#// you mentioned she'd be drunk friday but i didn't know if she'd be at a party or not ? so this can really be any day she'd be in the area | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lesbolieeh · 1 year ago

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Margarita (m)

Inexperienced!Subby!Jihyo ✦ Experienced!Fem!Reader

WC—4.7 ✦ k

WARNING—sex w/ a woman for the first time ✦ very intimate not-kinky sex ✦ praising ✦ body worship ✦ oral (giving, receiving) ✦ face-sitting (receiving) ✦ 69 ✦ fingering (giving, receiving) ✦ multiple orgasms (giving) ✦ nipple play ✦ hickeys (giving, receiving) ✦ pet names (baby, babe) ✦ brief dirty talk ✦ breath play & masturbation if you squint ✦ crying ✦ mentions of alcohol consumption

THEMES—nsfw ✦ first girl crush au ✦ summer love ✦ friends to ...? ✦ a bit angsty at times

NOW PLAYING—Mystery of Love ✦ Sufjan Stevens

A/N. this was the first time I tried writing a smut that didn't have any clear power dynamics and I rly liked writing it! I don't think all smut needs to have a dom x sub. So to those of you requesting smut, don't feel pressured to pick "kinky" stuff like spanking, bondage, "mommy", choking etc because oral, 69, fingering, hickeys, body worship, praising etc can be picked as "kinks" too — besides I'm a smut writer I can't judge u lmaooo

M.LISTS—twice ✦ latest updates ✦ read on wp

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"I'm sorry I didn't say it earlier," you heard Jihyo's voice from beside you. You two were sitting on a bench in the park you two had first hung out. Dahyun, your best friend, and you had been sitting at a bar and Jihyo had been there too — except with the company of a tall dude. She had been too distracted looking at him and you had been too distracted laughing at one of your comedian bestie's jokes, which resulted in Jihyo walking into you, spilling both of your drinks in the process. Like the decent people you both were, you apologized and even proposed repaying each other and smiled when you realized that you both had ordered margaritas.

So you drank margaritas all night, forgetting about then saying bye to Dahyun and that guy, until the bar closed and you decided to buy this one special large sized margarita to share at the park not too far away. By the end of the laugh-filled night (which quickly turned into morning), you had a feeling that you'd see each other a lot more afterwards. And you were right. Ever since that sunrise told you to part ways and leave one big margarita glass by the bar's door, you had made it a tradition to buy one every Friday to share as you chat and giggle on the same bench at the same park under the moonlight until another sunrise would tell you it's time to go.

As you had gotten to know each other, you found out the guy at the bar was her boyfriend Daniel, and she found out you were going to leave Korea at the end of the summer. After that, you'd made a promise you'd try to spend as much time together as possible over the sweet summer before you'd fly away.

"Are you drunk?" you asked, shaking your head at her words.

One day she'd called you over to her place, crying on the phone. Her then-boyfriend had broken up with her, claiming she didn't show him love. But the part that shocked you was that she confessed he was right. So why had she been crying? A guy she didn't have feelings for broke up with her...that wasn't a bad thing, right?

"No."

"I saw a margarita on your story before you got here. You know I'm very familiar with JYP bar."

"It was margarita, yes, but it was alcohol-free."

"Oh."

"I know you're going away next week but I needed to tell you before I lost the chance to say it."

"Damn."

"I know. I'm fucking sorry but I've never had feelings for a woman before. Shit, I didn't even know I was into women but it explains why I never had strong feelings for any of my exes."

She looked down at your hand, feeling tears building up in her eyes. Fuck. Not only had she confessed to you but you didn't seem to reciprocate. Fuck. Had she ruined the last week with you?

"I like you too."

"W-What..." she stuttered, beginning to smile for the first time tonight.

You put your hand on hers, intertwining your fingers, "Let's make the best out of this last week we have together."

She intertwined your fingers in return, looking at them and smiling big. "Yes."

As to not waste time, you took a cab to her place immediately. Typical queer stereotype to move on to sex so damn fucking fast. Well, typically queer people in a conservative country have a harder time confessing to each other in fear of rejection and possible hate crime, so when you finally muster up courage and get accepted, you often feel the need to move quickly to make up for all the time you could've but didn't spend together. And you two only had a week left together, might as well fuck every day since you hadn't done that even once over the whole damn fucking summer. What a fucking waste to overthink and overanalyze possible outcomes of a confession to the point that you delay the confession until one week before one of you has to leave the country. So fucking typical that two women who like each other don't say shit because they don't want to make the other person uncomfortable or ruin the perfect fucking connection they have with one another. Fuck.

Soon as you stepped foot into your apartment, you locked the door and captured her lips with yours. It was the first kiss she'd ever shared with a woman and she wanted to melt into you and stay lips to lips forever. So this was how a kiss should feel? All this time she had thought she was weird for not liking kissing or foreplay but now she understood what the problem was: she had never genuinely liked any of her previous partners. You took a few steps, not letting go of her lips, until Jihyo's back met the wall. She smiled with a blush. She had never smiled into a kiss before. But she felt...happy? Maybe just content? Or maybe she just felt good that she's doing shit people her age should be doing: making out with people they find attractive? Eh, maybe she was just exaggerating because this was a new experience for her? (No, her happiness was not an exaggeration.)

Then you put your hands on her cheeks gently. Gently, as in to feel her softness, feel her skin, feel her smile on your hands. In the past, her exes had put their hands on her face to keep her from breaking the kiss or to assert dominance. Damn. These fuckers had no idea what they were doing. But you... You made her smile! You made her blush. You made her feel comfortable and beautiful.

After a while you broke the kiss, Jihyo's lips following yours in the air, which made her a bit embarrassed until you said "Shall we continue?" with a soft voice that made her feel safe and not judged. Jihyo nodded, giggling when you held your hands out for her to carry her bridal style. Height was actually an insecurity of hers but this action made her feel small in a good way, in a way that made her feel beautiful actually. Then she began blushing again, realizing you were carrying her to your bedroom, a place you'd only ever hung out at to talk, drink something that wasn't margarita or do the most random shit you'd think of when you were bored at night after a long day of work.

But now this casual, 'friend' place would be where you were going to have sex. It made her smile. Oh how many times she'd imagined you two fucking and cuddling on this very bed. You weren't just walking into the bedroom, you were carrying her as if she were your bride. Holy shit. As soon as you were inside you put her down on the bed and sat down next to her.

"I think we should talk about preferences and boundaries before we continue," you said because communication is key (lmao). "I can start," you knew she'd most likely be too embarrassed to tell everything if she went first, "My main thing is I really like oral and fingering and I usually cum from clit stimulation rather than penetration. I tend to take more initiative during sex, but I am open to you doing that if you'd like. Actually there doesn't need to be any power roles in sex we can just have fun either way. Also I really like talking during sex. Hmm... I prefer not doing any anal stuff on me, if you would like me to do that on you I'm OK with that. I do own a toy collection at home so if you have any vibrators I'm OK with using that too." During your little speech Jihyo was smiling and trying not to blush, never hearing this type of conversation before (you don't hear the word 'sex' much in Korea). "I also would like to talk...during, hum, sex," she felt pressure with what to say, scared you would forever judge her based on the next words that would come out her mouth. You noticed she avoided eye contact, seeming nervous. "Jihyo, I'm no angel, you know. As long as you're not into rape I will not judge your preferences or boundaries," you held her hand, squeezing it lightly. She took a breath, bit more relaxed at the physical touch, "Mm, I like intimacy, like eye contact and such. Maybe hugging each other? I like both clit stimulation and penetration. I've never done this with a girl before so I would be more comfortable if you lead more I think." Her ears were red as were her cheeks. You brought her small hand to your face and kissed the back of it, which didn't help with her blush but at least it made her feel cared for (and wet).

You opened her hand and kissed each finger before putting her hand against your cheek to lean on. Jihyo put her other hand on your other cheek, leaning in to kiss you, smiling against each other. Kissing her felt like walking on clouds. Fluffy, pastel colored clouds. You continued kissing her, wanting to make sure she was wet and excited before you did anything to her (the last thing you wanted was to make her fake orgasm) and she only appreciated the longer fore play.

"May I?" you asked between kisses, pulling lightly on the bottom of her shirt to which she nodded still smiling. Maybe the margarita she had earlier wasn't alcohol-free since she was smiling so damn much. She almost felt embarrassed at her actions until you mirrored her expression and smiled too as you gave a few more kisses to her lips, reassuring her that smiling is never a bad action. She was so pretty. Her tan skin glowed like gold. Pulling her by her her thighs onto your lap so she was taller (lol), you had better access to her collarbones and chest and started kissing her neck lightly and hugging her waist closer to you. Her heart was beating fast, never looking forward to sex this much before. For every kiss you placed on her neck and down to her shoulder, she felt wetter and wetter. You started teasing her tit under her bra, as your other hand went down her pants to her lower back, not yet going to her butt or underwear, all while you kept kissing her collarbones so gently. She put her hands on your hair and started pushing your head to the tit that wasn't getting any attention, too shy to actually say what she wants. You got the memo and started kissing the part of her boob that was exposed from the bra but it wasn't enough so Jihyo took off her bra completely, showing her breathtakingly beautiful boobs. You started kissing harder on her boob, ignoring the nipple for now to tease her. When you heard her gasping and whining you gained confidence and started sucking on her nipple and pinching the other, while unbuttoning her pants with one hand (which was hard but you managed after a few seconds thankfully).

She got off your lap and you helped her take off her tight pants, leaving her in her blue underwear before pulling her back on your lap. You kissed her on her lips, she smiled and took off your shirt, hoped you couldn't see her blush. She was a bit shy now, having never seen a woman's tits in a sexual context before. You giggled, making her pout, and you placed her hand on your boob. Wow. It was softer than she thought; she was so used to the softness of feeling her own boobs that when she touched your boobs she was amazed by the feeling. No wonder people love boobs so much! She brought her other hand to play with both your boobs, exploring and enjoying. You on the other hand, began to touch and grab her lush, thick thighs. After feeling all her curves and edges you moved one hand to her inner thigh and felt something wet. Jihyo was a bit embarrassed. She had gotten so wet it was dripping down the inside of her thighs. "Aw, so wet for me already, Baby?" you looked up at her with a genuine smile, proud. She nodded, trying not to look you in the eyes. "I love it." She nodded again, now going down to suck on your tits to avoid looking you in the eyes. Now it was your turn to make noise, Jihyo not going gentle. You looked down at her, "You look so pretty from this point of view." She looked up at you, her mouth still on your skin. "Thank you." You put some hair away from her face, then resting your hand on her cheek to move her to your other boob that hadn't felt any oral stimulation yet. Your fingertips ghosted over her back, making her shiver slightly, before resting on her butt, grabbing and playing with it. She moaned against your boob accidentally using her teeth a bit, you moaned too.

You started feeling under the fabric covering her intimate parts, but only under the edge to tease her. Jihyo was getting needy and impatient. She got off your lap to take off your pants, and before you knew it you were stood staring at each other in only underwear. You opened your arms for her and hugged her closely, just breathing in each others arms, kissing her shoulder or your collarbone randomly. She looked you in the eyes and felt regret; regret that she or you hadn't confessed earlier. You too. You had liked her since the beginning but you had been scared of rejection or ruining such a good friendship. But you had each other now and that was all that mattered. Better late than never, right? You held each others soft cheeks and almost communicated with your eyes, I never want this to end, and kissed each other. This time it was more desperate and with roaming hands all over each others bodies before you led her to the bed to lay down. This was the bed that you two had laid on to watch movies on Netflix and Disney+, play drinking games during the movie which resulted in at least two empty soju bottles next to the bed. Now this would be the bed you would fuck in. She was ready because she also remembered every time you would go to the bathroom and she would wait in bed and look at your butt as you walked away and question if she was into girls or just liked looking at your butt out of curiosity. And you remembered every time she would go to the bathroom or to the kitchen to grab us a snack, and you would have a pep talk with yourself about telling her about your little crush. And now you were here. In that same bed. Filled with memories. But now with you two almost naked. Her on her back and you sat between her legs.

You kissed her one more time on her lips before moving down, placing butterfly kisses all the way down her chest to her stomach and stopping right above her core. She looked at you, expecting you to remove her undies. You lowered the underwear, she was breathing louder, you stopped when her hip bone was exposed, kissed it, then let the fabric cover her again. Jihyo whined. You smiled against her skin, kissing down her leg and to her inner thigh, giving an experimental lick. "Please." The wetness between your legs was getting uncomfortable at this point and you wanted to just take off your panties and sit on her face but you had to suppress your intrusive thoughts and be slow and gentle since this was your first time together — it was also her first time ever with a woman — so you just pressed your thighs against each other for the slightest stimulation. "Please what, Baby?" you asked kissing her other inner thigh, grabbing both of them with your hands. "Ngh— Can you— Can you touch it?" You gave one more big kiss to her thigh before moving to her face, "Anything for you," you pecked her lips. She opened her legs wider as you went down to give you more space, you looked at her before going down and pulling down her panties, her wetness sticking to them. You threw them away to some corner in the room and put your face in front of her pussy. She held out her hand towards you and you smiled, grabbing it before putting small kisses on her lips, avoiding her clit and slit for now. Jihyo was gasping and blushing. You pushed your tongue lightly through her slit and up to her clit, she squeezed your hand. You started kissing on her slit and clit too, gently, worshipping her body. She whined. "Please, ____." You kissed her clit, you looked at her, "Please, what, Baby?" She felt too shy to say it so she just put her free hand on your hair and pushed your face in her pussy. You took the hint and began licking. She felt relieved to finally being stimulated more harshly like she had craved all this time, accidentally pulling your hair. Pulling your hair wasn't an issue but it was hurting a bit so you held her wrist to tell her. "Oh sorry, Babe, I was getting carried away," Jihyo apologised, now moving your hair away from your eyes. You smiled. Omg she called you "Babe"!! You were determined to make her cum with only your mouth at least once before you finger her. "I love your taste, Baby," you whispered before going back to licking her luscious pussy. She blushed. You pulled her thighs closer to you, wanting to feel her softness on your neck and shoulders. This made Jihyo blush more but also more confident. You held eye contact with each other, hands intertwined, your other hand playing with her boob and pinching her nipple. "You look really pretty from this point of view," she said with a smirk. You smiled, arching your back so she had an even prettier view. She gulped. Everything was getting dizzy. Her clit was being licked exactly how she liked it and you noticed so you kept that same pace. Her chest was getting red and hot. Her hand was sweaty. Her moans were stuck in her throat. Her breathing was irregular. Her view was breathtaking. She saw your hand reaching down between our legs, playing with yourself while eating Jihyo out. She pushed you closer to her pussy, thighs closing in on you, hand squeezing yours harder, head falling back, eyes closed, she saw white. You continued riding her orgasm out with your gentle tongue until she felt overstimulated and unclenched her thighs from you.

As she regained her breathing to normal, you crawled up to lay beside her and hug her, pulling her into your chest. She put her face in your neck, taking in your scent and warmth. You weren't sure how high her sex drive was or if she liked cumming multiple times since you forgot to ask during your sex discussion so you thought this was enough for your first time together. But then Jihyo did something. She sat up, pulled off your underwear, proud when she noticed the wet stain, threw the panties away. This night was not over yet. She kissed your cheek and then moved around until her face was above your pussy and her pussy was in front of your face. "Please, let me know if I'm doing alright or if I should do something else," was the last thing she said before she lowered her head to your pussy and began licking. "Fuck." You didn't realise how wet you had become until now when the smallest of touch from her tongue had you moaning. "Baby, go slow, please." She whined back in response, only giving you kitten licks and holding back from devouring the sweet taste of pussy for the first time. You began kissing her inner thighs, making her twitch a bit from sensitivity. "Can I eat your pussy again or do you need some time?" Jihyo blushed. How can you say such words so neutrally? Mhm, she nodded and moaned against your pussy, which sent vibrations against your clit. You pushed her pussy closer to your face and began kissing it again. Jihyo whined against your pussy, she loved this feeling of a little "foreplay" on the pussy before licking it hard. She noted that she should start off slow next time she gives you head.

You noticed that although you pushed her pussy towards you, she still kept it in the air, not sitting on your face. "Baby, you can sit on you face," you encouraged her and gave a big kiss to her clit. She finally sat down on your face and you began licking between her lips deeper and quicker. She couldn't help but keep moaning against your pussy, and the vibrations felt so good, making you moan on her too. You began moving your hands on her thighs up to her ass, keeping them there and just grabbing the fatness. She was feeling a bit jealous because you could touch her all you wanted while she had to hold herself up on her arms which was getting harder and harder. She let go of your clit, sat up on your chest, "Babe, can I be on the bottom?" You smiled at her, "Of course, Baby." She just plopped down on the bed with a smile, comfortable now that she didn't need to use her arm muscles. "You're too cute." "Thank you, ____." You flipped around and moved your pussy to her face, her eyes lightening up. Before you even sat down she grabbed your hips and pushed you down, impatient and needy to have the experience of a woman sitting on her face. You were more experienced in this and laid down comfortably, spreading her legs to eat her out too. Your pussies were prepared and didn't need any of the gentle kissing or kitten licks anymore, you opting to lick fast and deep between her folds, and her licking fast but gently on your clit in a steady pace. To Jihyo's surprise, you began grinding on her face, making her proud she was taking you there. Moaning and shaking, it was getting hard to focus on pleasuring each other.

So, you sat up on the bed, beside Jihyo. She was breathing heavily, confused, whining, "Why?" You kissed her forehead, "Come lay with me on the pillows." She followed you to the big pillows, you laid on the right side and Jihyo on the left side of the bed, the natural way to lay down just like every time you had watched movies as friends. You started kissing her, hands roaming on her boobs, back, butt and back of her thighs, pulling her left thigh on top of your hip — this gave you more access to her pussy so you began to tease your fingertips on her lower lips. She whined. You pushed your right leg up so she also had access to your pussy, and in a second her hand was playing with your folds, starting off slowly before inserting her fingers in you. You kept making out, savouring each others red, swollen lips and tastes on your tongues. She slid a finger between your lips to get your wetness so she could finger your clit better (she remembered you prefer clit stimulation more than penetration), making you moan into her mouth. Damn, it was her first time but she was so good. Who would've known she was ambidextrous? (She's both left handed and right handed) You put a finger inside her and she gasped, making you smile in revenge, since it slipped in so easily from being so wet you fit in another finger, moving them in and out at a moderate speed, not wanting to make her cum yet. "I could do this forever, Baby." Your words hurt Jihyo because you both knew this couldn't last forever; you would leave the country soon — and she wishes this only determined her to make you cum from her fingers but she couldn't distract herself from the future heartbreak, tears filling her eyes that she blinks away before you can notice. She stops kissing you to look at you, she wants to say something but hesitates question just decides to make a hickey on your shoulder. You giggled, "You're out of this world, Baby." She felt tears build up again, you kept calling her Baby as if you've been girlfriends all along — as if you're girlfriends right now! What are you even? A couple? Friends with benefits? A summer fling? A future long distance relationship that will inevitably end with you two neglecting each other due to your conflicting schedules and different time zones? Fuck. She had sucked on your shoulder very harshly and bitten it too. It looked like a black bird tattoo. "I'm sorry, ____ Babe, you have a hickey now," she kissed it gently as too soothe the hot skin. "It's OK. I haven't had a hickey in a long time. Never on my shoulder," you giggled. Jihyo smiled, both happy and sad at the same time. "Can u make one on me too? In a hidden place?" She wants to remember this moment for the next few days every time she looks at herself in the mirror. Yet she blushes when u move ur head to make a hickey on her boob, opting for the curve under her nipple, sucking and biting. Simultaneously, your fingers were going deeper and faster until Jihyo starts whining and you decide to keep that tempo. She starts moving her fingers harder on your clit, with the same tempo as before, making you moan and bite down on her boob. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," you said. She whined, "M-Me too." You began kissing again until both of your legs were shaking and you had to stop to breathe.

After a few minutes of just laying down and looking at each other, you decide to get up and run a bath before you two fall asleep in your cum and wetness stained sheets. "Wait for me, Baby. I'll just get the bath ready for us," you kissed her forehead. Jihyo smiled but it fell once she was left alone with her thoughts. Should she sleep in your bed or go home like she always did after hanging out at your place? If she sleeps in your bed it's almost as if going official, right? If she goes home like she always does then it means that this was just a one night stand or a fwb thing, right? Fuck. Why does everything have to be so complicated? Suddenly you were back in the room. "Come, Baby," you carried her to the bathroom and let her step into the bathtub on her own because you're not the hulk. You followed suit, laying behind her. The water was warm and relaxing, cleaning you off of your cum, sweat and tears. You hugged her waist, Jihyo's rested back on your shoulder and chest, you leaning your head on hers, kissing it a few times. But although the water was calming, both your brains were racing. What now? You had an incredible connection. You had so many beautiful memories together, including this one. You've laughed and cried so many times together, now also coming a few times together. How could you let go of this? How could you keep this going at a long distance? A tear fell down Jihyo's cheek. You kissed her tear away. "It's OK. It will all be fine." Tears were falling down your cheeks too.

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❝ How much sorrow can I take?

Blackbird on my shoulder

And what difference does it make

When this love is over?

Shall I sleep within your bed?

River of unhappiness

Hold your hands upon my head

'Til I breathe my last breath

Oh, oh woe-oh-woah is me

The last time that you touched me

Oh, will wonders ever cease?

Blessed be the mystery of love ❞

—sufjan stevens; 2017

722 notes · View notes

silent-stories · 2 years ago

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 - 𝟓

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: Eddie finds a note in his locker and doesn't know that someone has a plan to destroy his relationship with you.

Warnings: mention of drugs

Part 4

"Thanks for staying Friday night and helping me with all that stuff, really." You said as you sat next to Eddie on a bench at the back of the school.

It was a quite hidden place, but not to hide but just to not be disturbed and have a more intimate moment, with just the two of you.

The sun was shining that morning and you noticed that when Eddie's pale skin was kissed by the rays of its light you could see many small freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks.

They were almost invisible, you yourself had never noticed them before but they were there.

And you liked them.

You found yourself wondering if they were more visible in summer, if they were also on the skin hidden by his clothes, if they covered his back and what it would be like to trace imaginary lines with your fingers to connect them.

"Don't worry, I did it with pleasure." He smiled as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and your gaze immediately fell on the bats tattooed on his arm.

"Thanks for asking me to come." He added after a few moments, his words little more than a low whisper, an almost shy edge to his voice.

"Thanks for asking me to come?" You repeated his words bewildered, perhaps a little too melodramatic. "You absolutely saved my night, which would have been boring and lonely without you."

He chuckled. "Then I think we're even."

"Yeah, I guess we are."

Eddie pulled a metal lighter and a pack of cigarettes from his jeans pocket.

"Do you mind if I smoke?"

"Go ahead." You reassured him before he lit a cigarette, before bringing it to his lips.

"Anyway, Bones has been sitting all weekend where you were, on my bed. I think she misses you, you know? She probably likes you more than me."

"That means I'll have to go back to your house sooner or later." He laughed. "Just for Bones, of course."

"Oh sure. I know she'd like to have another movie night with you soon or just, I don't know, listen to music and talk about the meaning of life at 3 in the morning. Maybe without half school at my house."

Eddie looked at you with a doubtful expression. Was he really still wondering what you were trying to say?

"Yes Eddie, I'm inviting you to my house." You laughed shaking your head. "Friday or Saturday night, maybe? What do you think?"

Eddie stared at you with his big dark eyes, almost hesitant, and for a moment you thought he was saying he didn't want to come, but then a huge grin appeared on his lips before he covered it with his hand, bringing the cigarette to his mouth.

But you saw it, you never missed it when he smiled. You always liked to see him happy.

"Yeah. Yeah, I would like to."

You smiled. "Good."

"Good." He repeated blowing some smoke out of his mouth, the ghost of a smile still on it.

"So, did you seem them?" Jason asked as he sat across from Aaron at the noisy high school cafeteria table.

"Who?" Asked the other before stuffing half a sausage into his mouth.

"Y/N and the freak. At the party. I was dead drunk but I remember them. Holding hands." He added the last part with a grimace, to express his disgust.

"Gross. Don't remind me." Aaron commented, his eyes wandering around the cafeteria, finding Eddie at the usual table eating in the company of his friends

All losers, just like him.

Aaron spent hours spreading the word about the party, getting all those people over to your house to spend time with you, and when the party finally started you were stayed on the couch the entire time until he came and you completely disappeared, with him.

He ruined everything, as always.

Jason had explained who Eddie Munson was, Aaron knew everything about him: he was a drug dealer, he was part of a satanic cult and listened to some kind of music praising his demonic activities, he was poor, he lived in a smelly trailer, just like him, he no longer had his parents. They probably didn't want someone like him around them either.

Maybe he didn't know everything, but it was all he needed to know that Eddie "the freak" Munson wasn't a good person and he didn't even want to see him around you.

Atound the girl he'd wanted from the first moment he'd seen her.

When he had seen him arrive at the party he had thought that someone had played a joke on him and had invited him, he thought maybe it was you.

And you really had invited him, but it wasn't a joke and when Aaron saw you holding hands he nearly spat out his drink.

You were friends. And he found that disgusting.

"Someone told me they stayed in her room all night. You think they fucked?" Jason asked.

"Okay, stop it!" Aaron blurted out. "I don't know what they did but I have a plan."

The girl he had a crush on since he moved to that shitty town couldn't end up with a sucker like Eddie.

"A plan for what?" Jason raised his eyebrows.

"To push them away, whatever they have going on, I don't like it. And then Y/N will be mine."

Aaron was like Jason, they both wanted what they wanted when they wanted and they thought they were the best at everything they did.

The only difference was that Jason acted without thinking and wasn't as smart as he thought he was, but Aaron could calculate, manipulate people and be convincing.

And that was what made him more dangerous.

Eddie opened his locker and immediately a note fell to the floor.

Before picking it up he looked around suspiciously, it wouldn't be the first time someone slipped some notes with insults written on them into his locker.

Instead, when he took it in his hands and opened it, above it he read:

"The bench in the woods, Today, 4am"

Eddie knew what it was right away, or at least he thought he knew, at the time: someone wanted to buy drugs after school and the woods were the perfect place, away from other people and far enough from school.

That afternoon, Eddie waited for about half an hour sitting on that bench, his old lunchbox filled with various narcotic substances next to him.

When he had lost hope of anyone showing up, a voice made him turn around.

"You can put that stuff away, I'm not here for that." Aaron walked up to the bench with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, casually.

"Then why are you here?" Eddie asked, getting defensive.

He didn't like Aaron. He didn't like the way he looked at you like you were a piece of meat, and the way she looked at him, like he was garbage. He didn't like his fake laugh and mean smile.

"To talk about Y/N." Aaron sat across from Eddie, his green eyes colder than usual as they scanned Eddie. "I wanted to ask you not to sell drugs to her, you know I care about her and I don't want her... to end up in a bad circle."

"She, um- I never sold her anything."

"Oh, you didn't? Well, she told me she'll soon ask you to sell her some of...your stuff." He uttered the last word with disgust.

"I'm not sure she uses that kind of stuff." Eddie couldn't figure out where Aaron was trying to get at. "I'm not sure she smoke at all."

"Of course she does! She got close to you because she wanted to buy from you, and she thought that if you became friends a little, maybe you would give her a discount." He said, as if it were a matter of course that you would never approach someone like Eddie except for having something in return.

Eddie felt a weird sensation in the pit of his stomach. It couldn't be true.

You didn't start talking to him just because you wanted to buy drugs from him.

You weren't the only person who sat next to him in class because you wanted to buy drugs from him.

You hadn't spent all night watching movies with him while there was a party at your own house because you wanted to buy drugs from him.

You weren't the only person at school other than the Hellfire kids and the guys in his band who didn't treat him like a complete waste of space, showing him your kindness and affection every time you were with him, just because you wanted to buy drugs from him.

Right?

When Eddie had realized he was in love with you, months and months before, he thought he had no chance with you, that you didn't even know his name.

He thought the amazing girl Dustin always talked about would never even stop in the hallway to talk to him for fear that someone at school would see her with the "freak".

Over time though, after he started getting to know you and consequently falling for you even more: you had a good heart.

Eddie thought he'd always remember the day you brought to his trailer some notes he said he needed for his math test.

He was in the shower when you'd arrived, and you'd chatted with Wayne like you were friends for about twenty minutes before Eddie had came out of the bathroom with his hair still damp and with no t-shirt on.

He'd found you sitting on the couch next to his uncle, you were both laughing and Eddie had just leant against the door jamb with his shoulder, enjoying the scene with a smile on his lips, thinking "that's my fucking family".

You simply were something else.

And lately he almost thought that maybe he could become more than a friend to you, but perhaps he was wrong.

Aaron left throwing one last look at Eddie, halfway between a recommendation and a threat.

He closed the lunchbox filled with drugs, moving the fingers of one hand to the other, playing nervously with his rings, thinking that the only thing that could stop it at that moment was your hand in his.

Eddie stayed on that bench, alone, for an indefinite time while his mind continued to travel without him being able to stop it.

Aaron must have lied.

Right?

Part 6

Thanks to everyone who is still reading this story <3

Who's ready for a bit of Wayne in the next part?

Tags: @jacklesdeanvessel @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat

Love you from afar tags:

@capitanostella @enam3l @saramelaniemoon @ang3lb44by @einkitty @themorriganisamonster @esme-viridian @daisyridleyyyy @whenshelanded @eggo-segual @comfortcharactercraze @callmeyn @expiredcum21 @unholyyylita @squidscottjeans @twilight-love-nochu-main @idkatee @bakugouswh0r3 @amira0303 @greatpizzascissorstaco @ebonybloom @emxxblog @lunaryasha @cherryobx @jasminelafleur @magicalchocolatecheesecake @tracymbcm @harrypotter-imaginees @eli-flower @mrsjellymunson @tttttttttttts-things @miabiar @wayfaring----stranger @princess-eddie @omgshesinsane @littlestarfighter03 @zoeymunson @tanyaherondale @bl4ckt00thgr1n @thebook-hobbit @eris-rose-86 @ly17 @jenuhlyn @ximi1315 @avocadotoastwithegg @lomljigg @1paire2vans @praline357 @alana4610 @urdad-hot @themorriganisamonster @let-the-music-take-c0ntrol @kozuuji @ruinedbythehobbit

#eddie x y/n #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie fanfic #eddie fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff

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osamucide · 11 months ago

Text

(joe gets kicked out of school for using) drugs with friends (but says this isn't a problem)

last friday, i took acid and mushrooms

i did not transcend

i felt like a walking piece of shit

in a stupid looking jacket

NSFW CONTENT - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

wc: 2.4k

cw: gn!reader - no explicit anatomy mentioned, post-dark era, pre-entrance exam, port mafia!reader, past relationships/implied relationships, dazai-typical suicide mentions, manwhore dazai, explicit sexual content, drugs, references to drugs, drug use, talking and doing drugs, dazai is on drugs, dazai has tried every drug under the sun, just so many fucking drugs. don't do drugs please!

reid: installment 2/? of me using car seat headrest songs alongside dazai fic. ooc dazai probably but i like breaking him not sorry. this is not intended to romanticize substance abuse. addict dazai is a concept very close to my heart this is wholeheartedly me venting also all my fanfic is just so self indulgent. please for the love of god do not do drugs just send them to me thanks. can be read as a stand-alone or a part two to my previous fic drunk drivers/killer whales. you can find me on ao3 @angelzai. enjoy

. . . .ᐟ

“What have you been doing? Since you…”

Left. You falter but Osamu Dazai knows that’s what you mean to say. Since you left. That wouldn't have taken a fucking genius, though.

Well, he thinks, he could be totally honest right now. There's no one to hide from anymore, just himself. The fact that you're sitting with him has some old walls going up - the rather generic ones that go up with everyone - and he's hoping you won't take it personally if he does decide to lie. It would just be easy to. Familiar to.

He turns your voice over in his mind, imagines himself weighing it in his palms, and while the question hangs in the air suddenly he's in bed again with the wench of the week about a month or four back - one he bummed a cigarette off at some club during a routine bender and struck up a conversation with about the conceptualization of incomprehensible units of measurement, like lightyears. Dazai remembers that she took him home and let him snort ecstasy off the small of her back before he made out with her for what felt like six hours. She'd obviously wanted to fuck but he was still thinking, albeit warmly now, about lightyears and space and how awesome it would be to scale the side of a faraway terrestrial planet like an ibex - those cool mountain goats - and look off into a volume of nothing to observe the dilation of time with his tiny, filthy Earth eyes. Yeah, he wasn't getting any of that acute empathy he seemed to gain for other human beings when he was on E, so he asked for more. Her skin had felt like a flannel bed sheet and it almost hurt when she pulled away. He licked this dose off her tongue, per her discretion. It would've been hot if he hadn't imagined what it might feel like to lick a flannel sheet and almost gagged into her mouth. He said, "Sorry, I thought about if your tongue was a flannel sheet." She giggled and he giggled back. He kissed her more. She was so warm. He still couldn't get hard. He just kept thinking. He thought so much about lightyears and flannel sheets until he could barely discern the difference between them. He would've liked to have been wrapped up in either. The last time he had felt this introspective was when he was peaking on nitrous, but it was obvious he was still coming up. He started feeling sweaty and cold. He told himself that wasn't abnormal for ecstasy. He was trying to imagine she was a flannel bed sheet. He was sweating so bad. She was a flannel bed sheet and he was a lightyear and his skin was starting to feel like it was rising off his skeleton. He felt like he'd pissed his pants. He'd pushed her off and bolted for the bathroom. The fan in there was too loud. The manicured hand combing his hair back was burning his scalp. The toilet was kind of grimacing at him all smug-like. He didn't know what a lightyear was. He knew this was bad E. He vomited for an hour straight and meditated briefly on how horribly unsexy he felt before passing out. He woke up with an icepick headache and bummed another cigarette and apologized for pissing his pants on her bed (which he didn't actually do, but this was only clarified after he expressed he thought he had). He insisted that it wasn't her, she was beautiful, she was great, it was just the drugs, it was his own fault, but he still didn't give her his number. He just took the train as close as it went to his apartment, smelling like the very unsexy kind of sweat. Instead of showering, he had popped a Xan and went to bed. It was 3pm. And that was more or less what he had been doing since he left the Port Mafia.

While he recalls this, he makes some vague hand motions and opens his mouth a few times, not unlike a fish, as if he's about to speak but doesn't quite have the words yet. It's not that he doesn't want to tell you. You've been around long enough to have seen him and others high out of their minds plenty of times before. He knows you'd barely blame him for the wretched financial hole he has himself in now that Mori isn't around to sugar-daddy all his substances for him. It isn't remotely about the drugs.

It's about the fact that you found him in a bar in Numazu by total chance and paid his weeks-long tab before even asking him any questions about where he's been. He's not sure why you did that.

It's about the fact that you paid for the hotel room he's sitting cross-legged on the bed in, in front of you. He's considering how deep the crescents beneath your eyes look.

It's about the fact that you kissed him once when you both were sixteen and it convinced him that he'd never kiss anyone else ever again. But then he left, and in the year and a half since he's last seen you he's had more meaningless sex with more meaningless people than there were freckles across your whole body, which had, by the way, meant everything to him at one point.

"Not really..." Dazai shakes his head. "Anything at all."

You light a cigarette even though it's a non-smoking room. You'll be able to foot the bill.

"Come on," you say out of the corner of your mouth, puffing smoke in his face. "Not really anything at all?"

He doesn't ask, just takes the smoke from your lips to put it between his own. "Drugs," he summarizes truthfully. "Mostly coke. There's nothing like it. I swear it's better than H."

You quirk your mouth in semi-disapproval, taking back your cigarette. "You did always like your blow."

"Been exploring academia too, I suppose. I'm learning calculus right now." He's trying to make up for it. He doesn't need to.

Now you really look at him like he's on drugs. "For fun?" He nods, pleased with himself. "I thought you didn't like pain." You finally smile a little bit.

"It's interesting!" he insists with his signature drama. "God, can I just have my own?" He's gesturing to your pack, and you indulge him, lighting it off your own.

You look like you want to say something else, sucking your cigarette down like it's a race. Dazai studies you. Prompts you with nothing but his eyes, just like he always has, and you understand. It's your turn to look for the words.

"I mean... like... what- what," you make the vague hand motions too, "what are you doing, though? How- how are you... not..."

"Dead?" he finishes. "Yeah. I struck a cute little deal with the government."

He doesn't like how you lean back from him, even if it's slight, even if he expects it. He doesn't like how your eyes narrow and you look at him with something he can only place as distrust. You almost want to get up off the bed, but you stay, gazing into him. You're not flustered so easily by him anymore, and he has to notice. He does. And regardless, he knows exactly what you're thinking before you say it. "I didn't take you for a fed, Dazai." He knows about the gun in your jacket, too, and that you're at attention now. Your use of his last name stings.

"I didn't sell you out," he says, mocking offense, pushing himself up on those gangly limbs to cut a line of whatever's in the little plastic bag he pulls from his back pocket. "I didn't sell anyone out. Ango's a double agent. You have to know." You shrug - you'd be ashamed to admit you hadn't a clue - and your apprehension melts, but only a little. "My record's expunged as long as I clean up and sign on at the ADA in about six months."

You look at him incredulously, but he's busy at the desk. He could've left it at calculus.

"And this is your idea of cleaning up?" you ask.

The response you receieve is a long sniff. Dazai straightens out, huffs, pulls another drag off his cigarette.

If you were anyone else it would definitely be unwise of him to give such information to someone very much still on the inside. As high up as you had been alongside Dazai, knowledge of who had their fingers in what organizations was never for you to have. Your rank has only fallen since he left. You've developed a nose for people - you must after so long in the mafia - and Ango, who lays so low, especially after Sakunosuke's death, isn’t exactly at the top of your list until right now. You briefly wonder how much the boss knows. Mori surely would've killed Ango for orchestrating the freeing of his most precious pet. Mori surely has people after Dazai. As a matter of fact, he might have people after you already, not even an hour after you found the former prince of the underworld slumped over on a bar stool, because you never really know who’s watching. At the end of all that, though, your thoughts snag on whether that's something Ango could help anyone with, or if it was only for Dazai. No snitching would be involved. You don't think you're qualified to be a detective, but certainly there's some community service you could do to mop up after yourself, right?

Dazai seats himself in front of you again. The rest of this conversation does not happen verbally - not right away, at least. Whether it’s the coke or the accusatory tone your voice carried, he looks a little emptier than before. He looks an entire world away from you. You don’t say this aloud but he nods numbly like he hears you. You dimly recall a conversation you had with him years ago in which he told you he’d never done anything in his life that made him proud. That he didn’t really view himself as a person, but rather a machine designed toward destruction. Machines didn’t feel proud - didn’t feel anything, and no more or less when they executed their intended function.

You’re struck with the awareness that you still seem to know him so vividly, despite how much he’s obviously changed. The parts of this machine are shinier as if they’ve been cleaned. Although it grows old, it works like new, given its context. You recognize exactly what it’s doing. What he’s doing. And you think, maybe if you just throw your hand into the gears - even if it hurts you, even if it takes a piece of you off and mangles it - maybe you can get it to stop.

He, too, selfishly considers that you could be his way out. But is it really selfish if he can admit he'd drop it all if you asked him to? Flesh thrown against a monstrous man-made creation. Even though you seem to have stayed so very much the same, he doesn’t assume he knows you like he once did. But these could be the right circumstances. Maybe he just needs some flesh. Just needs somebody.

“You just need somebody.” Your head’s on the pillow, you twirl his hair, and that’s what you say to him after you both fuck like two virgins. You don’t mean to imply that somebody could be yourself, but for what it’s worth, that’s how he takes it. He can’t remember the last time sex made him cry, anyway, so it might as well be you.

“Just fucking leave.”

Your eyes snap open as the words leave him. Leave? Leave the room you paid for? That was rich, considering the kindness you’ve extended to him tonight after he abandoned you. Your throat constricts around the fact that not even ten minutes ago you were entangled with him in a way that felt both familiar and new. You would’ve proposed another round and let him clasp his hands around your neck like he used to. He’d always insist you’d beg him to stop one day, but you never did. Ten minutes ago you were ready to wipe away his bloody nose with your hair if he asked. Now he’s asking you to leave.

You sit up and throw your legs over the edge of the bed. Your eyes burn with tears and you’re about to get up, get dressed, maybe unload the remainder of the clip in your gun into his kneecaps - but he grabs your elbow.

“Leave the Port, idiot.” You look at him. Concern isn’t an emotion that graces Dazai’s features too often, and here it is. “That came out horribly. Plus, you’re so nice and warm. Get back here.”

So you do. You do what you do best when it comes to Dazai - you crawl back, disregarding how he’s hurt you. Hurt himself. And you just cry.

You cry because you’re so relieved you just misinterpreted him. You cry because he gives you whiplash so goddamn easily. You cry because you don’t have to give leaving a second thought. You cry because a year and a half ago he obviously wouldn’t have insisted you follow him. You cry because he’s so out of character and you almost think you like it. You cry because you like how warm he feels, too. You cry because he’s on drugs. He doesn’t cry because he already did while you made him cum, and now his pupils aren’t so blown, but with you against his chest he doesn’t feel like he needs to get up to do another bump, and that’s plenty for both of you. For all intents and purposes, the walls are all down now. Maybe he really needed to find you. You know you really needed to find him. It’s going to be difficult and dangerous and there’s more to be said, but at least you’ve found him.

You’re sniveling. He’s kissing your hair. “You can teach me calculus.”

Dazai recognizes the laugh that rumbles in his chest as one he hasn’t felt since he’d last seen you. “We’ll get ahold of Ango in the morning.”

#bsd dazai x reader #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #mdni #nnnsfw.ᐟ #with love—reid

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mebemilena · 11 months ago

Text

Not like we have a date with destiny

You met Layla online and her visits to your store became more regular.

---

A/N:

it's been YEARS i don't post anything, just silently reading fanficion around. Gotta relearn how to use Tumblr again. I waited one year to watch Moonknight, always wait for the hype to pass because i know i get hyped too and my poor mind can't really take that. I absolutely loved Layla, that's a fact.

as usual, i'm just trying to exercise my english writing skills. I feel like this was a part of a bigger piece but I can't really develop much. Thank you for reading though. Life's been a bit difficult at times. Lots of anxiety and fear of the future. I wanted to get something light.

i'm starting a series, that's why Sersi is mentioned.

my AO3 link if you'd like to see.

You met Layla online. She sent a message to the store you worked at looking for a specific book. You attended her on the phone and she went to the bookstore shortly after, paying in cash.

"You're a lifesaver.", she thanked you.

Soon, her visits to the store became more regular. Layla would take her time to read the back of the covers or arrive with a specific request. You became friends over illustrated books though, specially the ones about ancient culture. You told her about your beliefs and about your own culture, finding it amazing when she shared her own story. There was no denying you had a great connection.

"We should go out for drinks.", Layla invited you. "We only meet when you're working or when I need something work related." she'd insist.

It was true. You had never met in other circumstances and knew very little about each other outside duty, except a few things you could notice by yourself. Layla was an interesting woman, she was gentle and polite. Maybe not very social but very friendly anyway. It wasn't hard to slowly fall for her but of course you decided to keep a safe distance. If she didn't like you like that by any chance, you were not up to spoil the friendship you were developing.

"Let's do it tonight then? It's Friday, tomorrow's my Saturday off", you agreed. Was it too soon?

Layla seemed to think for a moment. Almost like she didn't believe it had been so easy. All she had to do was ask. Simple like that. "Okay.", a smile ghosted her lips and she shook her head, as if getting rid of intrusive thoughts. "It's gonna be fun."

Around 6:30pm, when you had closed the store, Layla appeared by the door. She was supposed to text you her location and you'd meet here but she had other plans. "I thought it'd be nice for us to walk there, it's not far from here.", she explained.

Layla was uncaractheristicaly nervous. She was watching her feet as you walked to the bar and you could sense the thick atmosphere. Was she nervous?

"So, i think we could grab something to eat first.", She finally looked at you. "You know, so that we won't get drunk too fast."

You agreed, as easy as it sounds, and suggested a small cantina you liked. You had some pizza and decided to just try their wine, not wanting to leave the cozy place. You drank and ate and talked for hours, leaving only because the owner came talking to you saying it was time for them to close.

Layla walked you home, the cold air sobering you up way too fast. Your night couldn't end better, though you thought that maybe it could. If Layla kissed you goodnight.

You stood by your doorway and bent goodbye and Layla kissed your cheek when you hugged. It happened a few time after that. You went out for drinks or food, hanging out together for log walks, cultural programs and sometimes to watch movies at each other's place.

You were talking about your romantic life when you mentioned the last mess you got involved in. "She was nice and all. Really. We'd go to the museu, to natural parks. We had fun together, i thought we were fine. But then her ex came along and she just disappeared.", you told her, realizing that it didn't really hurt anymore.

Layla listened to you, giving the attention you deserved. There was a hint of something in her eyes and she smiled. "Just like we do? You seem to have a type.", she said, playfull.

You chocked on your drink.

Layla laughed at your antics and gave you a napkin. She kept looking at you, a smile never leaving her face. "I mean, you said she was a Historian, that she worked with museology, and i'm an archeologist. We both like going out for drinks and trying new food, we're both into ancient culture...", she explained.

Your jaw dropped, you were speechless. Layla looked into your eyes and took a big gulp of her wine before dropping the bomb. "We both have a close relationship with our exes, she told you. "I mean, i just got divorced.", her eyes inspected you for the smallest of reactions.

You felt your heart falling on the floor. If she had just gotten a divorce it meant she probably wasn't ready for any romantic bullshit. Part of you was okay with that, because you liked her a lot and were willing to accept what she had to give you. Another aspect she had in common with Sersi.

The other part of you was catching the bitter taste of rejection.

Layla was waiting for you to say something, you knew that. But there were no words for you to use. She seemed to understand the hint and started talking again. "We are friends though. Kinda.", she cleaned her throat. "We work together sometimes.", she explained and noticed you were still silent, which made Layla start to panic. Was it the wrong time? The wrong words?

She took a deep breath. "I don't know where this is going but i'd love for it to continue.", she smiled, almost shy at herself. You nodded and approached her side of the couch way too slowly , kissing the tip of her nose.

Layla relaxed and smiled larger. She placed her hands on your cheeks before kissing you on the lips.

---

#layla el faouly #layla el faouly x reader #moonknight fanfiction

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breninarthur · 1 year ago

Note

Happy Friday! :) I have a prompt for Kallian and Shianni; “you are perfect the way you are. you don’t need to change for anybody, sweetie.” Platonic or romantic, entirely your choice. ^^

happy friday! ooh thank you!! i haven't written shianni very much :3

rated t. kallian & shianni tabris for @dadrunkwriting. 631 words. set the night after unrest in the alienage; kallian takes shianni up on her offer of wine.

[content warning and spoiler: shianni blames herself for the events of the city elf origin, though rape is not explicitly mentioned.]

* * *

The fire had dulled to a low crackle. Kallian and Shianni basked in its glow in a way that only the very drunk and very tired could.

They had both changed. As their conversation waned with the moon, Kallian took the time to look at her cousin. Really look.

The bags under Shianni's eyes matched her own, and spoke of longer nights of exhaustion than the one they shared. She seemed... older. It had barely been a year, but the youngest Tabris cousin looked as though she'd aged several. She had bruises here and there. Not too bad, not too many, but they were noticeable enough to Kallian.

"How did you get those?" she asked, slurring.

"Oh, you know," Shianni responded around a giggle. "Troublemaking, as per usual. Plus I'm hardly gonna let Soris get beat up on, am I?"

Kallian couldn't help her grimace.

"...It's not your fault," Shianni said.

"I know," Kallian muttered, surprised that it was honest. "But it's not fair. I wish I could be around to help you."

"You're doing more than enough, Cousin," Shianni smiled. "Besides, I owe it to him; to everyone. I can't do nothing."

It took a moment for her words to sink in, but when they did, Kallian frowned and squinted at her blearily.

"What do you mean, you owe it?" she asked, brow furrowed.

"I don't know," Shianni slurred, but her eyes were downcast and her shrug noncommittal. "It doesn't matter."

"No, what?"

"Ugh, you know!" Shianni insisted, waving her hand.

"No I don't, what?" Kallian pressed, leaning forward in the ratty old armchair.

"It was my fault."

Kallian stared.

Shianni didn't even look bothered. It was a punch to Kallian's stomach, but her cousin looked as though she had made a casual statement of fact.

"No it wasn't," Kallian said, dumbfounded.

"I'm the one who bottled him, Kall," she laughed.

"So? That doesn't–"

"Honestly, it's fine. I've come to terms with it. If I wasn't so... I don't know, aggressive... obnoxious... jumped up–"

The chair nearly fell over with the force of Kallian getting to her feet. She ignored her watering eyes and stormed over to Shianni, crouching to her level and holding her by the shoulders.

"You are perfect," Kallian said emphatically, moss-green eyes boring into hazel. "You are brave, and fierce, and I know you know your worth. You're better than any monster that struts in here, no contest, and you don't need to change for anyone. You can't change."

Shianni didn't respond right away, but her eyes were wide and shining in the firelight. Kallian held her ground, the set of her jaw as determined as it was in any battle.

Then, her cousin's bottom lip began to tremble. Kallian grabbed her into a tight hug before the tears could fall.

When Shianni finally did start to cry, Kallian joined her. They held onto each other in earnest, and the wine probably didn't help, but the build up of everything just wouldn't stop. They cried, and cried, until they didn't have it in them anymore.

"You know, I thought it was my fault too," Kallian said, leaning away and wiping her face. "And I spoke to Soris earlier. He thought it was his fault."

Shianni laughed wetly. "Your dad thinks that too."

"What, that it was Soris's fault?" Kallian joked.

"No!" Shianni snorted, batting her with a lazy hand. "That it was his."

"Ah, fucking hell," Kallian sighed, but she was smiling. "What are we like?"

"Maybe we shouldn't have had the whole bottle," Shianni chuckled. "I swear Alarith's wine is illegally alcoholic."

"Yeah, that's the problem." Kallian rolled her eyes.

There was a pause. Shianni was looking at her, smiling softly.

"I'm proud of you, Cousin," she said warmly.

"...I'm proud of you too, Shianni."

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dao #shianni tabris #tabris #kallian tabris #my writing #dadwc #asks #celemee #rape mention

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lizisodd · 6 months ago

Text

I think my biggest problem with Tami is how inconsistently she's written (this actually affects Cami, the first Tamietti we meet, too, because clearly the writers weren't thinking they'd need to create some Tamietti family lore and long-running storylines).

How rich is she? She's written as both a middle/upper middle class snob slumming it with a South Side boyfriend, and a young working class woman with other working class family members. Her dad apparently owns a plumbing parts business (that's not doing well during the pandemic), and Cami and Brad have Born Free. The only job mentioned for Cory was her modeling for an art school (ie, nude). As a young hairdresser working in an average salon (it's definitely not high-end), she's renting a chair and working long hours on her feet with dangerous chemicals for tips. It's honest work, but it's lower middle class at best.

She's a disaster. When we meet her, she's drunk at Cami and Brad's wedding, so much so that she pukes on Lip as they fuck. (Lip, if she's so drunk that she's throwing up, she's too drunk to consent!) If Fiona or Lip had done this, it would be another sign of their spiral into alcoholism and yet another major personality flaw. When we next see her, she shows up late at the christening and causes a big scene. Again, this is Frank behavior, or Fiona being a bad drunk. It makes you wonder, oh, she'll be an alcoholic too, and either be a bad influence on Lip or another project for him to save, but neither happens.

With the behavior above, plus her weird fuck buddy relationship with Boone, she's a bit déclassé. I'm not slut shaming anyone, but would someone who's supposed to be so much better than the garbage Gallaghers act like this?

Her family doesn't really take to Lip well, but tolerate Brad, even though Lip's basically his protege. (They tease Brad, but aren't actively against him, even though he broke his sobriety and went on a crazy bender, leaving Cami alone with a newborn.) Only one drunk motorcycle mechanic who knocked up a Tamietti sister out of wedlock is allowed in the family.

Brad says the Tamiettis are super religious Catholics who don't eat meat on Friday. More bad writing unless they're Opus Dei cultists who don't follow Vatican II. Tami's a Cafeteria Catholic at best, and they only reason she'd have Freddie baptized is to get gifts.

A big explanation for the way she acts is her mom's death from cancer that Tami might inherit. She's living life to the fullest before she too might die super early. But ... getting pregnant by some guy she barely knows is enough to snap her out of party girl and into mommy?

She and Lip barely plan for the baby. (Some of this is a reflection of how badly Lip was written, too.) In the time jump from S9 to S10, they haven't talked anything out. Tami appears to be living at the Gallagher house, but is that full time? Were they going to crash there for a few months while saving money to get their own apartment? What did she think life would be like with three younger siblings and a niece (plus later Ian and Mickey)? (I'm not counting her being pissed about Anne's whole family being there, because who could blame her?!) But there are a lot of people in that house and only one shower, so you need to be extra cozy with everyone. Plus it's like they only bought Fred a stroller? He doesn't even have diapers. (He was born a little early, but not that early.)

What middle class white woman born in the '90s in Chicago is 1) named Tami 2) smokes? Vapes maybe, but smokes actual cigarettes? The name thing is obviously a stupid Shameless joke, but no white middle class girl's been named Tami above the Mason-Dixon line in 30 years.

I actually like Tami more after rewatching the show, but I do still wonder what she and Lip get out of their relationship. If Freddie didn't exist, would they still be together? I really liked Sierra, although she started to lean on Lip too hard after they broke up and she had ex and dad problems. I also didn't like how she reacted to Lip saying he wasn't sure if he loved her because he had hardly been sober since age 12 and was trying to figure everything out (or whatever his actual line was). She was upset/embarrassed, but he did nothing wrong. Too bad they couldn't take things slow as Lip worked toward long-term sobriety, because they had similar backgrounds and understood each other.

I'm a Lip fan, but he has major faults. I can't be upset at Tami for not wanting to live in the extra crowded Gallagher house with a new baby, or getting angry about the RV purchase he didn't discuss with her, or the ultimate betrayal: renting the house. The house turned into such a dumb storyline—not only Lip not signing a lease, but they're pouring all this money into it?! They didn't think to see if Milton would sell it to them? Tami never asks Lip if they can get a break on the rent be

you know what? i hate tami. there, i said it. lip could’ve done so much better than her. sierra was amazing. even fucking karen was better,

#found this in my drafts #very passionate tami thoughts from 2 years ago #tami tamietti #lip gallagher #shameless

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chrisevansluv · 3 years ago

Note

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

If someone doesn't want to check the link, the anon sent the full interview!

#chris evans #cevans #Details Magazine #2012 #interview

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whosaskingwrites · 4 years ago

Text

A Thousand Times (Osamu x Reader)

A/n: I'm gonna be real this took so long because I just didn't know what to do? And then I started a various! Haikyu x reader. But I got this done finally so if you've been waiting for this one here it is. Also I just really like putting Osamu through the ringer huh? I'm so sorry bby. And Forget You beat out Unrequited for top one-shot recently!

WARNINGS: Angst. There's one mention of assault as well. Told from third person Osamu p.o.v

Date: Friday November 6th, 2020

Details: 5 pages 1,800 words

Theme: Star Tears- The victim cries tiny star-shaped tears. They are extremely painful and eventually cause the victim to go blind. They produce a dim glow and make a light 'Tinkling' sound when they hit the ground. The blindness can be cured if the person the victim loves makes a statement of love and means it.

Angst Masterlist

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

There were so many other ways this was supposed to go. He thought while he looked at her. She stood twirling around the white dress catching the light and sparkling. She was beautiful to him and of course someone else thought so or else they wouldn't be here right now.

But here they were. 'Maybe' he thought if he hadn't been a coward then it would have been him dancing with her in a suit while she wore a white gown. It would have been him telling her he loved her. It would have been him calling her Mrs. Miya as they danced. Maybe he should have told her the day of their first date. While he helped her pick an outfit she had been panicked.

"Calm down Y/n," She scoffed in response "Calm down? Samu you and I both know I've never been on a date before. And now I'm going on one with my childhood best friend!" He watched her his heart rate picking up as she held up different clothes in the mirror.

"It's not that big of a deal y'know? He's known you pretty much your whole life," He stated feeling uncomfortable helping her. Maybe making her more nervous would be a better idea so she'd cancel and they could spend the day together. "I guess you're right but still! It's different now!" She stated. "Okay just...Treat it normally and you'll be fine,"

She went into the closet coming out in a cute outfit that fit her b/t figure just right. "Alright Samu I'm off. Wish me luck!" He waved by as she ran out the door a bright smile on her face and excitement in her eyes. He stood heading back to his own house with slow steps.

Arriving home he closed the door to his room intent on hiding away from everyone. He laid down staring at the ceiling as the familiar burning sensation built up behind his eyes.

"Fuck," he mumbled when he heard it the soft twinkle of a star tear and the pale glow that lit up a small area around his bed. More of them fell sparking pain in his eyes and across his face. The pain followed the trail left behind by the glowing stars and despite his best efforts to shove his palm into his eyes and stop the tears it didn't work.

"You know I didn't even think they liked each other!" Osamu tuned into her moms voice and then he heard his own mother speak and he sighed. "I know! I always thought she'd end up with Osamu not...," He tuned out knowing what they were talking about. He didn't need to listen anymore.

"Samu what's wrong with ya?" Atsumu was looking at him with judgement. His arms were crossed in front of him clearly upset and honestly he didn't blame Atsumu. "Nothing's wrong with me," He answered him. "Bullshit," His own eyes narrowed at his brother "I just don't like it okay?" Atsumu rolled his eyes "I told you you wouldnt," Atsumu voiced.

"Osamu," He looked to the right his eyes meeting the blank pair of Kita's. "Kita," he answered back watching Kita gesture with his hand. He stood following Kita outside throwing one last glance over his shoulder at Y/n as she danced around with Aran her dress sparking like freshly fallen snow.

"What is it Kita?" He asked when the two of them were outside. "You have to let her go Osamu," Kita voiced quietly. "I cant let her go," He said back. "Osamu...You shouldn't love her...Not when it causes this," Kita gestured to his face where the star tears were already prevalent.

"And you especially shouldn't love her now that she just got married," Kita sent him a pointed look. "I would go blind over and over if it meant I could love her," He answered the male staring forward. The wind softly brushed them causing their hair to flutter. "Osamu...We all know we didn't expect it to go this far...but he loves her so you have to let her go," They heard a series of dull thumps against the ground turning they saw Atsumu jogging over.

"Hey what are you two doing out here?" Atsumu stopped as he got closer a wide smile decorating his face. "Oh we were just catching some air y'know," Kita easily responded handing Osamu his handkerchief as he stepped infront of him, blocking him from Atsumu's view. He wiped his eyes quickly hiding the star tears before they could give him away.

"Shouldn't you be inside Tsumu?" He voiced at his brother while said male hummed. "Ah they don't need me in there right now. Sakusa’s getting drunk and Bokuto’s dancing with Y/n," He flinched at the last part of the sentence. Though Atsumu never seemed to notice "Isn't Bokuto drunk? Are you sure they should be dancing?" Atsumu shrugged at Kita's question. "I think they'll be fine," Atsumu adjusted the sleeves of his button up with a hum as if he was truly thinking it over.

"You know maybe I should go-," "There you are!" The group looked past Atsumu. Y/n was there a bright smile on her face her hands were wrapped into the skirt of her wedding dress. Her head was tilted to the side eyes crinkling in pure mirth. "Hey what are you doin' out here?" Atsumu asked turning to face her. "Ah Bokuto passed out Akaashi and Hinata are sitting him down now. But I think the party is wrapping up soon," she giggled it was a light sound and God did Osamu love it.

"Alright we'll be back over soon. Kita can you bring the lovely bride back to the party?" Atsumu asked with a small smile. "Alright ya flirt," Y/n said with a laugh taking Kita's arm as they walked back. Atsumu sighed as he sat down. "So...I know you're upset about this...," Atsumu started off quietly.

"Im not upset Tsumu...I had my chance and I blew it," He voiced. Atsumu sighed as he stood up heading back to the party. "Hey Tsumu," He said looking at his brothers back. Atsumu turned back facing him with a questioning look. "You told me that if at any point I wanted her you'd back off...I know that deals off the table now so just...don't hurt her okay?"

Atsumu shook his head "Im not going to hurt her Samu...She's everything to me," He raised a hand up to push his hair back the light from a nearby lamppost reflected off his ring. "You didn't even like her at first," He scoffed.

"Look Samu we all know you like her!" Atsumu claimed with an eye roll. "No i don't. You're just being stupid," He denied quickly just like every other time. "Alright fine Samu. I'll give you a deal," he rolled his eyes at his brothers provocation. "What?" He asked "You either ask her out by the end of the week or I do," Atsumu challenged.

He scrunched his nose in distaste "You don't even like her why would you ask her out?" He asked. "To spur you on. If you tell me to back off at any point I will y'know?" Atsumu said. "So you're just gonna string along our childhood best friend for this?" He asked incredulously. "No she'll get over it," Atsumu shrugged. "No. I'm not letting you string her along," He stated.

"You're right I didn't," Atsumu hummed in agreement. "But I love her now and that's what matters," He stared off into the distance with a smile. "You remember the day I told her I loved her? It was an accident too," he laughed.

They were playing at nationals. Atsumu and him were third years now and Y/n was watching from the stands. She wore Atsumu's jersey and everytime they looked at her she made a face at them before trying to get away from the guy next to her. Atsumu glared at the guy mumbling something under his breath "Let's finish this game," he angrily said. Sending one last glare at the man.

They finished the game with a service ace from Atsumu and as soon as the whistle blew Y/n raced down to the court the strange guy following her. She showed up on court with a smile "Tsumu!" He turned and on instinct Atsumu smiled as well. "Y/n," she hugged Atsumu while his nose crinkled. "Babe I'm all sweaty!" She pulled away placing a kiss on his cheek. "Dont care! I'll be outside okay?" She said skipping off.

Only five minutes later they were leaving the building looking for Y/n. Only for the team to pause as they spotted her. She stood trying to get away and the stranger that was in the stands with her was harshly gripping her wrist. "Come on baby I just wanna show you a good time!" "No thank you!" Atsumu moved first separating the two while grabbing the collar of the man.

Osamu grabbed Y/n holding her close to him while she held on just as tightly. "Hey! Why are you putting your hands on my girl!" Atsumu yelled. He wasn't paying attention too busy trying to sooth Y/n the handprint already forming on her wrist. "You're okay," he whispered into her hair line.

"Y/n," He was thrown back into reality then remembering that no he wasn't the one dating Y/n. "Tsumu," He let go of her watching her throw herself at Atsumu and he held on to her just as tightly. "Fuck you alright babe?" He said catching her arm and seeing the bruise. "Im okay now," she smiled at him. He didn't know what his brother was thinking in that moment but he just watched Atsumu kiss her and pull away. "Im glad you're okay...I love you Y/n," she gasped then and smiled again. "I love you too Tsumu,"

"I remember," he got up following his brother into the party he stood off to the side watching them as Kita and Suna came over. Atsumu reached Y/n and kissed her Atsumu's voice carrying as tears started to drip down his face. "Ready to go Mrs. Y/n Miya?" She laughed taking his arm. "Of course Mr. Atsumu Miya," and as they walked out the last image he could see was Atsumu and Y/n looking at each other matching smiles on their faces.

Her dress sparkled next to the black suit Atsumu was wearing. They were holding hands matching rings sparkling on their hands. His vision faded until it was just black but despise that he smiled.

"Take care of her okay Tsumu?"

___________________________________________

TAGLIST: @wonhomarshmallow

#haikyu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#whosaskingangst #osamu miya #osamu x reader #osamu angst #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya

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frogsandfries · 7 years ago

Text

Before we get started on this gorgeous Friday afternoon

I have some stuff to get off my chest.

Yesterday, kind of somewhere between falling asleep and waking up, this memory popped into my head:

When I was in middle school, I had this friend who I always kind of suspected was using me. She was skinny and all the boys wanted her, and she was an only child. I was the smart girl in the grade, fat and none of the boys liked me. I wanted to be a writer and I would write obsessively. But she had me at her house almost every weekend, and we never did homework together, but I always had that feeling, why did she want to hang out with me, what did she want from me?

One weekend, her stepdad said something about how he felt like I was as good as his own daughter and he wanted me to remember him when I was a famous writer, or something like that, and my friend agreed with him, saying she wanted to be there with me.

Of course, I had a sister who was a lot like this friend, and I guess I had fun with this girl, and I wasn't surprised when almost the first month of high school, this girl deserted me for some girls who were much more her speed, her equals.

I was surprised, and very suspicious, when back in 2013 or 2014, she reached out to contact me via Facebook, to be friends again. I really didn't expect anything to come of it, I really thought she would come to apologize for just up and leaving me, and get the hint that I'm a very different person now, and fade out. These past couple years, I've expressed to her that I have horrible time keeping up with people via the internet or texting--case in point, one of my friends who I have no question is one of my dearest friends, who I simply haven't messaged in probably over a year because our friendship doesn't really translate to the screen. But I think about this friend all the time, but I don't want to message her about this after all this time, but I would be curious what she thinks.

Anyway, I'm not trying to drop hints, I promise. I'm just trying to get to my next point: I recently told this friend with the kid who works retail/pharmacy (think CVS or Walgreens) and lives on section eight, that I was about a hair from getting a job that pays sixteen to eighteen dollars an hour. And suddenly this friend is right there, messaging me pretty much every day, holding my hand through the misery of living with the evil that gave birth to me (that person told me today she couldn't wait till I died, which, I mean, that's pretty high-level fucked up right there; but did you know, all it takes to evict someone is a hundred dollars and two copies of a letter stating why you don't want them living with you anymore?) and she promised me I would never have to deal with anything like that if I lived with her, and she'd love me to get to know her daughter, etc.

So at first, I'm pretty much just remembering the good stuff, and the idea of living with a friend is very appealing. I'm trying to remind myself that it's not just my friend, who remember, I haven't even hung out with now for well over a decade (we started high school in 2007). And let's not forget that the more things (and people) change, the more they stay the same. She's got her mother, her daughter........and her husband.

Then she writes me this big long conversation about how she's devastated about the horrible things he says when he's drunk and they can't spend time apart or their relationship will disintegrate. And I'm telling her over and over, no nonsense, flat out: She needs to think of her daughter, she needs to stop blaming the alcohol and herself, it sounds like a toxic relationship.

So the final installation thusly in this saga is that yesterday or so, she messages me to check if I can still help out. I mention I'm not so sure, especially after what she's told me about her relationship with her husband. So promptly and chirpily responds that he's quit drinking.

Um, okay, yeah, sure, but I still don't know their relationship for myself or if I would be comfortable living with all of them.

Let's be honest: I don't actually, really want to live in an apartment. I've made up my mind, I can't be frozen by all the possibilities. I need to finish the van, get my license, and find a job, preferably even a part-time job at a library and work my way up. Ideally, I would like to work as a librarian, and this is one of those childhood dreams that I believe is pretty down-to-earth. And if I have my van, I can always keep temping to make ends meet.

Plus then this friend has nixed my top two destinations and seems to have ignored the other two. Well they can move wherever I suggest I might like to live, but I need to focus on me. I need to get back in the groove with my studio work, and now that I'm working consistently again, and I intend to stay that way.

I can afford to start investing in my product line, creating logos and packaging and purchasing better-quality jewelry elements, like pins, earring wires and studs, and chains. I can afford booths at craft and flea markets, and promotional materials and to get out and network. This is something I'm passionate about, and I'm structuring my life around these two big goals. I'm going to finish the van, even if I can afford a nice apartment without straining my budget. I want that escape hatch. I realized yesterday that I want that unique freedom that is living wherever I want. If, for example, I want to spend the weekend in Chicago or Milwaukee or up north, I can do that without paying for a motel room. If, for example, I have a kid and I want to spend the day at the library, all I have to do is park appropriately. Instead of having to run back and forth to my apartment because the kid is hungry or needs a nap, I take them to the van and turn on the AC, or the heater. They take a nap, or get a snack. The parking expires, I move the van.

I keep coming back to this. Plus, imagine all that money I would save from not paying rent. Imagine all that money I would save not trying to fill an apartment. I could easily stay on top of van repairs and maintenance, and still take care of myself and a kid, if I worked full time. And let's face it, if I'm juggling two jobs and studio stuff, that's more than full time.

I have little interest in a romantic relationship right now because I have little interest in compromising with someone, having to tell them what I want or prise from them what they want. I don't want to compromise on where I want to live, I don't want to compromise on how. I don't want to compromise on how I raise my kid. I think living with my friend, even if she had the perfect relationship she portrayed herself as having, would be too much compromise. Even if she was great, and we communicated clearly and frequently and I was getting 100% respect, there would still be compromise somewhere. It would still be some level of relationship with others who aren't my kin.

But I have my suspicions that this friend has only increased our communication so that I'll be her gravy train. And sure, that's frustrating; sure, honestly it kind of hurts my feelings that I'm trying to get my shit together and someone who's not even related to me wants some kind of handout. We'll see in the next couple weeks, if her contact with me drops off as I return my focus to my van. I mean, is it fair to me to be paying half or a third of the rent on a huge place (it would have to be huge place with at least one kid, one couple, and possibly two single adults besides--possibly more), even if I'm earning the most out of the household?

Sure, I want some stability, but I honestly think laying my head down in the same place is stability enough for me. Knowing where I'm going to be sleeping, knowing I can't be evicted or stuck with obnoxious neighbors. Coming into work long enough that I begin to learn the bullshit that goes on under the radar, that's pretty stable for me, compared to what I had this summer. Man, I tried so hard this summer.

Anyway, that's been weighing on me. I think it's worse because she probably was genuinely on my side after my breakup, and I wonder if she's doing it on purpose or that's just her survival instinct?

idk I have a patch to finish and I'm looking forward to it.

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