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crunchwrapsnoopy · 18 days ago

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Second Chances [Touya Todoroki x Reader]

˙⋆✮ That's So True ✮⋆˙

"Looking into big blue eyes. Did it just to hurt me, make me cry Smiling through it all, yeah, that's my life."

even villains deserve a lil redemption

Dabi x F. Reader

𓂃ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ༄˖°𓂃ﾟ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ.

WC: 1398

I'm sat on my thrifted couch by the window as rain softly beats against the glass. I press play on the voicemail for what feels like the millionth time, the words already burned into my memory, but still, I can’t help myself. Maybe this time will be different. Maybe hearing it again will change something.

"Y/N, please come back. What I did was wrong, it’s been months... I can’t lose you. The league misses you, too. Toga won't shut her damn mouth about you. Fuck, I’m so drunk right now... I love you. I know I didn’t say it often, but—"

The sound of Shigaraki’s raspy voice cuts through, sharp and impatient. "What are you yapping about?" he snarls. "We’ve got shit to do, wrap it up."

Dabi’s voice stumbles back in, slurred. "Bye, Y/N. I have to get a new burner soon- I’ll try calling again. Fuck, I know you won’t pick up. You haven’t the last dozen times but I’ll try." The message ends with a quiet beep.

It’s been three months since that call. And by then, I’d already been gone for seven. Seven months since the night I left him—the night I left all of them behind. His betrayal, his lies... it was too much. It’s been almost a year since I stepped away from the league, from the chaos, from the life that almost consumed me and swallowed me whole. A year since I walked out and didn’t look back.

I’m lucky, though. So stupidly lucky. My quiet, lowkey role in the league made slipping away easy, there were no repercussions or police coming after me every time I stepped foot outside. I’ve kept off the radar, built a new life for myself—a quiet life. I work at a flower shop now, which is insanely different than working as a villain for Shigaraki and the League of Villains, and it smells a lot better too. I’ve even gotten myself a little apartment on the edge of town, cozy, with a window that overlooks a quiet street, and roommate, which is actually just a little calico kitty that I named Cupcakes.

I’ve found peace here. Real peace. But the voicemail keeps pulling at me like a thread that came loose on a favorite sweater, both painful circumstances. And no matter how hard I try to ignore it, I know Dabi’s voice will haunt me forever if I don't talk to him at least one more time, and attempt to get better closure than some shitty drunk voicemail.

I text Giran, the broker that supplies the league with everything, including burner phones. Dabi stopped calling recently, so I assumed he lost my number with the last burner, because knowing him, he wouldn't stop calling just to give me space.

Me: Hi Giran! It's Y/N, I know we haven't talked in a while, but I was wondering if you know Dabi's current burner phone #? 😇

He gets back to me almost immediately.

Giran: Y/N!! So good to hear from you, kid, thought you fell off the planet lmao. And yea I can send the number. Giran: ###-###-####

He sends me the number, and I dial it immediately, my hands trembling. After a few rings, Dabi picks up, his voice sounding annoyed. "Who’s this? And how’d you get this number?"

"Hey, uhm... it’s me, Y/N."

"Y/N?" His tone softens, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Didn’t think I’d hear from you tonight. What’s up?"

I hesitate for a moment before speaking. "I just wanted to talk... are you busy?" I can hear a lot of voices in the background—probably everyone from the League. "If you’re tied up, it’s fine. It’s nothing important."

"Never too busy for you, doll." His voice shifts, and I hear him step away from the noise, the background chatter fading as he walks off.

The noise in the background slowly fades as he steps away, and I imagine him walking down a hallway, his boots hitting the floor with a slow, deliberate rhythm. The sounds of his breathing and the soft hum of his movements are the only things I can hear now. It’s strange, this feeling of distance and closeness at the same time.

“Alright, I’m all yours,” Dabi says, his voice rough but clear now, like he’s giving me his full attention. “What’s on your mind, Y/N?”

I swallow hard, staring at the rain outside, the droplets running down the glass, blurring everything in sight. My heart races in my chest, a million thoughts running through my head, none of them making sense. “I don’t know,” I admit, running a hand through my h/c hair. “I guess... I just needed to hear your voice.”

“Yeah, I figured that.” He lets out a soft chuckle, though it sounds a little strained. “You’ve been gone for a while. Thought you were never gonna reach out.”

“I didn’t think I would either,” I reply quietly. “But... I keep listening to that last voicemail you left. Over and over again. I just... I couldn’t stop myself.”

There’s another long pause, and I can almost hear the shift in his posture. Maybe he’s rubbing his face, or clenching his jaw. I wouldn’t be surprised. Dabi’s never been one for easy emotions. “Shit,” he mutters, sounding like he’s been through too much to deal with this. “I shouldn’t have left that message. I meant what I said but I wish I said it better, I wasn’t thinking straight.”

"It's okay. I liked it." I say softly.

"Really?" He asks, his voice almost in disbelief at me admitting that I enjoy his shitty drunk voicemail despite everything.

“Yeah,” I answer quietly, feeling the weight of the words settle between us. “It wasn't like you at all- guess the liquid courage helped a lil, huh?" I laugh dryly, "It was real sweet its own way. I could tell you meant it, even if you were drunk n didn’t know how to say it.”

Dabi’s silence on the other end feels heavier now. I can almost picture him—frowning, leaning against a wall, trying to collect himself. "Fuck," he mutters after a moment, voice low. "I never thought I'd hear you say something like that. But... I'm glad you did."

“I’ve been avoiding it,” I admit, my fingers tightening around my phone. "Avoiding you, avoiding everything. But I can’t keep running forever."

Dabi lets out a long exhale, like a weight’s been lifted from his chest. "I get it. I know you had your reasons for leaving, and I don’t blame you for it. I fucked up." His voice drops a little. "But if I’m being honest... I’ve missed you, Y/N. More than I ever thought I would."

My heart skips a beat. It’s strange to hear him speak so plainly, without the usual sharpness in his voice. "I’ve missed you too," I whisper before I can stop myself. The confession catches me off guard, and I quickly add, "But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to just jump back into everything. Things are... complicated."

"I know," Dabi replies, quieter now, as if he’s absorbing my words. "I’m not asking you to. I’m just... saying that I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. If you want me to prove it, I’ll prove it."

There’s something in his voice now that feels different, a promise without needing the words. A subtle shift in how he speaks to me, less like the cocky villain and more like a person who’s afraid of losing something he doesn’t deserve.

I stare out the window at the rain, a tightness in my chest as I let the quiet wash over me. I know I can’t go back to the way things were, but maybe—just maybe—I can start a new chapter with him, one where we’re both trying, even if we don’t have all the answers.

“I don’t know how I feel yet,” I say finally, voice soft but steady. “But... maybe we can try again. Slowly.”

Dabi��s voice is quieter now, but there's an undeniable relief in it. "That’s all I need. A chance. We can take it slow."

I lean back against the couch, closing my eyes as I listen to the steady rain and his steady breathing on the other end of the line. For the first time in a long while, the knot in my chest begins to loosen. There’s no going back to what we were before, but maybe there’s still a chance for something else.

"Alright," I whisper, a faint smile tugging at my lips despite myself. "Let’s see where this goes."

𓂃ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ༄˖°𓂃ﾟ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ.

#dabi #boku no hero academia #mha #mha x reader #my hero academia #league of villains #shigaraki #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #lov x reader #lov mha #touya x reader

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morganski-19 · 9 months ago

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The One with the Stolen Clothes

Eddie walks into Steve and Robin’s apartment to bother them, because he’s bored, and Robin dramatically gasps. Then throws a ball of paper at Steve when he walks out of his bedroom.

“What the fuck was that for?” he asks, thoroughly confused.

Robin gestures over to Eddie with wide eyes. Steve raises an eyebrow, still confused. Eddie just looked between the two of them, trying to decipher what they are silently communicating. Robin rolls her eyes.

“Eddie, where did you get that shirt?”

Eddie glances down at his shirt, having just pulled it out of the laundry basket before walking over here. “The laundry basket on the couch. Why?”

“No, like what place?”

He shrugs. “Thrift store probably, I don’t listen to this bad, but the logo’s cool.”

Robin dramatically stands up. “I knew it. That’s my shirt.”

Eddie makes a confused face. “How would your shirt end up in my apartment?”

Steve’s eyes widen. “I think I know. Remember when you stayed over here a few nights ago, and you borrowed some of my clothes. You said that you would wash them and then return them, but never did. I’m pretty sure that was the shirt you borrowed.”

“Huh, guess so. Sorry Buck, I’ll have to wash it again before giving it back to you.”

“Yeah fine, whatever,” Robin groans.

Steve snaps, like he just made a big realization. “That’s why you threw the paper at me.”

“It always come back to you stealing shit out of my closet.”

“Not my fault you like to wear baggy shirts.”

“You still wear it even if it’s not baggy,” Robin raises her voice. “Half my closet is stuff that you stretched out.”

Steve huffs. “That is so not true. And you steal my shit all the time, it’s like our thing.”

“Not when you lend someone else my clothes,” she points to Eddie, bringing him back into this conversation. “And I don’t care if it’s not washed, I’d like it back.”

Eddie shrugs. “I’ll go change then.”

He leaves the apartment and returns to his own. Nancy giving him an odd look when he walks through the door.

“Is that you’re shirt?” Nancy asks, sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop.

“Apparently not. It’s Robin’s.” Eddie goes to his room to change, double checking that this shirt is actually his.

“How’d you end up with Robin’s shirt?” Nancy asks, turning her head to the hall when a loud scream is heard from the other apartment.

Eddie matches her expression, thinking it’s probably not a good idea to go over there again. “Steve accidentally lent it to me. Apparently, he steals her clothes a lot.”

Nancy hums. “Yeah, it’s been a problem for years. But she does it to. When I roomed with her in college, she would steal my sweatshirts all the time.”

“I’m still surprised you guys didn’t date back then. You practically were from the sound of it.” There’s another scream from the across the hall. “Should we intervene?”

“Nah, they’ll be fine. We probably would have dated in college if I knew I was bi back then. But I didn’t, so we sort of missed it.”

Eddie faces Nancy. “And now?”

“Now,” Nancy says, still facing the door. “Whatever we might have had back then is gone. Robin and I are just friends. All we’ll ever be.”

“Are you saying that because you believe it, or because you think Robin doesn’t like you back.”

“Because I believe it. What we have,” Nancy takes a deep breath. “I’d rather be her friend forever than risk losing her to some shitty breakup. I almost lost Steve when we broke up in college, and then Jonthan when we broke up two years ago. I got lucky twice, I’m not risking being lucky again.”

Eddie sits down next to Nancy at the table. “But are you really going to stop yourself from trying. Maybe this time, you won’t have to be lucky. Everything could work out.”

“Are you still holding yourself back after your dick head of an ex-boyfriend broke up on you?” Nancy asks already knowing the answer.

“Got me there. When did life get so complicated?”

Nancy huffs. “Life was so much easier when we were in high school. The biggest thing we had to worry about were classes and shitty after school jobs. Not this.”

“Remember that hiding spot we found in the library?”

“Yeah,” Nancy smiles. “Right behind the non-fiction isle by the teachers lounge. Everything felt better there.”

“Do you ever wish you could go back in time, just for life to feel simpler again? Or to change something in hopes it would make your future better.”

“Sometimes. I think if I did, the one thing I would change is us falling out of touch. Everything else, I think was just fine enough.”

Eddie plays with his rings. “I’m sorry that I stopped reaching out when you went off to school. Just felt like you didn’t need me anymore, with all your new college friends and classes and shit. You didn’t need me dragging you back to that town. You were so much better than them.”

“I’m sorry I let you. Wasn’t just you’re doing. I wanted to separate as much from home as possible, you just happened to be in the crossfire.”

Robin bursts through the apartment door, finding Eddie with a glare. “My shirt,” she demands.

“Right, here,” he tosses her the shirt and she leaves. “We really need to start locking that door.”

Nancy winces. “Yeah. Why’d Steve lend you the shirt anyway?”

“Not the reason you think. We were too high and tired to stand up fully, so he just let me stay over.”

“Damn, thought you two were done being stupid.”

Eddie laughs. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen until you and Robin stop being stupid.”

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low, @thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady, @apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic, @fearieshadow, @mentallyundone, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging, @potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug

#morgan's friends au #stranger things #friends au #ficlet #stranger things ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #some eddie and nancy lore #steddie #ronance #implied #pre relationship

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foliosriot · 1 year ago

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THE ROTTEN AND UGLY

noah sebastian x reader

SUMMARY!!

you break up with noah without thinking about the consequences for either of you.

WARNINGS!!

language. description of a panic attack. self-worth issues. mental health problems (depression, anxiety).

AUTHOR’S NOTE!!

anyways this got angstier than i’d originally anticipated so uh enjoy the pain i’m about to serve you on a damaged and thrifted zoopals plate

masterlist

You hate how much he’s gotten under your skin over the years. The way he’s taken a variety of sharp objects and ruthlessly carved his name into your bones. In the intricacies of your veins there are markings that are nearly identical to his tattoos. You swear your hips and waist are permanently speckled with dark smudges, a repeating pattern that looks suspiciously like his fingerprints.

You’re still picking out pieces of him from yourself.

And yet, you were the one to end it. You were the one that told Noah you “can’t do this anymore”, whatever the hell that means. He asked as much, but you didn’t seem capable in giving him a straight answer. So you left the house battling against your instincts to run back to him.

But you were able to fight against them as you let yourself out the front door, leaving behind someone that has been a rock in your life for as long as you can remember. You left Noah standing in the living room, alone and confused. You fucking abandoned your self-proclaimed soulmate.

That was nearly a month ago.

After you left the boys’ house that day, you somehow convinced yourself that you were no longer hopelessly in love with Noah. You gaslit your own brain into believing your relationship — both platonic and romantic — was built on the fact that you were never good enough, that Noah took pity on you from the get-go.

It seemed to work. At first, that is. Because, before you altered your brain, you allowed yourself to wallow in your guilt and anxieties. For three consecutive days you bawled into your pillows, grimacing and crying even harder when the smell of Noah’s cologne met your nostrils. You were throwing yourself quite the pity party, and it was torturous.

But you were the one who was convinced that you never deserved Noah in the first place. You ended it, not him.

When those three days were up and gone, you managed to pull yourself together long enough to allow your best friend, Violet, to take you out for a girls’ night. It was something you needed — it was something that could distract you from your own head.

And the fact that it had worked was surprising. Maybe it worked too well.

At one of the handful of bars Violet had dragged you to you met Ryan. He was tall, lithe build and long limbs. His blackened hair was shorter on the sides, allowing the top to grow longer, thus falling into the beautiful hazel of his eyes. He had snow white skin but his flesh was divided up by swathes of colored ink that had nearly glowed under the neon lights. He’d donned an old Bullet For My Valentine t-shirt and black cargo pants.

Something about him had felt familiar to you. But you weren’t allowed anymore pondering over that inclination as Ryan had dragged you onto the dance floor.

It wouldn’t occur to you until a week later when you and Ryan were on your first official date. If it weren’t for the gauged ears, the round, rimless glasses, or the chunky gold rings, you would have thought he was somebody else. It was almost uncanny.

God, but you could have sworn…

You were wrong, however.

Ryan seemed to really like you, though. He had an eye for finer details and was a real sweetheart. He was obviously taking things slow with you, especially after you had accidentally dumped the story of what happened with Noah onto him over one too many shots of tequila. His genuine concern and sympathy over the entire ordeal had you fawning over him tenfold.

You and Ryan went on more dates since that night. Around him you were pushing down your self pity and replacing it with something you could have mistaken for happiness; you felt content around Ryan.

Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever.

It was nearing dusk when your apartment’s doorbell chimed. The sound startled you for a moment, but you relaxed as you headed for the door.

But there was Ryan, that smile of his you had anticipated on his face. You swallow down the chunk of disappointment.

“Hey,” you greeted him. You stepped aside to let him inside before gently clicking the door shut. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, sorry! I was gonna text you that I was coming over, but I thought I’d make it a surprise,” Ryan replies with a shrug.

You force a smile, hoping it came off, at least, partially genuine. “Oh, okay. Well, do you wanna watch a movie or something, then?” you asked.

“Sure.”

The two of you walk in to the living room in search of something to watch, be it a movie or a random episode of a TV show. You sit fairly close to each other on the small couch, a minimal amount of space between both your legs.

As you continue your hunt for your entertainment for the night, your anxiety begins to gradually rise. Your heart is thumping wildly and the palms of your hands are growing clammy and there’s a dull throbbing pain behind your left eye. Why is this happening? What the fuck is going on?

You don’t realize when you begin drawing in breaths in quicker succession, until your chest is seizing and you’re hyperventilating. The sound of Ryan’s concerned voice is muted from inside your skull, making you feel as if you were underwater. Tears are spilling down your face but you can’t find the strength to wipe them away.

Then you feel the vibrations of Ryan frantically speaking to you floating around your brain, and you’re not quite sure what he asked, but you manage to choke out one word.

Noah.

Everything became darker and blurrier after that. Time didn’t existence nor did anything around you. Your head was swimming and you couldn’t figure out where you were — if you were at home, if you were at work, with Noah.

Noah.

You think you hear the front door opening and slamming shut all of a sudden. But you aren’t quite sure anymore. This is the most violent panic attack you’ve ever had.

You jolt when there’s an unexpected hand carefully grasping yours. It must be Ryan.

His skin is frigid compared to the heat radiating from you. He begins gently running his thumb over your knuckles, a gesture that feels vaguely familiar.

The thing that finally brings you back to the present is the soft voice in your ear. At least you think it’s soft and gentle. Everything still sounds warbled, but there’s a distinct difference to this voice. You latch onto it and begin pulling yourself towards it in hopes of relinquishing the hold this panic attack has on you.

Darkness begins slinking away to reveal your living room. Your vision is blurry when you come to, but you blink away the tears that cling to your eyelashes, the action almost painful. You take a few moments to carefully and slowly gulp down several lungfuls of air before you turn to the body beside you.

But you aren’t met with the worried glaze in Ryan’s hazel eyes. Instead you see Noah next to you, his head angled down in your direction as he quietly sings.

Oh.

That’s how you were able to get through your panic attack. The only thing that has ever had that kind of power is Noah singing and holding your hand. He did it to let you know he was there the entire time, to provide something to keep you grounded to reality.

“Noah…”

Your voice comes out as a broken whisper. Noah immediately stops singing. His head shoots up. There is a frantic glint in his dark eyes as he searches your face for a moment before locking his gaze with yours.

“Baby, what happened?” he asks, one of his hands moving to your face. His palm is cool against your cheek, and you nearly shudder at the sensation of his calloused thumb gently stroking your cheekbone.

“Wh-What are you doing here?” you counter. You’re trying to ignore the fluttering sensation in your heart when he called you baby. But it is much too difficult, especially when he’s looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. Like you were worth looking at and cherishing. Your stomach churns mildly.

A muscle feathers under his skin when Noah clenches his jaw. He continues staring at you, save for the single glance he shoots up and to the left.

You hesitantly look over your shoulder, and there, standing just behind the couch with his hands clenching the cushions, is Ryan. The look on his face is tight but unreadable. You feel Noah’s hand lightly glide down until it rests against the side of your neck. Ryan’s eyes track the movement.

“What happened?” You ask Ryan the same question, hoping he gives you an answer. You’re trying to ignore the placement of Noah’s hand, but it is proving to be nowhere near easy.

It takes Ryan a few prolonged seconds to say anything. But when he does finally speak, he says, “We were trying to find a movie to watch, but then you tensed and started shaking. I tried talking to you and to get you to stop crying and hyperventilating. You weren’t responding and I was getting really fucking worried.”

Ryan pauses. He visibly swallows, then shifts his hazel gaze from the hand against your throat to your face. A flinch ripples through your body at the emotionless light in his eyes.

“You managed to say one word,” he continues. His tone is devoid of feeling, almost like he was trying not to show any emotion at all. “Noah. And I automatically knew who you were talking about. So, because I was desperate as shit, I got your phone unlocked and found his contact you kept for some reason. I called him and, well, here he is.”

Ryan looks down at the floor beneath him. Your heart is speeding up once more, and Noah seems to have noticed because he presses his index finger into the pulse point beneath the hinge of your jaw. The pressure is ginger at best, but it somehow manages to keep you from going in to hysterics once more.

You look back at Noah to see him already watching you closely. Your breath hitches slightly when you notice the familiar loving shine in his irises. God, you have missed him so much.

Noah has one knee bent and resting on the couch, with the other dangling over the edge. Over the course of the attack you had crumpled into a ball — a familiar aspect of these things for you — and Noah had managed to peel away your arms from where they had wrapped around your legs like a vise. He had entered your personal bubble in hopes of helping you. One hand of his hands still held yours with a secure grip.

You felt an overwhelming need to wrap Noah up in a thankful, loving hug. But you still felt Ryan’s presence.

Mulling over your decision in your head kept the room silent. It took longer than you would have wanted, but you knew it was a necessary one to make in the first place.

“Ryan.” You shift just enough to face Ryan more directly. He lifts his head as you force your arm to move. You slowly reach for one of his hands, gathering the strength to talk. “Thank you for being here. It means so much to me.”

Ryan doesn’t say anything initially. First, he rakes his gaze over to Noah, a glare overcoming him.

“I didn’t do anything, Y/N,” he bites out. “All I did was call the ex.”

You feel Noah tense, but he doesn’t speak.

“I’m gonna leave now,” Ryan says, finally stepping away from the couch. “I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N.”

As Ryan heads for the door, you call out, “I’ll call you.”

With his hand already on the doorknob, Ryan stops to look at you. His gaze softens as you make eye contact.

“No. Don’t worry about it,” he tells you. His words are quiet and tinged with a tense of sadness. He gives you a small smile. “This was really nice. I’ll see you around.”

Then Ryan is gone.

And you’re alone with Noah.

Silence sits over you like a weighted blanket. Sitting in the dead quiet with Noah has always been relaxing and comfortable, because there would be times you would lay your head down on his chest and listen to his steady heartbeat. At times like those neither of you had any responsibilities or stresses. You simply existed together in your own little world.

But there is an underlying tension this time around. You’re still angled towards the front door and you can feel Noah watching you. His pinky brushes your collarbone, and it takes all of your remaining strength to suppress a shiver.

Then Noah’s hand slips from your neck, and you can’t help but miss the sudden vacancy.

“Y/N. Can we talk about this?”

Noah’s voice is quiet. His soft tone is tainted with something akin to anger, but you can’t be sure. Maybe it’s sadness or confusion. Either way, you turn your head towards him.

Strands of his dark hair are dangling in front of his face. There’s an unidentifiable glint in his eyes that has your heart stuttering. You suddenly have a desire to reach forward and touch the tattoos on his hands and neck, everything else covered in black clothing. And you think you’re successful at resisting that feeling, when you’ve slowly counted to ten in your head. But you can never rein yourself in very well when it comes to Noah.

You turn to fully face him. He watches your every move with a confused air about him. His body stills completely when you finally stretch your arm out, your fingertips brushing the red apple at his throat. You swear he shivers slightly when your fingernails graze his inked skin.

Noah lets you touch his tattoos without a word or twitch of a muscle. With every movement you make he watches you like a hawk, like he’s going to tear you limb from limb at any moment. You have done this countless times over the years, but something about this time feels different.

This goes on for only a few short minutes. Until Noah grasps your wrists and gently pushes your arms away from him. He keeps his hold on you.

“Y/N.”

Your throat constricts slightly in apparent preparation to cry once more. But you swallow thickly as you manage to meet his eye.

“Noah.”

He tightens his jaw. He lowers his eyebrows slightly as he considers you and your slightly patronizing reply of his name.

“We’re gonna talk about this,” he tells you. “Right now. Whether you like it or not. We need to talk.”

And he’s right, you know he is. Though you don’t know how this is going to go.

You shakily take a deep breath anyways. You nod once, gesturing as best as you can despite your momentary shackles for Noah to speak.

“Why? Why did you break up with me?” Oh god, you’re hoping he didn’t feel your pulse spike at his question. “I mean, you gave me a reason, but we both know it was kinda bullshit. You didn’t tell me the truth. So can you tell me the truth now?”

Fuck. You can’t do this.

I’m sorry, Noah. But I can’t do this anymore.

There’s a pulsing behind your eye. Your head is pounding and your cheeks are tear-stained. And you would be an even bigger liar if you restated what you said that night. ‘Cause by the fucking gods above, you were all in from the beginning. You knew you were in love with Noah a long time before you actually started dating. You have been by his side through the worst years of his life, and he has been there for yours.

You have missed him more than anything this past month. Even while hanging out with Ryan something felt off. Your brain was too hung up on Noah to even fathom forgetting him or replacing him.

So what’s the point of hiding anything else from Noah, since he has seen and witnessed every dark and ugly and rotten thing you hold inside? He saw all the bad and evil that reside deep, deep down and still chose to stay.

But you have been broken for a long time, even considering how much Noah has helped you. There is something damaged beyond repair within. You’re not sure if it’s worth keeping anyone around anymore in order to try and fix it. It seems pointless, really.

Noah is still watching you. His hands are firm around your wrists as he waits for your answer.

“I’ve never been good enough for you,” you finally say, and it feels like a weight is lifted from your chest. “You how damaged I am. You have seen all of the shit that keeps me up at night and you’ve experienced firsthand how violent my panic attacks are. Why the fuck did you stay? You’re Noah fucking Sebastian. Lead singer of a successful metal-core band, who could have anyone he wants. And you chose me? I guess I just don’t see why.

“I’m not worth the hassle or worry. Everyone wastes their time with me. I’m not getting better — I can’t get better! So I removed the variable that was the issue. I removed the problem so you wouldn’t have to. I willingly took the swan dive, ‘cause sooner or later I was gonna self-destruct. I’m a fucking time-bomb, and you know it.”

Throughout your explanation Noah stared at you. He had made no attempts to interject or talk down on your feelings. He listened intently, and your heart aches.

But you can’t take the staring any longer. You wrench your hands away from Noah and stand from the couch. You wobble on your feet for a moment before you regain your balance, shuffling to the other side of the living room.

You turn to look at Noah to see him slumped against the back couch cushions. His arms are crossed over his chest and his eyes are still tracking you. Both feet are planted on the carpet.

“Would you stop looking at me like that?” you demand. “Like—Like I’m being irrational. Or, like—“

“Like I actually care about you?”

You fall silent at Noah’s interruption. His face is nearly expressionless, but you detect the minuscule frown on his lips.

“I’m not gonna stop caring about you, Y/N,” Noah continues, his voice low. You think he may be angry. “It’s not something I’m interested in doing. Because, yeah, I’ve seen all of the fucked up shit inside of you, but you’ve also seen it from me. You chose to stay too, right? So why would I want someone who doesn’t harbor a little bit of pain or agony? That makes you human, and that makes you you. ‘Cause believe me when I say that I am in love with you. Baggage and everything. But I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Tears had begun falling from your eyes again. Your lips trembled slightly at Noah’s declaration. Your body was shaking.

You watch as Noah gets to his feet. You can’t help but fold your arms around your torso as he slowly approaches you. The blood pumping through your veins and roaring in your ears is deafening.

“I can’t promise I won’t hurt you.”

Noah pauses a few paces away at your words. He meets your eye for just a moment before you’re locking your gaze onto the floor.

“Okay. Then don’t promise. I don’t care if you hurt me, ‘cause I’m gonna stay either way.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“What if…” You sniffle as you tighten your hold on yourself. “What if I don’t want you to stay?”

“That’s not happening.”

“Noah, I—“

Noah takes the steps forward to reach you. “The only reason you don’t want me to stay is so you can convince yourself everything was your fault,” he told you. His voice is still low in pitch and peppered with a certain hardness. “I’m not gonna let that happen. None of this is your fault.”

Your instincts are screaming at you to fall into Noah. Every inch of your body is berating you to let this all go and let Noah back in. You both need each other, you know that. So why is this so goddamn hard?

His words hang in the air like a heavy fog. Your vision is blurry from tears. Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest. This has to end.

“Get out.”

Noah recoils a fraction at your unexpected statement. “What?”

“I said get out. I made my decision, and you need to respect that.”

“I’m not leaving.”

More tears cascade down your face. Every single one feels like acid eating away at your skin as you raise your head to look Noah in the eye.

“I’m not going to ask you again, Noah.”

Noah doesn’t protest. But you can see the tears in his eyes as he eventually backs away and goes for the front door. You’re shaking uncontrollably as you watch him open the door, chance a glance back at you, then leave. He gently shuts it behind him.

A void opens up in your chest. It yawns wide, a blackened abyss growing bigger and bigger inside of you, threatening to consume your soul.

God, what the fuck have you done? You are so in love with him, and you just let him leave like that. You can’t even begin to believe that you’re this fucking stupid.

But Noah left because he loves you. And that makes the tears fall harder and faster.

You can’t imagine a life where he isn’t there. Frankly, you don’t want to imagine such a life. In every past, present and future you have ever conjured up in your head, Noah has always been there. And you just ruined any chance of fulfilling a better future for both of you.

This can’t happen.

You’re not going to let this happen.

Without thinking you dash for the door and fling it open. At the other end of the fairly short hallway, near the elevator, is Noah. His head is hung and he’s holding his phone. You can’t see his face clearly, but there’s a foreign rigidness to his body that you wish you never have to see again.

“Noah!”

And at first Noah doesn’t react. Then he’s twisting his neck to look your way. The sight of you has him straightening his posture and sliding his phone back in to his pocket. You can see the rise and fall of his chest, a certain anxiety about him that hurts your heart.

Then you let out a loud sob, and Noah is racing for you without hesitation. He gathers you in his arms before your body crumples to the floor. You latch your fingers onto the fabric of his shirt as you cry against his shoulder. One of his arms is fastened around your abdomen while the other is along your shoulders, that hand slipping through your locks of hair and carelessly gripping at the roots.

“I’m sorry,” you sob against his body. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. God, I’m so stupid. I am so sorry—“

Noah cuts you off. “No, Y/N, do not apologize,” he tells you, his own voice thick with tears. “You’re not stupid, either. You were trying to do the right thing for you, and that’s okay. Never apologize for that. Okay?”

You manage to nod once. Then he’s carrying you back into your apartment in the direction of your room. He carefully sets you down on your bed and immediately joins you. There’s blankets around you and Noah is holding you tightly.

You bury your face in his neck with your arms coiled around his shoulders. His arms hold you against him, his head resting beside yours on the pillows.

The pillows were beginning to lose the smell of Noah’s cologne. You were worried they would have trapped the scent of Ryan instead over the past couple weeks, but all you feel is Noah. Every sense is overwhelmed by him and his presence. The feeling of his body against yours feels like coming home once and for all.

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

♱ foliosriot 2023

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x reader #x reader #bad omens #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #𖤐 #𖤐: writing

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wroteclassicaly · 1 year ago

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Fallin’ For His Darlin’

(Gator Tillman x Female Reader)

Word count: 1,062

Pairings: Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of trauma, wounds, pain, anxiety, and depression, vaginal sex, fluff, hurt/comfort, vaginal fingering, kind of dark!Gator, kind of soft/anxious too, etc.

A/N: So inspired tonight, listened to some mood music, feeling that fall vibe, haha! Hope y’all enjoy? I’m pretty happy with this one! And I can’t wait to see our boy in action 😭 P.S, forgive my shitty graphic making, I’m not good at that!

You’re not sure what time it is. Maybe midnight? You aren’t positive, because when his headlights find your garage door, floating in through your window like his own personal spotlight, his tires skid across the gravel of your lane, his car door heavily thudding closed, his boots crunching heavily over rough ground, signaling him closer… closer — time ceases to matter much. You’re meeting him eagerly over the threshold, his back slammed against the beat up wood, boots falling beside your sneakers on the entryway rug. Nothing can find you here, can harm you here, and what has lifelong permission to touch you, it’s always-only… him.

He smells as good as always. Spicy cologne and cigarettes, powdered sugar from the donuts he’d eaten for dinner (you are always on him to eat more), leftovers from your shared favorite diner — Angelica’s, still pressed into his crisp black t-shirt, as if he’d forgotten a napkin. His hair is usually in its less than pristine condition by the time he arrives at yours in the night hours. Doesn’t matter anyways, not with how you end up carrying on in front of your old fireplace (Gator’s a fan of your new cream rug, intricate floral patterns woven into it, loved by owners before, thrifted, and now yours), or on your couch. You’d never really gone to your bed, learning how those times nearly caused lines to be crossed, one ending with Gator falling asleep on your naked breasts, (the calmest he’s been in years, and you just watching him as the sun came up and cast a glow on his youthful head. he was lost, broken, beaten down).

Sticking to this, here in your living room, it’s safer, saner. But it’s not what you want. However, you’ll have him whichever way he offers. He’s Gator and you’re his sweet darlin’.

~*~

Your legs fall open, one wrapped up in his camouflage pant clad thighs. His fingers press deeper inside of you, thumb circling your curls, smearing the cream around in them, watching how it bubbles. You’re kissing him again, lips so soft on his chest, fingernails scraping through the thick tufts that rest on his chest, occasionally flicking his gold and silver chain overlays. You’d gotten him the gold pendant, something he could wear, a symbol for faith that Gator could attach his own meaning to, not having to wear because it meant what his father wanted it to. But it was safe enough that Roy wouldn’t question its meaning.

Your lips find that patch of skin by his left nipple, sucking it between your lips, before you bite down. Gator throbs in his pants, his spare hand squeezing your neck’s nape. Despite his fascination, he’s still a million miles away. “Why do you let me do this to you?”

It’s a default question, an answer you both know already. Why you let him love you like this, it’s so simple…

“These hands, what I do with them before I come here. I’m bad. And I could hurt you, you know?” He adds a little pressure that travels up your scalp in electric prickles.

You spread yourself wider for him, a third finger stretching you in a welcomed, boundary pushing burn. Your eyes meet the midnight murk that’s woven over his mossy pupils like a blanket to mask, face leaving that cove of his chest. Your finger reaches to rub along his lower lip, his tongue licking out to taste skin.

“You wouldn’t, Gator. You won’t...” Is your answer. As if you believe it more than you believe in any god or higher power.

He’s pushing, as he often does…

“And if I do?”

“Then I’d let you.” It’s plain and simple, your fingers leaving his mouth to wrap around his wrist and correct him to a deeper rhythm. This is not enough tonight. More. Fuck, you want him to swallow you whole, capture you, trap, and hurt you in the ways you welcome — how he can, ever so softly, but painfully blissful, like a fire to your fingertips, flames licking the skin, enough to sting, but never to take away in harm.

He’s fully hard, swollen, and he’s turning towards you, forcing you to him by your nape. Your noses bump into a brushing nudge, his hand leaving your cunt and pressing wet, calloused fingers to your jaw as he brings you into his mouth. He’s so warm, plush, his stubble has a scratching effect. He tastes like sweet sugar and Marlboros. He’s been smoking menthol, you note — what he switches to in the colder seasons.

He’s panting his next declaration over your mouth in a fragile concentration. “Would you let me put it inside of you, darlin’?”

Your thighs tighten together, pussy clicking noisily. You’ve never had penetrative sex with him yet, something so close for two childhood friends. But you’re ready to leap if he is, reaching for his hand on your jaw and squeezing over his knuckles. “What do you think I’ve been waiting for, Gator?”

~*~

Approaching Autumn glides in on the cool September rain of Sunday, leaves and earth filling your room with the harsh scent of two bodies connecting. Your blush curtains blow against the chipped, open window frames. Your nipples have hardened from the cool air, from dragging repeatedly across Gator’s chest hair, his necklaces dipping into your collar bones and the valley of your tits. He’s got your legs held around his waist, your hands pulling in his hair to mess it up, his nose finding yours, foreheads sticking with perspiration. The box of condoms lay abandoned at your bedside, a gamble in you, of which Gator is only ever willing to trust.

Your eyes tighten and close, his size making you feel as if you’ve never been touched or fucked before in your lifetime. Everything aches, everything is too much, all at once.

“Should I stop? You hurtin’?” He’s speaking to you in a way that makes tears gather in your lash line. He brushes them away with a rough thumb, then a trigger finger, almost immediately.

His hands let your legs drop to take your fingers in his own, directing one to his shoulder and the other around his waist. “Hold onto me?”

“I’ll never stop.” And you’re surging in for a kiss.

The rain hasn’t stopped when the sun begins to come up the next morning. And your boy sleeps soundly on your chest, uncaring. And that funny thing called time? Well, it still ceases to exist.

// Eat me paragraph //

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sergeantsporks · 8 months ago

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Witch Switch: All of Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

That's a wrap on Episode 1! Episode 2 should start coming out around May 1st; see you then!

Transcript underneath the cut

Cover: Portal Door

[Open on Phillip, waiting outside school with Jacob Hopkins]

Jacob: [completely unprompted] So I was watching this video—

Phillip: Oh, god, here we go.

J: —about underground witch rings that still exist throughout the world—

P: They’re called neopagans, and they aren’t underground. Also, witch “rings” aren’t a thing, they’re called “covens.” Which you’d know if you got your information from literally any reliable source.

J: Yeah, well, anyway I was thinking, what if there are some in Gravesfield? I mean, how would we know? I’m pretty sure the museum curator is a witch, so we should investigate the—

[Cut to Phillip, exasperated, holding his arms in an “x”]

P: There’s no “we” here, don’t rope me into this. Leave Masha alone. So what if they’re a neopagan? There’s no such thing as a “real” witch with “real” magic. They’re not hurting anything.

[Cut to Jacob, incensed]

J: You might not believe it, but I know what I saw! Witches and demons walk among us, and—

P: [disembodied] Oh, look, my ride is here, bye, Jacob.

[Car pulls away from the curb, leaving a fuming Jacob]

[Inside the car]

Caleb: Aw, was that one of your friends?

P: No. Just Jacob.

C: Seemed like you guys were having a nice conversation!

P: He was suggesting breaking and entering so that he could collect evidence that the museum curator is a witch and should be burned at the stake, because he’s an idiot who doesn’t even know that witches in America were hung, not burned.

[Cut to just Caleb, worried]

Caleb: Oh. Um. Don’t do that, please.

P: [disembodied] I’d drop dead before going along with him. He just hangs around the guys, he’s not really our friend.

C: Ah.

P: [perplexed] Hey, you missed the turn.

C: Yeah, you’re coming to work with me today. You can do your homework there.

P: Is this because of what happened on the field trip?

C: No, no, nothing to do with that. It’s just…

[Cut to tense, worried Phillip]

C: [disembodied] There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.

[Cut to inside of Robin Roast. Caleb sets a coffee in front of Phillip and sits down]

Caleb: So, Phillip… What do you think of Evelyn?

Phillip: Eh. She’s fine. I guess. If you like her.

C: You’re not just saying that?

P: Did she snitch about me not letting her in right away? I swear I couldn’t hear her. (lying).

C: It’s not about that, Phillip. Although you need to be more aware of your surroundings when I’m not home—especially if you know someone’s coming.

P: Yeah, okay.

C: I know you didn’t use to like Evelyn very much, so I just wanted to know what you thought of her now.

[Cut to Phillip drinking his coffee]

P: Mhm.

C: [disembodied] And… I wanted to know what you would think of inviting her to join our family

P: [spits out his coffee]

[Phillip wipes his mouth, incredulous]

Phillip: WHAT?! You can’t marry Evelyn!

Caleb: [disembodied] Why not? We’ve known her for 4 years now, and I’ve been dating her for 2.

P: Uh—no. She knows us. We don’t actually know anything about her!

[Cut to floating cartoon heads of Caleb and Phillip, Caleb going from confused to varying levels of defensive while Phillip grills him]

Caleb: What are you talking about? Sure we do.

P: We don’t know where she works—

C: She works in a pawn shop… or thrift store or something… I think.

P: —we know nothing about her family—

C: Oh, come on, you know better than anyone that family can be a touchy subject.

P: —She disappears for weeks at a time-!

C: She’s visiting family!

P: The family we’ve never met?

C: They live far away! And… I think they have bad reception out there? (I can never get in contact with her when she’s gone…)

P: You’ve never even seen where she lives! Probably because she keeps the ripped-out-hearts of the other guys who proposed to her under her floorboards!

C: Don’t be gross, Pip. I thought you were fine with her?

[Cut to regular style Phillip]

P: I’m fine with her as she is now, because you like her. I don’t want her to live with us. Ever. Besides, we don’t have the space for it

[Cut to Caleb, amused/apologetic/cunning]

C: Well… if we did get married, we’d probably move into a two bedroom. You’d get your own room! That would be pretty great, right?

P: [disembodied] Oh, so this is all for my benefit now? Not because it’s something you want?

C: No, it’s definitely something I want, I just figured… you might like to know some positives for you, to see how it’s good for both of us. Oh, hey, you wouldn’t be alone at home so often.

P: I don’t want company if it’s her. And I don’t need a babysitter—geeze, this is about the field trip, isn’t it?!

C: It’s not! Hey, look, I already talked to Manny about it, and he doesn’t think it’s a bad idea, in case an outside opinion helps. I know it’s a weird new thing to think about. But I’m not going to jump in right away, I promise. Let’s give the idea a couple of days to simmer, give you some time to get used to it, and—

[Cut to Phillip, who’s stood up abruptly]

P: It doesn’t need to simmer! I’m not okay with this! I will never be okay with you marrying her, even if everyone in the world thought you should!

[Cut to Caleb, who looks hurt and annoyed]

C: Oh, yeah? Even if your “friends” dared you to be okay with it? [his face immediately drops]

[Cut to upset Phillip whirling around]

[Cut to Phillip running out the door of the café while Caleb stands in the door, reaching towards him]

C: Phillip, wait!

[Phillip is gone from frame, and Caleb pinches his nose]

C: …Shit.

[Phillip runs through Gravesfield, upset]

Phillip: He can’t marry her, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t!

[He finally stops near the old, abandoned house, hiding behind a tree and clutching his head]

P: Ohhhhhh what was I thinking, storming out like that? Having a screaming match in public like a toddler? What if the guys find out? Stupid, stupid, stup—

[Phillip hears a rustling sound]

P: What…?

[he peers around the tree to see Evelyn with a big bag, looking around, very suspicious. Phillip gets a lightbulb moment]

P: Oh, I knew she was shady! I knew it!

[Buzz from his pocket]

Text from Caleb reads: Pip, please come home. We can talk about it later, just please stay safe until I can get to you.

[Phillip sneaks up to the house, peering inside holding his phone]

P: I just have to get proof she’s breaking the law, and then Caleb won’t even think about letting her in the house, let alone marrying her! Evidence, then home, then…

[Cut to the portal door]

P: [disembodied] What the…

[Manny and Camila are taking a walk through the neighborhood. Suddenly, Manny pricks up, taking a turn down to the old house, leaving Camilla behind]

Manny: Hey, Phillip what are you doing out—

[Cut to the inside of the house. Phillip glances behind him at Manny’s call, then pushes forward through the portal, which closes behind him just as Manny reaches the house]

M: …here…

[Camilla catches up]

Camilla: What’s going on?

M: [confused] I thought I saw…

[Cut to empty room]

M: [disembodied] …ah, never mind. I’m sure it’s nothing.

[Cut to Phillip, absolutely flabbergasted. Wide shot of the Isles, Phillip very small in it]

P: Where the HELL am I?

[End Part 3]

[End of Episode 1]

#toh #the owl house #witch switch au #witch switch comic #toh au #phillip wittebane #caleb wittebane #wittebane brothers #manny noceda #camila noceda #evelyn clawthorne #my art #long post

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femmefatalevibe · 1 year ago

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hi femme!!

i’ve been talking to this guy for about 2 months now, and things are going well i really like him. he’s coming to my city to visit me in about a week for a few days and i wanted to ask if you could recommend some date plans that we could do?

i’ve never had a boyfriend before or even been taken/planned a date and im a bit nervous and self conscious about this, especially since i know he’s had a few relationships in the past (including with a girl who’s also from my city 🥲) and i don’t want to just be another girl in his life or for him to be having deja vu when hanging out with me (think olivia rodrigo). idk if this is just me but im scared he’ll think im boring and i really want this to work out.

i’d love to hear your advice !!

thank you so much <333

Hi love! Just remember, if you've left your house to do things post-COVID, you have as much daytime activity experience as he does, lol. Dating is a two-way street, and you need to approach it as such. You're evaluating how much you like him in the same way he should be seeing if he's compatible with you. Other girls he's gone out with are irrelevant – he's traveling to go on this date with YOU.

Anyway, onto some fun date activities:

Go to a local museum

Take a stroll in the park

Have a picnic in the park

Go to a paint-and-sip class (or a regular pottery class)

Go rollerskating/ice skating/boat rowing

Play mini golf/tennis or pickleball

Attend a comedy show/jazz or piano show

Go to a trivia/karaoke night

Get ice cream/dessert/coffee at a novelty, fun place

See an outdoor movie

Go bowling

Browse local bookstores/thrift stores

Do a food/dessert tour

Go to an amusement park

Breakfast/lunch/dinner (can't not include this one, lol)

See an indie or vintage film

Hope this helps xx

#date ideas #date night ideas #date night #dating tips #dating advice #meeting new people #socializing #social interaction #first date #relationship advice #femmefatalevibe #q/a

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rgr-pop · 1 year ago

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I lost a brooch while I was on the road. not a huge loss, wouldn’t have worn it traveling if it mattered that much, but now that it’s gone I appreciate it and want to replace it. it was a scripty monogram of over two inches in white rhinestone. it wasn’t a notable make but the stones were really big, bright and clear leading me to think it was a little older than it seemed (more comparable to nice fifties pieces I’ve had), but I’d have to research. which I never did because I never thought twice about it. i just remembered i took a pic right before losing it.

what I liked about it were two things: that it was a large monogram brooch (all the others I have are tiny), and the quality of the rhinestones and that they were all sizeable and the same size (kind of a tennis effect). love the silver setting and also, looking at it now, the cartoonish script. I want to replace these qualities more than the thing itself.

I bought it wherever (flea market, jewelry fair, garage sale) not in careful selection but because I always buy monograms. important info you could have guessed but may not have known, you can ALWAYS gift me vintage costume jewelry Rs you encounter en thrift—in any condition or any mode, I will like! if there’s an RR monogram you simply must!!

also as you know i’m hunting for right hand rings and i reaaally want a monogram but i don’t have any more specific ideas.

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nevada-wrytes · 2 years ago

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Chapter 3 - When the Ocean Starts Retreating (And You Don't Run Away)

Content warnings: Underage drinking, alcohol, kissing

Here's the link to the previous chapter and here's the link to the next one!

Birds of a feather flock together- or however the saying goes- was entirely based on falsehoods. Raven could name many birds that would like to never see his face again— and it’s not like he didn’t mirror the same sentiment.

“What do you think of this dress?” Dahlia held out a thrifted nightgown with all the toppings: ruffles and lace and buttons where they do not need to be.

Raven, from where he was belly-flopped over a cushiony ottoman, craned his neck to look. You’d look like a pearl. “It’s too cold,” he huffed, collapsing limply back to his default pose.

“Well obviously I’d layer! But anyways, do you think this would match my Docs better than the green maxi dress..”

Raven turned off the part of him that could process speech. His mind felt stuffy after so long at the he-should-really-stop-calling-this-a-pep-rally-funeral. Not to mention his stomach was rumbling. Damn, when was the last time he ate?

Dahlia, having sensed his unwillingness to be of any fashion help, had gone to pester her siblings for advice, which left him the rest of the room to mope around.

He got up from the low ottoman with an intake of breath and a good stretch, enough to hear his spine snap and pop pleasantly. Then he gleefully jumped on to Dahlia’s bed and burrowed into the thick duvet and blankets. They still smelled like her, and for once he allowed himself to devour- taking deep, greedy breaths.

Once he had assembled himself a little nest, he poked his head out and almost knocked over a framed photo on the nightstand. He caught it with his fast reflexes (not bragging or anything) and gingerly set it back.

Something about the photo caught his attention. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it before, or like it was revolutionary photography skills- it was just a selfie of Dahlia in between an older frowning man with a bushy mustache and a tiny woman. He’d seen her parents before (kind of had to as her would-be sort of boyfriend) but- this time it felt different.

The people in the photo seemed so- genuine. Nice. They seem like the kind of family who would be upset if something happened to their own.

Raven thought about his own family. He hadn’t seen them in a while- did he miss them? Would they be upset if something happened to him- wait- no, what was he thinking?

Raven got up and shook those thoughts away as if he was putting a giant cotton swab in his brain and swishing it around.

“Raveeeen~” Dahlia’s voice floated through the hallway. She was already fully dressed in a cute outfit and braids that made her look like a Studio Ghibli character. She slung a tote bag over her arm. “Ready to go?”

Raven gave her his best bright smile. “Yup!”

He took her by the arm and together they walked out.

“I like your hair, did Aspen braid it?

“Yeah! He said two braids would look the best.”

“It frames your face nicely. I want to grow my hair out so I can braid it too..”

There was no keg-standing at the party— and for that, Raven was immensely disappointed. He wanted to have a true American highschool experience. Dahlia told him he should’ve gone to a frat house rather than a quaint New England town.

Besides that, the party seemed alright. Some rich kid was hosting it at his ski lodge— which was just a revamped log cabin in the middle of the woods equipped with a tennis court and swimming pool. Oh, and a jacuzzi— although it was unfortunately being occupied by couples who forgot social distancing was a thing. They did not seem in a hurry— Raven was never getting a turn in that hot tub.

Dahlia steered him away. “Oh, I think I see my friend’s over there- I’m gonna go say hi-” She let go of his arm to wave, “-hey! Girlies!”

Raven felt a fond smile grow on his face as he watched her run off. He mosied on back to a snacks table— someone had put a framed photo of the dead girl from the funeral next to the red solo cups. What a harsh reminder of what they were all supposed to be doing there.

He took a cup, weighed the pros and cons of drinking tonight, and then deemed that all irrelevant. In went two full ladles of whatever hard liquor x everything else in your pantry concoction something had made. He was pretty sure he saw a gummy worm bobbing in his cup. It tasted like burnt sugar going down, but brought back a pleasant warmth in his fingers.

Idly, he milled over to the dance floor. Someone had hung up fairy lights and lanterns around the patio, and with the canopy of trees in the background, it almost looked like the fortune teller’s tent.

He was sick of those stupid fairy lights.

Before he could leave, Raven felt rather than saw the stranger come up to him. His body stiffened on its own accord, but he willed himself to chill.

"Hey." Raven turned around, all nonchalant, and his eyes widened.

The stranger— an absolute Beast of a man— was taller than him (and he was almost six foot) and had an impressive amount of piercings dotting his face. Dark shaggy hair fell into his eyes from his wolf cut. He wore jeans so ripped you could practically see his thighs- and so many chains- he must have spent years harvesting them from prisoners. It was agonizing looking at him— how could someone be cooler than Raven, the coolest guy ever??

"I like your shirt." He had a deep, smooth voice, too. He didn't fail to notice Raven's staring, in fact, the corner of his mouth curved upwards around his lip piercing. Raven felt his face grow hot. Any self-respect he had sank to the floor.

"My- my shirt?" He looked down to see what he was wearing. It was an old rock band t-shirt from a group long disbanded. "Oh- er- thank you?"

"It's vintage, right? Which thrift store did ya get it at? I work at one, you know, so if you ever wanted a discount-"

"What? Oh, no, I got this shirt while they were on tour."

"What?"

He spotted Dahlia in the crowd by herself. "'Scuse me-"

Raven surprised her from behind with a hug, "Guess who!"

Dahlia jumped, nearly spilling her drink. "Raven!" She settled back in his arms. He smiled and began to sway to the beat of the music. Dahlia said nothing.

Raven cursed himself for how awkward his next words were going to be. "Hey- ugh, what's wrong?"

Dahlia hummed. "It's nothing. My friends were just saying some mean shit about the girl who died. I mean- I didn't really care about her either but- it's not nice to spread rumors when she's gone and all that-" Dahlia turned to face him, "Raven, if something happened to me, would you be upset?"

"I- What?"

The music stopped. "Hey, hey, hey, party people!" Someone had commandeered the mic from the karaoke machine, "This is your host, Ronnie speaking! I know some of you've been rumbling about bad weather- but don't worry, Ron's got you all covered. If this place goes south we still have the whole basement- and there's a pool table!- So don't fret, just enjoy the music, alcohol, and party as if we're gonna die tomorrow!!" He chuckled. "I mean you never know, one of us could be next!" His eyes shot directly to Raven.

The music continued shortly after, seemingly no one had heard the last part of Ronnie's speech. Raven looked back at Dahlia but she wasn't there. Panic surged through him.

"Dahlia?" He looked over the heads on the dance floor but couldn't see the familiar brown locks.

"Dahlia?" He found a group of girls huddled by the drinks table, but they shot him a weird look.

"Dahlia?" His voice was a whisper. He had somehow made it to the edge of the backyard, right by the woods.

The overcast sky was pitch black at this hour, so the forest seemed even darker than usual. A cool wind rustled the dry branches. As he looked up, he saw dozens of beady eyes staring at him.

"Raven?" He willed himself to turn around. Dahlia stood on the last step of the deck, two drinks in her hands.

"What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't find you."

"I just went to get some drinks. Come on, these are hot."

ˇˇ

They found a quiet corner away from the noise of the central party. Raven cupped a steamy drink in his hand. He took a sip and was delighted to find out it tasted exactly like Autumn. And cinnamon.

"What is this?"

"Cider. There's alcohol in it too, so it'll warm you right up."

"Hmp. Nice."

They quietly drank. Dahlia was first to speak up.

"Do you want to go home?"

Raven took a second to answer. "I don't want to leave you here alone."

"I'd go with you."

"What? But you were the one who wanted to come here."

Dahlia shrugged. "Yeah, and now I'm here. I had a fun time, it's probably late, I wouldn't mind leaving. Besides-" She got closer, "I don't want to force you to do anything you're uncomfy with.

She was staring right at him. Raven felt lost in her large eyes. He swallowed and set down his drink. "You didn't force me- I don't do anything I don't want to do regardless-"

"Hmp." Dahlia smiled. She was getting really close. Her breath smelled like alcohol and fruit.

"So this is okay?" Her lips were right next to his ear. His face went red- and he wasn't sure if it was just from the alcohol or not.

"Yes, yes it's fine."

"And this?" She kissed his neck, right underneath his jaw.

"MHM! YUP!" He shut his eyes. Let her pull him close. Found where his hands slot around her waist. Where his lips fit around hers. Where their breaths merged into one.

It was drunken revelry at its finest. One last hoorah.

Tag list: (ask to be added/removed) @thebonecarver @victorfrankingstein @confused-as-all-hell @iambecomeyourvillain @brekkercookie @fallen-from-olympus @purpl-cryptid @reyyya @thecurlychameleon @naz-yalensky @thesexypanda-boo @kazoo-the-demjin @twelve-kinds-of-trouble @robbiinn

#nevada writes #raven nv #this chapter is entirely fan service for me btw. the calm before the storm #also for those who don't understand the reference in the title: it's a tsunami warning #if the water starts disappearing really fast all the way to the horizon. run.

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wickedsingularity · 2 years ago

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The Not So Secret Santa Advent Calendar 2022 [December 24th]

The Not So Secret Santa Advent Calendar 2022 Masterlist

Summary: No one thought the Avengers would be back after the final battle against Thanos. But here they are, a brand new team, moving into the shiny new headquarters right in time for Christmas. They are made to do Secret Santa for team building, and Bucky sees it as an opportunity to do something special for a certain someone…

Pairings/characters: Bucky Barnes x reader (but not really), Bucky Barnes, all of them Warnings: Fluff, kissing Words: 727

For @iguess-theyre-mymess

He looked surprised. "Me what?"

"You got this for me."

"We're not supposed to guess until after," Scott declared. Hope hissed at him to be quiet.

"I had one of these when I was a kid, but I lost it. I was so sad. You're the only one I've told."

"Oh." A furious blush crept up Bucky's neck, his face matching his red t-shirt. "I wasn't aware of that. But yeah, I'm your Secret Santa."

A flood of different emotions swirled around in me, and all I could do just then was blink away tears and mumble "thank you", staring at the necklace in my hands.

"We can rule him out then," Thor said. "My turn."

The Secret Santa continued until everyone had opened their gifts and it took a while to guess. Some guessed right, some couldn't keep quiet that it was them and some had to be revealed. Peter said his spidey-tingle told him it was me who had gone crazy with Harry Potter merchandise.

As drinks were served again and upbeat Christmas music filled the room, I went to put my present safely in my room just in case. I had barely left the room when Bucky came after me, the door closed behind him and muffled the music.

"I hope I didn't embarrass you." He ran a hand through his hair and looked at his shoes.

"You didn't embarrass me," I reassured him laying a hand on his arm. "I was mostly just surprised you remembered. And that you managed to find it. And that you... wanted me to have it."

He looked down at me. "Of course, I remembered. I remember everything you say. And I wasn't even looking for it, I just saw it in a thrift store window a few days before Hill announced this and had to get it. Luck would have it that I picked your name, but I would have given it to you either way. It was meant to be."

"Why though?" I asked, looking up at his blue eyes that seemed to be glowing. "It just seems... Well... No one has ever..." I wasn't sure how to get my words out.

"Can we go somewhere more private?"

"I was on my way to put this away safely. Come on."

We walked in silence to the living quarters and Bucky followed me into my rooms. I could feel his eyes on me as I made room for the little box on a bookshelf. I looked at it for a moment. I visited a marine park when I was little and had seen the whale shark in a giant aquarium there and declared it as my favourite. On the way out, I got a necklace just like this in the souvenir shop and had worn it every day for years. But one day I had gone swimming with friends and laid it down with my clothes by the beach and when I came back it was gone. I had searched everywhere and combed the internet and every marine or ocean park I visited since but had never found anything just like it. All I had was an old photo of me wearing it.

I had told Bucky about it a long time ago when he talked about our childhoods to kill time during a mission. And he had remembered and found this...

I blinked away tears again before turning back to him. "Did you want to talk?" I asked.

"Yeah, I... I'm not very good at this. I was, I think. But modern times, I don't know." He was looking down at his twisting hands.

My heart started racing again and I took a few steps closer to him. "What is it?"

He closed his eyes for a moment and then looked right into mine. "I think I've fallen in love with you." He cocked his head sheepishly. "Think I have been for a while."

I grinned, feeling strangely calm when I'd always thought a confession like that would have left me feeling like I was having a heart attack. "I think I'm in love with you too."

Complete silence filled the room for two long moments and then Bucky's lips were on mine and there were tongues and teeth and hands and all my senses were filled by him. The Christmas party could do without us.

December 23rd | Masterlist

#the not so secret santa advent calendar 2022 #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagine bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x oc #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x oc #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fluff #my gif

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freegancreations · 1 year ago

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20 swatches.

You can find previews in the Example Photos. :)

These Item is Unisex and can be worn by all genders.

These Items wont randomize onto random sims. It will be your Sims personal item. If you place it, they wear it. No more Stolen Outfits! :)

My Dearest Freegan Babies,

Today I’d like to tell you about one of my favorite stores that played a decent part in my life. I grew up very low income. Thrift store vouchers were how I got new clothes every year for school, and when I grew up, thrift stores were never the place to be. It was seen as a disgrace in my small town to have to do that. For me, I thought of Thrifting as a magical place. I enjoyed looking at the clothes and imagining who owned them prior and what their life was like. It allowed me access into other cultures and environments I probably wouldn’t have experienced otherwise.

When I was in middle school, a girl in my class had gotten a new coat from a Goodwill by her house. She loved that coat and couldn’t wait to show it off before first period as we lined up and waited at the doors to be let in. This was our little runway, if you will… She was so excited that she showed it off to everyone walking by until the “Upper class” girls got in line. The snottiest of them noticed the Coat and announced to everyone that she gave that to Goodwill for the poor and that it was her jacket. She pointed out a stain she made on the sleeve and shamed the girl for getting something at the Goodwill bins. She made such a scene that the poor girl broke into tears and ripped off the coat... She threw it away and didn’t wear another one until Junior Year. It may sound extreme, but for her that was what pushed her over the edge. It was heartbreaking. A few of us tried to make it better, but there was no way of reaching her. She was too far into the rabbit hole of shame.

I, too, remember feeling this way, and knew that my number would come up one day. It did, but luckily the girl who donated was much kinder. She came up to me my Sophomore year and informed me that was her favorite jacket too, but it no longer fit. She told me how happy she was that it got a good home, and we scheduled a day to go Thrifting together. It was an unexpected friendship, and it was a time I needed a friend like that.

When I turned 16, I had finally saved up enough for a shopping spree at WildCats. It was a tiny Vintage store sandwiched between two abandoned buildings at this time, but it was on one of the main strips of Downtown. I remember trying to go for about 3 months, but I kept barely missing them due to my schedule. I remember walking in and feeling at home… I felt Safe. Soft, yet strongly written music was playing on the speaker system and the owner just let me explore. I found multiple items, and asked to try them on. I was thrilled when I found a Cherry print Halter Dress from the 1970s and a Leather Jacket in the back that fit my frame perfectly. It was a men’s small, and I asked why it was in the back. She said it was from an estate sale. The man who owned it in his 20’s had passed away of old age and the family wanted to donate it. I bought it instantly, and still have/wear it today. I like to think it’s my lucky jacket.

In the side pocket, there's an intentional hole torn in it that I didn’t find until a few years later. Inside was a little grocery list, a pack of Unopened Halls Cough drops, and a Folded up “lucky” bandanna. It was stashed in the lining to be kept safe, and I didn’t know the back story but I knew it was stashed away in there with love. So I kept it there. Whenever I wear my jacket and I feel anxious, I reach out and hold that bandanna in my hands and I don’t feel as alone. It was a small gift, and a small remembrance of a man I never met, but felt weirdly close to. I remember leaving my own tiny note for the next person who may receive this jacket after I’m gone, and I hope they find it. I hope that they feel how much love was put into that jacket, how many memories had been made, and I hope they make their own.

I mention this because as I was thinking about why I make CCs and why I’m trying to painstakingly make my own meshes; I can’t help but to think of all of you… I think of how many people have come to my page and found something they loved. I think about how many little moments I have been a part of by extension, and I feel nothing but love and pride to be a small moment in your life. I hope you know how much I care about all of you, and how much I hope that my little letters, little gifts, and my time spent is a sign that you are loved, and you are thought of. I know this world is hard right now, and I know things can get really rough. I hope you find your own lucky item that brings you comfort, and until then I hope my CCs remind you that some random stranger thinks about you every day. They wish the very best for you, and you are well wanted in this world…

Find your own Wildcats, Explore, and Love like there is no tomorrow.

Best wishes my Dearest Freegans! Be Good and Do some Good out there, Ok? We’re all in this together after all. <3

-Ashley J Williams, Freegan Creations

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getpastyesterday · 13 days ago

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My muscles tensed until they hurt as I huddled on my sagging mattress. In the darkness of my tiny bedroom, every shadow cast felt like a threat. My thrift store dresser sat sadly against the far wall, taunting me with its larger-than-life silhouette. The secondhand mirror propped beside it offered a reflection of me that looked like something out of a horror movie looming up from my twin bed. Wild dark hair. Wide, worried eyes. But it wasn’t the dresser that scared me.

A car had parked outside our trailer.

The time on my phone read two in the morning.

Considering we rarely, if ever, had guests during the day, it couldn’t be a good thing to have anyone coming over this late at night. Dad would be beside himself with paranoia, and in this case, I couldn’t blame him. Years’ worth of his rants about “those people hunting us” had taught me it was best to keep him away from strangers.

Fat chance of that now.

The voices outside were loud as the uninvited visitors climbed out of their car and crossed the gravel drive toward our trailer. This place had thin walls to begin with, but after a lifetime of vigilance, I’d woken the moment the headlights had pointed through my window.

Already, my heart was threatening to beat right out of my chest. Dad was always going on and on about enemies everywhere. One long look from a shady stranger, and he’d declare it too dangerous. We’d moved fourteen times just in the last five years alone. No public school. No college either unless you counted that one class I took before we went broke again. No friends. Which was honestly just as impressive as it was pathetic for a nineteen-year-old to have literally zero friendships.

“Don’t let anyone get close enough to see you, Ash,” my dad had always warned me.

I was over it. Or I had been until strangers had driven up to our doorstep in the middle of the night.

What the hell did they want?

I crawled over and peeked out of the cracked blinds covering my window. Three men were making their way to our front door. I couldn’t make out their faces in the darkness, but something glinted, and I zeroed in on whatever object had reflected against the streetlight.

My breath caught.

One of them carried a metal bat.

I scrambled back, letting the blinds fall into place. This was bad.

Really, really fucking bad.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, and I knew from the slow, heavy rhythm they made it was my father emerging from his bedroom at the end of the hall. He stumbled once. The wall creaked underneath his weight as he caught himself.

Shit. He was drunk. As usual.

Outside, someone knocked, just a quick two-rap with a knuckle. But it sent my heart rate soaring.

“I’m comin’, asshole.” My dad’s gruff voice was easy to hear through our thin walls.

My hands fisted around my blanket at that. I wanted to scream at him to stop. To hide.

Whoever was out there at two in the morning couldn’t be friendly.

The fact that my father was actually going to answer the door was proof of how far he’d fallen.

It was all mom’s fault.

If she hadn’t left us seven years ago, Dad would never have gone off the deep end. He’d still be my protector. My safe place. Instead, it felt like I’d been the one protecting him these last few years. And now, he was about to open that door and invite the devil inside.

He was going to get us killed.

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byyourside28 · 5 months ago

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We Can't Be Friends

MATTY x READER

Warning: Smoking weed, Smut (his dick is pierced, fingering, female receiving oral, unprotected sex. lmk if I missed any) and a hint of angst at the end

Summary: You've been best friends with Matty for years, but one night you threw caution to the wind and crossed a line.

WC: 5.7K

A/n: This is Fallingforyou but I'm changed the next 3 parts. So part one aka this one is the same with a couple of changes.....hope that makes sense lololol <3

Masterlink

Sending a quick text to let him know I was here, I shove the phone into my back pocket and trudge up the narrow stairs. Normally I’d give more of a heads-up just in case he had company over–but not tonight. I needed some clarity, and the only way I was ever able to get that feeling was through him. So if he’s busy… he can just get over it and let me sulk in a corner or something.

I can hear music blasting through his apartment door, and if he lived anywhere else besides being surrounded by stoned college kids 24/7, there’s absolutely no doubt that he would’ve been kicked out months ago. They don’t mind the music, though, and they definitely don’t mind the small supply of weed he sells on the side. Matty frequently reassured me that this was just a temporary solution, a means to an end until our band took off.

Without bothering to knock–because I know he wouldn’t hear me anyway–I reach above his door and slide my fingers across the frame until finding the key he keeps stashed there. I’ve warned him that it’s a stupid fucking place to keep a key and that he was basically asking for someone to break in, but he never listens to me anyway, so there it still is.

Which is a win for me tonight considering he still hasn’t texted me back and told me he’d be waiting.

Music and smoke hits me like a train when I open the door and step inside, making sure to lock it behind me. I can feel my body physically relax at the sight of his small apartment; the thrifted, round kitchen table that has an abnormally large ashtray in it and a still smoking cigarette, his worn out couch that I’ve spent many nights on helping him write lyrics, the overhead light that stays flickering despite helping him change the bulb at least four times since he has moved in.

“Matty?” I call out, tossing my bag onto the kitchen table and peeling my jacket off of my arms. I glance around the small living room, kicking my shoes off and hanging my jacket on the back of the dining chair before wandering further into the room. An open bottle of beer is on the coffee table, surrounded by baggies of pre-rolled joints and some various colored pills.

The bottle is still cold as I grab it, so wherever he is, he hasn’t been gone long. I take a long drink of the beer, fighting the urge to cringe at the taste, and fall down onto the middle couch cushion. “Matt…” I sing, watching the hallway carefully to make sure I don’t see him coming. “If you don’t want me to smoke without you, tell me now.”

Another few seconds of silence, and I grin to myself as I sit up straight. Placing the bottle between my legs, I reach for the baggie of pre-rolls.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch my shit, Sunshine.”

Beer splashes on top of my thighs, soaking through the jeans as I jump at his voice. “Warn someone next time, Matty!”

“Warn someone that I’m watching them steal my shit?” He scoffs, and I push my hair from my face as I stand from the couch, sitting the now empty bottle. “Makes sense.”

“Don’t be a dick,” I groan, smoothing my hands over my thighs in an attempt to get as much beer off of me as I can, “I would’ve paid for it, obviously.”

He steps closer to me, and I finally look up at him. My lungs deflate, and my words are stolen as I take in his bare chest. “Fuck you. You never pay.” He rolls his eyes, running his fingers through his curly wet hair, “What’re you even doin’ here? Didn’t you have a date or something?”

I groan, and he laughs, “that bad?”

“I’m here at two in the morning and not with him–isn’t that obvious?”

“Thought ya missed me.” He pouts his lower lip, leaning in closer, and has my breath catching in my throat. I freeze as he reaches his hand towards me, letting it hover over the curve of my hip. “Give me my shit.”

I hadn’t even realized I was still holding the baggie until he ripped it from my hand and carelessly tossed it back onto the coffee table. “Could you at least get me a towel or something to clean up your beer?”

“The beer you spilled, you mean?” Matty clarifies from the kitchen, taking a deep inhale from the barely lit cigarette.

My eyes are trailing across his tattooed torso, trying my best to memorize the images that’s inked into his skin. I’ve only ever seen the ones that litter his arms. “You fuckin’ deaf now?” The music dies as he cuts it off, presumably from the phone in his hand, “You need a towel? Here.”

Without blinking, Matty is pulling the towel from around his waist and tossing it at me. My eyes have a mind of their own as they fall down his body, and disappointment floods my chest when I see the boxers riding low on his hips. “Sunshine,” he hums teasingly.

Picking the towel off the ground at my feet, I roll my eyes. “Not much to see anyway. Quit being a dickhead and come help me.”

“Tell me why you’re at my house and not with that prick, and I will.”

“He was an asshole.” I shrug, wiping the towel on my thighs before squatting down to the small puddle at my feet.

I keep my eyes trained to the floor as he approaches me, “you fuckin’ with me?”

“Matty,” I laugh, looking up through my lashes, “he didn’t do anything to me, it’s cool. He just wasted my time, so I left as soon as I had the chance.” My gaze travels down his torso, lingering a second longer than needed. Jesus Christ. “Alright, got it.” I stand up, swallowing roughly, “can you put some fucking clothes on? It’s weird.”

He rolls his eyes and turns away, walking down the dark hallway leading to his bedroom. “Why’re you bein’ fucking weird?” He calls out from his room.

Maybe because I just wasted three hours of my night on a guy who didn’t care–or know how to–use his dick properly, and I’m fucking frustrated and horny.

I hear him rustling around in his room, and my mind wanders to what he’s picking out to wear. Would it be those gray sweats that hang low on his waist?

Oh my God. What am I doing?

“I’m not being weird.” I argue, running my palms down my face. “I just wanted to smoke before going home, but if it’s a problem I can leave–”

My words are cut off as he makes his way back towards the living room, still shirtless but now sporting a pair of red gym shorts. “Oh, so you’re just usin’ me, huh?”

“No–”

“And to think I was goin’ to be nice and bring you something to change into,” his lips wrap around the now lit joint, inhaling deeply, “but you can sit in your beer covered jeans now and think about how shitty you are.”

I finally spot the folded sweatpants in his hand, right before he’s tossing them at my face with a smirk on his lips. His brow quirks as he watches me, “well?” He leans against the casing of the hallway with his shoulder, “The faster you get changed, the faster you can smoke. Hurry up or I’m smokin’ without you.”

Maybe it’s the lingering smoke in the air, or maybe it’s the couple of shots I took to make it through my god awful hookup, but whatever it is, it has me unbuttoning my jeans as I hold his eye contact.

He doesn’t make it subtle as his eyes rake over my legs, taking in every bare inch as the jeans pool around my ankles. The joint finds his lips again, taking in a long pool of smoke, but not inhaling into his lungs. A waterfall of smoke falls from his lips, and he quickly inhales it as he pushes off of the wall.

Oh, shit. I reach for the sweats behind me, letting my fingertips ghost over the fabric for a second. No, you know what? Fuck it. If games is what he wants to play, I’m in.

“Make yourself useful and grab me a beer since you spilled mine.” He comments, brushing past me to fall onto the couch and propping his feet onto the coffee table in front of me.

“Asshole.” I huff, taking the joint from between his lips and wrapping mine around it. He smirks as I wait for him to move his legs, “say please.”

Matty drops his feet, and motions me on. Just as I pass by him, his hand connects with my ass roughly. Gasping in a small breath, I look over my shoulder to find him grinning widely at me. “Please, Sunshine?” He tilts his head slightly, feigning the best innocent expression he could possibly muster.

I blow the smoke towards him before sauntering towards the fridge. I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t bother acknowledging it. There’s something gratifying about knowing someone that looks like he does find me alluring.

“Did I interrupt any plans for you tonight?” I ask, pulling open the fridge and bending at the waist to search for the beer.

It’s an excuse to show my ass more considering the bottles are on the top shelf, in front of everything else, but Matty isn’t complaining, so I’m not stopping. Cool air bites at my skin as my t-shirt bunches at my waist, and I’m actually fucking thankful I wore a good pair of underwear today.

They were new, specifically bought for tonight—which hopefully won’t be a waste now—and did nothing to actually hide anything. Black, seamless nylon hugs my curves, the band reaching just above my hips with a high cutout to expose my outer thighs.

“Can’t ya tell?” He laughs, “was about to have a huge party. Loads of people, fuck ton of drinks.” I hold the necks of the bottles with one hand, taking a hit of the joint as I walk back to the couch, “Don’t be stupid, c’mon.” He pats the cushion next to him and takes the extended bottle.

Matty reclines into a more comfortable position as I plop down next to him, draping my legs over his lap. “Loads of people? Good joke,” he scrunches his brow and twists the cap of his beer off, “you know I’m your only friend who can stand to actually be around you.”

“Always so nice.” He teases, letting the butt of the bottle rest on the arm of the couch, shaking his head softly. “Here.”

He passes the joint as I toss my cap onto the coffee table, “I am nice. It’s why you keep me around.”

“True.” He shrugs, taking another drink and taking a deep breath. “So your date—”

“Nope.” I cut him off, shifting closer, so my chest is barely touching his shoulder. I carefully sit my drink down on the floor beside me. He watches intently as my lips circle around the rolled paper, the flames catching in his eyes as I inhale. Leaving it burning inside the ashtray at my side, I scoot impossibly closer.

He holds my gaze as I reach for his jaw, pulling our faces close together. I can feel his muscles tense against my body, but he willingly ghosts his lips against mine. Matty’s hand runs along the expanse of my leg, his fingers splaying over my hip bone. Both of our lips part as I slowly blow the smoke into his mouth, and he easily takes it.

My skin burns as the tips of his fingers slink under the band of my thong, biting into my skin with need. “I don’t want to think about him.” I whisper, not pulling away as my lips brush against his with every word.

“What are you doing?”

“Whatever you'll let me do.” My heart is beating against my ribcage, rapidly beating as Matty groans, deep from within his chest. “Tell me you don’t want this—that you don’t want me—and I’ll stop.”

Fingertips grip onto the flesh of my hip before I’m being lifted from my position and pulled down onto his lap. “Sunshine,” he hums, brushing some of my hair behind my ear, “we both know I’ve been dreamin’ of this night for years. Let me make you feel good, let me fuck that other guy out of your mind.”

The hand on my jaw travels down my neck, coursing down my neck to my abdomen, leaving a fire burning on my skin at the wake of his fingers. Matty’s other hand guides me closer to his body, our chests meeting as his hand drifts lower.

A small gasp forces its way from my lips as he dips his below my underwear, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ..” Slow, careful circles of his fingers have my heart nearly beating from my chest. “Have you been this wet since you got here? Why didn’t you say something sooner, Sunshine? I could’ve helped you, sweet girl.”

My forehead falls against his as he speeds up the circling of his fingers, applying more pressure as I fight for my breath. I close the distance between us, forming my lips to his. Matty swallows every pant and moans I give him, his own rumbling deep from within his chest. “Good, there ya go. Use my fingers, baby. Make a fuckin’ mess all over me.” He praises as I grind my hips down against his hand.

Matty takes the opportunity of my parted lips to slip his tongue into my mouth. He tastes like beer, and the remnants of smoke lingers on our tongues. “Please?” My voice is airy, and whiny, a tone I’ve never used with a guy before.

“Mmm, please what?” He teases me, gripping my ass with his free hand, so roughly I know there’s bound to be indents. “Tell me what you need, Sunshine.”

His lips travel to my neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of my jaw. “I want you to fuck me. Please.”

I can feel him smirk against my skin, and if I weren't already on the cusp of coming, I’d tell him to fuck off—but he feels too good. “Since you asked so nicely.”

“Raise up.” He taps my ass, and I struggle onto shaky legs. Matty removes his hand from my underwear, leaving every inch of me buzzing, but he’s quick to jerk them off of my legs and replace them with his hands. “You’re unfucking believable…” he mutters, catching my eyes as I hold onto his shoulders for support. “Ya sure this is what you want? Gotta tell me now, Sunshine.”

“Fuck, yes—yes, I want you.” I nod, reaching down between us to pull his shorts off. Matty lifts his hips, making sure to keep a hold on me, and kicks them off. It’s like a game of who can get undressed quicker; he is tugging at his boxers as I pull my t-shirt off.

As soon as the shirt hits the floor, Matty pulls me flush against his body. Our chests are pressed against one another’s, and we’re stealing each other’s air. “Fuck…” he groans as I grip onto the base of his dick, smoothing my palm up and down slowly.

His head meets the back of the couch roughly, his fingers digging into my bare hips. “Just like that, baby… fuck.”

Leaning forward, I press my mouth to his neck as I keep the steady, teasing pace of stroking him. I can feel his pulse underneath my lips; bounding and quick. “That’s perfect. You’re perfect.” He praises, his hand traveling up the expanse of my back. His blunt nails rake across my skin, until cupping the back of my neck and forcing my lips onto his.

With his free hand, he pulls my hand from around his dick and places it on his shoulder, letting that hand trail down my curves with hunger. From below, he raises his hips while using the grip on my hip to guide my own. “Ya ready, Sunshine?” Matty asks against my lips, a low, desperate tone lacing his voice.

“Yes, please. Fuck me, Matty” I whisper, my entire body on fire with anticipation.

I don’t think I’ve realized how long I’ve waited for this until just now.

Slowly, Matty lifts my hips slightly. His eyes stay glued on mine when he lines himself up, and slowly guides me down onto his dick. Both of our lips part, silently gasping at the feeling of him inside of me. “Holy fuck, oh my god.” I moan as I settle down onto his lap, taking him all the way in.

Every inch is a delicious pain, stretching me and filling me like I’ve never felt before. Matty steals every breath I offer, his lips never more than an inch from mine as he allows me time to adjust. “Matty—what—.”

“It’s a piercing.” He answers my broken question, a sly smirk on his lips. “It’ll feel good for you, I promise.”

That much I didn’t doubt. I could already feel it hitting my g-spot from just sitting. I haven’t moved an inch, and my stomach is tightening beyond belief. “C’mon, Sunshine… you good for me to move? I’m goin’ fucking crazy here.”

I nod my head a bit too quickly, and Matty let’s out an airy breath. “There’s my good girl. I’ll go slow, okay?”

Matty holds me in place as he lifts his hips even further into me. “Jesus Christ, baby…” he groans, keeping the slow, torturous pace. In and out, incredibly deep with each thrust. A small gasp leaves my lips as he uses the hand at the nape of my neck to pull my body to sit straight. My hands land on his chest to support my weight, “wanna see your face as I fuck you until you’re screaming my name.”

“Yeah, god—yes. Anything.”

He gives a devilish grin, and suddenly thrusts into me. It’s rough, it’s deep. It’s mind-numbing. “Feel how deep I am, baby?” He stutters, choking on his own moan. Rolling his hips, I nearly collapse as his piercing rubs against my g-spot continuously. “Keep your eyes on me, okay?”

I nod, and he releases the hold on my hair. It takes everything in me not to fall forward as he holds my hips a bit higher, pounding into me at a much quicker pace. Using the flesh of my ass, he pulls me down to meet every movement roughly.

All I can hear is the sound of our mixed moans and grunts, the slapping of skin on skin. “Matty—,” his name is broken between breaths, whiny and as desperate as I feel. “Kiss me, please?”

He responds immediately. His mouth finds mine, passionately and hungry. They move in tandem, tongue and teeth clashing with desperation.

I can feel myself clenching around him as he keeps the same rhythm, not once deterring from the pace he created. He only pauses when I start grinding my hips down onto him, lifting and dropping down with intent. With each moan he gives me, I make sure to settle down until he’s completely inside of me. “Get up.” He instructs, desperately trying to stand with me still sitting on top of him.

Without question, I’m standing, only to be quickly bent over the arm of the couch. He guides my face down onto the couch pillow carefully, stepping behind me, so I feel him against my ass. “You're fucking beautiful… have I said that before?”

I shiver as his fingertips dance down my spine, palming my ass before smacking each cheek roughly. He smooths over the sensitive area when I hiss out, “you can take it, can’t you?” I nod against the pillow, allowing him to step between my legs and line himself up again, “Atta girl, Sunshine.”

With another smack on my ass, rougher than before, I don’t have time to react before he’s thrusting inside of me again. “God damn.” He grunts, “how does this feel for you?”

“Unbelievable.” I answer honestly, chasing my breath as he pounds into me again. “Like that, right there.”

Matty listens, keeping the same pace as he continuously hits my g-spot and reaches deep inside of me. His chest presses against my back as he bends slightly over my body, a soft kiss to my shoulder. The gentle gesture is accompanied by a sharp jut of his hips, a cry emitting from my lips at the feeling.

“There ya go,” he praises, slamming into me again, “let me hear how good I make you feel, baby. You can do better than that. Don’t hold out on me.”

His name falls from my lips like a prayer as I spasm around him, and my mind goes completely blank as my body burns with pleasure. Matty moans loudly as I cum, holding onto my hip so hard that it will definitely leave marks tomorrow.

Our moans meld into one, a beautiful, delicious harmony that has my stomach fluttering. Matty pushes my hair from the side of my face with one hand, holding my eyes as his thrusts become sloppy. “You're gonna make me cum—fuck.”

Lips parted, jaw unlocked as he shoved into me, bottoming out. He looks like a piece of art; perfectly sculpted, his jawline, his arms, chest, lips, eyes. The pleasure clouding every inch of him has me shivering, and he hisses out. “Shit, oh my god.” He chuckles, falling limp on top of my back. “Stop clenching around me like that, sweetheart, or I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“Good.” I hum, smiling into the pillow.

We lay like that for a minute, before Matty finally stands with a groan. “I’m gonna pull out now, you okay?” He waits for my nod and then slowly, teasingly, pulls out of me and steps away. “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

My entire body is on fire as I watch him disappear down the hallway. Tense and relaxed all at once. It’s a feeling I’ve never experienced before. Like my mind is hot wired but also exhausted.

Matty reappears with a rag in one hand and a smirk playing on his lips. “Look at you… a complete mess.” He pulls his lower lip between his teeth as he walks back towards me, circling the couch to stand behind me. “Spread your legs, baby.” He instructs, his voice softer, void of any teasing or cockiness. He helps me separate them with a hand on my inner thigh, and I hear him sink to his knees.

“Shit.” I hiss as the cool rag touches my still sensitive cunt.

“Sorry.” He murmurs, “I’ll be easy.” Keeping his promise like before, he is easy. With soft touches and delicate swipes of the rag, I’m melting further and further into the couch.

All too soon, he is standing again and kissing my ass as he comes up. “Step into the sweats.” He helps my otherwise useless legs into the soft material, and pulls them up until they’re settled on my waist. “You good to walk? We can crash in my room—if you want.”

“Aren’t you a cocky fuck? I can walk.” I huff, holding back a groan as I stand straight. He hands me the t-shirt that he had on when I got here with a smirk. “Stop smilin’.”

His cologne envelops me as the material falls over my torso, and I fight back the urge to take a deep inhale. Matty motions me forward, biting back his smile by turning away and making sure the joint is stubbed out, and the beers are cleaned up.

I don’t even think I take three full steps before stumbling into the wall. Matty laughs, a full-bodied one that has my own lips curling up at the corners. “You done bein’ a brat?” He asks, coming up beside me and wrapping an arm around my waist, “let me help you.”

“You wouldn’t like me if I wasn’t a brat.” I counter, and he hums in agreement, guiding me towards the room at the end of the hall.

“You’re right.” Flicking on the light, he helps me into the bed. “But still… wouldn’t hurt you to just shut the fuck up sometimes.”

Matty climbs in, hovering overtop of me. “You’re an asshole, did you know that?” I circle my arms around his neck, raking my nails across the exposed skin lightly.

“You never fail to remind me.” He presses his forehead against mine, falling down onto his forearms, so our bodies are flush against one another’s. “Do you want me to stay here with you? I can sleep on the couch if you…”

“Matty.” I whisper, “stay. I don’t want you going anywhere else.”

He searches my eyes for a moment, finally deciding that I’m being honest with him, and a small smile graces his lips. “Okay.”

Our lips meet, much softer and slower than earlier tonight. Something is different now, open and honest. Maybe he’s been wanting this, too.

After a few minutes, he parts with a dopey smirk. “Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Matty wraps his arms around me when he rolls off, pulling me inside his side.

“You better be.” I grin, slipping my leg between his. His chest rumbles with a soft laugh as he tucks his chin on top of my head. “Goodnight.”

“Night. I’ll see ya in the morning, darling.” He mumbles, lifting the cover over us and relaxes further into the bed.

It’s been thirty minutes of us laying here. My back is to his chest now, his arm resting on my stomach. I’d think he was asleep if it wasn’t for the small circles he’s drawing on my skin. He hasn’t said a word, and neither have I, but the silence isn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It’s… nice?

Usually we’re both bickering back and forth, or playfully taking the piss, but this is different.

His alarm clock on the table next to me fades into a blur as I slowly blink, my eyes heavy with sleep. Matty repositions behind me, pulling me in closer, his lips ghosting on my exposed neck.

I lay completely still, trying my best to keep my heartbeat regular as his hand trails lower down my stomach. His fingertips tease the band of the sweats, causing goosebumps to rise.

Matty presses a kiss to my pulse point, grazing his fingers deeper under the fabric. Against all efforts, my muscles tighten. “I know you’re awake, darling…” he mutters with his lips pressed against me, “I can feel your heartbeat.”

“What’re you doing?” I ask breathless, fidgeting as his hand disappears under the sweats completely.

“Nothin’, I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” His breath is hot against the side of my face, “do you want me to stop?”

My legs part on their own accord as I roll onto my back, “stop what? Thought you weren’t doing anything.”

He props himself on his elbow, leaning over my body and pressing his lips to mine. He slowly circles his fingertip over my clit, eagerly swallowing my moan into his mouth. I hold his face as his tongue traces over my bottom lip, in the same moment he dips his finger further down my cunt. “Why didn’t you tell me you were layin’ here like this?”

“Didn’t want to bother you.” I groan, arching my back as he presses his finger inside of me.

“Look at me.” He whispers, pulling away from my lips with a serious expression painted on his face. “You never,” he rocks his finger back into me, harsher and deeper, “bother me. I’m fuckin’ honored you’re like this for me.”

Matty pushes my legs further apart, trapping one under his and pressing it into the mattress. “How is this?” He asks, curling his finger and using his thumb to hold pressure on my clit as he thrusts his finger into me. “Need more, baby?”

I nod, breathless and desperate. Matty pulls his hand from me, holding my eyes as he licks his fingers, humming out in pleasure at the taste. I kick the sweats down, opening myself further for him. “Good girl,” he mutters, pressing a wet kiss to the corner of my jaw. “Yeah? Is that better?”

Two fingers rock into me, curling and hitting my g-spot with each thrust. “Yes, fuck.” I moan, my back arching again as he circles my clit with his thumb in the same pace that his fingers rock into me. “Feels amazing.”

My stomach tightens, a white-burning trailing up my spine as he dips deeper into me. Matty presses a kiss onto my collarbone, keeping his mouth glued to my body as he moves further down and settling between my legs.

Glancing down at him, he has a smirk on his lips as he kisses my inner thigh, staring at me and watching my reaction. “Oh, fuc—,” my words are cut off when his tongue replaces his thumb, flicking and circling it around my clit with his fingers still thrusting in and out of me.

He moans against me, the vibrations running deep through my body. “Shit, Matty.” He forces my leg down with one hand as his lips close around my clit, my entire body jerking with each suck.

“You’re unbelievable, darling.” He groans against my cunt, sliding his tongue further down and dipping it inside of me as his fingers trail to my clit. His eyes flick back up to me, mine already trained on him. “You like watching, Sunshine…..dirty fuckin’ slut.”

I clutch at the sheets and nod a bit deliriously. “Good. Keep those pretty eyes on me.”

He picks the leg up that he had been holding down, angling it further to the side, so he has better access to me. I hook it around his shoulder, and he smirks against me, using my hips to pull me closer to his face.

My entire body shakes as I cry out, moaning and whimpering his name with each breath. He holds me in place as I attempt to close my thighs around his head, urging on my high with soft licks and gentle sucks. “Such a fuckin’ perfect cunt.” He praises as I come undone on his tongue.

As I fall back down onto the mattress, my entire body is on fire. Sweat glistens on my skin from the small bit of moonlight pouring through his curtains, and Matty crawls up my body. Circling my arms around his neck, I pull our lips together in haste. I hum at the taste of me on his tongue, and my mind buzzes with a feather-light freedom I’ve never felt before.

For the second time tonight, Matty is rolling off of me and pulling me into his side. We’ve cuddled before—it’s inevitable when you’ve been friends for as long as we have—but it’s never crossed the line past platonic. There’s been a few drunken nights where our hands would roam each other’s bodies when dancing, but nothing ever came from it.

“Get some sleep, Sunshine.” He murmurs, his accent thick with sleep. A soft kiss to the side of my head, he pulls me tighter into him. “ ‘M glad you came over tonight.”

“Me too.” I smile lazily, snuggling my head into his chest. “Goodnight, Matty”

I feel weightless, and heavy, all at once. Like everything has clicked into its rightful place, and I’m where I’m meant to be. My mind is clear and hazy, and that’s when it hits me—

I’m high on him.

On my best friend. On Matty.

The feelings that I had last night were so strong and intense, yet I felt so alone in them. Was it even real or was I just imagining things?

The sun is shining through the curtains, and I take a deep breath and settle deeper into the embrace of Matty. I know that this is something more than just a spontaneously-made decision.

As I lay there, my mind reels with thoughts of what this might mean for our friendship.

I look at Matty, taking in every detail of his jawline, his lips, and how his curly hair is tousled from our night of activities. I know it's not just a fleeting moment - there's something between us that's undeniable.

We'd never talked about it before, our attraction and deep connection. But in that heated moment last night, all of our inhibitions melted away, and we gave in to the intoxicating desire that had been simmering between us for years.

As I snuggle closer to him, his arms wrap around me, holding me close. I feel safe and secure. We've crossed a line, and there's no going back. But at this moment, everything feels right.

“Mornin'.” Matty's voice is still a bit groggy as his eyes flutter open.

“Good morning,” I reply my voice barely a whisper.

He smiles at me, “We're still friends, right?”

I feel his body tense a little more, and I can tell he is more unsure about this than me. But I know that I could never lose Matty as a friend, no matter what happended between us.

“Mate, I've seen your dick. It has been inside me,” A snort escapes my from lips, but I hide my grin. “We are definitely still friends.”

Matty's laughter breaks the tension between us, and I feel a wave of relief wash over us. we'd done something risky and unfamiliar, but everything still somehow felt so right.

We stay in each other's arms for a few more minutes, snuggling and enjoying the newfound comfort. Then the moment fades, and he got up to get dressed.

“I got some things to do. Can you lock up before you leave?” He asks, slipping his shirt over his head.

“Oh-Yeah, sure.” I stutter out a bit, surprised he was leaving me here.

Matty pauses for a second, “What?”

“Nothing.” I quickly recover, my voice shaking slightly.

He raises an eyebrow at me, before shaking his head and walks closer to me, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. “See ya at tonight’s session, right?” I nod, not really sure of what to say. And with that, he pulls away and leaves.

What the fuck have I done?

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