#stupid tiny venues

[littlexdeaths]

whiplash - e.m.

eddie munson x fem reader

warnings: teeny tiny violence, reader has a panic attack, eddie is the sweetest, eddie and reader are in college

a/n: this is absolutely inspired by my first experience being shoved into a mosh pit at an avenged sevenfold concert when i was a wee teen. i hope you enjoy xx.

also shout out to my love @xxbimbobunnyxx for helping me with the title and some of the dialogue, and my bby @undead-supernova for beta reading for me. ILY BOTH SO MUCH 💕

hot, sweaty bodies were pressed against you at all angles, nearly suffocating you. at this point you couldn’t even see the band playing on the stage, a sea of taller bodies now blocking your view.

when your best friend asked you to attend a metallica concert with her you didn’t exactly know what to expect.

but this definitely wasn’t it.

the small venue was packed, the air filled with the smell of sweat, marijuana and cigarettes. your choice of a leather jacket felt incredibly stupid as it was now tied around your waist due to the growing heat surrounding you.

your palms felt clammy as they clutched onto the hem of your friend’s shirt. the constant moving of the crowd seems to pull her farther and farther away from you. until the swirling pit of metalheads swallowed you both whole, losing sight of her head of blonde hair instantly.

your panicked shouts of her name were drowned out by the screech of an electric guitar— your body now being shoved around to the chants of ‘pounding out aggression.’ the song eerily fitting as you see a ringed fist connecting with another man’s jaw.

your heart is beating in your ears, that familiar feeling of panic washing over you as you continue to be shoved around like a rag doll amongst the group of men. until you somehow landed on top of someone… who had been knocked to the ground only moments before you.

before you have time to react a large hand quickly wraps around your forearm, yanking you up and out of the dizzying circle of death. you all but let the stranger carry you through the crowd. the male shoving past throngs of people until you’ve safely reached the back of the bar.

you barely register his voice as you lean against the brick wall, chest rising and falling at an embarrassingly fast rate. your eyes squeeze shut as you attempt to get your breathing under control. those same hands that pulled you out now rest carefully on your shoulders, helping to ground you.

“hey sweetheart, you alright?”

his face finally comes into focus as you blink your eyes open, your heart now beating against your ribs for a completely different reason.

he was painstakingly gorgeous, full lips lifting up into a soft, dimpled smile. “there she is— hey man can i get some water?”

he slaps his hand on the bar top, the clear liquid sloshing out as a glass is slid over to him. his chunky rings clink against the side when he grips it, now holding it up to your lips.

“it’ll help, trust me.” you gladly take the glass from him, gulping down the lukewarm tap water.

“thank you…” you mumble, setting the now empty glass back on the bar and wiping the corners of your mouth. you mentally forceyourself to stay put, despite the bigger part of you wanting to run out of the bar from sheer embarrassment.

“are you here by yourself?” he asks and you shake your head in reply before resting it against the brick wall behind you.

the brunette seems to be studying you while you take in some slow but shaky deep breaths. letting yourself do the same as your heart begins to return to a normal rhythm.

even in the muted light you can see his dark curls were damp with perspiration, bangs sticking to his forehead. no doubt from being in the middle of that pit for quite a while. his cut off band tee showed off an extensive collection of tattoos. that soft smile morphs into a small smirk, as you realize you’ve been gawking at him.

calming breaths long forgotten.

“you can g-go back out there… w-wouldn’t want to keep you from the show.” you fumble over your words, now finding the sticky floor and your beat up sneakers far more interesting than the gorgeous metalhead before you.

the male chuckles, casually resting his shoulder against the wall next to you. his hot breath fans over your cheek when he leans in closer, “not a chance, sweetheart. until we find your friends, you’re stuck with me.”

you glance back up at him, surprise crossing your features. you knew most people would gladly leave you behind in the shadows, especially considering the band that’s owning the stage. that sentiment alone makes the butterflies raging your insides flutter even faster. the chaos of the crowd is now forgotten as he grins sweetly down at you.

“i’m eddie, by the way.”

the music has seemingly gotten louder since the two of you left the crowd, now having to shout your name back in reply despite the lack of space between you. his smile only widens as you turn to face him fully, crossing your arms over your chest.

“and what is a fair maiden like yourself, doing in a place like this?”

you can’t stop the giggle from leaving your lips as he gestures dramatically around the dingy bar before his dark eyes are back on you.

“oh no reason at all… just needed a study break.” he can tell from the ride the lightning t-shirt adorning your frame that you’re teasing him, but he plays along anyway.

“so you stumble into a random metal concert, only to get caught in a circle of death? that’s quite the break, sweetheart.” he nudges your foot with his own, earning another giggle from you.

“something like that, yeah.”

he hums in response, running a hand through his unruly curls, “duly noted— i’ll have to take study breaks like that more often.”

the two of you quickly fall into easy conversation, no longer paying attention to the concert goers surrounding you.

despite having only met him less than half an hour ago, you both seem quite comfortable with each other. any embarrassment from your small panic attack now a fleeting memory as he tosses his head back with laughter. the sound warming you from the inside, out.

“gotta say i’m a little shocked, first show and you’re already hitting the pits like a pro.” he jokes, leaning in a little closer to you. the scent of his spicy cologne washes over you, making your head spin, “practically took that guy out by sitting on him.”

you groan in embarrassment, playfully shoving his shoulder as he laughs again.

“i’ll have you know i’m quite fond of the music… just not the…” you gesture towards the sea of bodies that are jumping, shoving and headbanging to for whom the bell tolls.

“moshing?” he finishes for you, as you nod sheepishly.

before he has a chance to say anything else, a loud squeal fills your ears as a body slams into you at full force. nearly knocking you over in the process.

“there you are, babes! i’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

earlier you would’ve been relieved to hear your best friend’s voice, but now you can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. hoping your emotions aren’t written across your face, but she doesn’t seem to notice. she’s a little too preoccupied with staring at the male leaning next to you.

“now who is this?” her tone is overly playful, wiggling her eyebrows at you suggestively.

before she can embarrass you further, you elbow her in the ribs. effectively stopping anything else from leaving her mouth besides a little huff.

“eddie munson, certified mosh pit rescuer at your service ladies.”

he does a little half bow, causing both of you to break into a fit of giggles.

“wow… a modern day knight in shining armor huh?” she teases but seems impressed nonetheless, “wish i had a hot guy to pull me out of there, i basically had to army crawl my way out.”

even in the shitty bar lighting you can see his cheeks are tinted pink from her compliment, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“it was nothing really, just happy to help.” he shrugs before pushing himself off the wall, sliding his hands in the pockets of his ripped jeans.

“modest too? where did you find him?” she gushes, gently bumping her hip into yours. “and does he have a brother?” she whispers that part to you, ignoring the way you roll your eyes at her.

“well i see you’re in good hands now, sweetheart, i hope you enjoy the rest of the show.”

as he turns to leave you feel your friend shove you forward, giving you a look that screams, ‘are you insane? don’t let him get away!’

“eddie, wait!” you shout, gently tugging on the male’s wrist before he gets too far. that dimple making another appearance as he turns back to you.

“miss me already?” eddie teases, fully enjoying the flustered look that crosses your features.

“i uh, i-i’d really like to thank my knight in shining armor properly… maybe over coffee?” you nervously chew on your lower lip, praying that you didn’t read this entire interaction wrong.

but seeing his face light up squashes any doubt, watching as he grabs a pen off the bar. holding the cap between his teeth as he takes your hand, scribbling his phone number onto your palm with a satisfied grin.

“looking forward to it, sweetheart.”

he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before disappearing into the rowdy crowd.

tagging some moots who seemed interested 💛

@babygorewhore @hellfirenacht @thepurplelovewitch @impmunson @voyeurmunson @madelynraemunson @take-everything-you-can @corrodedcorpses @serasvictoria @munsonhoneybaby @splendiferous-bitch @eddiesxangel @taintedcigs

all dividers made by yours truly 💕

[cosmopretty]

UConn’s WBB team x Fem Manger

You work your ass off to make sure the girls have everything they need on game day and every other day

Geno is always helping you plan media events for the team

The girls got you a jersey that says #1 Manger on the back

THE GIRLS ARE SO PROTECTIVE

Most of the girls are sitting in the living room of the dorms watching some basketball game on TV. You walk in pouting and fall onto the couch next to KK. Ice looks over at you and furrows her brows “ What’s wrong tiny? “ she asks you. You lift your head “ This stupid boy “ you turn over and groan into KK’s shoulder while she pets your head, running her fingers through your hair massaging your scalp.

Paige’s head snaps towards you “ What boy? When? What did he do? “ she asks you. Aubrey walks in and sits on the floor between your legs “ That boy from her English class the curly haired one I saw them leave together “ she tells Paige. Lifting your head from KK you kick Aubrey “ I’m right here dummy “ you roll your eyes getting up and walking away.

Ice grabs your foot pulling you down on to the floor between her and Paige “ What happened? “ she asks you. You groan again and start playing with your hands “ He said I talk to much and I’m annoying so I left our date “ you admit dropping your head.

Paige nods and gets up her and Aubrey leave the dorm without a word. You sigh and lean into Ice “ He’s so mean “ you pout. Ice plays with your hair “ Screw him you’re gonna find a better person anyways “ Ice comforts you.

You end up making chocolate chip cookies to try and distract your self from what happened earlier. Around an hour later Paige and Aubrey walk in with smiles on their faces. You turn to them and squint your eyes at them “ What did you both do? “ you ask putting your hands on your hips. Aubrey laughs and pats your head a few times, before grabbing a cookie and going to her dorm. You raise your brows at Paige and she rolls her eyes “ Told that dumb boy how much of great person you are and that if he ever talks to you again we will crush him don’t worry Y/N “ Paige says smiling before hugging you rocking back and forth.

Some of the girls have no sense of style so your always dressing them for events and just normal outings

Your babysitting KK when the team goes out for drinks since she’s too young

They claim that your a good luck charm and they need you watching all their games

Your always cuddling with the girls and being touchy but they don’t mind they love it

Your always in the background of livestreams trying to help one of the girls with something

Helping Azzi with her knee injury and sitting on the sidelines with her so she didn’t feel alone

Cooking for the girls so they eat healthy instead of fast food all the time

YOUR ALWAYS BEING MADE FUN OF FOR BEING SHORT

it’s not your fault your short it’s just that you work with 6 foot tall woman

Forcing you in their TikToks against your will

Randomly carrying your around and throwing you because they think it’s funny

Sitting in your dorm room scrolling through venues for UConn’s next event. You have been cooped up in your room for the past three hours trying to plan everything out and make sure it’s all perfect. To say you were stressed was an understatement all the work has piled up for school and the team. You groan dropping your head on the table pulling your hair. You take a deep breath and go back on your computer again.

Azzi walks by your room and opens the door looking at you for a moment, she watches you and sighs knowing how stressed you were. You look up and smile at Azzi “ Hey honey what’s up? “ you ask her. She smiles at you before walking towards you and grabbing you by the waist throwing you over her shoulder. You squeal and grab onto her shirt “ PUT ME DOWN AZZI “ you scream as she runs into the living room before throwing you down onto the couch on top of Ines. You move your hair from your face and slap her leg “ Not funny “ you whisper.

Ines laughs and pushes you down onto the floor, you scoff and look at her shocked putting your hand on your heart “ Wow and here I thought we were friends “ Ines shrugs at you laughing. You roll your eyes and make grabby hands at Azzi so she can help you up. Paige comes over and grabs your hands pulling you up laughing at you “ Look at the video I got of Azzi running around with you on her shoulder “ she says laughing shoving her phone in your face. Grabbing the phone from her, you run away trying to delete the video before Paige’s comes from behind wrapping her arms around you waist while Azzi grabs the phone.

You struggle and thrash around in her arms before tickling her stomach and she drops you. You flip them both off and go back to your room to finish your work. Azzi follows you and gives you some water “ Can you please pace yourself, you work too hard and I don’t want you to be so stressed “ she asks. You nod smiling at her before kissing her cheek in thank you and turning your focus back on your work.

THEY HAVE SO MANY NICKNAMES FOR YOUR OMG

Caroline and you both have little shopping sprees together where you buy clothes for everyone

The girls use you to prove to Geno how strong they are by doing pushups with you on their back or benching you

Planning little movie nights for the team to help everyone relax

Fans love you so much and are always making cute little edits of you

DOING THE GIRLS HAIR FOR GAMES

You and Nika doing skincare nights

Geno and you having long conversations about life when the girls are working out

Helping everyone decorate their dorms

Laying down with your head inside there hoodie when your tired and don’t want people bothering you

Going to Azzi when you need help with school work

Getting protective of them durning games and arguing with refs

SEND REQUESTS

[tomscumdump]

ROOM 483

-18+

”TOM over here!!” I yell out desperately, his gaze shifting over to my direction nearly giving me a heart attack. his tongue peeks out as he plays around with his piercing, a sheepish giggle leaving my mouth. i hold out my cd for him to sign, and while he does we hold eye contact. I thank him, then reach into my back pocket for a tiny piece of paper.

he smirks as his eyes light up. he takes it, shoving it into his pocket then leaning down into my ear. “wait for me here hm? I’ll be back for you schatz.” he coos, I feel my heart race. he leans back with that seductive smirk still on his face. I nod my head vigorously, unable to speak.

a ragged “okay..!” leaves my lips, he can obviously tell how nervous I was.. hell I was practically shaking. he continued walking, my eyes stayed glued on him as he walked off. but he turned around slightly, he throws me a quick wink before turning around once again..

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✮ 

it had been a while now, I took some time to go back to the hotel I was staying at and fix myself up.. I headed back to the venue me and tom had that encounter at, hoping he’d actually show up and not just get my hopes up. while I waited on my phone, I felt a large pair of hands shake around my waist, holding me close.

my eyes widened at the sudden action, I turned to my side and saw tom. my eyes lit up and I felt my breathing get heavy again, of course I wasn’t gonna scream and shout like a crazy fan.. he’d think I’m weird and ditch me here. I brushed a strand of my hair behind my ear and spoke “.. hey.” I giggled, I stood up straight. his eyes shifting from mine to my cleavage, the tiny crop top I had wore had my tits basically falling out.

of course I saw this, but I didn’t mind. I liked it.

he chuckled he took a moment to speak, his eyes analyzing my fragile and pure figure. I could tell his mind was racing with dirty thoughts on how he’d destroy me..

“wanna come back to my hotel sweetheart?” I didn’t understand why he said it like a question. any girl with a brain would say yes, I nodded my head. my cheeks flashing a rosy shade of pink, he nodded and held me close as we began to walk to his car..

after a few minutes of us talking through the drive, we made it to his hotel. and holy shit this place has ‘fancy’ written all over it.. my eyes widened at the pretty luxury hotel I was staring at, he got out of the car first. walking over to my door and opening it for me, I smirked as he held my hand helping me exit the car.

I felt like everything was going by so fast, before I knew it we were at his hotel door. as I waited for him to unlock the door with his little keycard, I saw the number..

“room 483..” I mumble, a smirk tugging at my lips. he opens the door, holding it open for me as I enter. I look around in awe, I walk over to his bed and sit down slowly. he comes over and sits next to me, I turn to face him as he brushes a strand of my hair out of my face gently.

“so, anything you feel like doing..?” he grins, I got completely lost in his eyes. I completely ignored his words, his eyes like a drug.. so intoxicating and beautiful. I was a bit hesitant to speak, but my mind said otherwise.. “can I kiss you?” I blurt out, his eyes widen slightly as an amused smirk forms on his lips. my cheeks flash red as I realized what I said.

I couldn’t help myself, I felt stupid. I wanted to apologize but I couldn’t.. I was so nervous and scared I was gonna speak but my thoughts were quickly cut off by his ragged hands grasping my face, our lips wasting no time to interlock. his lip piercing stung against my lips, the feeling like nothing I’ve felt before. he bites down on my bottom lip gently, a moan erupting into the kiss. his tongue slips into my mouth, mine doing the same as they fight for dominance. tom obviously winning.

at this point moans and whines were being filled into the kiss. his hands grasped for the straps of my top, pulling away from the kiss for a moment to slide off my shirt. my cheeks flush a slight red, clearly getting a bit flustered. his hands snake around my back and toy with the clasp of my bra “may I?” he asks, staring into my eyes with a smirk on his face. I nod my head, I chew on the inside of my cheek nervously.

tom quickly unclasped my bra with ease, he throws my bra somewhere on the floor letting my breast spill out as tom watched intently. his lips instantly connected with mine again. “s’fucking gorgeous..” he groaned into the kiss. his hands holding my tits, his thumb grazing and rubbing over my hardened nipples.

I pulled away from the kiss for a breath, a strand of our mixed saliva stretching then snapping. a breathy giggle lift my lips as we both panted. tom gently pushed me down onto the bed. he stood between my legs as he slid his shirt off, his toned body sending shivers down my spine. his hands gripped my hips as he leaned down, his lips attaching to my neck.

a satisfied moan poured out of my lips as he marked hickeys all over me, his kisses only got lower and lower eventually reaching my bare stomach. his hands moved down to my shorts, he looked up for approval. I nodded while biting my lip, his veiny hands undoing my shorts quickly. pulling them off throwing them somewhere around the room, joining my bra.

his fingertips hooked around my panties, pulling those off aswell. I began to get a little shy, my legs instinctively attempted to shut. tom grasped my thigh, holding my legs open. his free hand dipping into my folds, collecting my wetness.

a soft whine left my lips, he chuckled and looked up at me. his tongue lapped around my sensitive clit. I gasped in pleasure as he continued to lick me up and down at an unbearable slow pace.

then without a warning he slammed two of his fingers into me. I yelled out as my back arched, my mouth gaped open but no sounds coming out. while he pumped his fingers into me quickly, he continued to flick his tongue on my clit.

“you taste s’good baby..” he hummed against me, his words only turning me on more. I felt that knot begin to form in my stomach, my chest heaving up and down trying to speak.

he then pulled his fingers out almost all the way, then ramming then back into me harshly. he curled his fingers, hitting that spongy spot in me perfectly. “m’gonna c— nghhh!” I whine I could feel him smirk against me. his fingers continued to pump and curl into me quickly, sending me the edge. “cum f’me baby…” he cooed with a grin on his face, his words was all I needed to hear.

my vision goes blurry as my eyes slightly water. my stomach caves in as my legs shake, my hands slamming onto the white sheets as I grasp them harshly. pure bliss is all I could feel, tom slides his fingers out slowly. he plants a small kiss between my inner thigh before licking his middle and ring finger clean, then dipping his tongue back into my folds. licking me up, tasting all of me.

a breathy chuckle leaves my lips as he leans back up to my face, his lips moving against mine passionately. the taste of me against his lips making me cringe, he pulls away and plants sweet soft kisses along my neck. his hand slowly trails back down to my swollen clit, a small whine leaving my lips into the kiss.

my hand trails down his body, the bulge in his jeans being very obvious. he pulls away from the kiss, a small breathy whine leaving his lips. I place my palm on his hard erection, rubbing my hand up and down at an aching slow pace.

I glanced up at him, our eyes locking immediately. I could feel the burning heat begin to form against my wet cunt again. tom smirked, seeing the desperation on my face. he hoisted me up with ease, my legs straddling his waist as he held me close.

“you gonna let me fuck you, hm?” he chuckles lowly into my ear, planting kisses and bites against my neck. “yes— fuck I need you s’bad..” I whine, my hips voluntarily bucking against his.

he sets my bare body down on the bed, he slides of his pants along with his boxers. his hardened dick springing out, precum leaking out of him. my eyes slightly widen at the size of him, good god this man was huge..

he grins at my reaction. his veiny hand grasping my thigh, spreading me open. a glint of lust in his eyes as his gaze meets my glistening wet pussy once again.

he holds the base of his cock, pumping himself a few times before his tip meets my swollen clit. I watch intently, my lips plump and red as I bite down harshly.

he lets out a low groan as he rubs himself between my wet folds slowly. “oh f-fuck please…” a needy sigh escapes my lips. he grins and teases my entrance, my hips bucking desperately. “please what liebe, use your words..”

his tip dipping in and out of me, my hips rolling hungry for more. “fuck me— mhhh please..” I drag out. my desperate begs and pleas was all he needed to hear, he slides himself in with ease due to my wetness.

the burning feeling of him stretching me out could make me cum on the spot, a low groan spills out of toms mouth. “ohhhh fuckk..” my tight pussy keeping him snug inside, he reaches desperately for my waist.

he slides himself out slowly, leaving his tip in for a second before snapping his hips harshly. I yell out in pleasure as he rams himself into my g-spot. he hold my waist firmly as he plunges himself into me at a violent pace.

“o-oh god keep going!!!” I cry out in pure ecstasy, my chest heaving up and down. I felt that feeling of bliss begin to build up again. “doing s’good baby.. fuck-“ he grunts. his eyes trail down my body taking in the way his dick completely disappears into me, not a single inch of space between us.

he presses his palm down onto my abdomen, the clear bulge of his cock moving in and out of me. he uses his free hand and grasps my face, making me look down. “you see that? look how good I’m fucking you schatz..”

I throw my head back in response, feeling myself getting closer and closer with each thrust. “god— fuck!!” I yell out, my walls clenching around tom he grunts as I do so. the scent of sex began to take over the room, the humidity causing beads of sweat to form on my forehead.

toms hand snaked down to my throbbing clit, rubbing slow circles as he pounded into me. the pleasure sending me over the edge, my legs twitching while my eyes rolled to the back of my head. incoherent babbles and sentences pouring out my mouth.

“what’s that? use your words mama..” he teases, his free hand kneading my breast. “mm.. haa- s’close!!” was all I could get out as my brain completely turned into mush.

tom was getting close aswell, his thrust beginning to become more sloppy while his chest heaved. the squelching noises of my cunt molding around his cock filled the room. “fuck— cum baby, cum!!”

he grunted, my legs flung around his waist. pulling him in as he shot ropes of cum into me, the feeling sending me to my release as well. my stomach caved in, my walls clenching around his cock. my eyes fluttered open, seeing toms droopy eyes. he thrusted in slowly a few more times, whines and whimpers erupting as he fucked his cum into me.

tom then pulled out completely, watching our mixed juices ooze out of my wet cunt. he let out a breathy chuckle, brushing strands of hair out of my face. he got up and grabbed some tissues, cleaning us both up.

“you did s’good for me baby..” he cooed, laying down next to me. engulfing me into a warm embrace, digging his face into my hair planting gentle kisses on top of my head. “.. mhm…” I mumbled, my eyes fluttering shut.

he saw how exhausted I was and smiled warmly, he shut his eyes aswell. holding me close as we both fell into slumber.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✮ 

eeeeee look who’s bacckkkk !!!! I really hope you guys liked this one :33 also I have no energy to read through it so if you see any spelling mistakes , no you don’t … 😣

[mysterystarz]

black tie losers

geto suguru x f!reader

in which you’re at a charity gala and come to the realization that maybe being best friends with suguru is no longer an option

a/n: when i thought of this i ran to write bc geto in a suit

feedback is so appreciated <3

“stay still. if you keep moving, you’re going to look like a clown.”

geto sits in front of you on a stool, tie messily done up as he holds a lipliner pencil in his hands. he’s grinning at his work — because true to his words, you looked like a clown.

“suguru, you can’t line lips for shit.” you sigh, rummaging through your things to find some makeup remover. “remind me why i let you do this again?”

geto laughs, grinning at you in a way that was oddly wholesome. “because i wanted to help you get ready for tonight. there’s nothing better than taking credit for the date on my arm.”

date indeed—a platonic one.

you and geto were attending your university’s biggest charity gala tonight. as one of the most successful black tie events on campus, each attendee was required to look straight out of vogue magazine to ensure they raised enough money to make a difference.

geto—ever the gentleman—asked you to be his date. he wouldn’t get hounded by the customary droves of girls, and you’d have someone to match with.

of course, being your best friend, he decided to help you get ready.

he watched patiently as you dabbed the streak of lipliner away, smiling gently when you turned back to meet his eyes. he wordlessly moved forward to cup your cheeks, finishing up lining your cupids bow.

“there,” he said softly, “now some lipstick.” you gestured to the various tubes on your desk as you moved to dust some highlighter on your cheeks.

geto picked a particularly lovely shade and smoothly glided it across your lips. he seemed proud at his handiwork, beaming at you happily as soon as he finished.

“take a look,” he smirked, and you did just that. the mirror showed you someone beautiful.

somehow, stupid suguru had actually done a good job.

“nice job,” you mumbled, feeling oddly shy beneath his gaze. he cleaned up nice tonight—a bit too nice. so nice that you weren’t sure how to act around him when he attempted to tie his tie.

“you mean sensational job,” he laughed, flinging his tie around. “also please help. i can’t do this.”

you sighed as you moved closer to fix his tie. you could catch a whiff of his cologne — something fresh and oddly mouthwatering and it nearly made you screw up the final flip of the fabric.

suguru was acting a bit different, and it was driving you crazy. his presence was much closer than usual, and with every passing day, it seemed impossible to ignore the glaringly obvious fact that’d been looming over you for weeks.

geto suguru, your best friend, was an extremely attractive man.

you still weren’t sure how to handle this information. so far, it’d been unwarranted blushes and a whole lot of random butterflies where there shouldn’t be.

you supposed the gala would give you time to think—but you were wrong.

geto walked in through the ornately decorated doors with a smile, an arm threaded through his hair and the other wrapped around your waist. from this point, you could see all your fellow students interacting with the heads of various charities, and donations racking up by the second.

suguru stayed close, his touch firm and steady and searing and confusing in ways you couldn’t understand.

“would you like to explore a bit?” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear.

too flustered to speak, you wordlessly nodded as he dragged you to the photo booth at the edge of the venue.

“these are awesome,” he laughed, holding up a particularly unclassy mustache prop. you cringed, distancing yourself as much as you good within the tiny space to show your disapproval.

suguru pulled you closer again, his hands caressing your waist in a way that was more reverent than anything you’d ever felt. he was too close…it was too much.

he leaned close to you, gently pressing his forehead against yours.

“maybe i did too good of a job tonight,” he said lowly, tracing your lips with his finger.

“suguru,” you breathed out, “what is going on?”

he pulled away grinning. “you had a dusting of highlighter a bit too close to this one spot of your nose. i had to distract you so you wouldn’t stop me from touching your face.”

you groaned in frustration while suguru posed jubilantly for the camera.

the gala was beautiful. the pictures with suguru were super candid. neither of those were your major takeaways.

as you returned to your room for the night, you knew one thing for certain. suguru geto had become someone more than a best friend to you and there was nothing you could do about it.

unknown to you, suguru fell asleep that night dreaming of you, and all the ways he’d kiss you if he had the chance.

[deviousdeliciousness]

Jarred Pt. 1

A tiny is rude to a giant, so the giant decides to teach the tiny a lesson - one they'll undoubtedly remember.

Time-out can gain a whole new meaning when you're four inches tall. (And a jar can feel claustrophobic even if you can so easily fit inside.)

Next: Pt. 2

~~~~~~~~

"-Yeah? Well I think you're stupid!" Tee shouted back up to Jack, stomping his foot on the counter for added emphasis and crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.

Jack's expression turned blank, then darkened. His jaw clenched, and there was an audible grinding of his teeth.

Tee couldn't help but falter, physically taking half a step back as a dark scowl settled on his giant friend's face. Suddenly, yelling at the much larger being didn't seem like it'd been such a good idea.

"H-hey-" Tee started to stutter, raising his hands in front of himself in a placational manner, but he cut himself off with a surprised squeak as Jack's hand shot out above him, ripping open a cupboard door with far more force than necessary and snatching up something inside.

Tee craned his neck up to see what, and his heart stuttered in his chest as he saw-

A jar.

A jar.

Jack was holding a large glass jar, one of the tall ones nearly twice Tee's height, and he was unscrewing the lid with vicious efficiency. Tee nearly jumped out of his skin when Jack slammed the lid onto the counter, and fight or flight mode finally hit the tiny like a train as he saw the giant's hand menacingly swoop forward in his direction.

Tee wisely chose flight.

He spun on his heel and bolted, his heart all at once hammering up from his chest and into his throat and his legs pumping frantically as he darted across the counter, the back of his neck practically burning with the undoubted glare of the furious giant behind him.

Tee barely made it ten steps.

He let loose a blood-curdling scream as Jack's palm collided with his back, giant fingers curling inwards around him like a Venus flytrap.

He thrashed wildly in the grip, any semblance of rational thought having abruptly fled his mind in place of pure, unadulterated terror, but he just as quickly froze - as still as death - when the fingers around him squeezed just shy of making his bones creak with the pressure, the threat as clear as day and all the more sickeningly petrifying for it.

He whimpered - a short, aborted sound - as his feet lifted up off the the counter, and he had to forcefully repress the urge to uselessly wriggle like a caught fish as the movement came to a stop with him aloft in the air, knowing - dreading - without having to look that he was being held above the opening to the jar.

He sent a desperate, pleading look to the giant - to his friend - but Jack's expression was closed off and so, so cold.

Tee's tentative hope that this was all a sick, twisted joke to get back at him withered and died a horrible death.

In the next moment, he was dropped. He landed awkwardly, barely catching himself from twisting his ankle as he landed hard onto the cool glass bottom of the mason jar, gasping out a shocked breath. He flinched backwards into the glass behind him as the jar was set none-too-gently onto the counter, and he craned his neck up high to stare with uncomprehending, fear-filled eyes at Jack.

The giant peered down at him dispassionately from the open lid of the jar. As if he hadn't just obliterated the carefully built, more than just tentatively hopeful trust a tiny had fully placed in his giant's hands. A gift so rarely given. A gift that was now destroyed.

There was movement in Tee's peripheral, and in the next second, his line of sight to the giant's face was blocked by a solid black lid, one that clacked gratingly against the glass before it begun to be twisted, Jack screwing it back onto the jar with what Tee could only perceive as a detached sense of finality.

"No," the tiny whimpered, sliding down the side of the jar and curling his knees to his chest, arms wrapping around his calves and gripping tight. This couldn't be happening. His - Jack wouldn't do this to him. He wouldn't.

But he had.

The tiny's head smacked into the back of the jar when he flinched as the giant's hand suddenly wrapped around the container, lifting it once more and making Tee's stomach drop into his guts with the too-quick movement.

There was a squeak of the cupboard hinges, and Tee had to quickly blink his eyes (which stung with tears that he refused to acknowledge or dare let fall for fear of them never stopping) as the light around him suddenly dimmed. He peered muzzily at his surroundings, which were ever so slightly distorted through the thick glass.

His breath froze in his lungs as he took in the cold, empty jars all around him, lifeless and covered in a thin layer of dust. None showing any sign of use, of ever - or only the rarest of occasions - seeing the light of day.

He snapped his neck forwards again and frantically scrambled to the front of the jar from where he saw Jack looking down at him, one of the giant's hands already loosely gripping the cupboard door's knob.

Tee shook his head, slightly at first, then with more desperation as his panic renewed with a stomach-dropping vengeance, his palms pressing up against the glass and his eyes wide and irrefutably pleading. He knew the giant wouldn't be able to hear him through the container, but a litany of frantic pleas and cries fell past his lips anyway.

"Please - please Jack don't do this. I'm sorry - I - I won't yell at you, or-or call you stupid or- do anything bad ever again. I was- I was wrong. I was wrong - please! I - you - you were right! About everything! I swear I'll listen to whatever you say, I'll- I'll do whatever you want - j-just - just don't leave me here!"

Jack just continued to stare dully at him, stony expression unchanged except for the briefest flicker in his eyes as hot tears abruptly spilled over Tee's blotchy cheeks.

They weren't enough.

(After all, Jack would have to care for him for his cries to matter.)

Slowly, inexorably, the cupboard door began to shut, and, tone foreboding and so, so sickeningly empty of anything close to concern, consideration, Jack finally spoke in the moment before Tee's world was pitched into terrifying, solitary darkness.

"You'll learn your place."

~~~~~~~~

OOooohoohooohooooo~ a lillll' angsty I know ;33

This one kinda got away from me, but I had fun hehehe

Also I'm posting this sleep-deprived and with exactly zEro brain matter present at the moment, so fingers crossed that it's actually decent *finger guns*

Next: Pt. 2

[imaginesbymonika]

She's electric | Part 2

Pairing: Liam Gallagher x fem!bassist reader

Plot: Liam's hatred for Blur runs deep. However, no matter how much he hates them and their stupid music - he cannot seem to hate their bassist.

Last Part

Outside Y/N leans against the wall. 'Outside' (in this case) was nothing more than a small back alley behind the venue. She‘s supposed to like these things: those posh award shows and wild after-show parties. But she couldn’t bring herself to it.

She hears how someone walks out after her. The sound of ‘Genie in a bottle’ fills the silence, before the door shuts again. She hums the tune momentarily while lighting up another cigarette- god, she was turning into a chain smoker. Her mother would be so disappointed. Y/N hears how heavy footsteps make their way towards her. She doesn’t have to look up to know it’s Liam. She can smell him.

“It’s you.”, she lets out and lifts her head. She watches how he lights up a cigarette of his own. A smirk playing on his lips:” Who’d ya expect it to be, Princess?” He asks, looking down at her. “I don’t know.” He can’t help but stare at her figure in that tight black dress for a second too long.

” Why d’ya come out here anyway? Bored with your little band?” Y/N stares at him for a few seconds before she shakes her head:” God, you’re annoying.”

“I’m annoying, huh.”, he tosses the finished cigarette on the ground and stomps it out with his foot before crossing his arms:” Is that the only reason you don’t like me?”

“Oh no.”, she simply answers, looking at him with big eyes:” I think you’re fit.” She says it so casually that one could overlook the weight of her words. “You’re my favorite Gallagher brother, but god- you’re annoying!”

It takes Liam a few seconds the register what she told him before a huge grin spreads out on his lips:” Fit, huh.” Y/N notices the way her comment went straight to his ego and she sighs:” Don’t flatter yourself, please.”

“Oh Princess, I know I’m hot. I don’t need you to tell me that.”

“Is your brother single?” “Why?” “If you keep talking shit, I will change my opinion.”

The tension between the two of them is so thick it’s nearly unthinkable not to sense it. His eyes drop down to her lips. “Look at you being all cheeky.”, at this point, his voice is even deeper than usual and his face impossibly close to hers. “Please, you’re the one following me around.”

Liam knows it’s true, and for a moment he turns his gaze away. He was a lot of things but sure as fuck wasn't a liar:” Yeah, maybe.” He opens his mouth when suddenly the door behind him swings open again.

Liam turns around and sneers when he catches sight of Damon. “Not this prick again.”, he mutters under his breath. “Look Damon.”, Y/N points her finger at the Gallagher brother:” It’s our biggest fan.”

Damon laughs.

“How long have you both been out here?”

“Maybe ten minutes or something.”, Y/N explains looking past Liam. The lead singer's eyes flicker between the two and he can’t help but notice how close they’re standing next to one another. The blonde man raises his eyebrow in bewilderment and gives his friend a knowing look.

“What do you want, mate? We’re having a private conversation here.”, Liam spits out, now completely turned to him. “Looks more like arguing to me.”, Damon takes out a pack of cigarettes and lights one up for himself, his gaze landing on the finished cigarettes scattered on the ground:” And chain-smoking…”

“Liam came to congratulate us on our wins.”, Y/N softly says and Liam’s head snaps into her direction. “ Oh yeah, I was ‘congratulating’ you.”

“Isn’t he just the nicest?”, Y/N places her hand on Liam’s upper back, which makes him swallow thickly in return. Something that doesn’t go neglected by the young woman. She chuckles and rubs tiny circles. “Yeah.”, Damon lets out:” He’s the loveliest fella around…Anyway, I came to pick you up. We have to be at the studio at 6, remember?” He walks backward to the entrance door pointing between the two musicians:” Wrap it up, kids.”

Liam can’t help but feel…rather disappointed that Y/N has to leave. He watches how she opens her purse again and takes out the same pen she used to sign her name on his arm. Y/N once again grabs his arm, and Liam lets her:” Who said I needed your number?”, he asks looking down at the digits. “Sure, Princess.”, Y/N answers and walks past him, a sharp wink thrown his way.

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Hidden embers

Chapter 5

Chapter summary: You and Joel have a much needed conversation to try and fix things, key word “try.”

A/N: Hi hellooo it’s hidden embers Wednesday (BETTER LATE THAN NEVER). Writing this story is genuinely bringing me so much joy, I’m glad you guys are enjoying reading it as much as i am enjoying creating this world. If you haven’t figured it out yet, this story is much more about the plot than it is about smut or fluff, so if that’s what you’re here for, you’re gonna have to be patient (it’s gonna be worth it i promise!!) Again, tysm for the support on this, the comments make me so so happy and motivate me to keep writing this, much appreciated 🤍

Warnings: No outbreak AU, no use of y/n, no sarah, Age gap, DBF!Joel, Slow burn, a tiny bit of angst, Mean!Joel if you squint

Series masterlist

You’re in a shit mood. Have been for a while, though you refuse to dig too deep to pinpoint when it started. It might’ve been around the time Joel kicked you out of his house, but honestly, it’s inconsequential.

The point is, your mood’s been sour for the past week, and this stupid boot you have to wear for your sprained ankle isn’t helping. What really pisses you off is the doctor saying that if you hadn’t walked on it, it’d be a grade 1 sprain instead of a grade 2.

‘Cause what the fuck does he know about why you refused that car ride home? What does he know about the churning, boiling anger twisting in your gut every time you hear the name Joel Miller? And then, to make it all worse, he had to recommend two weeks of bed rest so your ankle could heal properly and as fast as possible. Safe to say that doctor isn’t exactly on your list of favorite people right now.

On top of that, your mother’s been parading you around like a prized pony all week, forcing you to sit through those never-ending pageant meetings she insists on holding at the house. It’s like she’s playing the role of a doting, concerned mother in front of her friends, fussing over you as if you’re some fragile doll. Which is funny because you’ve told her on multiple occasions you’d rather stay in bed and rest your ankle than get dragged downstairs while on crutches, yet she insists on how rude it would be to not come greet the guests.

Thankfully, today’s a bit different. She’s gone out to scout venues for the pageant, leaving you in the care of your dad. Normally, you’d be relieved by that, but not today. Not when you overhear him on the phone inviting Joel over to watch the Cowboys game.

“Oh good, you’re up. Joel’s coming over,” your dad says with a grin as you make your way slowly towards the living room couch. “Figured we could all watch the game together. Like old times.”

You’re not a massive football fan, never have been, but watching the games with your dad was always something you enjoyed. It was your thing. Now, the thought of sharing that time with Joel makes your blood boil. Sure, he’s been doing this with your dad way longer than you have, but the last thing you need this week is Joel sitting next to you like nothing happened, like the astronaut-looking boot immobilizing your foot isn’t a constant reminder of why the injury got so bad in the first place. He might not be at fault for you walking all the way back home, but he’s certainly to blame for making you angry enough to do it.

The tightening knot in your chest isn’t just about what happened—though that certainly adds fuel to the fire—it’s about the mess of emotions you’ve been grappling with ever since. You’ve always prided yourself on being mature, on handling things with a level head and a clear mind. You’re the one who’s got it all together, the one people turn to when they need advice or a shoulder to lean on. But when it comes to Joel, all that goes out the window. You find yourself acting in a way you never have, even as a teenager.

You hate that you care this much, that his actions affect you so deeply, and that you can’t just brush it off like you do with everything else. You hate that what he is doing —the sudden coldness and firm boundaries— are probably the right thing for him to do. Hell, you even respect him for it, in a twisted way. He’s keeping a polite distance from his best friend's daughter, and it makes it that much more pathetic that it upsets you so much. His rejection, no matter how justified, still stings like a slap to the face, and the way he went about it, so abrupt and dismissive, only adds salt to the wound.

But it’s more than just anger at him. It’s anger at yourself, too. For feeling this way. For letting it get to you. For wanting something that you know you shouldn’t, something that feels wrong on so many levels. You can’t help but feel a creeping sense of shame, like you’re betraying the version of yourself that you’ve always tried to be—strong, independent, unshakeable. And yet, here you are, feeling small and foolish because of a man’s mixed signals.

You’re used to being in control of your emotions, but this? This is new, uncharted territory, and you don’t know how to navigate it without crashing and burning. So, you do the only thing you can think of: you shut down. You sweep all those feelings under the rug, acting like nothing happened and doing your absolute best to avoid Joel as much as possible. Because if you can’t be the strong, composed woman you’ve always tried to be, you can at least be the one in control of this situation, even if it’s just on the surface.

“I don’t know, Dad,” you start, trying to keep your voice casual. “I’m not really feeling up to it today. Maybe you two could just watch it without me?”

He gives you a look, that ‘puppy lefton on the side of the road’ look he always uses to get you to do whatever he wants. “C’mon, sweetheart. It’ll be fun. Besides, you’ve been cooped up all week. You need a little excitement.”

Excitement is the opposite of what you need right now. Maybe a day of peace and quiet would fix every single issue in your life, but there’s no arguing with him, not when he’s already so excited about it. So, you force a smile and nod. “Alright, I’ll watch.”

But as soon as you hear Joel’s truck pull up in the driveway, that forced smile slips off your face. When he walks through the door, it takes every ounce of willpower not to roll your eyes. He’s all smiles, greeting your dad with a hearty handshake, but when his gaze lands on you, it’s different. There’s a flicker of something—concern, maybe something else—but you don’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.

“Hey, kid,” he says, all casual-like, as if nothing ever happened.

“Joel,” you reply, your tone clipped, arms crossed as you turn back to the TV.

Your dad, oblivious as always, doesn’t notice the tension crackling in the air between you and Joel. He’s already settling into his recliner on your right, meaning Joel will have to sit to your left on the couch. You try to muster up the polite Southern girl your parents raised you to be, but your patience is thinning by the second, and you feel like a time bomb ticking away.

You do your best to ignore him. The game’s playing on the TV but your mind is far from focused on it. Your dad seems deep into it though, and for a second, you almost think Joel is, too. But then, out of nowhere, you feel his eyes on you.

“Didn’t think Presscott had it in him this season,” Joel says casually, trying to draw you in. His voice is low, familiar. He’s not even looking at you directly, just tossing the comment out there like he’s fishing for an easy reply.

You shrug without taking your eyes off the screen. “Guess we’ll see.”

The silence that follows isn’t comfortable, nothing like the ones you two have shared before. Even though you know you’re being short with him, you can’t stop yourself. It’s easier to keep things shallow, to avoid any real conversation, because if you let him in—if you let the words flow—the dam will break, and you’re not ready for that. Not here. Not with your dad in the room.

Joel doesn’t give up, though. “I remember last season your dad nearly threw the remote through the TV” he says, chuckling softly. “Thought he was gonna lose it when they botched that fourth-quarter drive.”

He’s trying to be light, trying to break the tension, but it grates on you. You force a laugh, but it’s hollow. “Yeah. Funny.”

You glance over at him, just briefly, and catch the way his brow furrows. It’s like he’s trying to gauge where you’re at, trying to figure out how to soften you up —the reason why he's so interested in doing so right now is beyond you. You can see the conflict there, the way he’s holding back—just like you are—but neither of you is willing to be the first to crack.

“How’s the um…” Joel starts again, voice softer now, “how’s the ankle? Healing alright?”

It’s such a simple question, but it feels like a loaded one. You swallow hard, the anger bubbling up in your chest. “Just peachy.” you say through gritted teeth, still not looking at him. “Let’s watch the game.”

Joel shifts beside you. You can feel him trying, can sense the struggle in him to connect in some way, but you won’t give him the satisfaction. Not after the week you’ve had, not after the way he’s been messing with your head.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, and you almost think he’s given up—until he tries again. “Look, I know we haven’t talked since—” he starts, but you cut him off with a sharp shake of your head.

“Drop it, Joel,” you mutter, so low your dad can’t hear. You still don’t meet his eyes. “Not now.”

Joel lets out a breath, and you feel the tension between you tighten, like a rope pulling tighter and tighter with every second that passes. He falls silent again, and for a while, the only sounds in the room are the commentators on the TV and your dad’s occasional cheers or groans at the game.

But it doesn’t feel over. The conversation, the tension, the unsaid words—it’s all still there, simmering beneath the surface, and you know it’s only a matter of time before something gives.

At halftime, your dad stands up to stretch his legs. You’re almost relieved when he breaks the silence, muttering something about his age. Joel laughs stiffly before replying with a quiet “Ditto.”

“I ran into Maryanne the other day, you know, the one from down the street. She was askin’ after you.” your dad says, grinning like it’s nothing. “Wanted to know if you ever got her message. You planning on callin’ her back?”

Joel hesitates, and you catch the slight shift in his posture from the corner of your eye. Your dad’s words hang in the air like a loaded gun, and suddenly, the room feels too small, too stifling.

Your stomach twists. Without thinking, you stand up abruptly, ignoring the sharp pang in your ankle as you do. “I need some air,” you mutter, voice clipped.

“Hey! Use the crutches kid, doctor said you still need ‘em.” Your dad calls after you.

“I’m fine dad, I’ll be out for just a second.” you don’t bother looking back as you make long strides towards the door.

You make it to the porch, the cool air doing little to calm the storm raging inside you. You lean against the railing, gripping it so hard your knuckles turn white. You’re furious—furious at him, at yourself, at this whole damn situation. How did you let it get this far? How did you let Joel Miller, of all people, get under your skin like this?

Minutes pass before you hear the door creak open behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is. You can feel his presence, heavy and familiar. He’s quiet as he steps out onto the porch, giving you a little space, like he knows better than to push his luck right now. You only hear him setting the crutches up against the railing, next to where you stand.

“You alright?” he asks, his voice rougher now, not as soft as it was earlier. There’s a wariness to it, like he’s testing the waters, unsure of how far he can go.

You don’t turn to look at him. “Let’s not do this.”

“Do what?”

“Acting like you care while I act like I don’t.”

He shifts behind you, and you can hear the hesitation in his breath before he responds. “I do.”

You huff out a bitter laugh. “Funny way of showing it.”

He doesn’t answer right away, and you hate how the silence stretches between you, filling the space with all the things you’re not saying. Finally, he steps closer, but not too close—just enough that you can feel his presence at your back.

“I’m sorry for last week. It wasn’t right, I was… in a mood. Had nothing to do with you.” The lie is heavy on his lips, you can tell even though you haven’t known him long enough to figure out all his tells.

“Seems like it had a lot to do with me, couldn’t wait to get me out of there.” You’re being petty, you know. But he’s pushing you and you can only be patient for so long.

“Don't be like that…”

“So, how’s the whole gardening thing working out for you?” you press him, pumping the brattiness up a notch.

He stares at you, a glimmer of frustration rising in his eyes. “About as well as ignoring doctor’s orders to rest your ankle, I’d imagine.”

You narrow your eyes at him, resisting the urge to snap back. “I’m doing just fine, thanks.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he mutters, his tone laced with sarcasm. “You’re real good at takin’ care of yourself.”

Your jaw tightens, but you keep your voice steady. “I don’t need someone to babysit me.”

“That what you think I’m doin’?” He steps a little closer, his voice dropping lower, almost challenging. “Babysittin’?”

You look away, the intensity in his gaze making it hard to hold. “I don’t know what you’re doing, Joel. One minute you’re... I don’t even know, and the next you’re pushing me away.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you can feel the weight of his eyes on you. “Maybe I’m just tryin’ to do the right thing.”

“By keeping me at arms length?” you ask, finally turning to look at him again. There’s a vulnerability in your voice that you hate, but it slips out anyway.

“By not makin’ things harder than they need to be,” he says, his tone softening slightly, though there’s still a hint of frustration there.

You sigh, the fight draining out of you. “Yeah, well, it’s clearly not working out great.”

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with all the things neither of you is willing to say. But there’s a shift in the air, a slight easing of the tension that’s been coiling between you both.

“Look,” he says after a moment, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to… I just—”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear whatever half-assed apology he’s about to offer. “We’re fine.”

He nods, though you can tell he’s not entirely convinced. “Yeah. We’re fine.”

You both stand there for a few more seconds, the conversation lingering in the air like smoke, not fully dissipating but not choking you either.

“Guess we should head back in,” you finally say, breaking the silence. Your voice is calmer now, the anger simmering down to a low burn.

“Yeah,” he agrees, stepping back to give you space. “We should.”

You turn to head inside—using your crutches this time— and for a brief moment, your shoulder brushes against his. The contact is brief, almost accidental, but it sends a jolt through you. Neither of you acknowledges it, but the feeling lingers as you walk back into the house.

As you settle back into the living room, there’s still an odd tension between you, something unspoken that neither of you wants to touch. The game is back on, and you both pretend to watch, but your thoughts are elsewhere, circling around everything that was just said—and everything that wasn’t.

It’s not perfect, and it’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s better than before. The air is clearer, if only slightly, and though the weird vibes linger, you both settle into a truce of sorts.

For now, it’ll have to be enough.

Tag list: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @untamedheart81 , @mellymbee , @wintersquirrel , @chyannealaniz , @spiderman-n-n, @ghostofzion , @sjc7542 , @yyiikes , @pedrofan

[batneko]

Okay I was trying to come up with a sugar daddy bowuigi AU and I ended up spending so much time thinking about the setting that this is gonna be another long one

So! It's modern day, big city. I prefer to think of it as still a world full of magic and mushrooms and monsters but if y'all want to picture this as a human AU feel free. In this world instead of a king Bowser is the third-generation owner of the biggest demolition company in the city. They took a slight dent lately because Bowser doesn't exactly get along with the city planner... but the company is still best in the business and not hurting for work.

Then there's the Mario brothers, who run a tiny independent plumbing company and by sheer coincidence have a phone number exactly one digit off from Koopa Demolition. They're good at what they do but because they can only take at most two jobs at a time they sometimes struggle. And they can't cut costs (any more than they already have) so the only leg up they have on the competition is promising to be faster than anyone else at the same price. It means they have to work a lot harder (and will definitely backfire sooner or later) but right now they're doing pretty well. Reasonably well. They're doing okay.

Having nearly the same number as a different business means that occasionally both groups will show up somewhere thinking they're about to negotiate a contract only to find out they just wasted their time and gas money. Hard feelings build up. Once, when the bros actually managed to convince a building owner to replace the lead pipes instead of tearing everything down, Mario and Bowser very nearly got into a physical fight. (It doesn't help that Mario is dating Bowser's ex though neither of them will admit that's part of it.)

And then one night Bowser goes back to a demo site to check on something, ends up getting hurt, and Luigi happens to be working late on a job nearby and comes to his rescue. He insists on accompanying Bowser all the way to the hospital, and while he's waiting with him mentions that it turned out to be a good thing the van broke down because if he wasn't walking back to the subway he might not have heard Bowser cry out. Bowser asks how Luigi is going to get home now, since it's so late the subway isn't running anymore, and Luigi says "I'll... I'll figure something out." Bowser calls one of his people and makes them give Luigi a ride. It's awkward for everyone.

The next day a tow truck shows up to take the Mario Bros' van to a mechanic. They're like "we didn't order this??" and the driver just says it was paid for in advance. Luigi realizes what happened and, thinking about the bad blood between Mario and Bowser, tells him the client last night was really grateful for him working late. Mario says they should thank him and Luigi says he definitely will.

So he goes to see Bowser, who is still laid up with a broken foot, and brings him a fruit basket. Bowser is like, I will absolutely eat this fruit but fixing the van was supposed to be payment for Luigi's help. He doesn't like feeling indebted. And Luigi says it was too much! There must be something Luigi can do to thank him properly.

Well... there's this stupid local businessman dinner that Bowser really didn't want to go to. Having somebody to talk to will make it more bearable. Luigi says sure, and the day of the dinner Bowser picks him up two hours early to go out and buy him a suit. Top to bottom, shoes and all. Luigi is a little offended Bowser didn't think he had nice enough clothes... but once they get to the venue and see what everyone else is wearing he can admit he did not have nice enough clothes.

The dinner goes well. Luigi IS a local businessman and nobody questions what he's doing there, even if they haven't heard of his company. Talking with Bowser is surprisingly easy, especially since plumbing and demolition have enough overlap that they can chat about work without having to explain much. They have a lot of similar gripes about clients and contracts and tools.

After a pretty nice evening and maybe one too many glasses of wine, it's all too easy to forget this wasn't supposed to be a date-date and fall into bed with Bowser. When Luigi gets home, rumpled and dressed in clothes he didn't leave in, Mario just congratulates him on what looks like a successful night.

A few days later there's a delivery. A brand new set of the power tools Luigi had mentioned he daydreamed about. Luigi calls Bowser and says this is too much, he can't accept it, and Bowser just says, "keep 'em or throw 'em out, I'm not taking them back. Already wrote them off as a business expense."

Luigi keeps them, but he can't explain this one away. He tells Mario that the person he went out with last week is... from a different socio-economic bracket. (Mario is not allowed to judge, Peach pays for most of their dates too.) They both avoid using the S-D words, but Mario says he feels too weird accepting work equipment from a stranger. Better tell the guy to stick to personal gifts.

So with something like brotherly approval, Luigi starts dating Bowser. He gets clothes, a new phone, fancy dinners and nights at expensive hotels. Bowser is not a bad date (except for when he is) but Luigi always feels a little weird knowing that their relationship is transactional. Even though Bowser clearly likes him and wants to make him happy, Luigi feels like he can't speak up about Bowser being demanding or talking down to people. Because if he's not agreeable enough Bowser will just find somebody new.

Meanwhile, Bowser has NO IDEA that Luigi thinks this. Somewhere along the line he got it in his head that his affection is a burden. He hasn't thought about this enough to put it into words, but he feels like he needs to reward people for being around him or they'll leave. He's not even trying to be a sugar daddy, he treats all of the (few) people he loves like this.

It's not until they've been dating long enough for Luigi to meet Bowser's son that anything changes. Luigi immediately sees that Bowser is pulling the old "new toys make up for not actually being around, right?" and can't stop himself from telling him that NO it does NOT make up for it. Your son wants your TIME.

He's extremely surprised when Bowser listens. And after Luigi tells him that asking Junior about his day and his hobbies will make him feel more cared about, Bowser starts making an effort to ask Luigi those things too.

Eventually he starts to think that... maybe? Bowser has just been romantically incompetent this whole time? So he tests it, and the next time Bowser tries to demand he take a week off to go on a boring business trip with him, Luigi (calmly but firmly) says that he can't possibly miss that much work but Bowser can call and talk to him every day. Bowser goes for it. He actually seems really excited that Luigi is "allowing" him to have so much of his attention.

Oof. Now Luigi feels bad.

After a couple more weeks of trying to wean Bowser off buying his affection (except paying the phone bill because Luigi seriously couldn't afford to do that himself) Luigi asks Bowser if he can officially call them boyfriends?

Bowser practically falls all over himself to agree. Everything is good, they understand each other, Luigi even has his own section in Bowser's closet. He could see this relationship lasting for the rest of his life.

Now he just needs to figure out how to tell his brother...

[eternalbuckley]

College Sweethearts. — evan buckley

SUMMARY: Buck and Reader used to be college sweethearts until he was kicked out of college. You didn’t stay in contact, nor did he give you an explanation of why he left completely. Years later your ways found back to each other again. And Buck certainly doesn’t want to miss this possible second chance with you.

word count: 3,287

genre: fluff | gn!reader, queer!reader, bipoc!reader and plus-size!reader friendly

warnings: use of y/n a few times, mention of buck dying a few times, nervous buck, mention of some other events from the show (s1-s3), heavy teasing, readers college degree is not specified, mention and description of alcohol use, mention of weed use, mentions of past hook-ups/making out, english is not my first language, hardly proofread — if i forgot something, please let me know!

a/n: I had this idea while watching a documentary about the planet Venus and immediately had to write it. It might be a bit cheesy but who cares? Everyone needs that sometimes, and Buck is currently the only thing that is in my mind (for weeks). Also: I’m currently working on multiple requests, which could slow me down from posting a bit at the moment! Enjoy reading 🫶 edit: i might make a second part to this once here but nothing’s decided yet!

disclaimer: please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work or post this anywhere without my consent. do not translate my work and post it anywhere — i give you no permission to do that. i only post my stories here, so if you find my work anywhere else please let me know! reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated and welcomed!

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Oh dear, love can be such a complicated little and big thing. Especially in your high school or college years. It’s supposed to be something beautiful, right? Well, for you it didn’t start quite easy, nor did it end in a rather beautiful way. In your early college years, you had a few dates with different people. At one point you gave up because no one matched your energy or gave you the vibes that you want to spend more, intimate time with them. You decided to focus more on studying and getting high with your friends a few times but you definitely didn’t plan on finding your (now ex-) fling at one of these stupid college parties.

But there you were, slightly drunk and making out with the infamous Evan Buckley. Maybe you had a small crush on him but did it matter at that point? The both of you started hooking up even after this party and you would lie if you would say it wasn’t amazing. He made you feel good and that’s all you cared about. It was fun while it lasted but at one point, he got kicked out of community college because he spent all his money on his motorcycle. And that was the last time you ever saw him as well. Sure, you were a bit mad because he didn’t say anything to you but you were not his partner. You had no right to say anything about it.

Even months after you last saw him you weren’t ready to hook up or meet other potential future partners. You realized at one point you might have fallen for him but you quickly needed to get rid of those feelings because you were completely sure you would never see him again. Sure, you could have taken a drive to his home but Buck told you a few times that his parents weren’t his favourite people in the world and he’d never want you to meet him. And again: In your opinion, you had no right to do that anyway.

Near the end of graduating your last college year, you decided it would be best for you to move away from your hometown. A fresh start was much needed. Especially after some fucked up friendships over some stupid boys that were in some of your college classes. You needed to get away from there immediately and that’s when you eventually decided to move to Los Angeles. It was always your tiny (big) dream to live there but never imagined you actually would someday. So, taking this opportunity made it even more perfect to start over. With the help of some friends and family members you successfully moved to the big city, it was hard work and saying your goodbyes was still tough for you. But you didn’t want to turn back and focus on the new part of your life even if that meant knowing no one and finding new people that lived in the same city as you.

After some months of living in Los Angeles, you decided to start working in a café until you found a good place to work at. You slowly felt more comfortable and started to feel more at home. You found one friend during this time – Maddie Buckley. You met her in the café you were working at. She came there often to get her a coffee and one day Maddie gave you her number. She told you that you could call her any time you need help or want to talk. Since she knew how it can be to live in a new city without knowing anyone. What you didn’t know was, that Maddie was Bucks sister and she never mentioned him as well, nor did you meet him when you were at her home the few times. Somehow you even missed the pictures that Maddie had of her and Buck in her home. Sure, she mentioned ‘her brother’ a few times and that he was working with Chimney but Bucks name was never mentioned for some reason. You even met Chimney a few times. There were a few times were you almost met Buck whenever he came over to Maddie and Chimney but every time you were already gone.

At one point Chimney invited you to come over to the 118 to meet his colleagues. He planned to set you up with Buck and Maddie helped him, little did they know that you guys already had a shared past. And that there were many details involved between you, including some untold parts. You agreed to visit him the next day since you had a few days off from work and that’s where the little chaos began for you and Buck. You picked out one of your favourite clothing pieces and were on your way to the 118.

Chimney already told the team that you were coming over and slightly begged them, especially Buck, to be nice to you and not make any moves. “Or else you will scare them away, alright?”

Buck was confused about what he meant but decided to ignore it. Once you were there Chimney immediately welcomed you with a hug and a big smile. He showed you the way up to where everyone else was, waiting for you. Buck was currently turned to the stairs with his back but once he heard your voice he quickly turned around since he remembered your voice. He just couldn’t believe that it was you. The moment your eyes met each other your smiles dropped for a moment out of shock.

After a few seconds of silence, you both pointed at each other with big eyes. “You?! Wha-”

“Wait. You both know each other?” Chimney questioned and looked at the both of you, very confused. You never mentioned that you already know Buck.

You slowly nodded your head and turned towards Chimney. You dropped your arm while doing that. “Uhm.. Yeah we know each other from-“

“College,” Buck interrupted you quickly. He was still shocked.

You only nodded your head to Buck’s words; you were shocked as well but not as much as he was.

“Wow. That’s interesting,” Hen mumbled to herself and got up to you. “Welcome to the 118. Chim already told me a lot of stuff about you,” she smiled at you and gave you a quick welcoming hug, which you returned. But your eyes were still glued on Buck.

The rest of the team, excluding Buck, welcomed you as well mostly with a handshake. Buck just nodded and slightly smiled at you. Things were slightly awkward now since there was a lot to explain and to be told between Buck and you. Especially because this had to be done in private, which was the reason why you didn’t really talk with each other. But Buck still made sure to listen to what you were telling and talking about with the others from the team. Even Bobby noticed Bucks staring after the first hour you were there and decided to invite you to stay as long as you want. You even stayed longer for his infamous lasagne, Chimney told you about it already. It tasted amazing but sitting right in front of Buck didn’t help you at all.

Especially because his eyes were still fixed on you. Even Eddie and Hen slightly nudged him to stop staring at you which only helped for like one second until he started staring again. You tried to ignore it but you did catch him a few times. He just couldn’t believe that you were sitting in front of him, here. His thoughts were pure chaos at this point. All he could think about was if you hated him for leaving you without explaining or saying anything. Were you mad at him? He certainly hoped you didn’t but he knew he’d deserve it. Buck wanted to talk to you in private but at work, there was no way it could happen. The one time you were almost alone together, a call for a fire came in. Which resulted in leaving you alone at the station. When the team got back from the fire, you were already back home. But left a little ‘thank you’ note for Chimney inviting you and Bobby for cooking such delicious food.

“You can tell them that they’re always welcome here,” Bobby told Chimney after Buck read out loud the note from you. Buck sighed, how could he talk to you without having to ask Chimney or Maddie for your number? If he wouldn’t find a way, he would do it but he didn’t want them to ask too many questions.

It was already enough to see Chimneys face filled with curiosity. He sure would talk with Maddie about the encounter between you and Buck once he was home. Buck knew he would have a talk with Maddie about you. He talked with her a few times about you already and how much he regretted his decision to leave without saying at least goodbye to you. And especially he needed to ask her how the hell she met you and why Maddie never considered mentioning you at least once.

So, to see a note falling out of his locker surprised Buck a lot. He bent down to pick it up and once he read the words his lips turned into a small and cheeky smile. It was a note from you with your telephone number and a small text added underneath.

“If you want to catch up, just text me whenever you want :) - Y/N/N”

Bucks smile grew even more after he read the nickname you added at the end. He basically gave it to you one evening while you watched your favourite movie and were too distracted with kicking each other out of fun and shared laughs. Despite having started your dynamic with the rule of only making out with each other, you two grew close but never talked about your actual feelings towards each other. Which made it even more sad that you lost contact with each other. But maybe that was what you both exactly needed to grow. Buck was curious to know how you’ve been and what you’re doing now. He would be lying if he would say he never found himself thinking about you over the past years, you never really left his thoughts at all. There were many times where he cursed himself for losing or especially leaving you without saying goodbye. He always imagined the moment where you both see each other again and that you would hate him but after seeing you today, he wasn’t sure if that was real. Now knowing that you gave him your number had to mean something. Buck definitely didn’t want to fuck up a possible second chance with you. He just hoped you would feel the same about him, which you certainly did.

Hen watched Buck go away with such a big smile she hasn’t seen on his face for a while now. She started smiling a bit in slight hopes it had something to do with you after all. Buck was on his way back home and the only thing that was on his mind was you. For the whole drive and even after he was at home for hours. His phone was laying on top of his bed and he walked his room up and down, he needed to decide if he is going to text you. Or well, how he should text you because he wanted to do it. He just didn’t want to embarrass himself. After a while he fell asleep with his phone in his hands, not noticing that he accidentally sent you a selfie while being half asleep. The moment you got his message you chuckled and opened the picture. You replied to him in a flirty but joking manner and closed the messages app afterwards. You fell asleep right after it and woke up to a reply from Buck. He apologized for sending such a picture to you but you admitted to him that you thought it was cute anyways.

And that’s how it ended for both of you. Talking and sending each other many messages. Most of them were filled with teasing and joking. You both were happier than usual and this came with teasing from your co-workers and the 118. Buck was on his phone more than usual and smiling from ear to ear. Obviously, the others noticed that and started teasing him with the worst possible things you can imagine.

“You know who he’s texting with?” Hen asked Chimney while they looked over to the lovebird looking at his phone.

Chimney smirked and nodded, “I guess it must be Y/N, they have been smiling more the last time they were over.”

Hen chuckled, “Of course, it would be them. Who else?”

Eddie joined them, “But don’t ask him about it, he’s quiet like a grave.” Chimney laughed at his comment and focused back on drinking his coffee.

But tonight, was the first time you’d hangout for the first time since you met each other at the station. It has been one week since then and you were nervous to meet him. Of course, it has been fun and nice talking with him over texts but seeing him in person was something else. It was night-time and you were getting ready for the ‘not-‘date with Buck. You were talking with Maddie on your phone, you needed her to help pick out an outfit. After what seemed like an eternity, you finally decided on your outfit, it was elegant but still comfortable for you to wear. It was good enough for staying outside even after the sunset. Maddie wished you good luck and said your goodbyes to each other. With the help of Eddie, Buck was able to choose a perfect outfit as well. He chose one of his white striped shirts, he remembered that you were really fond of one of his shirts that was similar to the one he’s wearing this time. He really hoped you’d like it. Right when you were about to leave Buck texted you, asking if you were on your way. You replied with a selfie, wearing your coat and a smile on your lips. You put your phone into your pockets and left your apartment.

Ten minutes later you got to the place where you were about to meet Buck. He was already standing there, nervously waiting for you. You tapped his shoulder and he immediately turned around.

His lips turned up in a smile. “H-hey,” Buck was immediately calmer.

“Hello there,” you smiled at him. It grew even more after he held a small flower to you. It was your favourite one. You took it and held it happily. “Wait I didn’t get you something.”

Buck shook his head. “It’s fine. You’re here, that’s..” he took a breath to think about his next words. “That’s all I need.”

You smiled at him again and took his arm after he held it out to you as well. You were walking through the park for a few minutes. They were filled with a comfortable silence but you took the turn to break it.

“How long have you been living here now?”

Buck looked at you but your eyes were focused on the flower he gave you. “For a few years now. Since.. You know I got kicked out of college I did many different things and well, ended up here.”

You chuckled and looked up to meet his eyes. “As long as you were happy.”

“Well.. Certainly.”

“Oh, is there something you want to tell me, Buckaroo?” You raised your eyebrows in a teasing manner.

He chuckled at the nickname. You used to call him that a few times back then. “Well.. I almost died. One or two times? My ex-girlfriend left me. Well, she left the whole country and didn’t really break up with me, only that I had to find out she was engaged. Everything while we had to clear out a train crash and I had to save her fiancé. Oh, and let’s not forget that I have a dead brother. Which I only found out a few months ago.”

You stopped walking and your mouth was open. When you asked him if he had to tell you something, you clearly didn’t expect anything of that.

“You.. It’s okay, I’m fine after all. I guess,” he mentioned.

“Damn. I didn’t expect things like that, Buck. I thought maybe you would say something like that you adopted a dog or a cat like you always wanted but… That?” You looked at him with soft eyes. “And you almost died? How can you say this so easily?!”

“I admit, they weren’t my best times but after all everything worked out. Even if I had to file a lawsuit against..” You were already shocked enough, which caused him to stop. “You know, that is something I could tell you later. What about you? Did you almost die once or twice?” He nudged you with his arm and continued to walk with you.

It took you a few moments to gather back your mind after all these news. A lawsuit? You definitely would find the time to ask him about that later.

“Well, I guess I finished college and just decided to move here. And no, I never got the opportunity to experience dying. I think I’ll leave that for you,” you smirked which caused him to chuckle again.

You spent two more hours talking about many different things. Up from Buck slowly finding his way into cooking and photography, that you’re looking for a job in your actual degree, and many more other themes you could spend hours talking about. It was a wonderful and comfortable time. Buck made sure that you felt safe and comfortable the whole time even when you were not looking all he focused on was just you. He missed hearing and seeing your smile and laugh. The way you sometimes moved your head backwards or subtly touched his arm because of his (bad) jokes. You talked about the fact that you knew Maddie and Chimney already but never found out that Maddie was his sister. You both found that hilarious. Overall, nothing had changed between you. Only you both individually, and in those few hours you felt happier than ever. And you got your answer, you truly had grown over the past few years and it was much needed. You felt safer in yourself, were stronger and well and the love you held deep down in your heart for Buck was still there. He walked you home this night and both of you were standing in front of your closed apartment door.

“It was nice, Buck. I haven’t had so much fun for a while now,” you smiled at him which he obviously returned.

“It was beautiful, Y/N. But I have to tell you something else and I.. I don’t know if that c-can wait any longer,” he stuttered. He was nervous you could tell.

You took his hand in a comforting way. “You can tell me anything if you feel the need for it, Buck. It’s okay.”

“You know... Maybe we could go out some time again. But m-maybe... You know as a-“ He stopped himself.

Your smile grew. “As a what? Hm?” You raised your eyebrow with a smirk now.

He looked into your eyes. You could see the hope he had in his own eyes. “As a date? Maybe?”

You stepped one step closer to him and kissed his cheek. “I’d love to.”

[hearts4golbach]

Get the Angles Right!

chapter 1.

pairing:

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

warnings:

smoking

"Excuse me, excuse me!" You shoved through the crowd of people. downtown New York is not the best place to be running late. running late to your own photo shoot. a photo shoot you planned. how embarrassing is that?

you barged through the doors of the venue. only two minutes late. that's a record.

your client still seemed annoyed you were late, even if it only was two minutes. "Jesus, I am so deeply sorry. you know how these sidewalks get and-"

"Shut it," she interrupted you, "you're wasting my time by yapping. are we going to do this shoot or not?"

you were taken back by her attitude. you chose not to say anything. you were the late one, after all. "Right."

you were a small alternative fashion designer. by small, you meant less than 200 followers. you didn't have a problem modeling your own clothes yourself. You just knew you could be more professional. you figured if you were, you'd be able to get out into the industry. of course, that was honestly stupid. but, alas, you were already here.

your mother's will had funded all of your adventures. she had died a few years back. she had been your main motivation through it all, ever since you were a kid. you made paper clothes to fit your barbies. whenever you got good at it, she brought you scraps of fabric from her own creations. she owned a whole company dedicated to her clothing pieces, which is why she left you so much. she wanted you to pursue your dream and make it big, just like she did.

luckily, you had dropped the pieces of clothing off at the venue this morning. you stopped while running errands.

"Your first piece is over here, lovely." You gaked a smile, directing her towards the rack. you pulled out a hanger. "Go put it on, and we can start the shoot."

"Okay," she huffed, making her way to the changing room.

you slumped down onto the tiny sofa right outside of the changing room. your Instagram was dry, per usual. you checked your dms, hoping someone would get back to you for your next model shoot. nothing. you felt your heart break a little more as you shut off your phone.

"y/n, what the fuck?" she called from the changing room.

you stood up immediately. "What's the matter?"

"This dress does not fit at all."

"What? that can't be right. those are the measurements you sent me." You ran your fingers through your hair. this shoot was a total bust now.

"are you saying I've gained weight since I sent those?" she scoffed. she walked out of the dressing room in her clothes from before. she shoved the dress into my arms.

"no, no. that is not what I'm saying. i-"

"forget this." she stormed out of the building.

"wait! we can-" the door slammed. "fuck." you mumbled to yourself.

you walked out to the front of the building. you pulled a cigarette out of your pocket. but you had no lighter. Just your luck. you sat on the curb. all you wanted was to go home and scream into a pillow.

"need a lighter?" a man's voice startled you out of your thoughts.

you looked over, a pair of black boots and skinny jeans greeted you. you looked up. the man had a kind smile on his face. red eyeshadow was smudged under his baby blue eyes. you could've drowned in his eyes right then and there.

"Uh, yeah, actually. that'd be great." You forced a smile. he sat on the curb next to you.

he passed you his lighter before lighting his own cigarette. "I don't think I caught your name."

you let out a small laugh. "y/n. I don't think I caught yours either."

"My name is johnnie." his soft smile never faded. "why are you here fucking moping around, if you don't mind me asking?"

"it's a long story."

"I have all of the time in the world." he didn't, you knew he didn't, but it still made you feel a little lighter.

"Well, I own a one man fashion business. I never get to find people for photo shoots to promote my clothes. only making alternative wear doesn't help, either. i mean, I did today, but the clothes didn't fit the girl, even though she sent me her measurements. I don't know." You shortened it up the best you could.

"shit," he took a drag from his cigarette. "Well, y/n, I volunteer as your dummy. I mean, if you want. I'm here for a month for," he hesitated, "business, I guess."

you looked at him skeptically. "Are you playing around?"

"Hell no. you seem cool as fuck. I definitely want to see some of your work, though." Johnnies voice was genuine.

"this might be the craziest thing that has ever happened to me. okay, well, follow me." you stood up and walked back into the venue. "I don't have anything now that'll fit you, obviously. you'll have to come to my apartment so I can fit you and blah blah blah."

he admired your work that was hanging up. "holy shit. these are sick as fuck."

your face heated up. "really? thank you. I just put my mind out on a plan and then make it. I'm glad you like it."

"your mind sounds really fucking cool." he turned to you.

"I can't thank you enough."

"I'm free tomorrow. does that work for you?" he offered turning back towards the front door. you followed close behind him.

"yes!" fuck, too excited, y/n. you cleared your throat. "tomorrow works."

he handed you his phone. "can I get your number?"

"no," you said sarcastically. you quickly typed your number into his phone, adding your name as to the contact. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"for sure. I'll text you what times work."

"sounds good." you smiled. "well, i gotta clean up here."

"boo, that fucking sucks. I'm sorry. I'd help, but I gotta be somewhere." he knitted his eyebrows together.

"oh, don't worry about it. it's not much, don't worry." you patted his arm gently. "thanks for lighting my cig."

he laughed. "anytime. I'll text you soon, y/n."

you gave him a little wave before he walked out. your heart was beating quickly. what a way to turn this day around.

he did, in fact, text you soon after. you had just finished packing up whenever your phone buzzed thrice.

000- hey, it's johnnie :)

000- can I get a little teaser for what you're gonna fit me for?? if you know yet that is

000- Actually, I want it to be a surprise

your face lit up as you read his messages.

me- if you insist, I'll keep it a surprise.

me- I'm free whenever tomorrow.

johnnie- I'm free after 4. does that work?

johnnie- maybe we can go get dinner afterwards. on me.

me- that works, I'm down for dinner. we'll split the check.

johnnie- really, it's on me.

[kyruskumiho27]

Warnings: •heavy angst •fluff at the end🥰

Summary: you and Kento are going through the trials of pregnancy. (Or: you have a fight but you work it out)

*you= pink/ Kento= orange*

He had been ignoring you all evening in favor of reading his book.

You were sitting opposite of him across the couch, pouting as once again the man choose to pay no mind to your words.

“So overall, I think I have everything for the registry. Venue is rented out and everything…. I just need a little help with the-“

He slams his book closed, glaring at you over his reading glasses.

“And what in the hell do you want me to do with that information?” You startle at his sudden movement, looking at him with those eyes. “Huh?” He scoffs, taking his glasses off.

“Why are you telling me this?” The irritation was obvious in his voice, and the way his brows furrowed in annoyance.

“Just thought you should know.”

He squints, trying to find if you’re purposely messing with him or actually oblivious. In the end he finds it’s both. Can’t a man read in peace?

“I have other things to do right now. I don’t have time to listen to you ramble on and on about shopping list.” You go quiet, fidgeting with your hands. Why is it always a problem when you mention anything having to do with the baby? It’s the least he could do, since he is the father and all. “Sorry..”

He scoffs again, rolling his eyes as he goes back to reading his book.

After a to long silence, you get up and go to your shared room. You had some papers that needed to be graded, but how hard could that be? They were first graders.

You rub your belly as you do so, your eyes feeling heavy and your feet swollen. After finishing your your work you open your lap top and take a look at some houses. You wanted your child to have a home to grow up into, not some run down apartment on the bad side of town.

Just then your fiancé walks in, groaning as he settles in bed beside you. He stares at the laptop, the page your opened to, and then you.

“What are you doing?” You bite your lip nervously.

“Looking for houses.” He’s tempted to roll his eyes. Taking the laptop and settling it on his lap. “I know that. Why are you looking for houses?”

You can’t really believe your having this conversation with your soon to be husband. Again.

“Kento, you know why. I’m not staying in this apartment forever. We’re getting married and having a baby.”

He rolls his eyes again. “This house is just fine for the baby.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“I am not having my child grow up in this tiny ass apartment. It’s not close to any schools, and the neighborhood we’re living in is just not-”

“The kids not going to school as soon as he’s out of the womb.”

You glare at the man. Hes so stupid sometimes you could scream. Obviously not. But it’s good to prepare.

“I give birth in a few months, we need this house to be ready. We can get situated and things.” Your fiancé did not like that answer, sighing at you dramatically.

“You already got me dealing with you and the damn baby, now you want to move?” If looks could kill both of you would be dead. The fucking audacity?? You turn to him to tell him off, but he olds his hand up. How dare he?

“We don’t need a house right now. We can handle that when the time comes.”

You stay silent, snatching your laptop back. After placing it on the nightstand you roll over and cover yourself with the blanket.

You’ve done none of your usual nighttime routine, but these days you’re so tired, and dealing with your husband and work on top of that just adds to the stress. You two are always butting heads, never agreeing on one thing. Just when you think both of you have finally settled down, he keeps talking.

“You’re always nagging at me. Always have some shit to say.”

“You don’t have to get worked up over little things and yet you do, complaining and complaining and complaining all god damn day.”

You sit up angrily, glaring and prepared to fight.

“I’m carrying your six pound baby in my stomach while getting hell from everything and everyone. You have a problem, your mom has a problem. Every damn person you know has a mother fucking problem!” He rolls his eyes, which only gets you angrier.

“And I’m so sorry my hormones inconvenienced your day. I’m so sorry that I’m such a pain in the ass all the time. But I can’t help it at the time and I’m trying my hardest to not let them influence my decision.”

Kento takes a deep breath, mumbling something to himself.

You get out of bed, intending to stomp away in disbelief. You don’t make it past the bed room door though before your clutching your stomach.

You close your eyes and try to take even breathes.

The action immediately alerts your fiancé, coming to rush at your side to see if you’re ok.

You try to push him off, your stubborn ass convinced you can do this all on your own. Only for you to clutch him close when another wave of pain rolls over you.

“Sit down.” He orders. But his voice is more soft, easing you back onto the bed.

You comply reluctantly.

“Lay back.” Again you listen, glaring daggers at the man.

He takes your legs and gently starts to massage your feet, touch so soft you two wouldn’t have known you were in the middle of an argument. Both of you are quite.

You can’t look him in the eyes, tears starting to well up.

“We just want what’s best for you.” He whisper, kissing your shin. You laugh, tone devoid of humor.

“It doesn’t feel like it. Everything I do I’m doing wrong. I can’t mother right, I can’t wife right. I can’t do anything right-”

“Your doing just-”

“Not according to your family.”

He sighs and lets go of your leg in irritation. “They don’t fucking hate you ok? They’re doing what they think is best, and what they think is best is-”

“Calling me fat? Insulting my family? Telling me your to good to call yourself my husband? What help that is.” He doesn’t say anything about that. He knows you’re right. Instead he continues to massage up and down your leg, your feet, and lower body part to help ease the pain.

“Better?” He ask, looking up at you through his lashes. You scowl.

“A little.”

He nods, still holding your legs. “Good.”

He studies you. Your tired eyes, your sunken in features. You haven’t eaten like you’re supposed to and he hates that. He hates that his family has such a negative affect on you. And he hates that he just stands there.

“Look at me.” He mutters. Your eyes trail to his, what pretty eyes. His pretty girl going through all this stress. His face softens.

“I know you like to prepare ahead of time. And I know you want to get things done as soon as possible. But you need to take things slow. I need you to take things slow.” He watches as the anger leaves your features.

He takes a chance and crawls above you, placing a kiss on your forehead.

You instantly melt, shoulders relaxing and sighing. He lays besides you, cupping your swollen belly and planting a kiss there as well.

“I care and love you my love, and I wants what’s best for you. So right now we need to focus on what matters.”

Your hands run though his hair, and he lays his head gently on top your belly.

“And what matters?” Your voice is so soothing, he could fall asleep just like this. It’s been so long since he’s felt your touch, to busy with work to come home and spend proper time with you. He sighs. “You. Right now it’s you.” He lifts his his head just in time to see you smiling.

And what a smile you have. He’s falling for you all over again.

“And after we make sure you’re ok, we can focus on us. And the wedding, and that baby shower you want. We can focus on all that after.”

“And I’ll make sure to speak with my mother about her behavior…”

You both sit in silence, buts it’s comfortable this time. You bask in each other, and you both are fucking happy. He coos at your stomach, which makes you giggle, he’ll be such a good husband, and an even better father. He dotes on you, and you do the same.

After a while you begin to get sleepy. “My love.” He murmurs, poking your cheek. He wants to talk to you more. You grunt.

“You don’t talk about yourself all that much.” You don’t understand why that’s important or relavent. Or why he felt the need to poke your cheek. “ ‘S never come up…” he hums, rubbing your belly some more.

“You should tell me about yourself.” You open your eyes to take a look at him, who in turn is looking at you so lovingly.

“Wanna hear all about you.”

You lay your head back against the pillows, thinking long and hard. “Ok well…. Um… m-my favorite color is pink and green.”

He smiles at that. It’s not what he meant, but it’s a start. He pulls up next to you. “Yeah? Why pink?” You think again, pulling your lips in thought. “It’s just a pretty color. Nice to look at.” Fucking cutie. He hums, placing a kiss on your neck.

“And green?” You shrug. “Reminds me of the trees and grass, like lookin’ at it to.”

“What’s yours?” He stays quiet for a bit, kissing your color bone. “Red.”

Your brows shoot up. “Red?” He nods. “It’s bold and intense. It’s like it’s supposed to be intimidating but it isn’t.” You nod.

“Makes me think of passion and courage.”

You giggle. “Passion?” His eyes narrow playfully. He brings his face close to your ear. “Passion.” You shiver.

He kisses every ounce of skin he can get to, having you in a giggling blushing mess. “You like that?” He muses, kissing you more. You nod.

“Good girl.” Kiss. “Got so many kisses in store for you.” Kiss. “So many suprises.” Kiss.

You laugh, actually laugh, and it makes his heart swell up. He hopes his baby has the same laugh as his mother.

“Love ya pretty.” He murmurs, kissing you on the lips. “Love you to.”

[everybodyshusband]

what was supposed to be a tiny little drabble because dysphoria is stupid and it sucks turned into 1.9k words because i couldn't stop writing, haha !! (see again: dysphoria is stupid and it sucks)

transmasc dysphoric dew being comforted by cirrus and rain <3

cw. lots of crying, dew has a mindset that he can't do certain things because he sees girls doing them but he's aware that this is an unhealthy thought process to have, he also misgenders himself in his head once out of dysphoria

~

Dew's skin is crawling. Sweat from tonight's ritual clinging to his compression shirt and making his skin itch more and more with every second he keeps it on. He needs to get it off. In fairness, his skin has been crawling since before the ritual caused him to sweat buckets into his shirt. He's been feeling distinctively wrong since this morning, when they all arrived at the venue and realised the venue crew had allocated the dressing rooms differently than usual.

Dew's with the ghoulettes. He hates grouping them all together like that in his mind—knows Cumulus would probably have his head if she knew he was referring to the three of them as one single entity rather than individually appreciating them as they all deserve—but today, there's something in the back of Dew's head that itches every time he tries to separate them. He hates it. He can't figure it out.

He doesn't figure it out until after the ritual. When Rain calls out to Dew over his shoulder as he makes his way to his own dressing room. "When the rest of the boys and I are done, we'll meet the four of you in the greenroom with Papa, okay?" Dew calls out his response but the way Rain phrased it won't stop echoing through Dew's mind as he chats with Aurora, lifts his mask off, unbuttons his shirt, unlaces his boots.

"The boys and I" Rain had said.

The boys.

And Dew's not with them.

As he comes to this realisation, he pulls his first boot off, throwing it to the ground in frustration as tears pinprick the corners of his eyes. Cirrus jumps at the loud noise as she unbuttons her shirt, revealing her short-sleeve compression shirt underneath—most days Dew forgets that she wears it, given that it doesn't show when she rolls up her sleeves. And because he's never placed in the same dressing room as the... The girls.

"I don't know what kind of tantrum you're throwing over there, Dew," she says, not looking at him as she takes a seat in front of the mirror to unlace her own boots. "But if you could cool it enough to not make loud noises, that'd be great."

She's joking. He knows she's only joking and that her casual dismissal shouldn't hurt as much as it does but... Well, he's already had an off day and apparently, the disinterest in her tone is enough to break the dam of tears that was already struggling to contain itself.

He cries silently, too scared of disturbing Cirrus even further and of interrupting Aurora and Cumulus' conversation by making more noise. It's not until Cirrus is finished with her boots that she looks up and sees Dew sitting on the beat-up, beer-stained couch with tears streaming down his face. Her face softens immediately, an apologetic furrow forming between her eyebrows as she makes her way over to him. He flinches back before her outstretched hand can come to rest on his knee as if she's got cooties. As if he's going to catch "the girl" from her. As if her touch will cement the fact that Dew's just a silly girl playing pretend with her boyfriends' clothes.

The worry in Cirrus' eyes as Dew sobs makes him hate himself even more. "I'm sorry I was so rude to you, love," she tries.

"'S fine." It's not fine, they both know that. The real apologies and explanations from both of them will come later, they always do. The cursory, meaningless apologies happen in the moment, and the real ones come later as they hold each other close, tears streaming down both their cheeks. That's just how they work.

"Do you want me to get Rain?" She knows her presence is too much for him right now. She's probably able to read him better than he's reading himself. Come to think of it, she probably knew how Dew was feeling before he did, if her gentle questions throughout the day are anything to go by—well, with Cirrus, "gentle" usually means gripping Dew around the neck and ruffling his hair, laughing and pressing a kiss to the top of his head once she's had her fun; Sathanas, he loves her so much.

Dew nods. "Rain," he echoes.

Cirrus nods as well and disappears out the door, letting it band shut behind her as she goes off in search of the water ghoul. On the other side of the room, Cumulus and Aurora are trying very hard to pretend they haven't been watching the entire exchange.

In what feels simultaneously like no time at all and all the time in the world, Cirrus returns with Rain in tow, looking especially soft and relaxed in his street clothes. She must have briefed him about what's happened because although Rain runs to Dew and drops to his knees in front of the couch, he doesn't touch Dew.

"No," Dew whispers softly, longing for Rain to reach out and touch him.

"No?" Rain starts to move away from him.

"No! Come back... Please." He holds his hand out and almost starts crying again out of relief when Rain takes a hold of it.

"You doing alright, darling?" Rain's voice is soft, kind.

Dew tilts his head this way and that, not quite a nod but not quite a shake of his head either. "I'll be okay." He's not actually sure he'll be okay for a while, but he's rather Rain not worry about him even more than he already is.

Rain fixes Dew with a look, but gives him a gentle smile regardless. "D'you want to get out of this, love?" He gestures to Dew's uniform, his pants and the compression shirt that remains clinging to his sweaty skin.

Dew nods, standing up to shuck his pants and replace them with his favourite fluffy sweatpants, balancing himself against Rain and chuckling good-naturedly when he trips as he steps into his pants and almost falls flat on his face. As he tries to pull his shirt over his head, Rain collects the other parts of Dew's uniform and places them into a neat pile.

He turns back to Dew while Dew's shirt is halfway over his head, his head trapped in the damp fabric, stretching it as he tries to pull it over himself to no avail.

"Love–" Rain's hands are gentle as he stills Dew's hands. "Love, stop pulling. You're going to wreck the shirt."

"It's stuck." Dew knows his voice is muffled by the shirt from the way Rain chuckles at him.

The water ghoul's cold hands are welcome against Dew's warm skin as he pulls the shirt back onto his body. "Don't pull it off, you're just going to stretch it. See what Cirrus is doing?" Dew's gaze finds Cirrus just in time to see her cross her arms in front of her body and grip the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head.

He knows it's irrational, but his stomach twists and his skin begins to itch all over again in that same uncomfortable way as before at the idea of taking his shirt off the same way Cirrus did.

"N– No, that's... That's..." He trails off, voice thick with tears before he can say "the girl's way" because Sathanas, if he doesn't know how horrendous that sounds.

Somehow, though, Rain seems to understand what he wants to say, because before Dew can even start to think about panicking any further, Rain is taking Dew's hands in his and nudging their foreheads together. "Do you want me to take it off for you, love?"

"Sh– Shouldn't you take me out to... To dinner or something first?" He stumbles over his words and his voice cracks as he tells the joke, but Rain laughs anyway and something in Dew's heart feels a little lighter, but with Rain still looking at him expectantly for an answer, all he can really do is nod miserably and pull back from the water ghoul to give him room to help him out of his shirt.

Once Rain has pulled the sweaty shirt off of Dew and has begun searching for the fire ghoul's hoodie, Dew does his best to avoid looking down. He knows he's got something on underneath his shirt—whether it's a binder or tape he can't remember, but the incessant itching feeling from earlier makes him think it might be his tape—but regardless, he's hesitant to test his luck with his dysphoria, especially after everything that's happened today. Soon enough, Rain is passing Dew his hoodie and helping him pull it over his head, ruffling his hair gently and kissing the top of his head once he's finished.

"All done, love," Rain murmurs against his forehead. "Just shoes and then we're done, 'kay?"

Dew nods, eyeing up his choices. He's got the Doc Martens he arrived in leaning against the wall, or the pair of beat-up Converse buried in the bottom of his bag. Against his will, his eyes drift across to the other side of the room, where Cumulus is lacing up her own Docs.

Rain's fingers are gentle against his cheek as he guides his gaze away from the air ghoulette. "Don't worry about what's she's doing," he says gently. "What shoes do you want to wear, Dew?"

He casts a longing look at his well-worn, comfortable Docs before dropping his head and asking for his Converse.

Rain kisses him again—a soft thing that makes Dew's stomach swoop at the realisation of just how loved he is—and moves away to rummage through Dew's bag and hand him the shoes. He kneels down at Dew's feet once more and laces the shoes for him, stroking his knee gently before he stands up once he's done. Rain holds his hand out, offering Dew a hand up, but he ignores it and stands by himself, pretending not to notice the disappointment in Rain's eyes. He can't help it. Rain's extended hand reminded him of all the times Mountain has pulled Lus up off of the couch, or the few times Swiss has offered a hand out to Sunshine to help her up when she's been sat on the floor during their rest time at practice.

Once he's up however, he takes Rain's hand gladly, just as Aether and Aeon or Ifrit and Omega when the pairs walk around the Abbey.

Rain huffs out a quiet sigh, looking over at Dew with a soft smile on his face. "Ready to go?"

Dew nods, grabbing his bag and slinging it over the shoulder not obstructed by Rain's hold on his hand. He pushes the door to the dressing room open and tries to turn left, but Rain tugs him along to the right. "Greenroom, remember?"

Dew sighs and follows without saying anything. In all honesty, he couldn't care less about their post-ritual rundown at the moment. He'd much rather head back to the bus with Rain and let himself be held—maybe he'd even be able to convince himself to curl up into Rain's side without feeling wrong about it.

As they walk, he feels Rain look over at him. He returns the gaze, knowing the smile he sends Rain's way is a bit too tight to be genuine. He's tired out from monitoring his own actions all day, he just wants to cuddle up with Rain in one of their bunks and go to sleep. The water ghoul squeezes his hand twice in quick succession.

You okay?

Dew squeezes back once.

I will be.

[luveline]

Congrats again on 35k you’re so special and kind to us ❤️❤️

please for the valentines prompt would you consider remus/or rockstar!remus and ❛ if i kissed you, i don’t think i’d be able to stop. ❜

luveline's valentine's mini party ♥︎

ily <3 thank you for your request!! rockstar!remus x fem!reader

"You're looking at me funny," you say. 

Remus smiles, abashed, and looks down at his camera. He fiddles with the snap out monitor. "Was I?" he asks. 

"A little bit… what were you thinking about?" 

He clicks a few buttons, the camera ringing with their beeps. You realise he isn't going to answer you and it doesn't really matter, but you sidle closer and pout softly.

"A hint?" you ask. 

He lifts the camera. The strap strains against the back of his hand. "Go stand in the middle, I wanna get a picture of you." 

You might think he was a bossy twat with no affection about him if you didn't know him. You could refuse his command and he wouldn't care, he'd probably laugh and like you more for it. But he wants a picture of you, so you fast walk away from him, more than fifty feet. Tonight's venue is huge, the biggest he's ever played, and he'd flown you out from your tiny hometown to be there with him and the boys. James had given you a mushy welcome and a speech on how you'd always been there for them, and Sirius had given you a smacking kiss on the cheek, but Remus has yet to do anything but take photos of you in various places making various faces. 

"You look tiny," he calls. 

"Can you see all the seats behind me?"

"No, there's too many!" 

You turn to look. There are a lot of seats, thousands of them. The stadium echoes with your conversation and the sounds of people moving. On stage, they cart equipment back and forth, various sound checks and tests taking place one after another. It feels like musical marco polo. 

It feels appropriate to do a little spin. 

Remus walks toward you and you step in line, wanting to see the picture. It's taken some time, but he's ready to answer now, apparently. 

"I was thinking about kissing you," he says, his arm pressed to your arm, the two of you looking down as he shows you the video he's taken of you. Your skin shines under the floodlights. 

"You can kiss me," you say, too eagerly for a best friend. He's not stupid, he knows how you feel.

"If I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop," he admits, measured, turning his face to yours.

You look into his eyes. 

"And I really need to get it right, tonight. I need to," —his lips drift closer to yours— "think clearly. But ever since you got here, I've wanted to…" 

He closes his eyes, but he doesn't move in. If anything, he moves away, tilting his chin toward his chest. He looks like he's fighting a losing internal battle. 

You're not one to torture him, no matter how much you want a kiss. 

"You could still kiss me after the show." Your breath catches in your throat, your chest heaving with the effort it takes to force yourself to say it aloud. "However long you wanted, maybe." 

His eyes remain closed. His hair shifts above his ears, and the guitar string scar dividing his top lip tugs as he smirks very, very slowly, clearly deep in thought once again. You steal the camera from his hands, ignoring the way your skin prickles as his fingertips brush. 

"Smile for the camera, rockstar," you say. 

He doesn't smile, but he comes close. 

After the show, when he's sweaty and tired and alive with adrenaline, he takes your face into his hands, and you feel the unmistakable curve of a smile against your lips. 

[creepycrawliesanonymous]

To All The Boys I've Written About Before - Beige Flags

In my never-ending quest to make things that appeal only to me, here's a little exercise for all the boys in my arsenal.

Angel Torres will always help you out around the house, no question about that, but boy will he act like he's a hero for simply loading the dishwasher. I'm talking wiping his brow every time you walk into the kitchen, grunting when he puts a plate on the drying rack. You offer to help but he flat out refuses, and will probably say some shit like "My hands look like this [soapy] so yours can look like that [slightly dirty from repotting your plants]."

Jesse Pinkman will call you "dude" until the end of time. It doesn't matter what stage of your relationship you are currently in, you will always and forever be "dude" to him. "Yo dude, do you want to grab Wendy's on the way home?""Dude, you look pretty today." You could be at the alter and it would be a "Dude, I do." He also 100% buys in to the "glasses make you smarter" myth.

Lemon bought himself a label-maker, and that man LOVES makin' labels. All the drawers in your flat are labeled, so are the spices (even if they already have labels), he labels which food belongs to who, all the wires/cables have a label for what kind of wire/cable they are and what they're for. You told him that you could probably remember which clear jar holds the salt and which holds the ginger-snaps, so he made the label "fuck off" and stuck it to your forehead.

Tangerine refuses to call menu items by their proper names, especially if they're stupid. A matcha latte is "green foamy shit, you know." If the dish is named after someone, this chicken shop you frequent has an Ike's Famous Wings Bowl, he will call it "that bloke's chicken thing, the one with all the spices and shit on it." The worst was when he wanted to order the Foxx on the Roxx Boxx from TGI Fridays (yes that's the spelling, I looked it up), he straight up would not say its name, he just kept pointing at the menu and saying "fucking- this one."

Harvey SDV, sweet man that he is, will always sign off his text messages. It doesn't matter how long or short the message is. There's the standard "darling, I'm running a little bit late, would you like me to pick up something for dinner? Dr H" but there's also the "okay honey (: Dr H" or the "[insert picture of flower] Dr H". You've tried to explain to him that you know that it's him, that he doesn't need to sign off every time he messages you, but it's no use.

Andrew Neiman loves to collect random bits of niche trivia, but will straight up forget incredibly basic things. You two were out at a live music venue, sipping on your tasty little beverages, and he'll just bust out something about the similarities between jazz and Indian music, and while he's expanding on the influence of Ravi Shankar on Coltrane, he'll flip through the menu in front of him and ask you what margarine is.

Carmen Berzatto, common knowledge at this point, always keeps a book on him, which on its own is a very good thing. It keeps him from getting bored, you think it makes him look smart, it's a win by all accounts. But, save for when he's at work, he will whip that book out whenever there's any sort of lull in a conversation or if he's not physically doing something. You were talking to him about weekend plans, and he'll be listening intently because he's a good boyfriend who cares about your thoughts, but as soon as you go quiet to turn around to grab something he's flipping open his copy of The Reivers to quickly read a sentence.

Randal Graves loves to fake propose at restaurants for free shit. He makes a big thing out of it, will pull you aside before you enter Olive Garden and show you the tiny plastic ring he's used about three times already and whisper about the ruse he's about to pull, and all you can do is nod along with him. He's gotten more elaborate each time, from the basic garden-variety proposal, to putting it in your water, to asking to have it put in your Chipotle burrito (you had nearly swallowed it that time), managing to score a few free desserts and, at one point, a bottle of cheapo champagne that he got so incredibly slurshed on at home.

Warren Rojas has this game he likes to play whenever you two go to bars or nightclubs where he will pretend like you two don't know each other just so he can hit on you in the most cheesy ways known to man. Asking to buy you a drink, dumb pick-up lines, saying shit like "My name is Warren, but you can call me anytime." It's so incredibly dumb and he gets the biggest kick out of it. One time when you and Eddie were having a conversation at a party he totally pulled out the "Is this guy bothering you, babe?" He thinks he's so funny.

Jimmy Bartlett, whenever you two are cuddling, will set a timer so he knows when to switch from big spoon to little spoon. He'll bring up the egg timer from the kitchen and set it to 20 minutes before he joins you on his bed. You'll be half asleep after a long shift from work with his head buried in the back of your neck, and the next thing you know he's shuffling around while tiny beeps are sounding and he's somehow got your arms around him before you even realize what's happening, before drifting off again. He says it's only fair.

Miguel O'Hara is like a big dog with the temperament of a house cat; thinks he takes up less space than he does and always at least slightly grumpy. He'll get confused when he goes to put on a sweater that was originally yours (the communal wardrobe holds no prisoners) and finds it tight around his biceps. He knocks his forehead on low doorways constantly, you've taken to shouting 'duck' whenever you see him about to go through one. Watching movies on the couch with him, during a rare moment of peace, can be an ordeal because he always wants to lie down on top of you and you don't have the heart to tell him that he's crushing your lungs.

[bleachification]

a platonic paradox

pairing: grimmjow x reader

warnings: swearing lol thats it

summary: He loves me... he loves me not… he loves me... he... is an emotionally constipated Arrancar with less than desirable social skills and a pension for jealousy. What could possibly go wrong?

One… two… three… four… five shots later, and reality finally starts to blur at the edges. Fuzzier and fuzzier, the strobe lights turn as they cut across blackened space, glowing in feverish haste. 

Maybe drinking on an empty stomach isn’t the greatest of your ideas, but no one’s coined you as a genius thus far, and you certainly never claimed to be one. Plus, you have a valid reason for knocking back a row of tequila: men. Or, more specifically, one man who goes by the name Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez—the bane of your existence and one of your closest friends. However, friend is a term you use very loosely after the earlier fight.

The mere thought of him incites another scowl from you… and a sixth shot that slides down your throat like oil in a car—smooth and familiar. 

You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn to face the person on your left—a head of ginger pops into view, only to be pushed aside by a tiny girl with an irritated yet concerned expression pasted onto her delicate features. Inoue only smiles as Rukia takes her spot next to you and inspects the row of shot glasses on the booth table in front of you. 

“You need to stop,” Rukia demands. 

You barely register her words over the thumping bass of the speakers. The club is a swarm of warm bodies, alcohol, pulsing lights, and wall-shaking music. Through the haze and humidity, you make out the DJ standing at the south end of the venue, directly opposite your booth. 

“You worry too much.” You wave your hand, dismissing Rukia. 

She tries prying the drink you just ordered from your hands but fails miserably.

“For good reason! We’re going to have to carry you home at this rate.” 

Orihime pats Rukia on the shoulder in a calming manner. It doesn’t quite work, but she tries anyway. Ever the pacifist. 

“I think Rukia’s trying to say that we’re worried about you. What exactly happened?” 

Ichigo appears from the crowd and slides in next to his fiancé, beer in hand. “Yeah, what’s going on? You called us out without explanation and started drinking like you were on a personal mission to destroy your liver.”

“I can handle my liquor.” You roll your eyes at your friends’ questioning looks. 

“Y/N,” Orihime presses. 

You groan. “Fine! Fine.”

They all wait expectantly as you down another drink. Every shot turns the world one degree mistier. 

“Grimmjow and I got into a fight,” you grit out. The words taste like gravel on your tongue. 

The three of them exchange a look. 

You frown. “What?”

“It’s just… isn’t that pretty common?” Ichigo asks. 

“No. We argue, sure, but today he… went too far. He was being an asshole—more so than usual. You’d think he’d be nicer to the person who acclimated him to human society. Stupid overgrown cat,” you huff. 

“What did he say?” Ichigo takes a swig of his beer. 

You pause. The whole argument that led to this moment was dumb. So dumb that you can’t even remember what instigated it. All you recall is the hurt washing over you at the end—a vile, sickening sensation that festered like rot in your chest because of the words Grimmjow bit out right before you walked out the door: You’re nothing special. 

In hindsight, what he said wasn’t even that awful. Yet it shredded you the moment it left his lips. Perhaps you took it so hard because you thought you were special to him—in the same way he is to you. The irritating reality is Grimmjow has grown to become one of your closest confidantes. Your best friend. To be cast aside like that… to mean nothing of importance to him… is a harsh and gutting revelation—one that sets fire to your throat and incinerates whatever affection you had left for him to absolute ash. 

“Nothing of importance,” you mutter. 

The others don’t pry any further, sensing you no longer want to talk about it. They’d be right; you don’t want to talk about it… you don’t even want to think about it, especially since the earlier alcohol-induced buzz has now morphed into full-on drunk goggles. 

“I’m gonna go dance.” You’re already halfway across the dance floor before Rukia scrambles to catch up with you. 

Orihime slides her attention over to her fiancé. “Uh. Kurosaki?”

Ichigo dials a number into his phone and brings it to his ear. “Already on it.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It is 1:58 am, and Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez has never been more miserable in his entire life. Not when he was a mindless hollow, not even when he lost to Ichigo—that orange-haired freak of nature. 

No. The almighty former Espada has been reduced to a mopey mess by a mere human. And an annoying one at that. 

It’s been almost five hours since Grimmjow last heard from you. Four of them he’s spent trying to convince himself you’d come back soon like you always do—with that gentle smile on your face that he’s grown disgustingly accustomed to. 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. 

Grimmjow clenches the phone in his hand and his arm jerks—almost chucking the device at the insufferable clock ticking in the corner. It is a constant reminder that you haven’t returned to him. He only stops himself from throwing the phone once he remembers how much the hunk of metal had cost him. 

Stupid human inventions. 

If it weren’t for the need to constantly message and call you about, well… anything really, Grimmjow would never have spent a cent on the damned thing. 

The phone clatters onto the coffee table as Grimmjow resumes his prior (pitiful) position on the couch: flat on his stomach, face down, and legs draped over the edge. 

Grimmjow frowns—pouts—into the cushions. Twenty minutes pass. Then thirty. Finally, a vibration cuts through the air. 

Someone’s calling him. 

Grimmjow jerks up and unceremoniously falls off the couch in haste to check the notification. His high hopes are immediately dashed when a familiar contact name comes into view: Prick. His shoulders slump, and he lets it ring a couple of times before lazily thumbing the screen to answer the call. 

“The hell do you want?”

“Are you busy?” Ichigo’s voice is barely perceptible amidst the deafening music blaring through the phone’s speakers. 

Grimmjow grimaces, pulling his ear away from the phone, then glances at the coffee table in front of him. A half-melted tub of chocolate ice cream stares back, a mocking reminder of his dramatics grief. Just above the sugary mess sits a large-screen TV—one currently playing a series of films that fit perfectly under the “romantic comedy” genre. 

Grimmjow turns around and faces away from the scene. Out of sight, out of mind. 

“Who do you think I am? Of course, I’m fucking busy.”

“Right… guess I’ll get Y/N home by mys—“

With keys in hand, Grimmjow is already headed out the door when he gruffly cuts Ichigo off. “Address. Now.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Tall, dark, and handsome wraps an arm around your waist as you sway to the suggestive beat. 

Rukia’s long gone. You lost sight of her when the crowd drew you further into the dance floor. You don’t particularly care where the shinigami went—probably back to the booth—as the alcoholic haze clouding your mind bars you from focusing on anything but the gorgeous man next to you. He leans in, clearly interested in something other than dancing, but still asks: “Would you like to dance?”

You study his features. Short black hair sweeps over honey-brown eyes that are shadowed by long lashes. He smirks, showing off a dimple on his left cheek. He’s a looker, for sure. 

Not bad at all, but nowhere near Grimmjow. 

The thought jolts you. Grimmjow has nothing to do with the person beside you. So why is it that every passing second serves as a reminder of him?

You shake those useless thoughts away and plaster a lazy smile on your face. You pull the stranger towards you and wrap your arms around his neck as you move to the beat. He presses up against you, forehead on yours. His lips are millimetres from yours, and his lidded gaze glitters with desire. You welcome it. 

For once, you’re lost to the dizzying heat and drunken thrills of the night, and you’re ready to get lost in the arms of a stranger—someone who, hopefully, will distract you from the man plaguing every dark corner of your mind. 

A tilt of the chin brings you closer to him. He leans in, and you close your eyes, ready for a welcome distraction. But before your lips can meet, the man across from you is harshly yanked back, and a flurry of familiar voices bombards you from all directions. 

You blink twice, trying to take in the scene before you. 

Firstly, Grimmjow is here. He’s clutching so tightly onto your poor dance partner’s shoulder that it’s a miracle his collarbone hasn’t shattered. The guy looks terrified… and for a good reason. Grimmjow is pissed. Hell, even that would be an understatement. An air of rage so heavy you almost mistake it for spiritual pressure ripples off him in waves. His normally cavalier expression is distorted. Gone are his usual smirks or annoyed scowls. In their place sits a mask of absolute crazed, seething fury. If looks could kill, this whole club would be home to a mountain of corpses by now. 

Secondly, the shouts you hear originate from Ichigo and the two girls; all three are trying to push through the crowd to make it to you and the blue-haired psychopath before you. Thanks to the dark atmosphere, overbearing music, and the fact you’re all in an isolated corner of the club, no one else seems to notice the complete disaster unfolding before your eyes. 

Ichigo breaks through the sea of people and immediately hooks his arms under Grimmjow’s. It takes almost all his strength to drag the Arrancar back a metre or two. 

Ichigo struggles to keep Grimmjow at bay. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’ll kill you after I get my hands on him. Fucking let go!” Grimmjow pulls free from Ichigo’s grasp and steps toward the other man. 

That split second snaps you to attention, and you run to block him. In less than a second, you’re in front of the other guy and facing a murderous Grimmjow; arms spread out in a protective stance. You wobble a bit and curse yourself for getting this inebriated. 

Grimmjow freezes. The look in his eyes—a strange mixture of annoyance, hurt, and unfathomable anger—makes you uneasy. 

“What, pray tell, are you doing?” You mentally high-five yourself for not slurring your words. It isn’t easy in your current state. 

Grimmjow scoffs. “You’re actually protecting this guy?”

Said guy peeps up with: “Look, I’m sorry. Didn’t realize you had a partner.”

You turn to him and scrunch your nose. “I am not his partner.”

Grimmjow makes a snarling sound behind you. 

You whip back towards him. “And you. Are you insane?! Why the hell would you do that?”

Grimmjow shifts closer. You have to tilt your head up to glare at him. His breath fans your face as he answers. 

“He put his hands on you. You think I’m just gonna let that shit slide?” He’s speaking low. Rough. Dangerous. 

You open your mouth to retort, only to find yourself dangling upside down from Grimmjow’s shoulder. He just hauled you up like a sack of flour. 

This bastard. 

As if on instinct, you immediately start wiggling in his grasp and thumping on his back, yelling at him to put you down. The struggling only drives him to tighten his hold on you as he marches the two of you out the club doors. 

“Keep doing that, and I’ll drop you.”

Bastard move. 

“Put me down!” You let out a yell in irritation. Grimmjow pretends not to hear you. 

From your peripheral vision, you catch sight of Rukia, followed by the other two, scrambling to catch up. Orihime apologizes profusely to the bouncer at the door for the commotion caused by the man carrying you. 

“Ichigo, help!” 

Ichigo only shakes his head in disappointment as Grimmjow increases his pace. 

Traitor. 

Maybe it’s the liquid courage. Or perhaps it’s because you’ve finally lost it, but you raise a hand and land a hard smack on Grimmjow’s ass. 

He stiffens. “What the f-“

“I’ll do it again if you don’t put me down this instant, you goddamn psychopath,” you warn. 

Instead of complying, he shifts you until you’re being carried in his arms bridal-style. He just cut off your accessibility to his ass. Although you can’t ponder that disappointment for too long, the realization of what he’s about to do dawns on you when he takes a slow step backward. 

“Grimmjow, don’t you dare-“Your own shriek cuts you off as he rips through the air and propels you toward the sky. You can only tighten your hold on his neck and bury your face in his shoulder as biting winds whip around you at the speed of light. Despite the cool night air, Grimmjow is warm to the touch. In less than five seconds, you’re staring at the front door of his apartment. 

The son of a bitch just sonido-ed you across the city. 

Grimmjow finally puts you down as he fishes the keys from his pocket. The whole time he hasn’t said a single word to you. 

“Why are we here?” You reluctantly follow him into the familiar unit. 

He has his back turned to you. Broad shoulders hunch over as he removes his shoes. Three seconds later, he flops onto the couch while running a hand down his face, quietly letting out a sigh of exhaustion and a hint of something else. 

You sit in the spot next to him and pull your legs up. You shift until you’re facing him and only inches away. 

You poke him in the stomach. It’s a habit you have that Grimmjow complains about constantly, but he never actually takes any action to stop it. 

“Hey. Answers. Now,” you interrogate. 

He lazily peeks at you; head still lolled back on the back of the couch. Grimmjow moves and his shifting weight causes you to dip forward. Typically, you’d be able to straighten yourself up. However, drunk you has precisely zero sense of balance, so you topple right into Grimmjow’s lap. 

Grimmjow almost jumps out of his skin at the unexpected contact. You feel your cheeks flame up in embarrassment as you try to push yourself back up, only to lose your balance again and fall back against him. Your face presses up against his stomach, and the heat clouds all your senses. You feel even drunker than before. 

“For fucks sake.” Tired of your struggling, Grimmjow pulls you up until you’re sat in his lap and face-to-face with him. You try to ignore the fact that you’re basically straddling him. You really try to ignore his hands resting on the side of your thighs. The contact causes something within you to flare up—an unsettling feeling you push away to the furthest corner of your mind. 

“Well, this is nice. We’ve reached a new level of friendship now,” you snort. Thankfully, your stable tone doesn’t betray your wavering nerves. 

Grimmjow’s jaw tenses. “Right. Friendship.” 

You almost reel back. He spits that last part out like it is laced with poison. A sting of disappointment shoots through you, and you move to get off him. Right now, you want to be as far away from him as possible in fear of Grimmjow seeing the tears that have begun to prick the back of your eyes. 

If he hates being your friend that badly, then there’s no way he’d ever reciprocate… 

“Hey. You crying?”

To your surprise, Grimmjow grabs you by the hips and pulls you back, caging his huge arms around you to prevent you from escaping. His eyebrows furrow as he leans in to examine your face. You muster up every ounce of willpower to suck the tears back into the confines of your eyelids. 

“You look like a bug,” Grimmjow murmurs. 

You pinch his cheek with a scowl, mind briefly wiped of your previous grievances. 

“Bastard.”

He doesn’t even flinch. “You stopped crying.”

“I never started,” you retort. 

He makes a noncommittal noise. 

“What?”

He grunts, eyes still fixated on your own. “Trying to figure out why you ran away.”

You gape at him. He has to be kidding. Right?

“Okay, first of all, I did not run away; I left because you pissed me off. Second of all, are you serious? 

Your exasperation only fuels his confusion. Grimmjow’s face scrunches, and he tilts his head only slightly, but enough to emphasize how baffled he is by this whole situation. 

You falter. This whole night you have agonized over his words, never once considering that he may not find fault in what he said. Maybe he never intended to hurt you and only meant to state a fact: that you simply don’t mean anything special to him.

Do you occupy such a minuscule part of his heart? Given that he takes up all the space you have to offer in yours, it is an unnecessarily cruel twist of fate.

You steel yourself. Grimmjow is your friend. Nothing less… and certainly nothing more. He has drawn that line very clearly—in bright, irreversible red. 

“Forget it. It’s nothing,” you murmur.

He shoots you a look; he doesn’t believe you. “Oi. Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” you insist. 

His eyes narrow, and he slowly drawls your name. Irritation coats the word like honey as he presses you for a different answer. 

With a shake of your head, you cement your refusal to budge. Nothing good could come from that conversation, and you would rather suffer in silence than lose Grimmjow as a friend—which is the only outcome you can fathom. 

“I… it doesn’t matter. Not like you’d care.” The last part is practically inaudible to the human ear. Unfortunately for you, Grimmjow’s senses are anything but human. 

He stiffens, looking like he’d just been slapped hard. “What the fuck are you on about? Who told you that? I’ll kill ‘em.”

“No one told me Grimmjow… no one other than you, at least. It’s obvious you don’t care to be friends anymore,” you scoff and look away, too anxious to meet his eyes. 

Every single muscle of Grimmjow’s goes rigid. You sneak a glance at him and pause at the storm brewing in his gaze. Tides of emotions threaten to overwhelm one another, but at the forefront of the tumultuous battle flashes an intensity you are very familiar with: desperation. 

Grimmjow tips his chin down, lessening the gap between your faces… and lips. What comes out of his mouth next scarcely breaks above a whisper, but the words themselves bear a threatening weight. 

“Obvious to who? Because last time I checked, you’re the only human I ever speak to willingly, the only person whose touch I don’t find repulsive, and the only one who can mouth off to me in my own damn house and not die for it. So tell me, Y/N, who is that obvious to? Because it sure as hell ain’t me,” he snarls. 

You blink. That sobers you up. Any and all words dying in your throat as you take in everything. You only manage to find your voice again after a minute of deliberation. 

“Then why did you say that I wasn’t special? You’re giving me mixed signals here,” you whisper. 

Realization dawns on him like an iron curtain as your response dwindles in the hushed air. He shifts again. This time, switching his grip on your thigh to the curve of your waist. His hands settle firmly, yet gently, on your side, and the warmth resonates through your bloodstream, making it increasingly difficult to focus on the present situation. You try anyway. 

“Is that why you ran away?”

You roll your eyes. “I didn't run.”

He shrugs. “My bad. Is that why you abandoned me?”

For a split second, Grimmjow’s sulking reminds you of a kicked puppy.  A crass, six-foot-one puppy with blue fur and murderous tendencies. Your fingers twitch with an almost overwhelming desire to run them through his hair. You settle for flicking him in the forehead instead. 

“Don’t be so dramatic. You’re acting like I fled the country rather than go to a club ten minutes away.” You absently brush a stray strand of his hair aside, not thinking much of it. Grimmjow, however, sucks in a sharp breath and you pause as a glint of something flits across his gaze… something intimate. 

A trick of the light, surely. 

 “You–” Speech morphs to muffled protests as you press a hand to Grimmjow’s mouth, effectively cutting off whatever he was going to say. 

“You still owe me some answers,” you remark.

“Mmm… to what?” He’s getting sleepier; the lull in his voice is a clear indication. Warmth blooms across your skin as Grimmjow droops forward and nestles his head into the crook of your shoulder, leaning into you as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

“How about why you ruined my perfectly good night out?” You feel his head turn, breath hot like coals against your neck. A chill shoots down your spine at the slight contact, and you ignore the tingling sensation in your stomach that feels an awful lot like butterflies—millions and millions of them. 

He scowls. “What, you’re that upset over not seeing lover boy again?” His arms tighten around you, “You could’ve had a better night with me. Here. Like this.” 

You draw in a sharp breath as his forehead meets yours. Space is a minuscule concept now as his face hovers mere centimetres from yours. Your mind swims with a torrent of mixed feelings and thoughts. 

“Grimmjow…”

“I’m sorry.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“For what I said. I didn’t mean it—any of it. Swear on my life.” His voice is strained, as if not used to the taste of those words on his tongue. 

You want to believe him, truly. But the emotional, irrational side of you forsakes that possibility. 

You’re nothing special. 

The knife in your heart, previously forgotten, now twists again as you recall his words. For a brief second, you wonder if it would be better to feel nothing at all. To bear an empty chest, much like the hollow hole carved into the Arrancars. Perhaps that’s what you need—to lose your heart and live as they do, void of all sensations that make up human nature. 

“It’s fine, Grimmjow. You don’t… experience things like I do. It’s not your fault I got upset over such a trivial matter,” you sigh. 

He pulls back, something akin to guilt and shock shuttering across his handsome face. “So I did hurt you.”

You swallow, unsure how to face this new vulnerability of his. 

“Tell me how to fix this. How to fix us,” he pleads.

“There is no us,” you say. The distance between you and Grimmjow is practically nonexistent, yet you find yourself unable to face him. 

“Bullshit,” he spits. 

You shake your head, a migraine already forming in its center. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Grimmjow. I can never seem to understand what you want!” Your anger rises with each sentence, but you don’t stop and let the emotion fuel you, “I saw us as friends. Best friends. But then you go and act like I’m nothing to you, only to turn around and get all pissy like a fucking cat marking its territory when I dare spend my night with someone who isn’t you. So for the love of god, what do you want from me?!”

“I want you.”

Your head snaps up. “What?”

“Next to me, in my bed in the morning, in my arms. Wherever I am, whenever it is… I want you with me,” he states plainly. Too casual, acting as if he didn’t just drop the biggest bomb on you, wiping every semblance of your anger away with pure, unbridled shock. 

You ignore your racing pulse and focus on the intensity of his gaze instead. “You don’t believe in romance. You told me that.”

“I didn’t believe in many things before I met you.” He presses a searing kiss to the inside of your palm before leaning into it, your touch a familiar comfort. 

“Like what?”

Heaven. Home. Love, probably.

He grunts. “Secret.”

“That’s not fair,” you tease. The hope rising within you gives way to giddiness and a whole new sensation: relief. 

Grimmjow wants you the same way you want him. Perhaps even more so. 

“What’s not fair is being iced out for a whole day while waiting for you, only to witness that thing wrapped around you like some fucking parasite.”

“He was not a parasite.”

“Looked like one to me. Ugly. Small. Easy to step on.”

“You called me a bug earlier. Doesn’t that mean we’re meant to be?” You’re torturing him at this point. It's incredibly amusing. 

Grimmjow’s eyes darken. Two slits of obsidian that burn with jealousy and something else under the surface. Something even more dangerous. 

“Say that again.”

You only laugh. It is a light sound that eases the tension in both the air and Grimmjow’s shoulders. He’s missed your laugh—craves it more than a drowning man would for air. 

After a few seconds longer, he inevitably feels his lips pull upwards into a crooked smile—a special kind that appears solely in your presence. 

Your giggles falter into a faint smile when you notice Grimmjow smirking at you. He absently draws circles on your hip with his fingers, lazily tracing the curve of your back as you ask: “What exactly are we?”

“Dunno,” he half-mumbles, too preoccupied with snuggling into your neck. 

You let out a soft chuckle as his hair tickles your cheek. “Grimmjow.”

He groans, the sound reverberating against the skin of your collarbone—the place his mouth presses against. ”Does it matter? You’re mine. I’m yours. All I care about.”

“This won’t be easy,” you say. 

“Yeah, well, I signed up for you, which is anything but easy. So don’t worry,” he pulls back slightly so that you’re both face to face. “I know exactly what I’m getting myself into. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You barely register Grimmjow’s words before he leans in and roughly kisses you. 

And it is the best damn kiss of your life. 

[patchworkgargoyle]

i'll miss you more than anyone

Time for some Steddie yearning hours!

1.9k words, rated T for language. Angsty pining with a happy, fluffy ending. Basically unedited because I'm posing this at 1am. Forgive any wonky tenses. Now on ao3!

Title from Something About Us by Daft Punk.

🌒

It took considerable force, but Eddie managed to wedge open the only window in his tiny, shitty apartment with a grunt and a sigh. No matter how much WD-40 he forced into it, the damn thing's determined to stick and squeal. If he didn't know any better Eddie would swear it did this just to annoy him. Stubborn piece of shit. Takes one to know one, he figured.

He let out another sigh. Leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter, he flicked his zippo open and lit a smoke, relishing that first warm draw of acridness with his eyes closed. Robin would snark at him about the fact that his lease specified no smoking, but fuck the landlord. He needed this. Eddie tilted his head back and exhaled, watching the smoke curl out and away into the darkened alley between the buildings.

The day had been… hard, to put it lightly. It was the last day of Steve's visit. He'd come to see Eddie, to explore Seattle, for a whole week. Just the two of them. It'd been so good, even if Eddie's backstabbing heart wouldn't stop hoping that the visit would end up as something more. It was stupid, a useless hope. Stubborn.

They'd meandered around Capitol Hill so Eddie could show off the first place he'd ever felt safe enough to be queer and loud about it, unable to look too long at Steve's expression of relieved pride in him. He let Eddie drag him to a few bars, introduced him to some new friends who welcomed him with open arms and pointed, knowing stares in Eddie's direction. They'd walked along the pier, doing the touristy shit, ate greasy fish and chips wrapped in newspaper and watched seals play and beg for food in the harbour. 

Hell, Eddie even let Steve drag him up to the Space Needle. It was something Eddie had refused to do when he first moved, not wanting to do something so mundane and cliché when he was trying to become a local. But of course as soon as Steve insisted he folded like wet tissue.

Now Eddie knew he'd be cursed with the image of Steve, his hair windswept, gazing out at the city with wide-eyed wonder at the sparkling sprawl of buildings as the sunset painted him in pink and golden hues.

Eddie didn't even bother looking at the city, the ocean. They couldn't ever compare.

Not for the first time that night, Eddie hung his head and rubbed at his eye with the heel of his palm, wishing the image would stop fucking tormenting him. He was so fucking hopeless.

Raising his head again, he took another drag and stared up at the moon. Light pollution blotted out everything but the moon and Venus. It was the one thing he missed about Hawkins (that was a lie, always a lie), seeing the stars appear in the deep, dark blue above like all the gods took a needle to the fabric of the sky. Here, Eddie's only two stellar companions danced around each other every night. Sometimes closer, nearly touching it seemed, other times further away, locked in an eternal game of will-they-won't-they.

Tonight he only saw the lonely moon through the gap in the buildings. A waning crescent that shone bright enough that it lit up the darkness of Eddie's silent kitchen with a silvery glow. It was silly, but he held a tiny wish that Venus wouldn't be too far behind so at least Eddie would be the only lonely sad sack tonight. At least the thought made him chuckle at himself slightly.

Seeing Steve off at the airport that morning felt like Eddie was about to rip himself in two. If it weren't so public, if it weren't so risky, he might've confessed to Steve right then and there in some desperate attempt to get him to stay just a few days, hours, seconds longer. He'd dig his own heart out of his chest and offer it up on a silver platter; anything for the man that carried him out of hell. But Eddie was nothing if not a coward. They'd hugged each other tightly, just shy of too long, and Steve waved goodbye with a bittersweet smile and something shining in his eyes.

Eddie'd had to wait an hour in the airport parking lot before he was stable enough to drive back home.

Thing was, he was so fucking lonely out here. He'd moved to get away from the pitchfork-wielding, grudge-carrying people that never bought the government's cover story, to stop the vitriolic graffiti that had kept getting sprayed on Wayne's new trailer. The kids would get caught up in it too if they were caught hanging around The Freak. Eddie couldn't fucking go anywhere without keeping his head on a swivel, and it was so exhausting. He'd needed to leave. Even if it meant having to leave his family, the only people who knew the real story behind his scars and nightmares–even if it meant leaving Steve. So, it was hard, having Steve–a piece of his home, maybe even his heart–come visit and then leave after just a handful of days. Great days, but still. 

Choking out a bitter laugh, Eddie scrubbed at the tears starting to trail down his cheeks. Stupid, he was so stupid. His throat closed up around another laugh, turning it into a silent sob, a frustrated growl as he begged his stupid heart to just let it fucking go, to stop hurting, stop tantruming pathetically inside his ribcage about a man he could never have.

Just as another sob threatened to claw its way out of his chest, the phone rang. The shrill sound made him jump, nearly dropping his cigarette out the window. Swearing, he reached and pulled it over, answering.

"H'lo?" he rasped.

"Jesus, Munson, you sound rough," Steve's tinny voice replied, amused, "did I wake you up?"

The tightness in Eddie's chest burst into butterflies and he couldn't help but laugh around a sniffle. "Nah man, I was up. Shouldn't you be asleep, though? Isn't it 3am there or something?"

"Yeah, or something. Just got home though."

"Wait, what? The fuck are you calling me for, then?"

Steve chuckled. Christ, it was a great sound, filtered through endless miles of telephone lines though it was. "You told me to call when I got home safe, remember?"

"After you'd slept or something, dude, jesus christ. You didn't have to call at the ass crack of dawn."

"Well I wanted to."

Eddie mentally started stomping out the fresh butterfly swarm fluttering around in his guts. Unfortunately, he couldn't hold back the smile on his lips, wide enough that he knew Steve could hear it in his voice. So he teased, "Wow, Harrington, it's almost like you miss me or something." There was a pause.

"I do."

Sincerity weighed down Steve's words, two syllables dropping into the well of silence left in their wake. Eddie felt the ripples through his whole body, leaving stillness behind.

"Really?" Eddie whispered. He heard Steve inhale shakily and ached to be beside him again, to have him near, pull him close, feel him again.

"Yeah, Eddie. I miss you so much, it– god, it hurts," Steve said with a tiny, heartbreaking laugh.

"Fuck. I– same, Steve, I've been bawling my eyes out since this morning." His words were thick with even more tears threatening to spill but he blinked them back.

"I'm sorry."

Eddie snorted, though regretted it immediately and swiped at his nose with his sleeve. "Why're you apologising?"

"Hate knowing you're hurting too."

"Can't be helped, I'm afraid," Eddie sighed, then added quietly, nervously, "not like you could stay."

Speaking just as quietly, Steve said, "Maybe… maybe I could."

"Huh?"

"I've just, I've been thinking," Steve started, gathering steam, "for a while now but also on the flights home. It sucks that you're out there by yourself. And the kids are all graduated and leaving, and Robin and Nancy are planning on moving, and-"

Eddie's unable to help it, interrupting Steve's rambling that he definitely picked up from Robin, but he can't hold it back, hope forcing the words out. "Stevie, are you saying–?"

"UW accepted my application," Steve said. "I could move out there, get my teaching degree."

"Why?" 

The question hung in the air, all of Eddie's breathless wishes clinging to it. Steve took a steadying breath on the other end of the line.

"I have feelings for you Eddie. Might be kind of in love with you, and I really don't think it's one-sided. Should've told you at the airport."

"How did you know?" 

Chuckling, Steve said, "You're not subtle, but when I said the view from the Space Needle was beautiful, you agreed even though you never took your eyes off me."

"I wanted to tell you," Eddie said in a rush, heart in his throat, "all fucking week. I'm kind of in love with you too."

Steve laughed, full and warm, and Eddie might've collapsed with relief if he weren't leaning on the counter still. "We're idiots, huh?" Steve asked.

"Massive idiots. Complete morons. Absolute buffoons. You're telling me that we could've been kissing all week if one of us had just gotten the balls to confess?"

"Well, maybe more than just kissing." Steve's voice dropped suggestively and Eddie grinned at the bloom of desire that grew in his chest.

"A gentleman never assumes, big boy, but good to know."

A yawn echoed through the phone and the heat Eddie felt morphed into depthless fondness. "You should go sleep, Stevie."

"Probably. Gonna be wrecked for my shift tomorrow." He sighed softly. "Worth it, though."

"Worth having to pry your eyelids open while Marge berates you for letting her kid watch movies her husband rented?"

Steve snorted. "Yeah. Worth packing my bags and running off to the coast, too."

"Christ." Shaking a little, Eddie asked, "Are you sure?"

"Never been more sure of anything." He yawned again, hard enough Eddie could hear the receiver shudder in his hand. "I wanna keep talking to you but I'm dead on my feet. Can I call you tomorrow? Please?"

"You don't have to ask, sweetheart," Eddie said, pouring his fondness into every word to make up for the fact that he couldn't be there to see Steve's gorgeous, sleepy face, to fall into bed with him and wrap him in his arms. "Hell, call me when you wake up, before you go to work. You gotta tell me how your flights went anyway."

"Uhg, right. Ask me about the lady who scoffed at me reading The Hobbit."

He scoffed. "She dares to look down upon one of the great works of literature? I don't know her but she has made a mortal enemy on this day." The tired giggle Eddie heard made him smile so wide it almost hurt.

"You're so dramatic."

"You love it."

With a contented sigh, Steve said, "Yeah, I do." Another yawn, loud this time, and Steve continued, "Good night, Eddie. I'll call tomorrow. I miss you."

"Can't wait. Miss you too, Stevie."

Eddie hung up, the receiver settling in with a click. It felt like his body was made of bubbles, or fireworks. He almost couldn't believe it, that his hopes actually came true. Steve loves him, wants to move to Seattle for him. What!?

He let out a long, loud whoop that echoed in the alleyway. A distant neighbour yelled at him to shut the fuck up, but Eddie couldn't care less. He loved Steve, who loved him back.

Grinning, he looked up at the sky again. The moon had moved on, but there, creeping over the roof of the apartments next door, Venus finally made an appearance. Laye, but still there, still following. A beautiful, shining pinprick of light, trailing in the moon's wake.

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