess and then leave you high and dry. what if-

time moved slowly. ray let go of the steering wheel, placing his hand on your cheek, warmth spreading over your face. his fingers caressed your cheekbone, eyes looking into yours and dipping down to your lips, “tell me you don’t feel that way about me… and i’ll pull away and we will go back to being…” he looked up at your eyes, “just friends.”

the hands that were once on your thighs, gripping them out of nervousness, now tangled in his curly locks, guiding his lips to yours.

you could feel your organs jump from excitement, fingers roaming and threading his hair as he kissed you. his soft, plump lips guided yours skillfully, making you moan into his mouth. ray smiled against you and gently pulled back.

he leaned his forehead against yours. you breathed out slowly “you have no idea how long i have wanted to do this for.”

“me too. i can’t believe i’m kissing y-”

“less talking, more making out, toro.” you interrupted, pulling him in, by the collar of his tight shirt, making him gasp in surprise before pressing his mouth to yours again. his hands trailed from your face to your waist, covering half your torso.

he handled your waist like he was scared to break you, fingertips ghosting over your skin, itching to sneak underneath the fabric of your shirt and feel you. an accidental contact of his arms and your thighs made you arch into him, arms automatically hooking behind his neck.

you moaned without a care in the world, leaning back into your seat and pulling him on top of you, ready to be ravaged.

“ray …” you whimpered through the kisses, “please just-”

“not yet, i need to savor this-” his lips latched to your neck, “need to taste you.”

you bucked your hips in desperation, your arousal getting unbearable. you never knew ray was this experienced. he did mention being in relationships here and there, but he was never like frank or mikey, open to anyone.

he nibbled gently on your ear as you pawed at his broad, firm chest, “toro, you didn’t tell me you- fuck- worked out.”

“there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said through heavy breaths, trailing kisses down your neck to your collarbones. he looked up at you, fingers grabbing the hem of your tank top. you nodded, giving him permission to take it off you.

as you were about to lift your back up to get rid of the flimsy black fabric, ray’s hand snuck under your shirt, supporting and lifting your back as his other hand swiped the tank top off you in one go. his fingers almost spanned your entire back, placing you back down as you lay there shirtless.

the leather seats were uncomfortably cold, making you shiver in response. the everloving, observant man on top of you let you go and moved back into the driver’s seat, pulling the lever under his seat, reclining as low as the seats could go, “get on top.”

the sheer gray fabric of his pants now stretched as his legs spread apart, leaving virtually nothing to the imagination. your lips parted in surprise, your gut twisting deliciously. you grabbed his thigh for support as you climbed into his lap, thighs straddling his waist.

in a moment of deja-vu, you giggled softly, looking away from the man beneath you.

“what? what’s so funny?” ray asked, amused, shifting closer to your hips.

“this is exactly how it went it my dream.” you confessed, shifting your gaze to him, receiving a cocked eyebrow.

“you dreamt about fucking me in a car?” he asked, barely censoring himself like he usually would.

that earned him a playful smack on his torso, his calloused fingers drawing circles on the small of your back. you arched into his touch, trying to explain your dream. ray, however, barely focused on what you said, was distracted by your chest. hardened nipples adorned with piercings met his eyeline, and he wasted no time to kiss one of your pecs and lick them, making your voice go an octave higher.

“ray, fuck, please…” you begged for nothing, grinding down on his hips, feeling him move against your crotch.

“tell me more about your dream, was i any good?” he gave you a toothy smirk, cock stirring in his pants.

“you were so good, oh my god, you went do-” you croaked as he surprised you by pushing your hips down on his clothed dick, “you made me cum on your tongue so many times,” you answered, your digits creeping under his tight shirt, feeling his happy trail against your fingertips. you heard ray gasp softly and throw his head back at your sudden touch.

taking a mental note, you played with the band of his — mikey’s— sweatpants, leaning down to his ear to whisper, “can i? please?”

he groaned, roaming his hand up your back and down to the flesh of your ass, “yes. please, now.”

his voice exuded desperation, bottom lip jutted out in anticipation.

you climbed out of his lap and onto the floor of the car, knees resting against the floor mats. you placed careful kisses on his stomach, ambling them down his v-line. licking your lips, you hooked your fingers under his waistband, slowly pulling them off him. the pace at which the fabric dragged across his shaft made him buck his hips into nothing.

his cock jumped at the first contact with your fingers. you wrapped them around his impressive length, obviously not able to make a fist around his girth.

you weren’t a complete stranger to oral sex, but the sheer size of ray’s dick made you a bit nervous. you didn’t realize how you were already salivating at the sight of his hard, throbbing dick, palms feeling up his inner thighs and trailing up his hips, lips inching closer to his tip.

“you ready?” you asked, one final check before you crossed the friendship line forever.

“yes, definitely yes, but are you? i wanna make sure that yo-”

you cut him off with your tongue circling the tip of his cock, the saliva accumulating slowly dribbling down to his cock. ray threw his head back, cursing under his breath at the sensation of your warm tongue around his dick. he looked down at you through his bottom lashes, licking a stripe up the underside before taking him in your mouth, a visual he had been aching for.

the warmth of your mouth made him fist your hair as you moaned at the feeling of your hair being pulled, sending vibrations up his cock.

hollowing out your mouth, you sunk your mouth down on him, one hand resting on his thigh, massaging it slowly.

tears prickling, you let your drool lubricate him and drip further down before pulling him out with a pop. your drool mixed with his precum connected the edge of your bottom lip to his tip.

“you keep going like that, and i’ll be useless to you,” he gasped out, breathing heavily like he did not expect you to treat him so well.

the corner of your mouth twitched up before coiling the string of saliva around your thumb and smearing it against the slit of his tip, etching an embarrassingly loud moan from him.

“what the actual fuck…” he was enamored by you.

“how many times have you thought about me like this, toro? gagging over your cock on my knees?” you kissed his thighs, fist pumping him slowly. he felt better in your mouth than anybody else had. like his dick was made for you.

“too many fucking times to remember if i’m being honest…” he answered you immediately, twitching at your mercy.

before you could ask him another question that would make him blush furiously, turning his cheeks pink, he continued, “ever since i saw you in that choker g gifted you on your birthday... i haven’t been able to stop thinking about how easy it would be to break that fucking thing with me deep in your throat.” he mewled, the inside of his eyebrows twisting up in pleasure.

one your hands flew to ray’s leg for support, your hips involuntarily bucking against his ankle at his comment.

“fuck, why didn’t you tell me sooner, toro?” you asked, finally seeking friction against his leg, “you’re a pussy…” you wanted to provoke him.

“you are what you eat,” he countered, tossing the ball in your court.

this is what attracted you to ray in the first place. his ability to go along with whatever you said because he knew you would never say anything in bad faith. he liked you. he wanted you.

your cheeks grew hotter with every second, relishing the fact that you were exactly where you have wanted to be for a while.

he saw you blush furiously at his confession before you twisted your grip and pumped him faster, gathering spit at the tip of your tongue. ray’s fingers grabbed a fistful of your hair before lowering you onto his cock.

you spat on the tip, earning a guttural groan from him. you wasted no time to wrap your lips around him once again, closing your eyes and letting him reach deeper down your throat with every stroke.

“you feel- so fucking- oh my god-” he spewed out nonsense as you went further every time you came back up for air. ray’s thighs twitched, knees leaning toward each other, trapping you between his legs.

his grip on your hair tightened, pulling at and scratching your scalp more than before. now that you were between his legs, his cock bottomed out in your mouth, you felt your throat contract around his tip, his thighs pressing your mouth further on his dick.

ray swore that he would have simply cum from the sounds you made choking and crying over his dick. your eyeliner had bled down from your waterline to your chin, the tears and drool painting your face pathetic.

your jaw hurt from cockwarming the man above you, but he clearly seemed to enjoy the show you put on. gasping and smiling down at you like he does at his shows when he shreds on his guitar. the adrenaline all too familiar to him, yet enthralling as ever.

“you make me crazy… fuck i’m so close,” he announced, biting his bottom lip.

your left hand, with a mind of its own, walked up his thighs to cup his balls. his cock jerked in your mouth before you took him in fully, your nose pressed up against his happy trail.

“fuck, i’m coming, oh fuck oh fuck-” he wailed, pressing you further down on him before spilling his cum down your throat, twitching with each wave of orgasm taking over his body. you pulled your mouth off his dick, rubbing against his ankle, chasing the high you had built up so far.

with each swallow you rocked against his leg faster, falling apart quickly. as you tripped over the edge of orgasm, ray bumped his leg up, meeting you halfway. white light engulfed you as you shut your eyes, riding your orgasm out for as long as possible.

“fuck, you came just from humping my leg?” ray asked, astonished. your head fell into his lap, drawing small circles on the side of his thighs before kissing up. rising from your knees, you climbed back into his lap, giving him enough room to put his sweatpants back on.

“was that good?” you asked, looking down at him, hands at his waist.

his hands stroked your cheeks, fingers nudging your chin toward him. the aftershocks of your orgasm made it hard for you to rise to the seat, your grip on his thighs tightening for support. he grabbed your hips, pulling you up easily.

heavy-lidded gazes entwining, the warmth of his arms around your torso pulled the corners of your lips up.

ray didn’t even have to answer you. he craned his neck to kiss you, tasting himself on your lips. you nibbled on his bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan from him.

“why didn’t we do this earlier?” you ask softly, pulling back and looking into his eyes.

“better late than never,” he sighed, slowly closing his eyes shut, “i’ve wanted you…”

your heartbeat quickened.

“...for so damn long.”

butterflies. those damn butterflies made your heart feel like it was budding something new. something exciting.

“well you can’t get rid of me now,” you smiled, admiring the freckles on his skin; sweat glistening on his neck. the bite marks you left bloomed in reddish-violet hues under the dim light of the car. fogged car windows giving you the illusion of privacy as you kissed the corner of his mouth before climbing off of him and back to your seat.

“you’re coming over right?” you asked, looking ahead. you were not going to fuck this up.

“thought you’d never ask,” he stated simply, turning the car on and stepping on the gas.

_________________

an: heyyy!! thank u for reading!! mcr brainrot has me by the throat... lmk if u liked it :)

[lttllovely]

MOONLIGHT ON THE RIVER | Ethan Landry x Freeman!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You are Amber Freeman’s sibling and a fellow survivor of the 2022 Woodsboro Massacre. Coming to New York, you isolated yourself from everyone, only talking to your close friends. You were shunned and made out to be a serial killer by most in New York, them thinking that you were cut from the same cloth as your sister. But not Ethan. Never Ethan.

Genre: Fluff with some angst. Ethan has a heart, surprisingly. A cold one, at the end of Scream VI, but yeah.

Notes: It's referenced once that the reader is wearing a dress with their Angel costume, but no other gendered terms/clothing are referenced in this. Might write a sequel(s) to this if I feel like it/if demand is high enough. So, if you want this to be continued, let me know. You can even throw me some other ideas/requests for this series/other one-shots and I might write them :)

COMING TO THIS PARTY HAD BEEN A BAD IDEA. The booze was flowing. The apartment was stuffed with so many people that no matter where you turned you were met with a face or pressed against someone else. The rooms were rank with the scents of alcohol and sweat. Everything just screamed “Uncomfortable,” and “Get out,” yet you glumly remained.

Really, you wouldn’t have even gone if it wasn’t for your friends worrying about you. They saw how you only talked to them, never went out to parties, and had generally cocooned yourself from the rest of society. They knew it was because of what happened back in Woodsboro. You had lost so much. Your friends, your sister, everything. But, they wanted you to be happy. To get out there. So, when they begged you to come to this party with them, you said yes.

And at first, the party was fine. Fun, even. You had mostly stuck with Tara, who had progressively gotten very, very drunk. You weren’t one for drinking, however, staying stone-cold sober. You were too paranoid about everything and everyone to let yourself lose focus for a second. And besides, your friends needed someone to bring them back home and nurse them to health.

Hanging with Tara was fun. Freeing, really. You two talked about whatever was on your mind, chatting about the silliest things. You guys complained about sleazeball professors that set deadlines way too early and avidly discussed new A24 releases (including a pointed comment from you about how much Tara looked like one of the leads in A24’s X, which she shook her head at). You made fun of Tara for her obvious crush on Chad; she poked fun at your relationship with Ethan. You told her that there was nothing going on between you two, but she held a knowing smirk that you couldn’t rub off of her face no matter how hard you tried.

But, drinking nothing but water wasn’t great for your bladder. So, you had to leave her to use the restroom. After hearing a brief comment about how she’d “see you soon,” you left. When you returned, however, Tara was gone. It was strange. Tara wouldn’t just leave you like that. Then again, she was shitfaced and might be talking with a literal wall right now.

And she indeed was talking to a wall- well, more like a pole. She was talking to some six-foot mass of curls in a plain white tee—no costume in sight, sadly. His back was turned to you, so you couldn't tell who it was, but Tara seemed to be enjoying the conversation, so you left them be. Besides, you weren’t good at talking with new people. You never were. Plus, you didn’t want to scare off Tara’s new friend.

So, you went to refill your water bottle in the kitchen. Upon doing so, you were eyed by some drunk girls who started giggling. While you couldn’t hear everything they said, the words “murderer,” and “Ghostface,” were enough to shake you. Your head pounded. Everything awful about the party that you had been able to ignore with Tara nearby suddenly was in your face, impossible to avoid. It was all suffocating. You scuttled out of the kitchen, weaving your way through party-goers with several apologies leaving your lips. The girls’ awful, loud cackles followed you, even outside of the party.

This led you to where you are now, sitting on a bench, alone on the balcony. Your feet tap incessantly as you run through a breathing exercise, trying to center yourself. You are nothing like Amber. They don’t know any better. You are fine. Everything is fine. You can breathe.

Suddenly, you hear the door behind you close shut. You sharply turn your head to see Ethan and let out a sigh of relief.

“Hi,” He says. He motions to the bench. “Is it okay if I join you?”

You nod, scooting over. “Yeah, that’s fine,” You reply, your gaze already growing soft and fond. You pat the spot, flashing him a small smile. He returns it with a smile of his own, sitting down next to you.

“What are you doing out here?” You ask, your surprise at seeing him being pretty apparent.

He shrugs, taking a deep breath in. “I needed some air. You?”

You nod. “Yeah, same,”

You two fall into silence. Only the muffled sounds of blaring music and drunken shouts accompany you. But, the silence is comfortable. Neither of you mind it.

Then, Ethan speaks up. “Uh- so, how’s the party been… for you?”

He’s a little awkward with starting the conversation, his eyes not quite meeting yours until after he speaks. You giggle lightly, your eyes crinkling up in a way that makes Ethan’s heart skip a beat. He’s happy to see you with a smile on your face again. He’s even happier to know that it is because of him.

“Well, it’s been… fine,” You reply. He nods, staying quiet. He seems like he wants to hear more, so you continue. “I mean, I got to hang with Tara for most of it. And, it was really nice spending time with her, just us two. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to be one-on-one with her. Everything feels like a group activity nowadays- which I’m definitely not against. I love it actually. But, it was nice.”

Ethan nods, a smile on his face. “That’s good! That’s really good,”

You shake your head, chuckling. “Yeah, it is.” You agree, “What about you? Has the party scene been treating you well?”

Ethan hesitates, tilting his head. “Uh- it hasn’t been bad,”

Your smile drops. “Oh,” You say, full of concern.

Ethan shakes his head. “Hey, nothing that bad happened. It’s just- Chad tried to get me to flirt with a girl,”

You nod. “Ohhhh, okay. Well, how’d it go?” You ask. While you’d normally cheer him on or hype him up, considering that there isn’t a great ending to this story, you are a lot more restrained with your response than normal.

“Well, she wasn’t interested. She just kind of- shook her head and laughed,”

You still, grimacing. “Shit, I’m sorry,” You apologize.

Ethan shakes his head again. “It’s okay. I don’t think she meant to be mean. Besides, I don’t think anyone’s going to find me very attractive in this,” He says, motioning to his cardboard armor.

You balk at the comment. “Hey! I think your suit is very cool,” You retort, fully meaning it. His suit is cool. It seems handmade yet is super creative and made well. It’s a labor of love.

“You mean it?” Ethan asks softly. He seems surprised, which only hurts you more. What kind of pricks were shitting on his passion projects? This was cool stuff! God, people suck sometimes (a lot of the time, actually, but you were trying to be more positive).

You nod excitedly. “Yeah, I mean, this is cool as hell! You made it yourself, right?” You ask. He nods, confirming your thoughts. “Well, how long did you spend on it?”

“I- uh, I stayed up last night making it,”

You nod, beaming at him. “That’s cool! And honestly, it’s well made too.”

Ethan was practically glowing from your compliments, his smile growing wider.

“Look, if anyone is shitting on your costume, they’re just jealous.” You admit. You turn towards the door where you get a hazy view inside the party. You pat Ethan on the shoulder, getting him to turn the same way. “I mean, look at everyone at this party.” You say, pointing at everyone. “No one put effort into their costumes, not even me. Most people just wore whatever they could find in their closet and are trying to get laid, while you, sir, are an artist.” You say the last line with a chuckle, but with meaning too.

Ethan giggles. “An artist? Now you’re just inflating my ego,” He quips back.

You shrug. “Would that be so bad?” You joke, laughing more. “But I’m being serious. What you’re wearing is cool. No one’s going to care about Jessica’s vampire costume ten years down the line, hell, not even ten days from now. Or mine. But yours is cool. It’ll be something sick to show your kids,”

“Hey, I think your costume is cool!” He refutes. You balk in return, laughing.

“Eth, now you’re just trying to inflate my ego.” You retort. “This is an Angel costume. This dress is from my closet and I had to get the halo and wings from Anika. I didn’t exactly come up with anything groundbreaking here,”

“Well, I think you look beautiful,”

The words leave you speechless. You turn to Ethan, searching his face for any traces of malice, humor, or anything disingenuous. But, there aren’t any. He looks at you with wonder and a gentle fondness that makes your heart ache. His gaze is incredibly gentle, like he thinks that if he looks at you too hard you’ll shatter, yet he can’t tear his gaze from you.

Yours doesn’t leave his either, taking his features in. You haven’t gotten much one-on-one time with Ethan before, always being split apart by a Meeks-Martin or a Carpenter. So, you never get to look at him this close. But, god, he’s beautiful. You’ve always been aware of that, but more so now than ever.

The scenery around you two isn’t anything special, consisting of a few very real (dying) plants strewn around and a few rows of string lights overhead. But, the string lights give Ethan this incandescent glow. Even though you’re the one wearing an Angel costume, he looks like the real deal. A halo forms around his head, and god, okay, maybe Tara has a point. A really good point, actually.

Then, a stray frat guy slams against the door, his alcohol spilling against the door and him with it. Yikes. You both grimace, feeling sorry for him. With bated breath, you two are silent as the guy rushes off. Only after he leaves do you both start awkwardly chuckling.

“And that is why I don’t drink,” You comment, causing Ethan to hiccup with laughter. “Have you drunk at all?”

Ethan hums, shaking his hand back and forth. “Some. Not a lot though. I don’t have a great tolerance.”

You nod, humming. “Fair.”

“How come you don’t drink?” Ethan asks before another hiccup. “Not judging. That’s fine that you don’t. I’m just curious,” He tenses up, fearful that he said the wrong thing.

You chuckle. “You’re fine. I didn’t think you were.” You confirm. He sighs in relief, leaving you awkwardly chuckling. He’s cute. “I mean- I used to. Back in Woodsboro. Not a lot, but I did. But, after… uhm,” You draw out the last word, giving him a pointed look.

“Ohhh,” He murmurs, nodding. Knowing that he understands what you mean, you continue.

“Yeah, that’s why. I’m just… anxious about it happening again. I know that it probably won’t happen all the way out in New York and it’s probably just my own anxiety messing with me at this point, but I just…” You pause for a moment. “I don’t know, I just never want to feel as powerless as I did that night. If it ever happened again, I want to be present. Defend myself and my friends, y’know,” You look to Ethan and he understands, nodding. But, there’s also this strange haze in his eyes. It’s only there for a moment, passing almost as quickly as you see it, but you swiftly forget it. It’s probably the alcohol affecting him.

“No, that- that makes sense,” He responds, swallowing thickly. His gaze leaves yours for a moment, flicking toward the vast jungles of New York. Then it returns to you. “Is that uhm, night, also why you’re out here?”

You pause, sucking a breath in. It makes sense that he saw through your fake excuse for coming out here. Hell, he probably saw you leave the party suddenly and followed you (because he cares, a distant voice in your head says). So, you nod. “Yeah,” You glumly admit. “I- uh, right before I came out here, when I wasn’t with Tara anymore, these girls were… saying things about me.”

Ethan hums, looking at you with wide doe eyes. “I couldn’t hear much of what they said, but words like “Ghostface,” and “murderer,” weren’t exactly markers of anything positive,” You continue. You chuckle darkly, but Ethan can tell that you’re still hurt by those words. They’re fresh wounds.

“I’m sorry,” He apologizes.

You shake your head. “Don’t apologize. It’s not like it’s your fault,” You joke dryly, but you’re a lot less lively than earlier. You’re more dead, stewing in your anxiety again. You play with your hands, rubbing circles into them repetitively.

“Look, those girls don’t know what they’re talking about.” He pipes up. His conviction is so strong that you tear your gaze from your hands, returning it to him. “They’re just going off of Reddit theories. They don’t know you,” He leans in slightly, his voice falling to a near whisper yet remaining powerful. “They don’t deserve to,”

You’re taken off-guard by the possessiveness in his voice, by how sure of himself he is now. This isn’t how Ethan normally is. But, his words are sweet, and assure you that you aren’t anything like Amber. For once, the stupid voices in your head trying to convince you that maybe those Reddit theorists have a point quiet. It’s just you and Ethan, and everything is peaceful. You can breathe, finally.

You smile at him. It’s a genuine, soft smile, speaking volumes for how grateful you are for him. Not just for him being here tonight, but for everything. For being so sweet. So kind.

Then, the moment is suddenly interrupted by Anika storming onto the balcony. Shoving the door open, she grimaces at intruding on the romantic scene but continues. “Sorry to break you guys up, but Tara’s in trouble,”

While at first annoyed by the intrusion, you perk to attention at the mention of Tara. “What? Shit, what happened to Tara?” You ask, worried. You know Anika wouldn’t get you guys if it wasn’t something serious.

“It’s Frankie,” Anika explains, your heart dropping. Shit, you shouldn’t have left her alone at this party. If you had known she was talking to Frankie, there was no way you would have left her alone with him. That guy was a serial creep and freak. You quickly thank Anika before exiting the balcony, pushing through the drunken crowd. Ethan tails you, with Anika following behind.

“He’s taking her up the stairs!” Anika yells. Once you three reach the stairs, that’s when you get a front-row view of the night going from 0 to 100 in terms of batshit craziness. One second, Chad is talking to a handsy Frankie dragging Tara up the stairs, the next, Chad is fighting him, then Sam is tasing Frankie in the balls.

You gape at the sight, seeing Frankie finally get the beating he deserves. Looking at Ethan, you awkwardly chuckle while he grimaces, almost feeling bad for the guy. Almost. Grabbing Ethan by the hand, you drag him away from the scene of the crime. And, if he’s struck silent for damn near the rest of the night because of you holding his hand and not the preceding events, that is only for him to know.