#yeah you gotta tag all that shit or else nobody sees it

[rubsjuice]

Hold Onto A Motherfucker - Homestuck Fanfiction

(Click here to read on ao3)

[arachine]

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა ... i'd follow you anywhere .ᐟ

ᥫ᭡ pairing :: neteyam sully x avatar! reader

ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature

ᥫ᭡ synopsis :: in which reader uses her new avatar body to finally show neteyam just how much she loves him… + based off of this thirst!

ᥫ᭡ general tags :: 18+ (explicit sexual content, explicit language), minimal angst (?), lots of fluff and banter lol

ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: characters aged up to 20, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing, dacryphilia (v tame), corruption

ᥫ᭡ word count :: 2.5k

ᥫ᭡ note :: guys this is what happens when i ask for thirsts!!! i get carried away and never know when to stop ;(( anyway, here, have this while i work on my annual dick analysis for jake & quaritch.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Shh, you’ll see, kitty boy,” you giggled, tightening your grip on his wrist.

Neteyam shakes his head, tongue in cheek. He could never say no to you—not that he wanted to…he always wanted to play with you. He’d follow you into the depths of hell, or whatever the na’vi equivalent of hell was. Yeah, he’d follow you there, he thinks—definitely.  

The boy relinquishes all of his motor skills to you, allowing you to drag his body further into the forest. He mirrors all of your agile movements, jumping when you jump, running when you run—and then you come to a halt, turning around quickly to face him. You’re so close—too close, the sudden proximity disrupting his equilibrium.

“Don’t go falling for me now,” you grab his forearm before he can fall, pulling him back up with a wink. He scoffs at this, mumbling something sly under his breath. You were always so quick-witted, with quick reflexes to match, too. To anyone else, this would be annoying, but to him, they were your most admirable traits. It’s what made him fall for you.

“Ha, ha, can you tell me what we are doing all the way out here now?” he raises his hands, gesturing to the clearing that you were now standing in. You smile wildly, pursing your lips together in avoidance. The boy reaches behind you to pull your tail, tickling your sides until you surrender.

“Okay, okay, just s-stop it already,” you belt out, “I wanna show you somethin’…gotta be nice to get it, though.” He retracts his hands, letting them fall slowly to his sides. Just what were you planning?

Grabbing his hand this time, you usher him to follow you with a tilt of your head. You lead him to a tree surrounded by shrubbery, a spot that, up until now, only you were privy to its whereabouts. The perfect place for privacy.

Letting go of his hand, you push him down to sit on the forest floor, with his back resting against the bark of the tree and you nestled between his legs. His pulse quickens. What was so important that you needed to drag him so deep into the forest? In such a secluded place, nonetheless. 

“I’ve been wanting to try this with you for a while,” you start, voice so low, just barely above a whisper. His eyes squint in confusion, but he remains silent—listening, as to not scare you from continuing. 

“You know, growing up in a shack with grown men…you hear a lot of things,” a silence, “things only men talk about.” Your eyes flitter to his, unmoving. 

“like, the things they missed doing on Earth, the girls they miss fucking—and what they’d do to have a woman’s lips wrapped their cocks…” The last bit comes out more hushed, gently kissing the shell of his ears. His tail reacts to you before he can, swishing in jagged movements, exposing his excitement. 

“Has anyone ever kissed you down there?” your eyes flit to his groin. 

He shakes his head eagerly, “No, I have n-never heard of this…nobody has ever…”

“Can I?” you tilt your head, flashing him your best doe-eyes. It was fun teasing him, a feeling that you’d never grow tired of. From first glance, to first introduction, you’d been bound at the hip since you could talk. Everything he did, you did, and vice versa. If you were feeling sick one day and couldn’t play, then shit, he was too. If you wanted to jump off a cliff one day, he’s jumping with you!

His loyalty to you was unyielding, grounding. And as the years passed, and the two of you transitioned from bright-eyed little kids to gangly, awkward teens on the cusp of adulthood, you started to realize something. That you wanted to be all of his firsts. 

Determinedly, you set out to do just that. On his thirteenth birthday, you kissed his cheek. A scintilla of your love, stained onto the expanse of his face that served as a mental reminder that this boy was yours—promised to you, and only you. 

Then, three more years passed. The boy with the rounded cheeks and toothy smile, had begun to change. It started out slow, though, then the differences became more gradual. 

The first to change was his face. What was once round and doughy, had now become slim and sharp. And then it was his physique. No longer was he the awkward child with gangly limbs, and a head too big for his body (as you liked to put it). No, he was much more…different. And each and every one of these changes, a testament to his inevitable journey into adulthood. 

On his sixteenth birthday, you kissed him. Once. But in that one kiss, you poured every ounce of love that you’d collected over the years. Every thought, every wish, every yearn, went right into that kiss—another piece of your heart that you carved just for him.  For him to have and hold, to keep safe. 

And when it was over, you pulled away with a smile, and a dagger of a tongue dipped in poison, ready to deliver heartbreak. 

You’re a man now, you uttered. I wanted to give my best friend his first kiss. And that was it, that was all it was ever going to be—because you were human, then. Still a weak, measly, little human who spent all her time living in a false reality, chasing something (someone) that could never really truly be promised to you. Not until you made the change.  

So, you waited. And…waited, and waited, and waited until one day you could meet his eye without having to look up, or for him to drop down. You waited until the day when you’d be recognized as his equal. 

Today was that day, on his twentieth birthday. And so you ask again. 

“Can I kiss you down here?” 

He nods. Once, twice, then stutters out an eager yes. Gently you smooth your palm up and over his knee, the skin of his thighs, and then stop beneath the fabric of his loin cloth. Your fingers trace the area teasingly, and you giggle when his hip juts up from the sensation. So sensitive. 

Slowly, you remove the cloth from his body, and take him into your hand. He’s semi-hard and leaking pre—and warm. So, so warm. You bring it up to your cheek, rubbing it against the area before turning your head to leave a zephyr-light kiss on his shaft. You kiss it once, then twice, then kiss it again for every year you spent not kissing him. 

“What are you doing?” he laughs, “Come on, it tick—hahhh.” A whine vacates from his throat upon you licking a long stripe from the base of his shaft, to the tip of his head. Naturally, his hands find solace atop of your head. 

“So dramatic, I didn’t even do anything yet.” This time, you take him into your mouth, forcing him to watch you as more and more of his length disappears into the cavern of your mouth. 

Technically, you’d never done this before (save for the few times you practiced on fruit) so it was your first time, just as much as it was his. But he didn’t have to know that. You wanted to appear like you knew what you were doing, or at the very least, like you’d done this before. You try to remember all the things you’ve heard over the years.

1) Girls who used teeth were bad, but girls who flattened their tongues and relaxed their throats were good. 

2) Girls who didn’t use spit sucked, but girls who got really messy were good fucks. 

3) Girls who didn’t play with balls were lazy, but girls who did knew how to have fun.

So, you use an amalgamation of all of the tips that you garnered. You flatten your tongue, ease your throat so that you can take him farther, until the head of his cock hits your uvula. 

“Shhit, mmf,” he breathes, attempting to stifle a moan by digging a hand into the forest soil. Immediately, you grab his hand and place it back onto your head, pulling off of him with a wet pop.

“Keep ‘em here,” your hand fists his length, “want you to use me. Wanna make you feel good, ‘kay?” His dick twitches in your hold, because fuck, the sight before him is almost too much for him to handle. 

You, before him on your knees, with your dainty hand wrapped around him, and your face wet with drool. And you want him to what? Use you? To make him feel…good? God, if he didn’t know any better, he’d think this was Eywa playing tricks on his mind. Giving him a taste of euphoria before yanking him back to reality. 

He has half a mind to pinch himself, and half mind to poke you, because there’s just no way this is real. Bullshit. But then you’re sinking back down onto him, and swirling your tongue around his head, and using your hands to massage his balls, and—

“Fuck,” his hands reflexively push you down onto his length. His body shivers when the tip of your nose makes contact with his pelvis. You’re so warm, and wet, so inviting, he can’t seem to let go. He keeps you there until you physically can’t fathom it, and pull off of him in search of air. 

“That felt…nice,” he says bashfully, “can you do that again?” You nod eagerly, accumulating a generous amount of spit in your mouth to use as a salve, lathering it up and down the length of him before he guides you back to his awaiting cock. 

He watches intently as your lips stretch to accommodate him again. Now his hands, which are tangled in your tresses, are moving more confidently. They push and pull you, maneuvering your head gently and at a steady pace, then gradually, they increase their speed. 

Neteyam does this a few times and then allows you to take the reins. When you’re ready, you take a deep inhale through your nose, and push yourself down until you feel the weight of him hit the back of your throat. The first time was a bit easier, mostly because your jaw wasn’t as fatigued as it was now, but you persevere anyway. 

Inhale, exhale. A mantra that you have to repeat to yourself to distract you from the urge to gag. You try your best to keep your jaw relaxed and your throat open by digging your nails into the fat of his thighs. 

When you look up at him, there’s an elated expression molded onto his face. His head is thrown back against the tree, hair strewn about with tendrils sticking to his forehead, and his eyes are shut closed. 

He looks…so beautiful. That’s when you feel a tear ribbon down your face and onto his thigh. You’re unsure if it’s because of the air steadily leaving your brain, or if it’s because of how pretty he looks right now—all sweaty, slick with your drool.

You settle on the former. It had to be the air. Eventually, your lungs give out and you have to take a breather. The sudden loss of warmth forces his eyes open, and then they fall on your face. Your eyes. Doe-eyed and clouded. Cheeks stained with tears. 

“Pretty.” Is all he says, bringing up a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You work him the rest of the way with the iota of energy you have left, concentrating on the head of his cock while your hand fists him to climax. 

His abs begin to tremble and flex when you switch between hollowing your cheeks and massaging his balls. A visual indication that he was close to coming. 

“Waitwaitwait, it feels like,” he’s panicked, trying to push you away. You dodge his attempts to remove you and continue your assault, only this time, you gently apply pressure to his perineum. Unceremoniously, he pushes your head down to the hilt and you moan around him from the force. 

The vibrations from your throat makes his head feel all fuzzy. He’s so close, on the precipice of euphoria. And your hands—that are still situated on his thighs—rub the expanse of them reassuringly, coaxing him to finish right on your tongue. 

With a final lazy piston, he comes into your mouth, and the warm, salty seed that you’d been anticipating leaks down the column on your throat. Moans tumble from his lips, along with hushed expletives, and he’s shaking. The cords of muscle beneath your palm tense and flex before regressing to their natural, relaxed state. 

You remove your mouth promptly and rise to your haunches, making sure that his eyes are locked onto yours as you stick out your tongue to show him his seed. 

“No, do not swallow that, I didn’t mea—“ Disobeying his wishes, you do it anyway. Swallowing it all all down and making it a point that you did so by sticking your tongue out again. His tail flicks in response, eyes wide in disbelief. 

“Why did you do that? It’s dirty,” he caresses your cheek, wiping away the leftover spent from your mouth. 

“‘Cause I wanted to…” You counter. “And it’s not dirty, you tasted good.” 

Neteyam rolls his eyes at this, like him tasting good is too hard for him to believe. 

“Don’t believe me? Here, try it.” And then you give him the gift that you had gifted to him all those years ago. A kiss. It’s equal parts sweet and needy, different from the first time it happened, but that’s because it was supposed to be. You wanted him to know exactly what you meant. No more waiting. No more pining. 

When you draw back, breathless and dizzy, he’s still stuck in a stupor. Lips jutted out and waiting for you to kiss him again. Again, again, again. He opens his eyes, and sees you staring back at him. 

“See, I told yo—“ He takes a fist full of your hair and connects his lips to yours. This is him returning the gift. Letting you know that he got the message, loud and clear, and that it was reciprocated. Every ounce of love that flows through his heart is poured into your own; he hopes you can feel it. 

“I told you not to fall for me,” you whisper, looking up at him with an avian flutter of your lashes. Neteyam’s hands find solace on the sides of your cheeks, and then he speaks.

“I think I fell for you a long time ago.” Warmth washes over you, his sweet words and strong hands overriding all of your cognitive functions. Specifically, the one in charge of keeping you calm and collected. 

“Good, ‘cause I think you’re gonna fall for me a lot harder when you see what I have planned for you later.”

“What’s later?”

“Shh, what fun would it be if I told the birthday boy the surprise?” You grin cheekily, unaware of the way your tail swishes from side to side as you say it. Neteyam knows you’re up to no good, but he doesn’t care. He’d follow you anywhere, after all. 

© arachine 2023

[wonysugar]

need sugarmommy wonyyyy

i need her too anon, i need ha tew..

okay but genuinely talking,, sugarmommy wonyoung would be so elegant? the rich, cold, collected and intimidating classy ceo that everyone knows and admires? yeah, that’s her. her name, jang wonyoung, would ring in your ears everytime you heard it. you’d grin just from spelling it out in your own head.

but that’s just because you admired her for other reasons.

the way you met her was truly unexpected but so very welcome though, you created an account on some local sugarmommy finding app that liz showed you a girlie’s gotta get her bag somehow. it was fairly average from the start, couple of matches here and there, but nothing really clicked.

that is, until you matched with her, of course.

you already knew who she was beforehand, which kinda made you wonder if this was the real deal? her texting habits made it clear to you, however, this was really her. she was just so eloquent with her words, so.. assertive? you felt hypnotized by simple pixels on your cellphone’s screen, your eyes slightly widening as she called you fancy nicknames like darling and sweetheart during casual conversation. she was so persuasive, you just wanted her to take complete control of your life from the get-go.

and to nobody’s surprise, that feeling just grew stronger each time you went out with her.

she’d always walk into the restaurants, expensive handbags and rings in hand, all because “coming empty-handed to a date would simply be ill-mannered of her”. hell, wonyoung even asked you which country you wanted to visit so she knew where to fly her private jet to next. she spoiled you rotten, really, and she didn’t even ask anything of you for the first few dates, and remained patient and attentive with you. she simply wanted to make you happy.

up until around 5 dates later.

she finally offered to bring you back to her mansion, after confessing that she secretly bought some lingerie she thought would suit you, and that she’d just love to see you try it on for her. yknow, a silly excuse to get you to see how big her house was.

you later figured out that her house wasn’t the only thing that was big!

this woman surprisingly had the most kinky objects in her possession, handcuffs, flogs, ropes, you name it. christian grey style, if you will. wonyoung, so composed and charming when it came to important meetings, yet so animalistic and rough when it came to sex. of course, she started slowly, asking you if you were ready for what was about happen, letting you know of a safe word, etc.

once that was done, she immediately got to work. planting rough kisses all over your body, muttering about how you were her pretty little thing and how nobody else could have you. you were hers, and she made sure to let you know of that.

i mean, you understood that pretty quickly when she roughly pounded your cunt with her probably-expensive-as-shit strap on. you didn’t even know rich people had those, and she didn’t even care if it hurt you. she wanted to fuck you good, and that’s what was bound to happen. her fingers rubbed on your throbbing clit insanely well, you could tell she had an insane amount of experience from the way she leaned into your ear and whispered praises into it. she’d treat you with unlimited amounts of respect anywhere else, but definitely not when she’s in her giant bedroom, stretching you out<33

oh and also, can we please talk about how stern this woman would be? you’d be begging, pleading her to go slower and she’d say something like “i don’t remember telling you that you could speak, love.” LIKE OU?? yes ma’am i am silent

or even in your day to day life?? bringing you to some expensive ass store that sells dresses with price tags that look like they could pass as math equations, you’d try and convince her that it’s too much and that she could you always buy you something cheaper elsewhere and her just shutting you down immediately going “nono, pick one, y/n, i absolutely insist.” like FUCKCK??

[consolecadet]

I was really not prepared to participate in an art show! I didn't have a bad time, I just had no idea what to expect, and also should have worn much more comfortable shoes.

I got there right on time for the members-only hour, earlier than almost anyone else. They gave me a name tag with a photo of my painting printed in the background. While it was still quiet, multiple members of the art org's staff pulled me aside to introduce themselves and...tell me what they thought of my painting, basically? Got some comments like "A lot of us really liked it" (great), "It might make some people uncomfortable, but it's memorable and intense and that's what makes art valuable" (thanks), "I know it's trite to say this but it is very visceral" (yeah!), and "the teens were in here the other day to judge the youth committee prize and you got a lot of sticky notes next to yours" (cool). I was mostly kind of uncomfortable, but I can see how this sort of thing could quickly become a person's personal cocaine.

An upbeat local media producer with deep mauve eye bags interviewed me and the artist whose painting was next to mine (she had painted a beautiful, slightly abstracted forest landscape of Falmouth, Maine). This was the part I was really unprepared for! Fortunately I've had to explain the painting to people a few times, since I worked on it during Open Hacks around other people...but this was a much artier crowd, and despite technically knowing how, I really don't want to talk about it like "I'm juxtaposing familiar objects with a transgressive concept to blah blah blah etc". He was like "man, my insurance won't approve shit, we gotta nationalize healthcare" which, so right.

The gallery quickly got extremely crowded and, because the sun was blasting in through the enormous picture windows, extremely hot. I wandered around looking at everything. My favorite works were "All Bagged Up", a 3d wall piece of pink expanding foam with bags of candy and toys tacked to it, "Self-Discipline #23", a pair of charcoal self-portraits of the artist wearing a bondage mask, and "Resilience", an mixed media painting with mesmerizing swirls of green and blue iridescent paint.

I had to take some daily meds at 6 and -- I swear this was not on purpose -- spilled all the fucking pills from my pill-shaped pill case onto the floor. On brand, I guess?

KC came partway through and brought me a big bundle of sweet-smelling lilacs from his workplace's backyard. <3

I met someone who recognized me from a FB group I'm in for fat people in the Boston area. She'd painted a self-portrait of her squeezing her waist extremely tightly with a leather belt. She asked to hang out (!) and followed me on Instagram. I followed her back. She has 25k followers and I'm a little intimidated.

Several people found me to say they found my painting relatable, which was nice. One woman told me about her chronic pain and told me, sounding a bit constricted in her throat, that she wished more people would talk about and make art about this stuff. I am really used to people oversharing about very personal topics in the tags on my posts, but it's another thing entirely to experience someone's response to your thoughts or art IRL. Unlike Tumblr, though, nobody said anything unkind to my face!

My feet got so sore. I was so sweaty. I got an honorable mention from the Youth Committee of tweens and teens. Fat positive belt lady got the Youth Committee prize. We...hugged about it?

I felt somewhat out of my depth -- some of the artists priced a lot higher than I would be comfortable charging, some of the art was much more technically advanced than mine, and some of the artists' statements were much more, uh, Art School. I feel I did not schmooze very effectively. But I would try doing this again!

[kitausuret]

21, 22 and 25 for the fandom asks!

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

Spider-Man: Blue, but MOSTLY because people see it more as "the proper interpretation and take on things that happened in the 60s/early 70s comics and bringing it into the modern era" (which it's not) instead of "Peter Parker is an unreliable narrator and he's recounting HIS take on these past events and waxing somewhat nostalgically, mostly sadly about it" (which it is). Am I extremely glad I finally read it? Of course! It gave me like five whole HarryFlash moments. But I get annoyed by some interpretations of it.

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

Well it's not my favorite part but almost all the Venom fans I know hate the breakup era (SSM (2003) #1-5 through... uh... ......Venom (2016) lol... or at least through the whole Mac Gargan era) but the truth is I have a lot of weird affection for it. Was a lot of it badly written? Yes! Does it make a lot of sense? No! But Spidey comics are about relationship drama and guess what! Venom is a Spider-Man character. Everyone's gotta have an extended breakup at some point.

Besides, the Mac era is fun! It doesn't do anyone involved any justice, but he's kinda pathetic as Venom and it amuses me. Give that man back his green suit.

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

"nobody is writing-" write it yourself. I know you don't wanna hear that, but especially in the world of fan creation where we don't get paid to do shit, you really just have to write what you want to see in the world.

⬆️ this is the first symbiot3 fic published on Ao3. You see that username? Yeah. But look where we're at now, five years later:

And this? This is my works page only.

That's over a third of the fics in the tag. You really need to either write the stuff yourself OR find some friends that you can give brainworms to about what you wanna see and they might actually like, write it just because they love you. Or to spite you. Or a little of both!

I don't draw in a way that makes me happy, so that means if I wanna see one of my rare ships, I either have to (a) get lucky that one of my friends will draw it or (b) commission it done. But I always find a way to be able to see the content I want in the world. It's lonely sometimes but that's why ultimately you gotta create things for yourself first and foremost.

[hoffmannwrites]

On My List

1  - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 + 1 Masterlist

Author’s Note:

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Description: 5 Times Steve and Eddie kiss as friends, and one time they don't.

Warnings/Tags: Everyone lives, Nobody dies, 5+1, Kissing, Fluff, Idiots to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, some pretty brief mentions for drinking, smoking, musical theater (yes, that gets it's own warning), uhhh they're gay your honor, no beta we die like Barb, let me know if I missed anything?

Suddenly, Seymour

By the time their 4th kiss rolls around, Steve is starting to think that maybe he hallucinated the whole fucking thing. Eddie hasn’t made a single move or mentioned any of the kisses at all to Steve since NYE. Even Robin had gone from “Oh my god, he’s totally into you” to “well, you know how Eddie is. He loves to cause chaos.”  Eddie and Steve still see each other regularly, usually at least once a week on their own volition and a couple times in between while driving around the children. And in the almost month that had past, not once has Eddie even hinted at anything happening between them.

So, Steve did what he did best and pushed it all down and focused on anything else other than the metal head. This focus included helping Dustin audition for the school musical, Little Shop of Horrors.  Steve didn’t know much about acting and his singing knowledge was limited to what he learned as a kid in church choir, but he was very good at critiquing Dustin. Steve even watched the movie with Rick Moranis and everything so he knew what was going on in the musical and how it should feel (and totally not because he thought Steve Martin looked kinda hot in the leather jacket with the motorcycle even if he was a piece of shit).

Dustin was auditioning for the lead, Seymour. Part of the audition was having to do a duet with someone auditioning for Audrey, and kissing her at the end of the song. Dustin was really good at every other thing he had to do for this role, but the idea of kissing someone random on stage in front of the whole town was really freaking him out. (Sure, cannibalism and murder was fine, but god forbid there was PDA). Of course, Steve became his personal director for this particular issue, as the ex-ladies man was very familiar with kissing practical strangers in public.

“Listen, you just gotta think about Suzie,” he advised.

“You want me to think about my girlfriend while kissing another girl?” Dustin questioned, looking at Steve like he has 5 heads.

“No that’s not what I-“, Steve started. He sat down on the couch next to the now Sophomore. “Look. This whole song is about realizing you’re in love, right? It’s about finally getting the girl. It’s about finally realizing that the person who’s been by your side this whole time, who’s had your back since day one, who’s never hurt you is the love of your life. And you’re finally ready to see that, to admit it,” Steve explains. “Not only are you falling in love with your best friend, but you have this feeling of-of hope. There’s a weight off your shoulders and everything just might work out in your favor. And that’s how you feel about Suzie, right? Like it’s all gonna be okay when you look at her?” Dustin nods in response and Steve continues. “So you gotta take all that- all that love and light and- and hope and put it into this song, and the kiss. It’s not about kissing someone on stage, it’s about making the audience feel that joy that your character is feeling.”

“Wow, Harrington. I didn’t know you were such a fuckin’ sap.” Eddie’s voice rings out from the doorframe of Dustin’s bedroom, scaring the ever living shit out of the other two boys. “Jesus Christ, Eddie, you can’t just sneak up on people like that,” Dustin scolds.

Eddie puts his hands up in defense “Sorry, sorry. Stevie was on a roll, there. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Yeah, he was. I just still don’t get how I’m supposed to kiss someone that I’m not into without it being weird or at least looking weird, ya know?” It’s Eddie’s turn to offer some advice, now.

“Oh, Dustybun, it’s way easier than it sounds. Isn’t that the whole point of acting? You do it every week at Hellfire, this is just like that. You’re woo-ing the fair maiden to get access to the castle and it’s armory. Except, instead of rolling a D20 and convincing me, it’s an audience that actually wants you to win.”

And Dustin thinks about that for a minute, because yeah he does have to “act” in Hellfire every week and there have been a few times where his character has had to flirt his way out of some sticky situations. But he still has his reservations. “If it’s so easy, why don’t you guys do it?” He says to his mentors,  not wanting to admit they were right so easily.

“Fine,” Steve almost snaps before Eddie has the chance to make some sarcastic come back. The metal head looks over at Steve, a little wide-eyed, but before he can protest, Steve is talking again. “I’m no singer, but I’ll do my best. You know the song?” He asks Eddie. 

“Uh, yeah kind of,” he croaks out, too caught off guard to really say anything else.

“Alright. We’ll start with the last chorus. You okay taking Audrey?” Eddie nods his head as Steve hands him a lyric sheet, still a little stunned at everything that’s happening. Man, he just came to pick up some Hellfire notes Dustin had for him. And now here he was, standing in Dustin’s bedroom, singing a fucking love song with Steve Harrington. Shit, he wasn’t even a soprano, he can’t hit these notes! Eddie clears his throat and starts singing, albeit taking it down an octave. Steve is right there with him, singing the back up vocals with surprising emotion. Holy shit, Harrington can sing. Holy shit, can Harrington act? There’s no time to really dwell on the revelation right now, because Eddie realizes he should probably be acting too. Only he doesn’t really have to act like he loves Steve because he does, oh god, he does. Has been since he watched that idiot jump into a lake that was also an inter-dimensional portal with zero hesitation.

So they’re singing to each other, standing face to face but far enough apart that it’s not, like, weird or anything. And then it is weird, it’s so so weird because they’re on the last bit of the song and Steve has moved in closer to Eddie and is looking at him like he did right after Eddie kissed him on New Years. By the third “sweet understanding”, Steve grabs both of Eddie’s hands and steps in really close now, so much that they’re singing the last line directly to each other, staring each other in the eyes. And when that last note wraps up, where there should be some orchestral music and applause from an auditorium filled with people, Steve moves his hands to around Eddie’s waist and kisses him like they do in all those sappy movies. Steve’s hand are everywhere and Eddie feels like he’s being completely held together by the younger man, like every piece of him will shatter the second he lets go. And they kiss, chaste and unmoving, waiting for the fake applause to die down and the stage lights to fade to black so the next scene can start. But they break apart and Steve turns to Dustin and raises his eyebrows looking for approval, like he didn’t just melt the metal heads brain.

“Woah.” Dustin is kind of flabbergasted by the display he just saw. “Why didn’t you guys do the plays in school? That was super convincing. Like, so good.”

Steve smiles, all teeth, beaming and proud. “Yeah, well, we were busy. With sports. And, uh,” he gestures vaguely to Eddie, “and drugs.” Eddie has regained enough brain function at this point to shrug in agreement with the last statement, but he’s wondering if Steve’s really that good of an actor or if there’s something else there. No, probably just wishful thinking. But as Dustin gets up to find the papers Eddie came for and Steve offers them both a rushed goodbye as he realizes he’s late for his shift, Eddie can’t help but remember that this is the fourth time Steve’s mouth has been on his. 

A/N:

Idk shit about fuck about D&D. I've been trying to get someone to teach me or let me join them or anything and I simply cannot. If I am using the wrong die for this hypothetical situation in my fictional non-canon story about fictional people in a fantasy horror show, I'm sorry. This isn't Um, Actually, okay? I'm just guessing.

I also know nothing about the licensing process for school musicals, but the Little Shop movie came out in ‘86 and I love the idea of a fanatic drama teacher making it the musical. And Dustin would love it because it’s about a giant plant who eats people because it’s an alien. I also haven’t seen the full musical (not the movie, they’re different) since I was like 7 so please pardon me if they don’t actually kiss during Suddenly, Seymour. 

[indecentpause]

Find the Word

jumping on an open tag from @idreamonpaper! thank!

the words are stumble, grip, pride and trace!

from The Black & Blues

stumble:

You get lost in the music. You could be playing for hours, but you know you’re not, because the song is barely two minutes long. When you’re done, you let the strings thrum to a stop underneath your palm, and you look when you and Danny lock eyes, he looks absolutely in awe, like you just did something special.

“Like… like I said,” you stumble. “It’s a work in progress. It needs fine tuning. It’s–”

“It’s awesome,” Danny grins. “Holy shit, Meara, that’s the first thing you’ve ever written on your own, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” You grin back. Your face flushes a little at the praise.

“Dude, that gives me some ideas. Here,” he says, and he plugs in his bass and picks at it for a few minutes as he works out the accompaniment in his head. Eventually, he looks back up at you and says, “Okay, I think I’ve got it. Play it again?”

grip:

Josselin throws his arms around you and buries his face in your shoulder. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you. I don’t–”

“You don’t have to worry about it.” You wrap your arms back around him, one hand, gentle, at the back of his head. “Nothing did happen. Everyone’s okay, okay? He was all talk. You saw how easy he folded. They’re almost always all talk.”

“But what about when they aren’t?”

“Then you knock ‘em to the ground and get the hell out of there.”

Josselin’s hands grip tighter to your shirt. “Meara, I mean it.”

“So do I,” you say gently. “If you can get yourself inside almost any business, they’re not gonna be dumb enough to follow you. The store will have a landline you can use to call someone.”

He nods, sniffles, face still buried in your chest.

“We’re okay, okay? Everything’s okay.”

pride:

You bring it up again at your next after practice meeting: “Guys, I want to cover a Pansy Division song.”

Their reaction is much the same as Danny’s. Everyone looks at each other like they’re not quite sure who you are. “Are you sure?” Kris asks.

Your hands itch for your guitar, to give them something to do while you talk. “Yeah. It doesn’t have to be one of their really racy ones. It could be a tame one. Like Fem in a Black Leather Jacket or Vicious Beauty. I’m open to covering other bands, too. But I want to do one that’s explicitly queer.”

Josephine and Morgan share a nervous look. They’re out to the rest of the band now, but nobody else.

“Meara, I respect that,” Josephine says, “but. Like, if my parents come across our page and figure me out, I’m really, really screwed.”

“We don’t have to record it. We can just do it live. Just once. Just to see the reaction.”

“You want to write a whole cover arrangement for a song we’ll only play once?” Sara asks skeptically.

“You know what I mean,” you say. “Just for special occasions. Gay bars. Pride concerts. Stuff like that.”

trace line:

As she digs through it, she says, “You two are idiots so I’m just gonna spell it out. Josselin and I are in an open relationship, Josselin is bi, he thinks you’re really cute and talented, and I’ve been trying to get one of you to ask the other on a date for like. A half hour.”

“Frankie!” Josselin squeaks. If your face weren’t already red and ruddy from the cold, your blush would be doing it for you.

“W-what?” you ask.

She finds what she’s looking for and pulls out a card. She hands it to you and says, “I don’t have a pen. Here’s his business card. E-mail him and swap phone numbers. You idiots.” She takes Josselin’s arm and says, “We’ve gotta catch our train so we can get to our bus. But e-mail him!”

He smiles at you, and as she tugs him away, he finally says, “I would really like to hear from you.”

You stand there, dumbstruck, as they start walking in the direction of the blue line. When they reach the corner, Josselin and Frankie turn around and wave, and then they’re gone.

For a few long moments, you stare at the empty corner, until Danny gently bumps his shoulder against yours.

“You’re gonna e-mail him, right?” he asks.

And it feels stupid to say anything other than, “Yeah.”

tagging @kaiusvnoir @winterandwords @authoralexharvey @vcaudley @magic-is-something-we-create and anyone else who wants to to find the words green, old, heal, and spray!

[starlostjimin]

Title: spring for the first time Chapter 2/? WC: ~1800 Chapter Rating: T Fandom: Stray Kids Pairing: Han Jisung/Lee Minho Fic Summary: The day before Jisung's thirtieth birthday, Hyunjin tells him an old wives' tale about people who are virgins when they turn thirty. A shy accountant just trying to make it through life, Jisung brushes him off.

Until he wakes up the next day and hears things he definitely shouldn't be able to.

Or: Cherry Magic: Thirty Years of Virginity Can Make You a Wizard!....but make it minsung Tags/warnings: feelings of internal shame about virginity, societal pressure, gay awakening, assumed heterosexuality (joke's on them), magic, mind reading, innuendo, mythology (or is it?), best friend!hyunjin, workplace au, light urban fantasy au, i guess, fluff, mild alcohol consumption, possible smut later in the fic i haven't decided yet, currently SFW

prev chapter

Jisung was losing it. 

There was no other explanation. There was just no way he was hearing people’s thoughts, no matter what Hyunjin had joked about yesterday. But while there was a chance, however slim, that he might have mistaken Minho’s voice for someone else’s, the food truck guy was another story. Not only was there nobody else around at the time, but like the man pointed out, they saw each other every single morning and had for months. There was no way Jisung heard anyone else’s voice, and there was no way the kind old man would have said something like that aloud. But mind reading wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. 

“Jisung?” the voice behind him sounded mildly concerned as Jisung snapped out of the swirl of thoughts attempting to overtake him. He spun his chair around and forced a smile. 

“Hey, Seungmin. What’s up?” 

“Dude…you good? You’ve been using your desk as a drum kit all day. And uh, no offense or anything, but don’t quit your day job.” 

Jisung scratched at the back of his neck as he felt his cheeks heat up. “Sorry. No plans to quit, don’t worry. Just kinda fidgety today. I didn’t sleep all that well last night.” He let out a sigh of relief when Seungmin nodded, seeming to accept the lie. 

“My mom uses something to help her sleep. Some herb or something. Want me to ask her about it?” Seungmin said. 

“God, no. I’m not that old,” Jisung said with a laugh. “Aren’t we the same age?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it. It’s your birthday today, right?” 

Jisung shuddered. “Unfortunately.” 

“Then you’re older than me, because my birthday is later this month.” Seungmin beamed at him and Jisung fought the urge to kick his coworker in the kneecaps. 

“Aaaaand conversation over,” he opted to say instead, turning his chair back towards his computer. He stared at the account file he was supposed to be analyzing for discrepancies until he felt Seungmin’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Seungmin, I thought you wanted to focus on work,” he said irritably. 

I need to know if you have a freaking date yet. It’s about time. 

“Just wondering if you have any fun birthday plans,” Seungmin mused. 

Shit. He’d definitely heard both those sentences, with extremely different tones. Jisung scooted his chair closer to his desk and twisted his body towards his friend, hoping to shake his hand off. “Just the usual. Nothing special,” he said, trying to keep his voice casual. “I really do have to get through this file, though.” He heard Seungmin sigh, but felt him move away as his chair rolled back to his own desk. He peeked over his shoulder and, seeing Seungmin facing his computer again, he grabbed his phone and tapped out a quick text to Hyunjin. 

> I’m taking lunch in 20. We’ve gotta talk.

“I’m sorry, what?” Hyunjin exclaimed. 

Jisung looked around in a panic. “Shut up! I literally didn’t even want to tell you this, I definitely don’t want to tell the whole company. Why are you so surprised? You were the one who told me about this, remember?” 

Hyunjin laughed. “Yeah, but like, your parents told you about Santa. It’s just a story.” He dropped his voice lower. “I didn’t actually expect you to get superpowers. And it’s not like I would have managed to get them.” He smirked, and Jisung rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah. I know. You get whoever you want. That isn’t the point here.” Jisung groaned. 

I can’t see this being real, but Sungie seems really freaked out. 

“Of course I’m freaked out! Why are you talking to me like I’m -” Jisung stopped when he saw Hyunjin’s jaw drop. “You…didn’t say that out loud, did you?” Hyunjin shook his head slowly, eyes growing to the size of dinner plates. Jisung looked under the table and realized Hyunjin had moved his foot, which was now sitting just close enough to Jisung’s to make contact. He jerked his foot away and dropped his face into his hands. 

“I’m never going to survive this, Hyunjin,” he said. “I’ve gotta be a bigger hermit than before. I can never leave my apartment again. I am a thousand percent sure I don’t want to know what people are thinking about me.” 

“Or…” Hyunjin said slowly, Jisung gestured at him to continue with one hand, leaving his face planted firmly into the other. “Or you could like, date.” 

“Ah yes, because the thirty year old sarcastic virgin in the world’s tiniest apartment is the catch of the year,” Jisung said dryly. 

“You literally just need confidence, Sungie,” Hyunjin said. “It’s just you, so you don’t need a bigger apartment. You’ve got a decent job, you’re funny - I guess - and you’re definitely cute. But you’re never going to meet anyone if you only go from home to work again.” He shrugged. “The virgin thing, that’s gonna affect your confidence more than anything. Sex is different with every single partner because everyone likes different things. So there’s a learning curve every time you sleep with someone new. It’s really not the huge deal you’re making it out to be.” 

“Says the non-virgin,” Jisung said. 

“You’re hopeless.” 

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” 

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “Look, I’ve got to get back. I'm super swamped with work right now. But seriously, you’re going to be fine, Sungie. Let’s go out this weekend. A club or something. Maybe you can meet someone.” 

Jisung grimaced, but tentatively agreed. He could always cancel later. Hyunjin was probably expecting it, anyway. 

“You promised. Try this one on,” Hyunjin said, narrowly missing Jisung’s face with a black top made of such flimsy material he could nearly see his friend through it. 

“I’m not wearing that,” Jisung said wearily from his place at the edge of the bed. 

Hyunjin scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Just try on the damn shirt, Jisung. You need to get out of this apartment and out of your head.” 

Apparently nobody is getting out of my head. If Jisung had been speaking aloud, he’d have been pouting. To be fair, he wasn’t sure he wasn’t pouting, even in his silence. He pulled his hoodie over his head and tugged on the gauzy short-sleeved shirt Hyunjin had tossed him. 

Hyunjin grinned and clapped his hands together. “Yes. With those black jeans you bought and then barely wore. Where are they…” the last few words were mostly to himself as he turned and went back to rifling through Jisung’s closet, a cry of victory erupting when he found the intended jeans tucked away at the back. “You know the drill,” he said, tossing them to his friend. 

Jisung sighed. So much for canceling. He was going to need a lot of liquor to survive this night. 

“You had to pick the busiest one in town, huh?” Jisung asked Hyunjin as he stared at the line waiting to get into the club. 

Hyunjin shrugged. “They’ve got the least sketchy bathrooms. Besides, the line is moving pretty fast.” 

“Sooner we get in, the sooner I can go home,” Jisung said cheerfully. Hyunjin shook his head. 

“You’re really and truly hopeless.” 

They joined the line and made their way into the club. A deep bass pulsed out of the building and vibrated straight into Jisung. He pulled out his ID as they approached the door and handed it to the bouncer. The short, broad man looked at the card and back at Jisung, pausing for a moment before nodding and handing it back to him. He stepped inside, Hyunjin close behind him, and let the music envelop him.

If there was one thing that always comforted Jisung, no matter what, it was music. He always had it playing at home and he had taken a few music composition courses as electives at university - not that he’d actually followed up on them. It was too late by then to change his major, he’d rationalized, refusing to acknowledge that what had truly held him back was fear. He and Hyunjin made their way to the bar and ordered their drinks, tipping the bartender well before heading out onto the dance floor. 

Bodies writhed around them as they found their groove in the music, Hyunjin laughing every time Jisung jumped away from someone brushing up against him. Jisung was torn between the relaxation of dancing and the tension of being surrounded by so many people he couldn’t get away from. He tipped his head back and drained his drink, hoping the alcohol would help to muffle the cacophony of voices in his mind. 

 Ultimately, it wasn’t the alcohol, but the cacophony itself that ended up relaxing Jisung. Being bounced around between bodies as one tended to be in a club this crowded, he found that the noise inside of his head was similar to that outside of it - a dull roar that all blended together. He had finally let himself fade into the music when he felt a sharp tap on his shoulder, too quick for any thoughts to carry through. He whirled around, unsure of when Hyunjin had ended up behind him. 

“Didn’t think I’d see you here.” 

Jisung stepped back quickly as he came face to face with Lee Minho, crashing into Hyunjin in his attempted retreat. 

“M…Minho-ssi. I didn’t expect to see you, either,” Jisung said, forcing a smile. Hyunjin stared between the two. 

“Hwang Hyunjin,” he said, stepping forward and reaching out to shake Minho’s hand after making sure Jisung wasn’t going to fall over immediately upon his moving away. 

“Lee Minho,” the older man introduced himself. “I’m a coworker of Jisung’s.” 

“Me too! He’s also my best friend,” Hyunjin said, his voice taking on an edge of protectiveness. “I’m in the advertising department, a graphic designer.” 

“Sales,” Minho said. “I’m glad you were able to coax Jisung out. Things have been a little stressful on our floor lately.” He turned his attention back to Jisung. “You’re a good dancer. Join me?” 

Jisung’s eyes widened and he looked down at his chest, convinced his heart was about to pound out of it. What in the hell is going on? he thought. His eyes moved from his chest to Minho’s hand, hovering somewhat awkwardly in between them, and the first thing that left his mouth was,

“Sorry, I gotta go.” 

He pushed past Minho and through the crowd, heading for the bathrooms on the far side of the dance floor. Hyunjin shot Minho an apologetic look and followed quickly. There were answers to be had and Hyunjin was going to have them. 

[nochi-quinn]

campaign 3 episode 50: there's only seven of you (for now)

Let's see if I can do a liveblog after six weeks of not watching!

(it started to feel like a job)

I miss jester

IT IS BEGIN

I know we're probably getting Keyleth but god would I love a Dorian cameo

aw, I miss marisha's "girls" tank

liam with the thumbhole hoodie is very good tho

liam

"orgy 2.0"

if a skyship leaves the dock at 8pm going 120 feet per round

"ira get the FUCK up here"

enjoying the corruption arc of the changebringer entirely through fcg

anyone: ludinus liam: >:[

"bacchanalian" greek mythology exists in exandria, canon

"you would turn into a bird - " "and fly far, far far away" what a reference

man I got noise canceling headphones for christmas for the first time ever and I've barely taken them off since, imogen is a mood

this whole "crash the ship" plan is big "ram the blade ship" energy

stop saying final destination

oh THAT was a throwback

oh we've reached Marisha Chair Perch and we're not even in combat yet

relax she's just putting it out there

"no plan survives contact with bells hells" is not as catchy as "no plan survives contact with the mighty nein" but is equally as true

matt changing the light to move them along like turning the light off in a daycare to signal naptime

uh oh spaghettios

laura literally stopping mid-sentence to let them meme sdkfjsl

matt stop death flagging xandis

meanwhile ira is living his best life

"I'll look for a tree" oh the flashbacks

laudna puts on skin tone foundation but doesn't blend the neck

fearne: you shut the FUCK up

"don't do anything stupid" "oh this is ALL stupid"

I am not prepared

neither are they

if xandis dies I riot

sam

I'm not okay

ASHTON

where the fearne/ashton shippers at, come get your juice

you know liam's distracted, he didn't reach up instead of out

no plan survives etc etc

DISLIKE

"that's above your pay grade, son" holy shit imogen

oh shit

DON'T SPLIT THE PARTY kdjflks

tag urself I'm ashley

"welp, we gotta kill them" sam reads my persona 5 liveblogs

guards: purple sus

TRAVIS

sam

HIM BIG

all this cool stuff I can't afford makes me wish I had an in-person game

or any game, lbr

TREE OF DREAD

"titties?"

"good thing I got this ring of fire protection" slkdfjf

"now we're playing with portals"

IN-TENTS

"testicles" I heard that liam

"can I try to - fuck it" right in front of my salad?

their bane noises are starting to sound like furbies

ykw travis had a point can we have fjord's ring of fire protection

"I'm gonna use a toy" ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

YEAH

hey

hey matt

hey matt what the fuck

SHE??

"she looks like an asshole" marisha: fuck yeah she does

"is the dirt wizard here?"

"he's quite a loyal dog" something something dog of the military FMA joke

HE

liam exploded

the accent

travis also exploded

extremely funny to hear beau try to talk shit about anybody else's stealth plans

"cool if we kill your mom?" beauregard

"shut the fuck up, wolfy"

l i a m

"they're level nine you guys"

(level nein)

quick somebody ask caleb what time it is

all of the german is slowly leeching out of matt's accent

travis had the same thought as me sldjfsk

marisha's goblin crouch perch

chetney

liam finally got to be on the other side of that

nobody told you to wolf out, chet

laudna's crush on ira is funny when it's fucking around but when she starts genuinely arguing he wouldn't do some fuck shit in a heartbeat it's annoying

I THOUGHT SO

oh that timing gives me anxiety

[neganium]

Just blocked an anon who was like, complaining about me complaining and being “negative” on my linked side blogs as if that’s the only thing I do there; like, if you only look at my original posts on that one particular blog, which is the only place (besides here) I even do that on, then yeah, I suppose you could get that impression. Don’t see what it has to do with anybody else, tho; my blogs are literally for me and me alone, and if somebody else happens to enjoy my bullshit, or at least be willing to put up with it for whatever reason, then yippie doddle, I guess. Like, you don’t gotta go at me personally for it; for one thing you’re not helping me by telling me to “go offline” when I have jack shit all else to even do; for another, it’s literally nobody’s business what I scream into the void to avoid going completely batshit (or at least, more so). Some things need to exist Outside of my brain, in order for me to not go Insane, or at least delay the process for a little while, savvy?

They also called me defensive and said something about people getting mad at me for being like this, which... nobody has really addressed me about how I behave on that particular blog, except for that One Anon who like, saw me make a broad statement in a specific fandom tag about how I think proshippers are gross (which I know better than to do now thanks to this incident, even if it wasn’t even targeted) and decided that it was about Them Specifically, and proceeded to ream into me with all kinds of horrible shit about that series’ staff, stuff that they assumed I knew but I absolutely Didn’t bc I don’t give half a shit what a Thing’s creators are doing and just enjoy the Thing for the Thing. And, like a dumbass, I let it fucking happen, bc I just had to be picky about how weak blocking anons truly is. Would’ve saved myself a load of trauma, probably. I’m still occasionally reeling from that bullshit. Not that most people would even know what went down exactly, bc they upset me enough that I almost immediately deleted them, and most of the posts I made that referenced them in any way (though not all of them).

Idk. I didn’t see fit to respond to them, but I guess they’re gonna get what they wanted anyway, bc they went out of their way to upset me by being unnecessarily judgemental of a person they don’t even know. Like yeah I’m kind of a piece of work, but like... it’s my own blog, dude... just block me and move on...

[skrunklybf-archived]

alrighty aphrodite

peach pit

*+:｡.｡ jean k, eren j　　｡.｡:+*

summary: you're caught between a rock and a hard place, and you don't even know it.

tags: college au, love triangle, pining, close friendship, friends to lovers, alcohol use, making out, sexual situations (but not smut)

"You're lucky you're my favorite person."

You hum to yourself, tossing the stuffed animal from hand to hand. Soft worn fur warms your fingers. From his position at his desk, Jean rolls his eyes and continues shoving papers and books in his bag haphazardly.

"Jean, Jean, stop making me live under your bed," voice high and pinched, you speak for the stuffed dog, wiggling him in the air, "it's dark, it stinks!"

The man tosses a laugh over his shoulder. "Yeah, a twenty year old ratty stuffed animal is exactly what girls want to see when I bring them home."

"It's cute, I promise."

"I'm not going for cute [Y/N], I'm going for daddy."

Laying the pup down and tucking him in on Jean's pillow, you can't hide your laughter. He slings his bag over his shoulder and waits for you to gather up your things. Next stop would be your afternoon lecture, which your friend almost always walks you to on his way to the library. You offer him a slick smile as you bid farewell to his childhood memento.

"Bye Puppy, daddy Jean will be back later."

"You should call me that more often."

He holds the door open for you, watching you pointedly with a smirk. You shove his shoulder playfully on the way out.

Things always felt so easy with Jean. Your friendship consisted of endless teasing, movie nights, and takeout benders that end with at least one of you knocked into a vicious food coma. Truthfully, you couldn't have anticipated how close you got in the span of a year. Nobody else in your group of friends seemed to get it like you two did, but it didn't matter -- you found your twin flame.

You contemplate that phrase, twin flame, as the both of you navigate campus. There certainly was a sense of burning energy sometimes. Jean's words often felt so heated, so deliberately pointed; almost always accompanied with a shit eating grin as he stares you down. You let these intense situations roll off your shoulders, though you'd be lying if they didn't plague your thoughts from time to time when you can't fall asleep at night.

"We have arrived at your destination, madame," Jean bows with a courteous wave of the arm, which you curtsy to in reply. You thank the good knight kindly and bid him farewell, eager to claim your favorite unofficial unassigned seat.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Eren fucking Jaeger.

He's busy typing away at his laptop when you saddle up in the seat beside him. A shy greeting interrupts his key strokes, and he smiles over at you. Breath catches in your chest at the gorgeous sight.

He hangs around with Mikasa and Armin, who you see socially somewhat often, but your quiet time with him here is easily the closest you get to the tall boy. With Jean being your partner in crime, you know all about their weird rivalry -- except for why they have it in the first place. "I just can't stand him." Was the brunette's answer when you asked, along with something about Eren calling him a horse in high school (he was not amused when you meekly agreed to the sentiment).

A few moments pass, allowing you to collect your thoughts and open your notes on your laptop. The light scent of Eren's cologne (something woodsy and clean) tickles your senses and makes your heart flutter. You don't notice his gaze flicking to you more than once or twice until he speaks up, voice hushed.

"You look nice today, [Y/N]."

Suddenly feeling very small, your heartbeat ticks away in your ears. A tiny thanks slips its way out and you absently fiddle with your hair, refusing to make eye contact.

Something has to give. You gotta do something about this fucking crush eventually. Can he just reject you already so you can move on? You find yourself gnawing at your lip, staring at the blank screen before you, and contemplate the long haired boy to your side. You've heard about various girlfriends, you've seen his arm around different bodies at the occasional party you attend -- there's no way in hell Eren Jaeger could be boyfriend material. At least, not the way you want him to be.

Notes taken but hardly any words absorbed in your stupor, you take your time packing up, a subconscious effort to spend more time in Eren's personal bubble. You hear him stand and crack a few joints.

"Are you busy this weekend?" Your heart threatens to stop.

"No, why?" Too quick, too eager, reel it in! With a cough you clear your throat and turn to face him. Sometimes you forget how tall he is -- Eren easily towers over you. He's wearing a casual smile as he speaks and a few stray strands of hair brush against his beautiful cheekbones.

"Well, I'm having some people over on Saturday. You should come."

"Oh, I'm not really a party person..."

Stop, what are you doing? Just say yes, you idiot!

"Not a party. Just a kickback," Eren checks his phone absently before pocketing it again, "you can bring Jean if you want."

Yes, Jean... honestly, the idea does settle your frazzled nerves, even just momentarily. He's quite the security blanket. You hum to yourself for a second before offering a small shrug.

"Sure, just text me when."

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Jean cradles his jaw in his hand, repeatedly refreshing his feed, desperately hoping for something interesting to distract him. It's been half an hour and you still can't decide on what to wear to Jaeger's stupid little get together. A mountain of discarded clothes sits next to Jean on your bed.

"What do you think about this one?"

He lifts his eyes to you. You're holding a simple white tank top against your torso with a flannel draped over your shoulder -- he can see part of your bra poking out beneath your choices. The man forces his eyes away and back to your face. Definitely not the first time you've changed in front of him, but still, he can't help his curious gaze.

"Yes."

"You said that about the last three outfits."

Jean groans and drags a hand down his face.

"You're gonna look hot in anything, [Y/N]. Trust me, it doesn't take a whole lot to impress a guy like Jaeger."

With your back turned, you still flush at the mention of Eren, but throw a scoff over your shoulder. You slip into the tank top and pull the thin flannel sleeves over your arms. "Whatever, shut up." Of course Jean knows, and of course he's none too thrilled. Yet, you didn't have to beg him to accompany you like you thought you would. The man practically jumped down your throat about tagging along. Free booze is free booze, you suppose.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Annoyance is an understatement. Jean could practically feel his teeth gritting to dust in his mouth as you guide him into Eren's apartment. The music is loud but disembodied laughter could still be heard from different rooms. A little hang out, my ass. There's at least fifteen people crammed into the living room alone.

He's never hated parties. Any chance to get out, drink, and fuck around with his friends is automatically a good time for Jean. But lately, it's felt different. Ever since you drunkenly spilled your guts (and eventually your dinner) about your crush on Eren, Jean felt sick just walking into the brunette's apartment. Fuck, he couldn't even properly revel in beating Reiner's ass at beer pong anymore.

His rivalry with Jaeger was always surface level. Yeah, they fucked around in high school, they talked shit and pushed each other around, but Jean wouldn't say he hated him.

Until he watched Eren snake his arm around your waist and whisper something in your ear, making you smile and tilt your head away to try to hide the heat blooming on your cheeks.

Now he fucking hated him.

Connie finds him easily, as he always does, but his rowdy greeting dies on his tongue once he sees the jaw clenching. The staring. Connie gently nudges his friend, already offering Jean his own cup, and stays with him as Eren guides you away by the wrist.

"You alright man?"

"Fantastic." Jean snags the drink and takes a long gulp. He can't be stressing about whatever shit you're going to get in with Jaeger. Anyone who's been around the shit for more than a day could tell you he eats women up and spits them out again.

Jean's not an angel by any means -- you've bore witness to many hookup stories straight from Jean himself (straight from the horse's mouth, you'd joke) -- but at least he makes it clear that's all it is. A fuck just to fuck, and they're both on the same page. Some aching feeling in Jean's chest tells him that, despite you being so fucking intelligent, you're dumbstruck by Eren and his fucking manbun. And he doesn't feel like he could handle the aftermath of you crying your eyes out over some asshole that just wanted a lay when you clearly deserve someone so much fucking better.

Fuck, he could be that better for you. He could scratch your scalp just the way you like it, he could pick up your usual order from your favorite Chinese takeout, he could listen to you talk about your latest Netflix obsession for hours. Jean was fucking in love with you.

And he can't watch you giggle all over Eren Jaeger, of all people, or he'll puke. He sighs.

You're a big girl. You can make your own decisions.

Jean joins Connie in the corner with Sasha. He's gotta get plastered if he's gonna get over this stupid grudge, at least for the night.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

You felt guilty leaving Jean, at least until Connie showed his perfect little cue ball head. The nagging voice in your head began to settle a bit once you noticed the usual trio chatting away and throwing back shots of mystery liquor. In front of you, though, was a tall drink of a man -- Eren, in his lanky glory. He commented on your outfit once he found you, not even attempting to hide the way his eyes slid up and down your form a few times. An angry wasp occupied your belly as his large hand encircled your wrist and drug you away.

Eren's words are a little slurred, but his voice is so deep as he speaks into your hair. You can nearly feel his vibrations.

"I'm glad you came. You look really good, [Y/N]."

The praise paints your face in pink surprise. Such outward flirting makes your insides twist in a flurry of excitement. You smile up at him, catching his doting gaze for a minute.

"What's the catch, Jaeger?" Attempting to bat your lashes, you sip at the drink he provided you, and lick your plump lips. He arches a brow and smirks. God, he knows how handsome he is. He knows exactly what he's doing to you.

"No catch. Just wanted to spend some time with you, maybe get to know you a little more without your guard dog over your shoulder."

Guard dog? His words slump over you, leaving a slight bitter taste on your tongue. Still, you swallow it down with another sip of bitter drink, and roll your head to the side with a little laugh. A hand settles on your lower back and pulls you closer to him. Eren smells so good, he has heat positively radiating off of his perfect skin -- you find yourself nearly hypnotized by this man.

"Can I get you another drink, beautiful?"

Time fucking flies. You have no idea how long you'd been there, how many drinks you'd had already, or when you planned on going home. There are masculine hands wandering over you, slipping from your waist to grip your ass, and teeth nipping at your neck. You're in a state of bliss. Pushed up against the railing of the balcony, a breeze blows your messy hair to the side to allow Eren better access to his treasure. He hums against your pulse and you grip his shirt tightly, little gasps falling from your lips.

"You always sit next to me," he mumbles into your skin, peppering tiny kisses up to meet your ear, "you always look so amazing. I wanted to get you alone, have you all for myself for a while." His words come rushed, almost jumbled, and you have to fight through your brain fog to piece them together. God, you can't think. Your brain is swimming in a pool of hormones and rum. Knotting your hands in his long hair, placing kisses across his jaw, you claim his mouth and shut him up. Eren slides his tongue over your swollen lips and groans into you, pushing against your body with a sense of need.

Yearning, his fingers dance from your supple ass to the soft skin of your tummy, barely peeking out under your ruffled tank top. A gasp rips from your throat, only seeming to feed his hunger. Eren inches his fingers upward, so slow, as he kisses wet marks down your jaw. Your head is reeling. Fireworks constantly blow over your drunken body, something deep in your tummy coiling tightly.

"Fuck, Jean," slips from your lips, and the fingers pause. The heat from your throat pulls away. As your eyes slide open, vision slightly blurred, you're met with a curious teal gaze.

"Jean, hmm?"

What?

A devious grin envelops Eren's face, his hands now laying flat against your stomach. He works little circles into your skin with his thumbs and attacks your neck again, his tongue easily sliding down to your collar bone.

"What would he think," the brunette slurs into your shoulder, "if he saw us like this?"

Your eyes slide closed. Why is he talking about Jean? You feel his slender fingers work up your top, just under your bra, and your throat nearly closes.

Fuck, did you just...?

"Eren, I'm sorry," voice weak, your arms drop from his head to rest on his shoulders. The man continues his assault on your shoulder, biting and sucking, rocking his body against yours in a hypnotizing rhythm.

"Mm, don't worry baby," he presses his forehead against yours and you can feel his hot breath across your face. You chance a peek and find him staring down at you. "I can bring you back in one piece, if you ask nicely."

Your lip quivers. This feels... wrong. The tangent of butterflies in your stomach instantly drops dead, instead taking on a heavy boulder of guilt. Defeated, your hands fall to pull his wrists down, away from your sweaty body.

This is what you had wanted. This is what you daydreamed about during class, that you imagined in the shower with your hands wandering places you could only dream of him tasting for himself. Why do you feel so... dirty?

"I'm sorry Eren, I... I can't."

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Pathetic was never a word Jean would use to describe himself, except for this very moment. No other string of letters could describe the black hole in his chest he desperately poured mixed drinks into.

Yeah, he beat Reiner and Bert again, and no, not because Connie kept pretending to puke on their shoes when it was their turn to toss. And yeah, the music was good, the booze was free, but fuck, he felt so alone.

You disappeared part way through the night. Nobody Jean casually asked had seen you, and better yet, the host was nowhere to be found, either. Sasha made an offhand comment about how you were probably off getting railed in Eren's closed bedroom, and Jean couldn't hide his distaste.

What a joke. He didn't own you, for fucks sake! He had no business acting like some kicked puppy because you were ballsy enough to make a move on your crush. Still, Jean bites back disappointment and throws back another shot.

The night was dying down, with several people already peacing out for the comfort of their own homes to nurse the impending hangover. He wouldn't leave without you, that's your rule -- you go together, you leave together, unless otherwise specified -- but man, you were hard to track down. Jean peeks a woozy head into the fridge in search of something to snack on, occupy his bumbling mouth. He'd already made too many snarky comments about the night to Connie for his liking.

A hand on his back startles him enough to snap his head up, and into the door of the freezer with a heavy thud.

"Aw, fuck!"

"Can you take me home please?"

[Y/N]?

Your lips are quivering, your arms are crossed over your chest in a self soothing hug. Jean feels his heart drop at the sight.

"Yeah, of course... you alright, bug?"

"I just wanna go home."

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

The walk to your dorm is eerily quiet. Your hand squeezes his arm like you'd fall through the Earth without it, but Jean doesn't question it. He doesn't question your messy hair, or the budding bruise over your collar bone. Rubbing assumptions in your face would only alienate you and shove you down further into whatever pit you were currently slipping into. He can be an idiot sometimes, but the universe leant him some brain cells momentarily.

He takes you inside, shoves your mess of clothes onto the floor to deal with later, and sits you down. Gaze heavy and distant, you watch him take your shoes off your feet, you watch him gently slide your flannel off your shoulders and drape it over your desk chair. Jean fishes some comfortable shorts from your drawer and offers them to you with a look so utterly compassionate, it splits your heart in two.

"Do you like me, Jean?"

He's caught off guard by this. Your voice is almost raspy, like when you first wake up. But you're not crying. No, you look deep in thought, your eyes swimming over his. He looks between the shorts and your face, worry lines plaguing your delicate features.

"I mean, yeah, [Y/N]. You're my favorite person, you know that."

"No. I mean, do you like me?"

Jean tosses words around in his head for a moment. Watching you turn up with your tail between your legs certainly slapped some sobriety into his skull, but he could still feel the buzz and tingle under his skin. He sighs.

Ah, fuck it.

"Yeah, I do. A lot actually. Figured it was pretty obvious when I let you meet Puppy."

Relief floods his core once Jean catches your lips twitch upward.

You grab the shorts, rise to your feet, and instruct him to turn around while you change your bottoms. He obliges, as always, but can't help the curiosity burning away at his tongue.

"Why you suddenly wanna know?"

A ball of clothes smacks hard against his back.

"I guess I realized I've been watching the wrong guy."

And you crawl into bed, crawl into his peripheral, looking so angelic as you snuggle under your comforter. Your words are lightning and thunder to his tipsy senses. He allows himself to watch you for a moment, dimly lit by your fairy lights, grin stretching across his face.

All that stress, all that bitterness he tucked away for weeks, suddenly sweeps away from under him when he says, "I'm picking you up for breakfast tomorrow." Content, you nuzzle into your pillow and hum thoughtfully.

"Can you bring Puppy?"

"Fuck you. Goodnight, bug."

Jean places an obnoxious smooch on your forehead, smoothing away wayward locks as he looks down at you. It's all clicking. That tightness in your chest feels oddly welcoming as his stubble brushes against you.

Ah, fuck it.

Your fingers grip the collar of his shirt and pull him down to your level again, planting your lips firmly on his -- he tastes like cherry vodka. Jean lets out a small grunt of surprise, but leans into you instantly, eyebrows dancing close to his hairline. You release him from your hold, and pull back just enough to speak against his mouth, "goodnight, Jean."

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

His walk home is a whirlwind. Too many emotions pound against his chest and rattle his core as his mind wanders. Fuck, he's excited. You kissed him, you actually had the balls to kiss him, and that's more than he had the right to claim. How long has he even had feelings for you? Too fucking long.

But fuck, he's still so jealous.

Jean knows the bitterness will fade. He knows the negativity will easily be overshadowed by... whatever the fuck you're pulling him into. But he'd happily let you lead him wherever you want. You say jump, he says 'fuck you. how high?'

Your voice follows him home, wraps around him, and lulls him to sleep.

"I guess I realized I've been watching the wrong guy."

"Goodnight, Jean."

[sunmoonandeddie]

and he kissed me right here

pairing: modern!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 6,100

summary: I've always been sure that all I ever wanted was a glamorous life.

warnings: Cuss words, mentions of the Afghanistan war (Bucky is a veteran), angst, happy ending, cheesy romantic confessions, age gap

a/n:  This is based on the song 'Stars and the Moon' from Songs for a New World! It's the first one shot in my musical series! This is written in first perspective, but there is no physical description or use of a name in this!

Twenty-Two

I sighed as I tossed a few more dirty plates into the dish window, wiping my brow. After a shitty dinner rush and an even shittier rush around two in the morning consisting only of drunk ass college kids looking for some sort of carb to suck up all the alcohol in their systems, I was ready to go the fuck home.

“Sweetheart, you head on home now,” the head chef insisted as he watched my head nod slightly as I tried my best to fight off sleep. “Ain’t nobody comin’ in before Melissa gets here. No point in you staying on your feet any longer.”

Louis was a godsend. At sixty-seven years old, you’d think he would rather be anywhere but a diner at almost four in the morning.

“Nah,” he had said when I’d asked him a few months after I’d first started. “My Ginny died a few years back, and since she’s been gone, I don’t really have the stomach to sit around that house all alone.” He had laughed, but there’d been a deep sorrow that had come over his deep brown eyes. “Kids are worried, but… Sleeping the day away is better than laying up at night staring at her side of the bed…”

“You sure, Lou?” I asked even as I headed for the back room where all the employees clocked in and kept their possessions in their own little cubbies. I did my checkout in view of the security camera, just like always. I didn’t want anyone to be able to say I stole anything.

Everyone who knew me knew that I wouldn’t, but I’d worked at two many places where the girls tried backstabbing each other and sabotaging everyone else to get them fired.

Though people were a lot nicer in Louisiana than any of the other places I’d lived.

Louis chuckled as he set a to-go box in the window, nodding towards it. “Mmhm. Long as Buck is getting you home safe.”

I gave him a joking eye roll as I took the to-go box gratefully, grinning at my name written in all caps with green Sharpie on top. “You know you don’t have to make me dinner every night.”

“Yes, I do,” he said, shooting me a look. “How else do I know you’re getting enough food in you, huh?” He pointed his rag at me. “Now you go ask him to get you home. Tell him I said he can clock out, and that he’s supposed to text me when he sees you safe inside. You better not say you’re gonna ask him again just to walk yourself home.” The old man shook his head as I headed for the back door, muttering to himself, “Damn girl thinks I’m gonna believe she’s feeding herself good enough when she’s risking her damn ass walking home alone.”

Despite the fact that I’d put off asking for Bucky Barnes’s service, I really did appreciate how fiercely Louis cared about me.

It had been a real long time since anyone had cared so much.

I hesitated at the back door of the diner, my hand resting against the cool metal.

What if he said no?

Granted, he most likely wouldn’t. But what if he said yes, and he secretly thought me some dumb little girl that couldn’t take care of herself?

What did I care if he thought that?

“I don’t care what he thinks of me,” I huffed as I straightened my shoulders, holding my chin a little higher.

“Stop talking to yourself and get going!”

I jumped in surprise, before shooting a glare in the direction of the kitchen. “Stop listening in on my private conversations!” I demanded before storming outside with new found vigor.

Only to freeze when Bucky looked up from where he was sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette.

God, he was handsome.

“You okay, doll face?” He asked, his New York accent a sharp contrast to the southern drawls you were used to.

“Um… Y-Yeah,” I said faintly, glancing back at the door that I’d come in from. “Um… L-Louis wants me to ask you… Can you walk me home? Or give me a ride? I don’t… I don’t know if you drive…”

“I do drive.”

“O-Oh. Okay. Great.”

“But I don’t have my car on me.”

I peered at him curiously. “Oh. Um… I can just walk by myself. I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna be a nuisance…”

He stood up, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. “Don’t be ridiculous, darlin.’ Come on. I’ll walk you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he began to head for the street. “Besides… It’s a real nice night.”

“Oh…,” I said in surprise at how ready he was to be of service. “Okay. But only if you’re sure.”

A faint smile graced his lips as he glanced at the ground, letting out a faint chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest. “I’m sure, darlin.’ But you gotta lead the way.”

I was surprised by the rapid pitter patter of my heart beat as we walked side by side down the street, the chorus of ‘Yellow Brick Road’ getting stuck in my head on a loop.

Bucky was an enigma that I found myself wondering about more often than not, but I always ended up talking myself out of going there. After all, he was an older man. A much older man. At least fifteen years older than my own twenty-two years, or something along those lines, not that he looked it. The man looked like some kind of rugged Greek god. Like Hades if Hades was born in the eighties. His dog tags clinked together under his shirt as we walked, his metal prosthetic glinting in the moon.

“So how did you end up in NOLA?”

It took me a moment to even realize that he was talking to me, my heart skipping a beat and my face going hot in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked.

His bright blue eyes flickered over to look me over. “How’d you end up in New Orleans?”

“I actually don’t know,” I snorted, avoiding his eyes as I kicked at a few broken up pieces of asphalt. “I just… Picked a bus ticket and ended up in one of the Carolinas. Then I picked another bus ticket and ended up in Minnesota. And then I picked another, and another, and another, and then I actually just… ended up here.” The months I’d spent alone on those Greyhounds felt both so long ago and also like it was just yesterday. “The diner was the first place someone recommended for food that’s good but cheap, and as I was eating my mountain of cheese fries, I saw the flyer that said they were hiring. So here I am now…”

“Huh,” he said, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t take you for the type of person to run off on your own… riding buses all over the country…”

Head tilting to the side, I gave him a long look. “You didn’t? What kind of type did you peg me for?”

Bucky gave me a long look, a single brow raised as though silently telling me that I jumped to conclusions. “Just that jumping from place to place can take a lot outta someone,” he said slowly, his voice low and soothing. “Hell, if you were my girl—” He broke off as his cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, his long hair falling in his face.

I swore my heart had stopped inside of my chest, and I swallowed thickly around the lump in my throat. “Oh?”

He rushed to try to correct his wording. “I-I just mean, a lady should be comfortable. And if I had a g-girl like you, well… You’d never want for anything,” he stammered, stumbling over his words like a flustered school boy. “Hell, I… I’d give you the stars and the moon…”

I was shocked into silence, staring up at him like he was the sun itself. “Bucky…”

“No, no, don’t say anything. I… I know that was a lot,” he insisted quietly, unable to meet your eyes as he stared up at the shitty apartment building you called home. “Hell, you probably don’t want a gross old man hitting on you.” His metal hand, glinting in the low light of the street lamp, reached up to brush against my cheek for just a moment before it quickly dropped. “Just let me walk you home each night so I can make sure you’re safe, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I breathed out, unable to take my eyes off of him as he took a few steps back.

There’s a somewhat playful smirk on his lips as he watched me stumble up the steps, continuously glancing back at him. “Goodnight, baby doll.”

“Goodnight,” I said, barely audible before I finally headed inside.

Bucky kept his word. He walked me home every night, and honestly, there wasn’t a moment that I wasn’t thinking about what he had said, about if I was his girl.

What if I was his girl?

But… with that meant I’d have to give up the life I’d dreamed for myself. I wanted luxury, to never worry about bills or where I was gonna get my next meal or if I could afford to buy the nice work shoes or if I could only get the cheap ones that would fall apart in three months and then I’d just be right back where I started.

I wanted the life that celebrities lived. Hell, I wanted to go to parties on the same yachts the Kardashian-Jenners did, even if I couldn’t fucking stand them.

And with Bucky… I wouldn’t have that.

“So why’d you go on the run anyway?” Bucky asked one night as we sat on the curb, eating ice cream in the Louisiana heat. “I know you told me how you got here, but you’ve never told me why.”

“You’ve never told me how you ended up here or why either,” I shot back, nudging his shoulder with my own.

Somehow the age difference seemed non-existent as we sat there. Honestly, I felt like we were just a bunch of dumb teenagers, shooting the shit and enjoying each other’s company.

Bucky took in a deep breath, his shoulders sinking in a way that made it look like he had all the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I was over in Afghanistan for a long time,” he admitted quietly. “When the war first started, I was 19. I had no idea where my life was going and I had no options except my dad’s mechanic shop. So I enlisted with my best friend, Steve. The one I told you about.”

It’s completely silent except for the sound of an occasional car horn off in the distance.

“Neither one of us knew what we were doing. We realized very quickly that we had no reason being over there, but… but there was nothing else,” he said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. The ice cream he was holding was melting in his trembling hands. “I didn’t know how to do anything else, so I stayed. Steve moved up in the ranks, but I stayed pretty low… I didn’t mind. Kinda liked being the older guy all those young kids could talk to, could rely on… Because they were just like me, getting into a fight that wasn’t theirs because they had nothing else.”

My heart was shattering inside my chest as I scooted a little closer, my knee knocking against his as I tried to give him some sort of silent comfort. He’d been through Hell and made it through.

Bucky let his head rest against mine, his eyes closing as he breathed in the scent of my perfume. “They eventually moved me to some kind of specialized team… Called us the Howling Commandos. I found out that Steve was heading it and he picked me to be part of it. That’s how I met Sam, because he was on some sort of similar team with the Air Force, except it was just him and his friend, Riley,” he continued, taking a bite of his chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. “I am proud to say that I didn’t kill a single person while I was over there. I just couldn’t. Hell, they’re people just like me, terrified and unsure of what’s going to happen.” His lips pressed against my forehead, letting it linger. “But then about five years ago, I was on a mission with the Commandos, Sam, and Riley, and… this bomb went off while we were playing a game of soccer. I wasn’t even in a fight. That thing took my arm and it took Riley.”

Tentatively, I let my fingers find his, holding his hand and squeezing reassuringly.

“Sam decided to come home with me.” There was a forlorn look in his eyes, as though he was right back at that game of pick-up soccer. “After losing Riley… he couldn’t find a reason to be over there. And then Steve decided to stay, and hell, he’s still over there, leading that fucking team…” Glassy baby blue eyes finally found mine, the both of us doing our best to not cry. “I couldn’t face my family for a long time, so Sam asked me to come stay in Louisiana with him and his family, and I haven’t left since.”

“Have you gone to see your family?” I asked slowly, almost like I was scared I’d frighten him if I spoke too loudly, like a wild animal. “Let them know where you are? That you’re safe?”

He turned to look at me, his baby blues shining. “You worried about me, baby doll?”

“I can’t help it,” I said honestly, unable to tear my eyes away. I hadn’t opened up to someone like that in so damn long. “I can’t help but worry about you.”

The way that I felt about Bucky absolutely terrified me, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. It snuck up on me, like a train coming around a bend.

I hated it.

“What do you want out of this life?” Bucky asked on one walk home, his arm linked in mine. He’d become so much more… tactile. If anyone took a moment to look at us, they’d think we were a couple on a romantic stroll.

Perhaps we were.

But I couldn’t help but grin as I looked up at the sky, taking in the warm air. “I wanna live like how the movie stars do… I want a big house on the beach and twenty cars and a yacht and… and…”

He looked at me long and hard. “And you never wanna have to worry about where your next meal is coming from, if you’re gonna have a place to sleep at night…”

For some reason, I’d felt a bolt of panic over whether or not he’d understand. Whether or not he’d think differently of me, but I should’ve known that he wouldn’t. Hell, he knew me better than anyone else.

“You understand,” I said quietly, my hand squeezing his bicep gratefully. “I want to live how the other half lives for once. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

A small smile graced his features as we shuffled along. “There isn’t. But… What about love?” He asked.

“Love?”

“Love.”

Love.

Could I even have love? Did I want it?

“I don’t know if there’s a lot of room for love in my plans,” I admitted after a long moment. “In my experience, love has always just been a lie. A word used to manipulate and eventually abuse.”

Letting out a snort, he let his fingers tickle down my tricep until his fingers intertwined with mine. “I’d show you it’s not… I’d show you what real love is,” he said. “I’d give you every part of me, give you all my strength to help you grow into who you wanna be, even if I don’t particularly care about being famous or rich…” He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “I’ll give you a love story, a life, that’s a million times better than any recycled Hollywood plot… I’ll give you the stars and the moon, if you would just let me.”

I hated the way that he made my heart beat faster, the way my breath hitched. “Jamie,” I breathed out quietly, the two of us having stopped in our tracks to just… take each other in. Live in each other’s presence for a moment. “I…”

“You want a big life… one a lot bigger than little old me,” he said simply, shrugging. His blue eyes were so honest, so loving. So warm. A warmth I hadn’t ever experienced before. “I know. But that doesn’t change that I’m in love with you. And if you ever change your mind…” Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, pressing it into my free hand. “This is where you can find me. I figure it’s time for me to go home.”

We’d come to a stop in front of my building, and I was shocked at how tight my chest felt. My eyes watered as I stared at him long and hard. “Jamie, please… I⏤”

“Don’t say it. It’s okay,” he insisted as he cupped my cheek, letting his thumb run over my skin as though he was memorizing it. “I just want you to be happy, darling. You got that?” His lips pressed to my forehead, letting it linger. “Go get that life you’ve been dreaming of.”

Twenty-Three

I left New Orleans the next day, grabbing a bus ticket after throwing all of my belongings into my old duffel bag. It was time to move on.

But God, did it hurt.

I didn’t stop crying for weeks, fighting the urge to go right back to Louisiana and tell Bucky to take it back, to get him to beg me to stay with him.

But what kind of life would that leave me with? Working in the diner day after day? Never getting anywhere?

But you’d have James, a voice inside my head reminded me snarkily.

Then again, he most likely wasn’t even in New Orleans anymore, if what he said was true when he gave me the business card of his father’s mechanic shop. Was he really planning on going home to New York City?

A few months later, and I’d worked my way all through the southwest to Santa Fe, where I met Pietro.

My heart was pounding as I pressed in the familiar numbers, having memorized them from the business card now soft and faded from how often I held it in my hands like a lifeline. “Come on… Pick up… Pick up…”

“Barnes Tires and Motors, this is George,” a man said in a gruff voice when he finally picked up. “How can I help you?”

“H-Hi, is James there? James Barnes? Bucky?” I stammered out, hands trembling so bad that the old payphone was almost rattling.

There was a pause, and then muffled talking away from the phone.

And then I heard it being picked up. “This is Bucky,” he said.

It felt like the wind had been knocked right out of my lungs. How had I gone so long without hearing his voice?

Breathing in sharply, I tried to figure out the words to say. But my throat was dry and it was like I’d suddenly forgotten the entire English language.

That was all that it took for Bucky to realize it was me. “Baby doll? Baby doll, is that you?” He asked quietly. “I…” He took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “You don’t gotta say a thing, sweetheart… But just know that if you’re in trouble or you need help or… or anything at all, you better call me…” His voice wavered, as though he was fighting tears just like I was. “God, I miss you so much, baby doll. I love you.”

I love you, too.

I hung up before I could actually say the words. “God, I’m so fucking stupid,” I whispered as I leaned back against the wall of the gas station I’d found myself at, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes.

My dumb ass had decided to wander from the bus station, and I’d walked over a mile away. Unless I was staying in Santa Fe for a bit, I’d need to start making my way back.

“You okay?”

In my distress, I hadn’t even heard the rumbling of the motorcycle or noticed the handsome man making his way to me. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I said even as I wiped my nose with a pathetic sniffle.

He eyed me for a long moment, his eyes roaming over my figure. “You hungry? I know a great little place nearby. My treat.”

And well, I was never one to turn down free food.

Even if that ‘little place’ ended up being a food truck.

“You know, when you said it was a little place, I didn’t picture it having wheels,” I said teasingly, licking salsa off of my lower lip. “Though, it is the best food I’ve ever gotten from a food truck before.”

“Oh, come on. This is the best food of all time!” He laughed, shaking his head.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” I snorted, finishing off my flautas.

Pietro looked at me long and hard. “So, are you gonna tell me what the hell was going on to have a pretty girl like you all teary eyed?” He asked, his head tilting to the side.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Was this your plan all along?” I asked. Wiping my hands off on a napkin, I did everything I could to avoid his eyes. “Get me all fed and then question me?” But at the same time, the thought of being able to finally talk to someone about it was so appealing… After a long moment of hesitation, I finally gave in. “I fell in love with a man, and he let me go because he knew that I want a life he can’t give me,” I said. “And I was a bitch who didn’t even tell him I love him back when he said it to me.”

Pietro took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “Damn. You really are a stone cold bitch, aren’t you?”

“Hey!” I indignantly threw a chunk of tomato at him, glaring. “I just opened up my heart, you dickwad.”

“Dickwad?!” He said, blinking at me in shock. “No one’s ever called me a dickwad before.”

I raised a single eyebrow at him. “Maybe not to your face, but they definitely have.” He gave off the vibe of a fuckboy, of a really, really bad fuckboy.

“Well, since you’re running away from your feelings, how about you spend a week or two with me on the road?” He asked with a grin.

I couldn’t help but blink at him in shock. “What?” I let out a laugh, pulling one of my legs up to my chest. “Do you throw that line out to every girl you meet? Or am I just special?”

Pietro threw a chip at me, and I barely managed to dodge it. “No, I don’t. But… You remind me of me. Needing adventure. A life bigger than four walls and a fence.”

Instinctively, I wanted to snap back that sometimes, four walls and a fence could be an adventure, could be the biggest life there was, as Bucky’s face flashed across my mind.

But I couldn’t do that. Not when I wasn’t ready to face the truth myself.

“Come on, sweet cheeks,” he teased as his foot hooked around mine. “Just think of it. The open highway, a rhythm beneath your feet… Nights full of passion and days of adventure…” Pietro’s voice was deep and husky, as though he was trying to lure me in. “No strings… just warm summer rain soaking us to the bone before we find some cheap motel to huddle down in…”

Plastering on a smile, I stood up and brushed myself on. “Thanks, but… I’d rather be drinking champagne, and the quicker I get to LA, the sooner I will be.”

He let me go with a kiss on the cheek and his cell number pressed into my hand, with a promise to come and pick me up the second I rang.

And despite how sweet he was, how wild and funny and charismatic, there was only one man I wanted to call.

Twenty-Four

I sipped at my martini as I sat at the rooftop bar, absentmindedly watching the television that was mounted on the wall as people droned around me. I’d been in Los Angeles for a year, and I’d spent my time finding the best places to find a husband who could give me the life I dreamed of.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, it took connections to build a career, and the best way to get a foot in the door when nepotism was so rampant was by marrying someone in the industry.

My silk dress was the most expensive thing I owned, something I’d saved up for months for, had skipped meals for. And fuck, was it worth it. I could feel the stares, the lingering gazes on the little bit of thigh that was exposed by the slit in the dress.

I’d already turned away several men, able to tell just from their expensive watches and cheap suits and shoes.

It was amazing how all the up and coming finance bros thought they fit in with the truly big dogs.

“Well, hello, gorgeous.”

I turned to see who was speaking, my heart skipping a beat when I realized who I was speaking to.

The world famous (or infamous) director, Tony Stark.

“Hello, handsome,” I said smoothly, my lashes fluttering innocently as I took a sip of my horrible drink.

I fucking hated martinis. Always had.

But ordering a martini was more sophisticated than ordering a frozen strawberry margarita.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked as he motioned to the empty bar stool right next to me, even as he was already sitting down. “Let me buy your next round.”

“I can’t think of anything better,” I said, feeling as though my dream life was already in reach.

Twenty-Eight

“Tony, where are you taking me?” I laughed as I let my boyfriend lead me to the private dock at our Malibu mansion.

Well, his mansion. I just happened to also live there.

It had been a whirlwind of a year since I had met Tony, and he’d bought me that second round. He’d taken me all over the globe, anywhere my heart desired.

But I made sure to avoid New York City, though he never understood why. I would never tell him.

Not when I was so close to my dream. I could practically taste it.

“Come on, come on. I have a surprise for you,” he said, keeping his hands over my eyes. He was sure to keep me from tripping and busting my ass, thank god.

The ocean waves were so comforting as they hit the shore, a sound I’d gotten used to over the past year.

He finally brought me to a stop, quietly telling me to keep my eyes closed. “Okay,” he said finally. “Open them.”

My eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the bright light of the California sun. But I was more shocked by the sight of Tony on one knee in front of me, holding out a box with a sparkling diamond ring in it. “Tony?”

The ring was the size of a fucking meteor. It was easily the biggest ring I’d ever seen.

“You know, I never thought I’d meet someone like you,” he said quietly, his dark eyes shining. But his voice was steady. “Someone who understands me, who doesn’t expect me to change into someone I’m not. You accept me as I am, and that’s why I want to give you the world.” He couldn’t help but grin as he nodded to the right. “Starting with that yacht you’ve always dreamed of.”

I hadn’t even noticed that there were two yachts at his private docks instead of just the one. The new one had SS Princess emblazoned on the side, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh… Tony…”

“So, what do you say?” He asked, bringing my attention back to him. “Will you be my wife?”

“Yes.”

Thirty-Two

Swallowing nervously, I looked down at the business card in my hand for the millionth time, the stock paper soft from how often I’d looked at it in the past ten years.

Hell, just how often I’d looked at it in the past six should’ve made it fall apart by now. Not that I didn’t have it memorized.

I’d finally ended my marriage after being miserable for so long. I’d gotten my yacht, my fancy houses, my career, all the jewelry that I could dream of, and none of it made me happy. Tony and I… never grew. And I never dreamed. Every day was the same, and every day was torture as I realized that I didn’t have the one thing that actually mattered.

The garage in front of me was busy, music blasting and the sound of men shouting to each other as they worked.

Suddenly I felt absolutely ridiculous wearing a Chanel dress and Gucci heels, an Hermés bag on my arm.

BARNES TIRES AND MOTORS was lit up along the top of the shop in bright red letters, though the lights in the ‘r’ of ‘motors’ were out.

I felt like a fool. I had wanted the life I had so desperately that I gave up everything for it. I got the movie star life, my name on billboards and my face on magazines.

But it wasn’t ever enough.

My heels clicked against the blacktop as I slowly made my way towards the front area of the shop, bells clinging above my head to let them know someone was there.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” A man asked as he came around the corner.

He looked so much like Bucky, it punched the air straight from my lungs.

“H-Hi. I’m looking for James Barnes. Is he here?” I asked after a long moment of hesitation. There was no way that the man was Bucky, but I didn’t doubt he was related.

The man raised his brows, wiping his hands on a rag. “My son’s in the shop. I’ll take you to him.” His full head of hair was white, his thick facial hair matching. Even with all the wrinkles on his face, he was a handsome man. Holding open the door for me, he led me into the loud shop, some eighties rock song blasting over the speakers.

I couldn’t help but smile as ‘Rock You Like a Hurricane’ by Scorpions came on. It was one of Bucky’s favorites back when we worked in the diner together.

“BUCK! YOU GOT A VISITOR!” The man shouted, causing several people to look our way.

My cheeks felt hot as I avoided their gaze, hoping they wouldn’t recognize me. I didn’t want to be a famous movie star anymore, a celebrity that had to beg for scraps of privacy.

My mind went numb, my heart stopping inside my chest as he stepped around a gray Ford Escape another man was working on.

He was even more handsome than he was the last time I saw him.

“Can I help y—” He broke off, his blue eyes going wide when he realized that it was me. “Hi.”

All of a sudden, everything I’d planned to say flew out of my head. All of the eloquent words I’d strung together were gone. And I just proceeded to word vomit.

“Did you know that, uh, when you marry someone you’re not in love with, you won’t… you won’t grow into it?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Um… I married a man who could give me a life I thought I always wanted, and he just… sucked.” Eyes stinging, I fought back against tears. “And I thought that all I ever wanted was the life I have now, was the life movie stars and the Kardashians lived. But… But I hate it. I hated every second I was away from you.” I let out a weak laugh, unable to stop the tears. “I wanted to turn around the second I got on the bus in New Orleans, but my stupid stubborn ass didn’t. I should have. I should’ve gotten off and just run right back to you because I… I love you, James. I always have.”

The garage had gone almost deadly quiet, and my heart sank when I realized Bucky looked almost frozen in shock.

“I know that I shouldn’t have showed up like this,” I scrambled to say. “But I… I’ve been trying to get my divorce finalized for two years and I finally did, and I kept telling myself that once it was done, I’d never hold myself back from what I really want ever again. From who I want. If… If you want me.” My face felt like it was on fire, my hands shaking. I shook my head as I took a step backwards. “What am I thinking? There’s no way you’re not married. I… I’m so so—”

Before I could finish the word ‘sorry,’ Bucky had closed the distance between us, his hands cradling my face so gently. He held me like I was made of fine crystal as he kissed me. He kissed me like his life depended on it, like I was the one source of oxygen.

And I kissed him back just as fiercely. “I love you. I love you so much,” I breathed out in between kisses, unwilling to let him go as my Hermés bag fell into the dust and oil on the concrete below.

Bucky smiled into the kiss, his arm wrapping around my waist to keep me pressed to his chest. “I love you so much, darlin.’ God, I’ve missed you…” His nose nudged against mine as we finally broke for air, both of us breathing heavily.

My knees felt like Jell-O as I held onto him. His grip was the only reason I hadn’t fallen to the ground already.

“I’m sorry I was a dumb twenty-two year old,” I said, snorting as he stole another kiss.

“No… Don’t be sorry,” he insisted, his fingers massaging my scalp as our foreheads pressed together. It was like he was scared to stop touching me, like I would disappear at any second. “You were young… You had to go out and make your own mistakes… I’ve just been waiting for the day you were ready.”

All the years apart melted away and all that remained was the two of us, two souls so intertwined that there was no way to truly separate us.

Our lips were half molded together as I said, “I’m never leaving you again. I promise I swear on everything…”

My heart almost stopped inside my chest as I heard someone clearing their throat, looking to see Bucky’s father staring at us with his arms crossed over his chest. “M-Mr. Barnes, sir…”

He gave a crooked smile that was so reminiscent of Bucky that I couldn’t help but grin back. “The Mrs. will wanna know if you’re staying for dinner.”

“Yeah,” I said as I looked up at Bucky, toying with a strand of his hair. “That sounds perfect.”

Later that night, Bucky and I laid in his bed, a mess of bare limbs as his fingers ran up and down my back soothingly. “What do you want from this life, baby girl?” He asked absentmindedly.

Humming, I traced shapes on his bare chest, sometimes pressing a kiss to where his prosthetic met his shoulder, on the tender scar tissue. “You.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, despite the already mischievous look on his face. “Really? Not even the stars and the moon?” He asked teasingly.

I knew he’d give it to me anyway, give me all that he could. But I was sure now that the only thing I wanted from this life was his love. “Not even the stars and the moon.”

[duckugou]

@ my worst (nsfw)

Iwaizumi x fem!reader

cw: ANGST as hell, smut, bathroom sex, public sex, unprotected sex, biting, marking vaguely, toxic relationship, toxic friendship. just toxic all around, theyre like 24 lmao

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

!!come to my asks to be a part of my taglist! just let me know what kinds of fics/ what fandom/ what characters/ etc you want to be tagged in! Requests are open!!!!

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

He finds solace in burying himself in someone new once things get too committed with his current fling.

You find solace in being used by the man you love the most.

"maybe im the best mistake you ever made. sounds so fuckin beautiful when you say my name."

Every friday night, he found himself clung to your side in your bed after he stumbled there from the club. You left the door unlocked for him, knowing what he would end up doing. Even if it killed you.

He smelled like a different girl whenever he laid with you. Some times it was cheap vanilla. Other times it was a more expensive floral. Either way, it was always subtly masked by the smell of his sweat.

You couldn't help but find yourself feeling at home due to the subtle scent of him. You allowed yourself to lay on his chest while he murmured that you were the best thing to ever happen to him.

During his sober hours, he was the sweetest. He never gave a second thought when it came to giving you the world. Coffee in the mornings, memes sent to your phone during work hours to cheer you up, and dinner at night. It was a dream. It was amazing bliss for both of you- until anyone brought it up.

"maybe im the worst, the worst you ever had. tell you youre beautiful then stab you in the back."

"Damn! Flowers, huh? You finally decide to lock her down or what, Iwa?" Oikawa asked, making the both of your heads whip around to him as everyone in the crew approached.

This sentence made both of you want to puke.

He wanted to puke because commitment scared him shitless. He didn't know how to be with just one person, even if you had his heart in full. He didn't want to disappoint you in the long run and hurt you more than everything hes done combined.

You wanted to puke because you knew what comes next. Every time someone brings it up to him- that you two should date and are basically a couple. He would distance himself more and more each time. 'here comes the hurt' you thought to yourself.

"No, what the fuck- why do you always ask that? What I cant be nice to my friend?" Iwaizumi asked, flustered and red.

"You never give me flowers!" Oikawa said, jokingly holding his heart in fake pain.

"Yeah because you fucking suck." He said, looking back to you and the flowers he bought from the lady on the street corner. "These- a lady was selling them and I felt bad, ok? Dont like- I'm not- It's not like that." He stuttered out, shattering your heart all over again.

"I know." You respond, defeated.

"Right. Well, I gotta go." He wiped his hands on his jeans, looking towards the exit.

"What? You just got here-" Oikawa began, getting interrupted.

"Yeah, forgot about a previous uh- responsibility. I'll see you all later." He brushed his friend off, walking out, not looking back at you.

You eyes would've filled with tears had this been one of the first times, but it wasnt. A sigh leaving your mouth, you sent a glare to Oikawa and shoved the flowers to his chest.

"Why do you always have to bring that shit up?" You ask harshly.

"You two obviously like each other- its so stupid."

"It's also none of your business." You sighed.

----

"dont try to call, do not disturb, i do not want to speak."

Walking back to his place, Iwaizumi knew his friends were right. Y/n was someone he should 'lock down'. Nobody has ever understood him the way she did. Nobody else takes time with him like her.

But that's the scariest part. If he was to commit to her, he multiplies the chance of her being crushed by him by 100. And he couldn't live with that.

So he decided to do what he did best. Push her away again.

----

"the more you try to fix me the more you make it worse."

Friday came along sooner than she thought it would. The days of the week passed by with no contact from Iwa. Y/n shouldn't be surprised. The longest he went was 2 and a half weeks and its only been 4 days. Sure he would hold out even longer this time, she began to think about how easy her life would be without him. Without loving him.

But it was too easy to love him when things were good. He was perfect for her- he just can't see it.

This pattern has made her numb. It hurts every single time she gets close to him again. She finds herself missing his scent on her sheets and realizes how awful the situation is- and will continue being- if she doesnt change something herself. She couldnt keep depending on him to crawl back to her apologizing- because what if he doesnt this time?

Getting up from the couch and brushing her stray tears away, Y/n decided to have a trial run of sorts. 'Lets see what life would be like without him for real' she thought to herself.

Sitting in front of her vanity, Y/n took in her disheveled appearance. This is what he reduced her to, and he didn't show any signs of caring or stopping the pattern.

Standing up and letting go of a deep breath she didn't know she was holding, Y/n walked to the bathroom to shower. Tonight would be the night things changed.

Right?

----

Walking into the club with her wallet and phone in hand, Y/n looked around, taking in her unfamiliar surroundings- fighting the urge to turn and run out.

Once she sat at the bar, Y/n felt a little more comfortable, letting her shoulders relax as she ordered a drink.

"I fucking love that dress!" A shrill voice sounded next to her as a pretty blonde turned in her seat to face Y/n.

"Oh- thank you! Your makeup is amazing!" Y/n returned the compliment, appreciating the shadow the stranger put on her eyelids.

"Thank you! I'm Lily!" The stranger said, instantly warming up to the nervous girl.

"Y/n, nice to meet you." Y/n introduced herself, taking a sip of her drink.

"What brings you here all alone?" Lily inquired, forgetting about the friends she came with and focusing on Y/n.

"Ah, heartbreak. Ya know." Y/n didn't want to dive into any details, giving the girl a short explanation.

"Oh god, I know that too well. Was it some guy?"

"Yeah- just some guy." Y/n sighed.

"Fuck men! Thats it- we aren't gonna sit here and be sad! Not on my watch! C'mon!" Lily stood up, grabbing Y/n's hand and strutting off to the dancefloor.

Taken back by the sudden warmth of the stranger in the best way, Y/n smiled. Tonight would be different.

"OH MY GOD THE PERFECT SONG!" Lily shouted over the music as none other than doja cat started playing over the speakers of the club. "DOIN TOO MUCH RELAX A BIT!" She began singing, taking Y/n's hands and putting them in the air, fingers interlocked.

"ACTIN LIKE THAT CUZ YOUR DADS A BITCH!" Y/n joined in, letting herself simply enjoy the night.

"MUST BE THE WAY THAT THE PLANETS IS!" Lily shouted, smiling.

"MUST BE YA FACE CUZ ITS NOT YA DICK!" The two girls sang in unison, laughing.

Across the club, Iwaizumi stood with a random tall red head, mind absolutely blank as he caught sight of his best friend dancing with a cute blonde.

Taken back, he felt all of the blood in his body rush to his head. Why the fuck was she here- in a club? With some random girl? In that dress? What is happening- what alternate universe is he in?

The way you danced around to this song made his heart ache. He hurt you again.

He stood and watched helplessly as you and your new friend were approached by 2 men. They seemed to introduce themselves to you, asking to dance. And you accepted.

Iwaizumi watched you dance with a glow around you, thinking about how happy you seemed without him. But it wasn't fair. What about him, right? I mean, he's not even having fun! This redhead is so-

"Boring." He finished his thought out loud to himself.

"Whats that?" The red head asked.

"I need another drink." He walked away, eyes held on your figure in that stupid dress.

Running directly into you, nudging you away from the tall man in front of you with his shoulder, Iwaizumi faked innocence.

"Oh shit- I'm so sorry- Y/n?" He asked as if he didn't know.

"Oh- hi Iwazumi." You replied, shaken from the impact of him both physically and emotionally.

"im not ready for you to forget me."

"What are you doing here?" He asked, not minding any listening ears near by.

"I'm just...trying to have fun." You explained, feeling drained by his presence.

"tell you you're beautiful then stab you in the back"

"Well, you look great." He offered, remembering how great you felt in his arms, not wanting you to bed in this random guys arms tonight instead. "Careful with this one," he said to the man. "Shes a lot to handle."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You asked, taken back yet again.

"Oh you know. She can be a little much- especially in the bedroom!" He spoke to the man as if he asked, knowing he hadn't slept with you more than one time at Bokuto's birthday party during seven minutes in heaven. It turned into 30 minutes in bliss, which ended in him not speaking to you for a week.

"Excuse me?!" You shouted, shoving Iwa.

"Do you two have something-" The man started.

"No!"

"Yup."

You both stood silent, staring at each other. Why would he say yes-

"Sorry buddy, you can have her tonight though." Iwa patted the man on the back, walking away.

"Uh, I'm not gonna get in the middle of all of that- sorry sweetheart." The man said, offering a sorry expression and walking away.

Anger bubbled up in your chest and your eyes found Iwazumi's figure walking to the bathrooms.

Storming into the men's bathroom, you looked around, only seeing Iwazumi. Locking the door, you were determined to hash this out once and for all.

"this is the end this is the end this is the end of me"

"Hey, this is the mens bathroom-" He began, interrupted by your hands on his chest, shoving him.

"What in the FUCK what that?! You don't get to not talk to me for days and then- GOD we only had sex ONE FUCKIN TIME IWA." You shouted.

"Dont care. Dont want you in some random assholes bed." He stood his ground, looking down at you- down your dress momentarily.

"Oh but it's okay for you to fuck anything on legs, yeah? You're such an asshole- you don't get to choose for me."

"I'm just helping you out, princess."

"HELPING ME OUT?! Helping me out. Well, you can help by figuring out what the fuck you want from me. I'm done being used by you. I'm done going days being ignored and I'm done pretending I dont lo-" You shouted through fresh tears.

"Dont." He interrupted, stepping closer to you.

"Dont what? Say I love you?" You challenged.

"You dont."

"Yes I fucking do Iwaizumi." You stood your ground, stepping closer to him, noticing the breath hitch in his chest.

"Fuck." He muttered, his hand finding the back of your neck and kissing you. Kissing you like you were oxygen and the world was running out. Kissing you like a starved man finding food in the desert. Kissing you like-

Like he loved you.

But he didn't right?

Pushing you against the sink, he put his hands on the back of your thighs, setting you on the counter.

"Y/n I- fuck. What are you doing? With me? Why me? You can do so much better- I'm the worst." He asked, foreheads touching.

"Hajime. I wish I knew why I'm so drawn to you. You're my best friend- you get me." You whispered.

"What if I hurt you?" He asked, pain in his chest.

"What if you don't?"

His mind raced with that thought, diving into fantasies of being together with you, kissing you whenever he wanted, sharing a bedroom, having kids maybe.

His mouth found yours again as he pulled your hips closer to him, his center in-between your spread legs.

You felt the straps of your dress being pulled down, revealing your braless chest.

"Shit, Y/n. So pretty. So perfect-" His lips landed on your right nipple, hand tweaking the left as you moaned. You threw your head back and felt your heart flutter.

"Haji-" You moaned out, needing him. He was what you needed. He always was.

"More." He said, pushing your dress up your legs and taking your soaked panties off. "Need you." He muttered out, lips attaching themselves to your neck, a finger diving into your entrance, causing you to scream out in pleasure. You hands searched for his hardening dick through his pants, finding it and rubbing it.

"Shit Iwa." Your moans egged him on, another finger burying itself inside you as he searched for the spot that would make you twitch.

And when he found it, you were putty in his hands.

"Haji!" You screamed, your hand gripping his dick through his pants and making him groan into your ear. "Please please please!" You begged him, needing to cum.

"Cum on my fingers, princess. Remind me what it feels like. C'mon baby." The feeling of his breath as he whispered names to you sent you over the edge. Cumming all over his hand, you moaned him name over and over.

Iwaizumi pulled his pants down, spitting in his hand and stroking his cock as you came down from your first high.

"Need to be in you." He muttered, lining himself up, not waiting for you to be fully done riding out your orgasm.

Thrusting in, you both moaned out at the same time. Nothing has ever felt as good as his cock in you. The world was fuzzy as you became overstimulated from him fucking you so hard.

His right hand behind your head as he kissed and bit your neck all over, leaving marks. His left hand holding your hips down so he could rut into you properly.

"Mine." He growled against your neck, needing to mark you. "You're fucking mine. I'm yours- shit. I'm yours Y/n. Take me please. Yours yours yours." The words fell off of his lips, finally saying what he's wanted to all along. And he meant it.

"Mine! Fuck Haji- you're mine promi-ise!" You moaned out, feeling everything collide in your core.

"Gonna fuck you forever- only pussy I need. Only one I wa-ant. Fuck baby."

"Haji-i-i! Too-oo much- fuck!" You screamed out, second orgasm coming fast as his first approached.

"Hold it for me, princess. Wan' cum with you." He muttered, feeling your walls tighten and strangle his cock.

"Ca-ant!" You yelled, trying to hold back as he thrusted, his dick twitching inside of you, hips stuttering.

"Fucking hold it." He demanded, fingers gripping your hip harder with every second that passed and he felt himself get closer.

"Cum with me princess." He said, letting you both fall over the edge, you head resting in his shoulder as he continued to fuck him cum into you on the bathroom counter.

Heavy breaths filled the room as you came down from your highs. He lifted your chin from his shoulder, kissing you softly.

"You mean it, Haji?" You asked, overly sensitive and needing to be told everything you want to hear.

"'Course I do. 'S always been you princess." He felt his chest tighten as he realized what he's admitted to.

"could you love me at my worst?"

Pulling out, he helped you clean yourself off with toilet paper- joys of bathroom sex.

You both got dressed and you face the mirror, fixing your hair and makeup as best as you could.

You both walked out together, his hand in yours as you walked down the street to your apartment. That's why he ended up at yours all the time, after all. You were close. You made sense.

Changing into a big t-shirt, Iwaizumi stripping down to his boxers, you both cuddled in your bed, his own scent the only one on him besides your own perfume. His scent able to really seep into your sheets.

"demons are friends, angels are enemies."

You fell asleep with a smile.

He fell asleep with self destructive thoughts racing through his head. He's never been good at fighting those demons telling him he's not enough and doesn't deserve you.

----

You woke up and rolled over, expecting to see your Haji.

But the bed was empty. Every trace of him was gone besides the smell of him on your bed.

In that moment you knew- you were going to be stuck in this pattern with him forever. And you couldn't stop it.

And in 2 weeks when he calls you apologizing, you would let him crawl back into your bed.

Fresh tears streamed down your face as you rolled back over, holding your pillow tightly, crying yourself back to sleep.

"Could you love me at my worst?"

----

Iwaizumi walked into the apartment he shared with Oikawa, spotting the brunette sitting on the couch drinking his coffee.

"When are you gonna stop this shit with Y/n? You're hurting her." Oikawa asked lightly.

"It'll hurt more if I-"

"Youre a pussy, Hajime. Grow up." Oikawa spoke harshly, standing up and walking past him to his bedroom, ready to text you about how you deserve better, knowing you'd never let yourself let Iwaizumi go. No matter how badly you both hurt, this toxic cycle was permanent.

Stepping into the shower, Iwaizumi thought about last night and how you felt. In his arms, around his dick, everything.

He cried for 30 minutes in the shower before crawling into his bed, crying himself to sleep as well.

"Could you love me at my worst?"

The answer would always be yes, no matter how bad the worst gets.

[auramindedd]

Fixed? Never - SMAU*

Part 3

CorpseHusband x FemReader

Warnings: cussing

A/N: again, any posts with a “ * ” attached to “smau” has writing in it. imma focus A LOT more on just the social media n message perspective, but y/n n corpse meet in this part soooo i had to add some writing :) something else b4 i forget; i’m updating my masterlist and changing it into a directory post that way you guys can also request through a google form! i’ll have requests open at all times unless i get too stressed out or if they overfill. due to me changing my masterlist, there’s gonna be about 6 posts i think. also,, thank you guys so much for 600 followers! i’ve been hitting a bunch of milestones and haven’t been remembering to say thank you, but just know that i appreciate every single one of you... also i love reading y’all’s comments 😭

🤍 directory

🕊 previous

☁️ next

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You make sure you’re set up before 6 PM, which was probably a mistake. You can’t sit still, you’re starting to get nervous, and you kind of just want to run away to McDonald’s.

Sure, you know Ludwig, Dream, and Rae, but it feels like you’re at school all over again. That anxious feeling of having to be with people while your best friends aren’t around.

You’re leg is bouncing, your nails are tapping on your desk, and you can’t stop running your hand through your hair. It probably looks like a fucking bird nest by now.

You start streaming, deciding that maybe talking to your supporters will make things a bit better.

“Hey, loves,” You greet in a not so Y/N-fashioned way. Of course, the chat catches on, and you’re being called out for it. You can’t help but giggle at the fact that your supporters know how you usually are.

@user: What happened to, “Hey, bitches!”

@user: Ou, someone is nervous.

Yeah, they obviously know you very well.

“Alright, let’s start over.” You clear your throat for dramatic effect because, well, when are you not dramatic? “Hey, bitches!” Yup, even you know that just feels right.

After a while of talking to your supporters, Rae sends you the Discord invite and the Among Us code. You join, feeling your nerves start to come back.

“Y/N!” Rae exclaims in excitement when she sees you’ve joined the Among Us lobby.

“Hi,” You say, shyness lacing your voice.

“Oh my God! The cutest voice.” Jack says. Wow, what a compliment coming from the Jack_Septic_Eye.

You take time to introduce yourself to everyone, trying to calm your nerves.

“Are we gonna start?” Ludwig’s impatient ass asks.

“We’re waiting for Corpse.” Rae explains.

Shit, another person you have to introduce yourself to?

“Hey, Corpse!” Sykkuno greets quickly, very obviously racing to be the first to say hi to Corpse.

“Hey, Sykkuno,” Corpse chuckles, and woah, the last thing you expected. You can’t help but be surprised, and you know it’s showing on your face. Why? Because your supporters are teasing you in the chat.

“Corpse,” Rae says in a sing-songy tone. “This is Y/N.” And your heart drops to your fucking stomach. Every single time it happens when you have to meet someone, but now your heart is beating even faster because you’re obviously the only one who hasn’t met Corpse. They’re all expecting a reaction out of you...

“Hey, Y/N.” His deep, husky voice says. You can hear the smile in his voice and it helps ease your nerves.

“Hi,” You greet, shyness still lacing your voice.

Corpse chuckles, “So cute.” Now you’re blushing. Great...

Rae starts the game, saving you before the others can start teasing you.

Crewmate.

You’ve only played Among Us once, in a public server with Dream, George, Karl, and Alex, and then you got bullied for not knowing what the fuck to do.

To say the least, you’re pretty glad to be Crewmate and not Impostor.

“Y/N!” Jack shouts, walking up to you. You slightly jump, forgetting they’re playing with Proximity Chat.

“Jack!” You shout back, letting his astronaut catch up to you.

“We were expecting a reaction.” He says, and of course they were.

“Uh, yeah, I don’t know. I feel like he hears it a lot, don’t want to add on to the list of Things People Say To Him Everyday.”

“Yeah, he’s probably very grateful for that.”

“Grateful for what?” Charlie walks up to you two.

“Nothing,” Jack drawls. You’ve just met Charlie, but you know that he’d tease both you and Corpse about one another’s voices.

“Oh, I know!” Charlie exclaims, but before he can say what he knows-

“Okayyy! That’s enough interaction with Charlie for today.” Jack says, and you take that as a, ‘Walk the fuck away now, Y/N!’

You walk around, trying your best to finish tasks, but when it comes to the card swipe in Admin, you want to quit life as a whole.

“Ugh, I fucking quit.” You groan, slamming your hands on your desk. A deep, rumbling chuckle comes through on your headphones.

“Having trouble?” Corpse teases.

“Yeah. I wanna rip every strand of my fucking hair out.”

“Swipe it slower.” And with that, you try again. Voila! Just like magic.

“Well if I would’ve fucking known.” You groan, Corpse chuckling.

“Here, I can help you with the game.”

“Yes, please, I don’t know shit about it.”

“You know, you cuss a lot for having such a sweet, innocent, and cute voice.” Corpse laughs.

“Yeah,” You drawl. “I know, bad fucking habit.” You slap your hand over your mouth. How does someone cuss in every sentence? Get a filter, damn.

Corpse walks around with you as you both finish tasks, explaining how the game works, and giving you tips for when you do end up being an Impostor.

Honestly, you could listen to his voice all day. He’s also really sweet.

“What are you two up to?” Brooke asks, doing tasks in Electrical with you two. Corpse told you to make sure you’re always aware of your surroundings when you’re in Electrical. So, naturally, you’re freaking out, but silently and internally.

“Brooke,” Corpse warns. He doesn’t even have time to finish his warning. Brooke kills him, his body flopping over, the one bone sticking out from the top of his body. Your mouth falls open.

“Hey, Y/N. Let’s be besties!” You don’t know what to do, but ay, #girlsupportinggirls, right? So, you walk with her. She helps you along the way, also telling you tips on the game, explaining how everything works. Then, after about a minute, a whole 60 seconds, Corpse’s body is reported.

“Why Corpse? Such an innocent man with a beautiful voice.” Lud fake cries.

“Get over it,” Brooke says.

“It’s Brooke! Brooke’s an Impostor!” Lud shouts.

“What? No! I was with Y/N for a lot of this round.” Brooke defends herself, and oh fuck, who the fuck do you defend? You’ve just met both of them, one of them will possibly hate you forever.

“Y/N?” Sykkuno grabs your attention, snapping you out of your thinking.

“Yeah, she was. She wouldn’t have had time to kill Corpse. Where was the body?” Well, there you go, potentially ruining yours and Corpse’s blooming friendship. Sad Girl Hour, type beat.

“In Electrical,” Charlie says.

“Yeah, no way she would’ve had to time to kill him.”

Nobody’s voted out. Brooke hasn’t even told you who the second Impostor is so, you don’t know if you should stay with her or not.

As you and Brooke are walking around, or skipping as she sees it, and holding hands, Dream pops out of a vent. Well, there’s Imposter two.

“Woah! Dream, way to out yourself out.” You tease, throwing your head back and laughing.

“Please, you’ve been with Brooke the whole time. Don’t say anything.” Dream begs, making you and Brooke giggle.

“I won’t, I won’t.”

“Thank you,” He starts walking away from you guys, but not without finishing his sentence that you thought was already finished. “Cutie.” And there, finished.

Fucking finished! Tweedle-dee, tweedle dum! Whoopty-fucking-do! Fan-fucking-tastic! A-fucking-mazing!

And of course you’re blushing for the whole 80,000+ people watching to tease you about.

“Oh my God!” Brooke squeals. “What was that?!”

“I’ll explain later,”

•*•*•*•*•

“Y/N, how could you?” Corpse says, offended.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know what to do.”

“She’s my enemy, Y/N. We were supposed to stick together. I told you some tips and tricks, explained how to be a badass Impostor, everything!” Wow, he’s a good fucking actor.

“I can very well do the same thing, bitch.” Brooke spits, all in a playful manner - you hope...

“Not better than me, bitch.” Corpse retorts, his astronaut getting closer.

•*•*•*•*•

Imposter.

With Corpse.

Great.

Your enemy. Or as he put it, “Enemy who he can maybe, and most likely, will become friends with in the near future.”

“Follow,” He says, and even though he’s your enemy, you do.

“I gotta do my own thing.”

“You don’t know how to do shit.” Corpse scoffs.

“Okay then, what the fuck are we gonna do?”

“Double kills, all the way, but only when we meet up with each other. So, right now, we’ll both go our own ways, but when we see each other again, we’ll walk to a pair and do a double kill if we can.” Corpse explains.

“Brooke told me not to do double kills often. It won’t help get through a game.”

Corpse snorts, “Brooke doesn’t know dog shit about this game.”

“Fine,” You groan, going along with it only because you don’t know dog shit about the game either.

As Corpse explained, you two do double kills every time you meet up. You two managed to get double kills where people rarely go - Shields, Comms, and the top of Cafeteria.

After killing Rae and Sykkuno, the game ends. You made sure to leave Brooke and Dream alive.

“Period, we did that!” You exclaim, everyone else groaning and complaining about how you two should never be an Impostor duo again. “But I still fucking hate you because you hate me!”

“Exactly!” Corpse retorts in the same tone as you.

•*•*•*•*•

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist - comment or message me to be added!

* if your username is in bold, please reach out to me; you’re at risk of having your username removed that way i can clear space for other tags. *

@cherry-piee @littlered00 @sunnywinterdays @strang-ersclub @callmemaeve-y @powerpuffyn @kusuinko @where-thesundoesntshine @letglimmersayfuck @coryisagee @a-dot-dev @ifilosemyselfagain @tayloryorkscurls @lex-prplatmngrl @letsloveimagines @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @smiithys @mikayladoesntknow @clubfairy @mirahg @thurstyforholland @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @majasophieanna

——————————————————————————

Tags - ignore::

[persimmonteas]

happy railentine’s day

written for Citrus Dome server’s Lover Day collab, check out the other pieces

Word count: ~1.5k words

Pairing: denki x f!reader

Genre: soulmate mark AU (but quirks still exist), fluff and smut

CWs/tags: light electrocution, nipple play, bathroom sex, daddy kink, choking, hair pulling, fingering, dirty talk, my editing, established relationship, dom!denki, (1) spank, praise kink

Notes: art by @annypuff, also a request for @donteathecake that devolved uwu, shoutout to @m00ns0ng​ for spitballing ideas w/ me

How it started: 

“Why are we in this sketchy ass bar for Valentine’s Day?” 

“Because nobody in their right mind would come here for Valentine’s Day. And what better way to avoid my lovely soulmate?” You retort as you take a sip of the lukewarm beer sitting in front of you. 

“I thought you didn’t have one?” Your fellow single coworker cocks an eyebrow at you. 

You grimace, pulling up your sleeve. “I do. I just like to pretend tattoo shops will take my money and laser it off.”  

Your coworker’s confusion drops the second they see your mark. “Wow, your soulmate is, uh, something, huh?” 

You release a long-suffering sigh and roll your sleeve back down. 

“That’s a nice way of putting it.” You level your coworker with a deadpan expression and throw back the rest of your beer. 

A body bumps into you and when he turns to you, you freeze in horror as the words you’ve been dreading to hear spill out of his mouth. 

“Happy railentine’s day! Sorry for bumping into you. Do you want a beer? Oh, are you ok?” The blonde man waves a hand in front of your face. He looks at your coworker, who is in a similar state of shock. 

“What— why in the absolute fuck,” you hear yourself say and the admittedly pretty blonde man’s eyes widen. 

He points at you and you feel like you’ve been forcibly pulled into the spiderman meme. 

“You! You’re my soulmate!” He excitedly looks like he’s about to hug you and you almost reflexively attempt to dodge it. “Wait, I gotta tell my friends where I went but I’ll be right back!”

You groan as you slam your head into your hands. 

“Hey, he seems nice.” Your coworker shrugs. 

“Can I get a refund?” you mumble. “I cannot believe this is real. This is my life. Everybody else gets shit like I’ve been waiting for you all my life or you’re my stars and sun.” 

“He’s really cute though. I’mma go but you should talk to him! Maybe you can have a happy railentine’s day.” Your coworker cackles as they get up to leave.

How it’s going:

“Happy railentine’s day, baby,” Denki beams at you and kisses your nose. 

You suppress a laugh. 

“How many people can say their soulmark words every year?” With a cheeky grin, he wraps his arms around you. At that, you smack him.

“The people who have normal soulmark words!! There are plenty of them,” you counter as you pour out two beers. 

“Yeah, but none of them have you,” Denki says as he drops kisses on your shoulder. 

“I thought railentine’s day was for railing not sweet words,” you joke back. Every Valentine’s Day feels like your first encounter—just with better beer. He did indeed end up railing you in the bathroom of the bar after your titillating conversation about your soulmark. 

“I was joking. It was a joke! Please love me.” “Well, it’s on my fucking body so—”

“Well. I can be too.” 

You can’t bring yourself to feel any shame about your soulmark anymore with how you gushed around his cock that day.

Denki shocking you while kissing your shoulder startles you out of your reminiscing. 

“My bad, baby. You just know how to light me up.” You giggle as he presses an apology kiss to your pulse point. 

“C’mon, let’s go celebrate railentine’s day.” You grab his hand and drag him to the bathroom. 

You can feel the stars in Denki’s eyes as he follows you. “This is why I love you,” he rasps as he backs you up against the counter. 

“Brings back memories, huh?” His hands palm your ass, kneading as he kisses you. 

“Mmhmm,” you hum, entangling your hands into his hair. A rough pull forces a hiss out of him. 

“Rude. I remember being much more in charge that time,” he pouts, caging you in between his toned arms and pulling off your shirt. He tosses it somewhere and immediately drags his hands over your hardening nipples. 

“I’m certainly not stopping you, babe,” you tease.  

Your voice wavers when Denki lowers his head to suck on your nipples, his hold on your hips almost bruising. With a half-lidded gaze, he skims his fingers over the trails of saliva he left on your tits, softly shocking your sensitized nipples. 

“Fuck, Kami!” you toss your head back. From the curve of your neck to your glistening tits to how you’re soaked through your sleep shorts and panties, Denki can’t decide where he wants to keep his gaze. 

“Nuh huh,” he disagrees with a hard pull of your nipples. “What’s my name, love?” 

“Daddy, please fuck me.” You give Denki your best pleading face. 

As much as Denki would love to say he can hold out on you, the truth is he’s totally whipped. He knows it. You know it. You watch your boyfriend cave as he starts rushing to tug off clothes.

“Now, this is really starting to feel like a flashback,” Denki chuckles as he cups your throat and chin, forcing you to look into the mirror. With a shove, he forces you to drop your elbows onto the counter, arching your back towards him. 

You lean into his touch as he glides his pretty hands all over your body. 

Whimpers pour out of your mouth when he slides two fingers inside you without resistance.

“Your pussy is sopping wet,” he remarks with far too much nonchalance, working you open and dragging his fingers over your slit to pinch at your clit. “Keep those legs spread open for me. Good girl.” 

Denki loves watching you in the mirror. Your mussed hair, bright eyes and heaving chest is one of his favorite sights. 

You watch him suck his fingers clean of your taste and moan, desperate to have him inside of you. In an attempt to speed him up, you wiggle your ass at him. 

Denki smacks your ass cheek with enough force that you just know it’ll bruise tomorrow. He soothes the sting with a caress. 

“So impatient. You want to cum on a fat cock that badly, huh?” He taunts, gliding his cock over your cunt. You bite back a bratty comment and get on your tiptoes and part your legs, spreading yourself open more.

Denki groans at the sight and stops teasing with a slide inside of you, tweaking one of your nipples in his hand. Your warm walls clenching down on his thick cock elicits a moan from both of you. 

He babbles about how you’re such a good girl for daddy. How you’re so tight and how he loves splitting you open. 

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god, ’m going to cum,” you pant, grinding against him, feeling the telltale warmth of your orgasm approaching. Your pussy clamping down on him makes Denki lean more weight against you, pressing you into the counter, as he fucks you harder.

“I love cumming over your cock, daddy,” you encourage with a whine. Your pussy is still twitching from your orgasm aftershocks. 

Denki buries himself with a deep thrust and spills his cum inside of you with a gasp. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. I’m so glad I went to that seedy bar that one day.” He kisses the back of your neck and pulls out, hauling himself off of you. Denki grabs you before you buckle to the ground. 

“Oh my god, Kami. Me too.”

You stumble over to the shower, groping to find the knob. 

“Are you good?” He watches with an amused expression. 

You wave a hand at him. “Yeah, can you go grab beer? I think we deserve shower beers.” 

“God, I love you.”

[amoristt]

Just a Dare | Nathan Prescott x Reader

@trueloveknifefight asked, Also can I request Nathan asking you out?

here u are! i love writing convos w nathan UGH i adore his character.

as always, replies and reblogs are greatly appreciated1 i check all tags and comments <3

wanna support me for just $3? here's my ko-fi!

The lights were bright, vivid. Almost blinding. They dance LED accents into the reflection of your drink- a dull plastic cup filled to the brim with one part whiskey, zero parts mixer. The taste could bring a tear to your eye but you would be damned to water down such fine alcohol, provided by none other than Nathan Prescott himself.

Music reverberated along the pool rooms walls, laughter and hollers distantly rising with the tempos. Your foot absently tapped to the beat- you were never one for dancing. Never one for parties, either, actually, favoring drinking in the solitude of a small friend group.

If not for Nathan you wouldn't be here at all. Some would say it's a privilege to slip past those heavy doors, entering the dully lit world of the Vortex Club. You mostly just felt like it was all for show. Somehow securing a place among Nathan's friend group, and a good friend at that, it was almost duty to show up. He insisted on it.

So, here you were. Leaning against a wall in a suffocatingly warm, cramped pool room surrounded by a sea of faces you hardly recognized.

That was, until you saw Nathan's face peer through the small break in shifting bodies. You knew him all too well.

Strikingly handsome, equally strikingly pompous. Funny, crude, an absent minded party goer just as much as he was a fireball with racing, incoherent thoughts. A drinker, a druggie. Takes the edge off, he says, but you think he does it to take away his thoughts completely. You felt like his entire life was all edges, never sacred ground.

The poor bastard.

He lures your attention in as he saunters over with squared shoulders, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink when a random student cuts it a little too close. Normally Nathan would make a bigger deal, give him what for, but this time he just shoots the poor kid a menacing glare and grumbles, 'fucking watch it'. He's walking with purpose and intent, you can see it on his face. You must have a target on your forehead as he darts straight over.

When he comes to your side, his own alcohol dripping down the sides of his cup onto his wiry fingers, you raise a brow.

"Something wrong?" You ask, as he takes a spot leaning against the hard wall right next to you.

"Just wondering why you're being so fucking lame over here," He shouts over the music, taking a sip of his drink, grimacing at the taste. "We're all having a good time over at the lounge and you're over here acting like all the other wallflower nobodies."

You roll your eyes with upturning lips. "Maybe I like being a wallflower. I like people watching. I see things no one else does."

"Yeah, okay, fucking weirdo."

"I mean it," You push off the wall and grin. "Look-" You point to a student obviously wasted, drink held high over head while he lets the music take him away. "That guy is clearly trashed- he's having the time of his life. He's gotta be seeing double."

Nathan whistles at his state, taking in the guys goofy smile, half lidded eyes. "I'll bet it's the triplets. I could breathe on him too hard and he'd fall over."

"You should go try it." You tease. He shakes his head and takes another drink.

"Nah, he'll get it himself. Guarantee we'll be dragging him out by his feet by the end of the night." He shrugs. "Or, at least someone will. I sure as fuck ain't staying that long."

You snicker. "What, got a hot date?" Nathan glares at you. "Oh don't tell me," you cup your hands to whisper, a secretive gesture, "homework?"

"Fuck no," He scoffs, and you can just barely see that he's a little more than tipsy now. His pale cheeks dusted with red, the tip of his nose ruby under the harsh lighting. It's also then that you realize he's a little more tense than usual, even despite the drinking. He's standing straight upright, his right hand gripping his cup like a crutch and his left now shoved hastily into his pocket.

He hasn't looked at you dead in the eyes yet.

"So what is it then?" You ask curiously. He shrugs and stares into his cup. You frown. "Bro, are you like, good right now? Do you wanna leave?"

For the first time since he'd wandered over, Nathan looks up at you. His eyes are unreadable, but his composure seems stressed. He shrugs again. Before you can even open your mouth to ask him about his state, he sighs and downs an entire mouthful of burning whiskey. It makes you cringe just watching him.

"Fuck it," He huffs. "Look I got some stupid ass dare to come over here and put the moves on you, okay." He sounds almost annoyed, like it's a hassle for him, or maybe embarrassing. You cross your arms. "I was dared to come over here and try to get you like, to fucking, you know, leave with me, but now that I'm over here I'm starting to think maybe that was a dumbass idea."

"Leave with you?" You say incredulously, a brow already lifting. "You were dared to come over here and try to sleep with me? By our friends?"

"No, no, fuck," Nathan seems agitated now, rushing. "Like a date sorta bullshit. Ask you out." He manages to get it out in almost the worst delivery possible, meanwhile you're just trying to pick out who would put him up to this. Hayden? Victoria?

A laugh forces its way out of you. "Aren't we a little too old for that game?"

Nathan shrugs. "That's what I said but they insisted. Fucking babies. At least make the dare a little more fun than just asking some bitch out. That's like elementary level shit."

Your eyes widen, you scoff. "Excuse me?"

Nathan sputters. "You're not some bitch, I didn't mean to-... Fucks sake, I'm clearly a little drunk right now okay, if you could cut me some fucking slack that'd be awesome."

"Hey man I didn't ask to be a victim of bullying," You tease, and he can't help but laugh. You soften. "Never expected it from you, though of all people. As ironic as that sounds."

"I'm not even bullying you, come on. Don't be a bitch. I even admitted it and everything."

You grin. "Yeah. Gotta say though, I'm a little disappointed."

"Oh what, you wanted to see my moves?" Nathan hums. "You wanted some Prescott action?"

"Shut the hell up." You shove his shoulder, an action that would be a mistake to so many others, but for you, it was welcomed. "I'm disappointed that it was just a dare. I'd probably have said yes if it wasn't. But, oh well."

Nathan doesn't answer for a long moment. First, he stares into his drink, processing. Almost like he hadn't heard that right, or like you were messing with him. It's rare to see Nathan Prescott stunned into a momentary silence. He's thinking, wondering what he should say next. Suspicious that you're just playing with him, hopeful that maybe you aren't.

And, you hadn't been. Truth be told if given the chance you would allow him to take you out for the evening. Show you fancy things, try out something a little more intimate than just laughter and poking fun at classmates together. You enjoyed his presence, looked forward to it at times.

A small part of you had hoped that he felt the same, maybe. Somehow. While grateful that he respected you enough to cut the crap before it even began, you couldn't help but feel a little... Disheartened at the prank. You'd saved your pride by denying him beforehand, but, if it had been genuine...

"So if it wasn't a dare," He began, quietly, barely audible over the booming music overhead. Eyes barely visible in the sea of vibrant lights crashing like waves. "You'd have said yes."

You shrug, trying to play it casual to save your own feelings, just in case. "Probably. I mean, we're already friends. We have fun so it couldn't have been that bad." He nods along to almost every word.

"Well what if we did it anyways." He blurts.

"Did what?"

"Go out tonight. Like, you know ditch this lame ass party and have some real fun."

"You love this lame ass party, and plus," You shake your head in feigned annoyance. "I'm not sleeping with you, Nathan."

He glares at you. "Fucking duh. I'm just saying we can go and hang out somewhere else. This party happens all the fucking time so it's not like we're missing anything."

"But, wouldn't that make me the butt of our friends joke?"

He shrugs. "Fuck em. It was a dumb dare anyways."

"Now it seems like you're trying extra hard to convince me to say yes." You state, and he's frazzled, running lines through his brain to try and save the absolute failure of asking you out. You decide to spare him, take a little leap of faith for yourself. "But, alright. I'm in."

Nathan gapes at you. "You're in?"

"Yeah, why not. I'm not busy right now and if you're not either than," You smile. "Why not. You better wow me though, Prescott. I'm talking a night to remember. Fireworks, dinner by candle light, a serenade. The whole package."

Nathan's eyes light up, but he tries to hide it, rolls those beautiful blues. "Well considering I've had like no fucking time to prepare how about we instead go to the roof and chill out."

You toss the idea around in your head for show. You already knew the answer the moment he asked if you were being serious.

"I mean I guess that would work," You say. "I was looking for fireworks but I suppose that will suffice. Feel free to go tell our buddies their joke may have backfired on them."

Nathan shakes his head. "Nah, don't even bother. They're all drunk and probably don't even remember daring me in the first place."

"Alright then," You push yourself off the wall, feeling your cheeks warm. A flutter takes wing in the base of your chest, your heart picking up just a little faster. You can't stop the smile that graces you as you say, "Lead the way, Prescott."

Nathan does lead the way. He takes your hand into his own, your fingers tracing over his boney knuckles as he drags you through the sea of bodies, out to the school hall and up winding stairs.

You giggle like a child when he struggles to find the correct key on the janitors ring he'd snatched weeks ago just in case, tease him when he almost spills his drink all over himself. Nathan's hands are almost shaking, but you chalk it up to the alcohol. You chalk everything up to the alcohol- his trembling fingers, his red face, a shy, albeit goofy smile resting upon his lovely, angular face.

The night was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the smoldering heat of the Vortex Party.

He looks amazing out under the stars, and underneath the scope of the vast, black sky dotted with trillions of perfect, twinkling lights, you feel at peace.

Looking at him, you feel like this may be the start of something you'd denied yourself the chance of ever even imagining.

Out there, alone but together, hearing the echoes of music mixed with the livelihood of crickets in the darkness...

it truly was a night to remember.

-----------

Days later, you sit atop your desk, feet tapping rhythmically on your chair, typing away at your phone.

"Love the top," A familiar voice pipes, and you glace up to find Victoria standing before you, books pressed to her chest. She takes in your shirt, a nicely fitted long sleeve with a rather low cut v-neck. "Why haven't I see that one before?"

You shrug and set your phone down. "Never got around to wearing it I guess. Not a big fan of V-necks."

"It fits you," She sets her books down at the table beside you and brushes a hand through her hair, making sure every strand is in line. "I'll have to get one myself."

"You know what, you can have it after today," You say, and she perks up in disbelief. "As a thank you for what happened at the party."

That disbelief soon turned to confusion. "...Meaning?"

"Y'know, making Nathan ask me out. He made a whole huge deal about it- said you guys were drinking and playing Truth or Dare of all things. Gotta say, I was a little surprised."

Victoria's brows knit. "We hardly drank at that party, and I wouldn't be caught dead playing Truth or Dare. That game is for kids."

It almost knocks the wind out of you.

They hadn't even been playing in the first place.

As the teacher walks into the room, the first period bell blaring annoyingly over the speakers, you climb off your desk and prepare for the day, hardly able to contain yourself. It hadn't been a dare, after all.

And, you and Nathan's official second date was merely a day away.