#I'm going insane I'm going crazy I'm so frustrated I can't draw I can't draw I can't draw anymore god damn

[mossgoblins]

I have this idea in my head of a Faulkner painting and it's SO clear when I imagine it and I just can't do it even the rough sketches are not coming out right and I'm going insane.

[yuseirra]

How Hikaai is constructed & the character building of Hikaru- an analysis

Jotted down my thoughts about Hikaai!! as a person who's been drawing a wad of them SO MUCH LATELY!!! This is my thoughts I have about them!!

The reason I've been drawing a lot of hikaai art after Chapter 154 is because I'm convinced that this person could never have harmed Ai.

I know the circumstances seem unsettling, right? The narrative had constantly hinted that he might have been involved in Ai's death, or that he could be the one behind it. The story itself has guided our thoughts in that direction.

But after reading that chapter, I thought, 'Ah, this person isn't the culprit... He couldn’t be the kind of person who would harm Ai...' and I was sure of it. That's why I hopped in. Until then, I had been following the story, but it was at that point that I became certain and committed to this belief.

Yes, if he were the one who harmed Ai, he wouldn't act this way. He wouldn't speak or behave like that. Even if we grant that he might have become a crazy person who would genuinely harm Ruby, I believe it's highly likely that he had no responsibility for Ai's death. Even when he himself directly admitted to orchestrating the crime, I was convinced that it was a lie. And later, there’s a scene, although ambiguous, where he says that he really did nothing and never wanted to hurt anyone. If what he'd said earlier were true, the story would have concluded there; they wouldn't have inserted conflicting elements into the narrative. BUT I KNEW THIS WAS GOING TO HAPPEN. THIS GUY, DID NOT HARM AI. HE CAN'T. The story simply would not lead to that conclusion.

I've been drawing, shouting that there's no way he did it, and that chapter almost relieved my frustrations... until Aqua showed up, and then I got a headache... Haha. Aqua, why are you getting in the way of my happiness... Just let me enjoy this...

I'm pretty sure at least up until the point of Ai’s death, he wasn’t the type to do heinous things.

When he was with Ai, his expression looked so... so genuinely happy. Among all the smiles that characters have shown throughout the series, his stands out as one of the happiest and brightest. That's how much he cherished her. Even in the latest chapters where he seems completely insane, this is consistent—Ai was such an important person to him that he couldn’t let go. Losing her drove him completely mad.

Honestly, while I haven’t managed to present a coherent story myself, as someone who writes stories, I believe:

When Ai confessed that she wanted to live with him forever and that she loved him, that was it. It was over. He would never harm Ai. Not only would he not hurt her, but he simply cannot. He can't ever be the type to bring himself to be aggressive toward her.

Because, from a meta perspective, Ai is a character for whom failure in choosing to love is not an option. That’s crucial to the story’s message.

If he was the kind of person who could make Ai say such endearing things about him, there’s a 99% chance that he did absolutely nothing wrong concerning Ai. This story isn't that twisted or convoluted on that regard. The message it tries to set forth is quite clear.

In terms of character design, I think the authors probably designed Kamiki to be Ai’s partner.

They might have created him alongside Ai from the planning stages, or designed him to match her after creating Ai. That’s really evident to me.

This is because his character arc is thoroughly tied to Ai. Whether it’s in a good way or a bad way, Ai is everything to him as a character. Everything about him revolves around Ai. If he does something, it’s because of Ai. If he wants something, it’s also related to Ai. As expressed in the songs, Ai is his everything. Without Ai, he couldn’t even live—his character is fundamentally tied to Ai’s existence.

Ai has relationships with other characters, not limited to romantic ones, but that extend in various directions. However, with Kamiki, there’s no emphasis on such relationships in the story. Apart from his relationship with Ai, there’s only one other very toxic and exploitative relationship, but it's not worth mentioning, and that connection even pushes him closer to Ai, emphasizing their relationship. I think the authors gave him that past as a way to convey to the readers that such things can happen, and also to highlight how his emotions, insecurities, and misunderstandings shape his connection with Ai.

If I were the author, I’d pair Ai with a good person. Not because she needs a good partner out of pity, but simply because Ai, as a character, should make choices that she won't regret regarding having chosen to love. If she were paired with a truly strange person, it would destabilize the entire narrative structure of the story. Ai is crucial to the story’s direction, functioning like a map or compass for the journey that Aqua, the main hero, takes.

If it turns out that Ai genuinely fell for a truly weird guy, it would only make things worse. It would shake the story’s core so much that I wouldn’t even understand what the story is trying to convey. That’s how I see it. It’s not about romance—it's that, if that were the case, I wouldn’t even know what the story is trying to say anymore.

Kamiki... just looking at him, it’s clear. He’s... a character made for Ai. If you take Ai away, what’s left of this character? Yes, his pretty looks... though lately, they're making him make crazy faces..(please..) I do love how he was kind in the past! I find his character really charming and I look into him a whole lot, I care for him, and I've been exploring his mind so much, spending so much analyzing. I really do care about that character. But objectively speaking, from a narrative perspective, what would he do in the story without Ai? This character fundamentally cannot exist in the plot without Ai, and he clearly, clearly loves Ai. In my view, he genuinely means it. I’ve analyzed his personality thoroughly, and his core nature is truly kind. Whether in a good way or a bad way, his actions are driven by Ai.

If Ai is crucial to the story, then naturally, his importance would rise alongside hers.

If Ai’s wish is connected to him, then, as it’s treated as significant in the story, he too would be treated as significant.

When it comes to him, what matters most is how Ai feels about him.

More than anyone else.

Because... I see it...; he’s a character created to be Ai’s partner. For example, if Ai were a puzzle piece, he’s made to fit her. Ai’s personality seems to come first, he reacts and behaves to it in a way that matches her story.

So their personalities match really well, and they’re incredibly compatible. They just naturally grew close and fell in love immediately, didn't they? That's because they were designed by the artists to be a match. It's a writing choice they made.

The issue with their relationship stems more from external forces than from themselves. If nothing had happened, they would have fit together like soulmates and lived happily. For instance, Ai’s fundamental desire is to love and to find someone worthy of receiving that love and to love them together, right? Kamiki fits perfectly there. He wants to be loved and find someone who would truly love him. Ai loves caring for others, while he, being neglected, needs someone who can understand his pain. Ai might lack some common sense, but she has a certain shrewdness, while he has better social skills than Ai and would get along better with others, yet is so naive and detached in critical ways that Ai could complement him. Ai wouldn’t have wanted to live with him forever for no reason; they were made for each other from the character design stage.

So if Ai didn’t like him, then it means he was actually a bad person, but if she truly loved him, then he was someone worth loving.

And it turned out to be the latter. That’s why I started analyzing from the point of Ai’s judgment. Yes, he was truly someone worth it.

If it’s the latter, then it’s basically over. There’s really nothing else to see here.

But the story keeps dragging on, with him acting crazy, and it’s frustrating. The answer is clear, but the story keeps complicating things. This manga just drags on and on, going in circles... I even took a break during the Aqua-Kana arc because I got tired of the story running around in circles while the conclusion was already there. But I think that’s the authors' style. They seem to believe that this is what suspense is.

Every word Ai says...

Ai should never say such things about the person who killed her. Even if the character might think so, the authors shouldn’t craft the story that way. That scene was meant to be a closure for an entire arc.

Yet they did it.

That means there’s a reason. It means this person is not Ai’s assailant.

Then the song was released. The emotion in that song, the person singing it, couldn’t possibly have killed Ai. Are we to believe that someone who orchestrated Ai’s death would feel regret and produce such a song? It’s an incredibly unlikely and far-fetched idea. Absolutely not. After listening to both songs, I thought, ‘Ah, this person isn’t to blame,’ and that’s why I went back in.

I just wrote in one go, following the flow of my thoughts, but I’m not sure if I actually managed to write the analysis I wanted to.

Anyway, Kamiki is a character who comes attached to Ai. If there’s a piece called Ai, he’s someone molded like clay to fit into that space. I like that kind of thing, and I’m drawing him with the conviction that he wouldn’t have hurt Ai.

Like, “Huh? Turns out this guy might not be as responsible for Ai's death after all?”

If I had believed that things were exactly as they seemed in Chapter 154, even to that extent, I wouldn’t have drawn him at all. A character is a character, but my ethical standards are firm. I don’t count that kind of thing as love. I might observe, but I wouldn’t be drawing this many fanarts of him. What would be so attractive about that…

But it feels like Ai truly loved him, and that he genuinely loved her too.

And if that’s the case, then if he’s someone Ai loved that much, he has to be a really good person. He has to be one of the best people out there.

And it turns out I was right. I was right. That’s how his true nature was.

And Ai… she’s a character who deserves to meet a truly good person. So, from a narrative perspective, that’s what delivers the best message.

My intuition… is usually pretty accurate, though honestly, the story has become really exhausting and stressful for me. I can see all the answers, yet… the story is dragging on and on like this (or at least that’s how I feel; I could be wrong in the end since it's not my story. But if that's the case, then… I’m not sure how they’ll weave it into a good story). I just don't think I'll end up being wrong in the end.

[cho-aaacho]

Date Night ( Albert Wesker x Reader)

Masterlist I Archive Of Our Own

Tags : Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Humor, First Dates, Boss/Employee Relationship, Soft Albert Wesker, Crushes, Date Night, Flirting, Reader is genderless

A/N : This time I'm writing from Wesker's POV. Thank you for reading!

My voice echoed as I called you in the hallway. My heart responded with a rhythmic beating, pounding in my chest like crazy. I could hear my blood rushing through my veins as excitement surged through me.

With a simple "Good morning," you smiled at me. I touched my heart in anticipation, but I failed to cover my red cheeks. Pretending like something never happened between you and me.

Chris believes my behavior has changed since your arrival. I am acting unreasonably. Maybe they've finally noticed the captain's weird demeanor over the past three months.

Yet, these emotions are seeds I planted in my heart. Every day, every time, it's been growing within me, blooming beautifully.

Perhaps, I seem insane and go crazy each time I gaze at you. I know you couldn't detect it under my shades, and I know you would never notice it because I've never shown it. The fact that you aren't part of S.T.A.R.S. makes me frustrated sometimes.

How can I draw near and reach your soul? How could I hear you calling my name when you're not on my side? It's frustrating me, really.

You turned, smiling, gracing me with calming eyes, their shapes akin to crescent moons in the night veil. Oh, how I ache for your aroma each time, each day—I miss every nuance. It's senseless. How do I feed my ego?

"Oh, Captain Wesker! Good morning. You look nice today. Do you need some help?"

Despite the fear, you stood gracefully on your own, throwing your gaze into me and avoiding a pointless banter. You captivate me, really. You're unlike any other officer. Why did I realize this so late? Such a fool.

"Oh, nothing, Officer. I'm sorry to call you this way. I just haven't found a good moment to talk to you."

Mesmerized, our eyes met, and, immediately, I daydreamed of a happy ending. Pathetic, perhaps, but that's the reality. What am I supposed to do?

"I thought you were still in the Arklay Facility. I assume your mission went well. So... what did you want to discuss?"

Smiling, I tried to release my calmness, showing my warm side and gentleness, trying to touch your soft spot.

"Thanks to the Alpha Team," I replied, using my sweetest voice.

"It's because you are their superior, Captain. I envy them sometimes." 

As winter falls, a chill of sorrow wraps around me, making me so lonely each time the snow touches my skin. Yet, you, with your calm and relaxed nature, have become a sun to comfort my cold side. Guiding me through this heart-wrenching season.

"Are you free on Saturday? I'm buying a new oven, and I've been trying to bake cookies lately. So... I want you to become my taster."

What the hell am I talking about? I don't even have a new oven.

But you.

You.

YOU!

How can you comfort me with a warm smile for someone with a stern and cold demeanor like me? I don't deserve that.

A serene smile danced upon your lips, but this time I couldn't predict what the smile was for. Perhaps you thought I was joking or talking nonsense. My azure eyes fixed on you, locking your eyes on mine, waiting for your response.

"It depends, Captain." You smirked, dragging me into the mysterious realm. What did you do to me? Why are you smirking like that? Is that a flirt? Are you trying to flirt?

"Oh, I'm sorry, Officer. But I don't understand."

Fits of giggles escape as your gaze falls into mine; undoubtedly, this is the most delightful smile I've ever seen this morning. I suppose I have a beautiful morning.

You said, "If other people ask me, I will answer that I am busy. But if you do, I'll say I have plenty of time..."

"So... it means—" I paused, trying to find fine words in my brain. But I can't think of a single word to describe it. My gaze meandered towards you, and I nervously smiled.

"Yes, I'm free. You can ask me anything at that time. My time is yours, Captain."

I found myself lost in the daydream and reality. My mind is trapped in a gentle fog without a light on it. What should I do now? Did you just accept my offer or—

"Captain, are you okay?"

A playful chuckle escaped my lips as I wrapped myself in my arm. "Oh, thank you, Officer. I thought you were going to reject my invitation."

"No. I love cookies, and I'm sure your homemade cookies are just as nice as you, Captain. See you tomorrow!" 

I made a fanart for this situation. Lmao.

[batsplat]

the way tennis to motogp pipeline is definitely a thing…….

switching to motogp really does highlight how a lot of those atp guys are just soooooo freaking boring in comparison. and I’m talking about big 4 and 00’s players here. current gen is so so much worse. horrible. abolish atp

*nods in agreement* I mean it's not a completely one-way street - obviously I'm never going to stop following tennis, I'm never going to stop PLAYING tennis, I want to do more coaching again in the future... and this stuff does come and go in waves, like 2019-2022-ish I was definitely drifting more from motogp to tennis again (minus going crazy on the motogp archives during the pandemic). but at the start of this year I did have a moment where I was like... no. enough. I do still follow women's tennis very closely!! but the state of the men's game looks SO dire right now headed into next season that I cannot even pretend to be mildly excited about the australian swing (which I usually am every year, in charlie brown trying to kick the football fashion)

but yeah honestly every time I revisit motogp it's this kind of... man, I am operating with crumbs when it comes to tennis, and then motogp is kind enough to hand you an entire buffet. and admittedly valentino does deserve a lot of credit here, also makes the other blokes more interesting, can't imagine what the sport would be like without him. but crucially, you do just end up with a far more interesting slate of guys. it's a shame because, again, I might be biased but I fully believe tennis as a sport has insane amounts of narrative potential. it's just... yeah, idk what's happened. it IS also a men-specific problem, like obviously noughties wta cooked insanely hard by every metric and the women's game is still plenty engaging since then. but still!! frustrating

also my thing is. okay so the women's game right now obviously also isn't feuds galore, the top girlies mostly get on fine and there's not TOO much of an edge there. but I still far prefer it to the men, and not just because I think the women generally have way more personality. it's also just... idk, I sometimes joke with my friends that I have a chart in my head with two axes that goes. x axis = skill; y axis = evil. or maybe not EVIL, just like. capacity for drama. and draw a line across the chart. and if you're under that line, I just can't deal with you. I love underdogs, I still root for a bunch of scrubs on the men's side who are journeymen or chokers or just kinda mid. same obviously with the women. but then at the top of the men's game, it's just?? these guys who dominate SO much and are SO good, but who quite frankly do not have enough narrative juice to sustain that kind of dominance. (okay maybe rather than 'evil', let's say 'narrative juice' as the y axis.) I'm not saying they're ALL so boring that I'd hate them if they were ranked ten positions lower, but given the chokehold first the big three then this current lot have had on the game... simply not good enough

whereas with the women, we've obviously had a chaos era or three, but now we have these women who are all like... really strong, really pushing each other forward, but also deeply imperfect! and I mean that in the best way possible. igatha with her rigidness and fragility and inability to step back when she's returning - who's so fucking good, but also constantly seems to be walking a mental tightrope and is currently in a bit of a crisis where her game is at. sublanko with her history of semifinal choking and serving yips and who's constantly visibly fighting herself on the court. the fascinating contrast that particular rivalry provides, not least in how they behave on the court. gauff, who constantly appears to have a major part of her game falling apart whether it's the forehand or now the serve - and who is overcoming that primarily by just making herself ridiculously hard to beat. I could go on, I mean where do you even start with ryba... all these current stars of the sport who really feel like they're here to stay - yeah, they're not cooking up complex feuds so it's never going to be COMPLETE brainworms territory for me, but I still find it deeply deeply compelling!! I love watching them play, I'm rooting for them to figure their shit out... but also not. like. too much. it's great to follow in sporting terms!!

and if you are going to be so dominant over the sport, so unyielding, so unblinking in your refusal to allow new major competitors to emerge for such an extended period of time... well, then, as far as I'm concerned you'd better be motogp alien levels of deranged. like, that's the bar for me. sure, then I can accept it. none of this awful 'oh well, the less talented guy lost his five hundredth consecutive slam final, what can you do' business, if you're going to suppress the less talented then at least do it with the ruthlessness and affinity for existential horror that valentino displayed towards sete. enough with pretending like crowds booing your opponents for having the temerity to challenge you is something you don't even notice - at least weaponise it like valentino did. tennis as a gentleman's sport is unbearable... I'm not a gentleman, I want mess. and if you're going to dominate, at least attempt to beat each other to death with hammers!! god. is that too much to ask for

[thecactifindahome]

Oh, I didn't know about that, I've seen maybe two or three group interviews that had Rolin in it and it still was mostly the actors talking. And since they were talking about IWTV (the last on my reading list), I couldn't really think much. I did feel like all the characters were well-written so far, but the loumand romance was cute for 2 seconds and then it went South super quick. I assumed it was the case on IWTV, so I was a bit frustrated, but didn't complain. Now that I'm reading the books I might have different feelings about it... I'll keep that in mind and not trust so blindly then. But hopefully with all the collaboration with the writers and actors, it will fulfilling. Maybe Rolin is just weird at interviews. But it's good to low expectations a bit, I guess. And YUP about the dishonest comments... It's funny because it comes from the same people saying human morals don't apply to them and they're all monsters, readers should accept that, but then they draw the line of someone loving more than one person? And I'm not even necessarily talking about romantic love (but that too, the idea of vampires being limited by monogamy is ridiculous to me), but love as a whole. They feel love, affection and care for more than just one person. In fact, I believe a lot of their struggle on both show and books is having such a small circle and trying to make one or two people a lover, friend, mentor, therapist and parental figure. You need more people in your life, specially if you live forever, c'mon. 😅 And the love for multiple people and blurred lines are there since the beginning imo, even if they didn't try it. But on Merrick the polycule vibes were totally there for me. And Pandora was so charismatic! It was a great surprise because I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't that. I loved Flavius too, even if he wasn't as big. In a way she kind of reminded me of Lestat because she was so vibrant. And I swear I'm not trying to label everyone as autistic, but her lack of filter felt like autism. Reminded me of Armand too in that sense, though Armand is type to tell hard truths with no easing into it or read people for filth while Pandora just hits on people. 😅 there's so much neurodivergent coding on these books, it's crazy. Anyway, I'm still pretty early into B&G, only on chapter 4, but I'm interested in finding more about them all. Also Maharet probably returns? I'm excited to see her again.

The idea that Louis kissing Armand in front of Lestat is the show's version of Armand pushing Lestat off a building is just insane to me 😭 Those are two WILDLY different actions that happen for WILDLY different reasons, and Louis didn't even know about it! If one is their version of the other, I'm bracing myself for Devil's Minion to be Daniel and Sam Barclay joining an ultimate Frisbee league, and also Louis is there for some reason.

And yeah, exactly, that's a great way of putting it - they keep trying to make others fulfill more emotional needs than one person can provide because they just don't have a deep social bench! And their relationships just can't endure that constant pressure forever, especially among such volatile personalities. Taking breaks is better than setting your husband on fire, why on earth is setting him on fire preferable to boning David or Merrick or Armand for a few years?

Pandora is such an icon in her own book. If I moved to a new town and on my first day out I did clown makeup and accidentally walked around in transparent clothes, I too would do whatever it took to become a loathsome creature of the night and never go out in daylight again. Problem causer, problem solver.

Maharet shows up at the end of B&G, but you don't really find out what's going on with her until PL.

[dogsrotten]

frustration was building , fingernails digging into her skin until it's nearly drawing blood but she can barely feel a thing except that the walls were closing in on her , air evaporating from her lungs because he was all she had left . nothing and no one else , and the only reason she'd agreed to this without his consent was to protect him from the dangers of her family . knew what they were capable of -- she was living proof of their insanity , the things they'd do to ensure they were saved from the loss of a fortune that meant more to them than family did . the power they were desperate to cling onto now that her father was dead , leaving her with too much money , she's afraid they're going to kill her next . but they can't , so they'll drive her crazy , instead . "don't be mad at me ," she says aloud , "i can't be the reason they hurt you ." head shakes , closing her eyes and she's inhaling deeply to calm the beating in her chest ; caged organ thumping so loud , she feels like it's been ripped from inside and dropped to her feet . especially when he pulls away from her , "i'm sorry ."

      "   please  what  ,  luce  ?  "  what  more  could  she  possibly  need  from  him  that  he  hadn't  already  provided  ?  for  him  to  say  it's  fine  ;  did  she  expect  him  to  blindly  support  a  decision  he  knew  for  a  fact  wasn't  her  own  ?  he  searches  for  the  answers  in  fragments  of  heartbreak  clinging  to  features  ,  self  inflicted  nonetheless  .  doesn't  know  why  but  seeing  her  in  this  state  does  nothing  but  fuel  this  anger  he  was  trying  to  suppress  ;  a  crossness  reserved  exclusively  for  the  members  of  her  family  that  had  kept  her  away  from  him  for  so  long  .  "  you're  no  better  than  them  ,  "  he  resolves  ,  knowing  he's  being  irresponsible  with  his  words  .  she  leans  into  him  but  it  feels  wrong  .  so  ,  he  shrugs  her  off  in  order  to  take  a  step  back  ,  yearning  to  look  in  her  eyes  when  he  adds  ,  "  i  mean  —  we  finally  did  it  .  we  got  what  we  wanted  ,  what  we  promised  each  other  and  now  ...  you're  just  gonna  walk  away  ?  " 

[luveline]

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary steve likes you, eddie munson's best friend, to the point of heart palpitations. you feel the same way about him [6k]

warnings fluff, getting together, mutual pining, first kiss, first date, eddie munson is a good friend, steve is hopeless, fem!reader, reader is hellfire club adjacent, reader is an overthinker and steve is a softie, pre-s4 post-s3, no s4 spoilers besides eddie + hellfire club existing

𓆩❤︎𓆪

The first time Steve sees you he's smitten.

You're sitting on the stoop of Eddie Munson's trailer. Coolest girl he's ever seen – and Steve doesn't go for the edgy type. Crazy cool clothes, hair all messy pretty and your eyes edged in dark makeup, you're fiddling with the cassette player in your lap, brows pinched in frustration.

Steve can't look long. He's dropping the lunch club off for some impromptu Hellfire gathering. The kids pile out, eager to see their new (no, Steve isn't bitter) friend with a chorus of rushed, half-hearted thank you's.

You push the headphones off of your ears as his kids approach.

"Hey, Y/N," they say, one by one as they enter the trailer and disappear from sight.

Steve is two seconds from leaving, swears, when he hears Lucas ask how you are.

"You know," you say, voice quiet and immediately intoxicating. Steve watches as you slowly push two fingers between your shiny lips and pretend to blow your brains out. You drop on your back and lie there for a moment, chest rising with easy, breezy laughter. The sound draws heat to his cheeks, worse the sight of your naked thighs.

He's hooked. He has to leave quickly, before you sit back up and indoctrinate him with your looks alone.

The next time he sees you is similar and not. You're sitting on the ground outside the movie theatre. Again, Steve is playing taxi cab for his doofuses, though this time the thank you's are slightly kinder, louder - he'd blown off a girl he didn't stand much chance with in the first place to bring them.

"Love you!" Dustin calls, slamming the passenger door.

You drop the cassette player in your hands and lean your head back against Eddie's thigh. Steve takes a few seconds to realise you're looking at him, head tilting this way and that to catch a glance at him through people's legs.

"Who's your friend?" he hears you ask Mike.

Mike doesn't even look. "Who? Steve? He's my sister's ex-boyfriend."

You smile at him. Steve, hating to be caught but not stupid enough to blush, nods at you through the window before turning the key. It's the suavest thing he's ever done and he's still applauding himself when you approach his window. He hadn't noticed you get up, distracted by triumph.

You knock the window. He rolls it down.

"Hi," you say.

"Hey," he says back. Then, cautiously, "You need something?"

You smell like a lot of things as you duck your head into his car. Mica and perfume and, softer, talc. Hairspray. Something else, wet like ink. He can't help looking at your make up, the rhinestones under your lower lashes, the shiny sticky pink on your lips.

"Steve," you say. He likes the way you say his name, confident, like you've always known it. You smile softly, at ends with your Joan Jett-esque levels of cool. "Do you wanna come see the movie?" Then, in what marks the beginning of the end, "With me?"

He knows he should play it out. Plus, he's startled. "I don't know, I'm just here to drop them off."

"It's okay if you have plans," you say. He catches a sneak of your tongue pressed behind - what he perhaps insanely thinks of as - cute teeth. You're talking to him in this lilting cadence that has him pinned. "But you drove all the way here, so if you're not busy…"

He pretends to consider.

"What movie?" he asks.

You bring a hand to your neck and secure a small silver pendant between your neatly lacquered nails. "Uh, it's called Day of the Dead. S'about zombies," you tell him. The way you say zombies - your voice goes high and airy, your lips move slow like they're catching up to the word, your eyebrows raised up. Eyes wide. He wants to play it back.

"Please?" you ask when he fails to reply.

He thinks he has to be dreaming. Or drugged again. Definitely drugged.

"Sure," he hears himself say, though he can't remember thinking about it.

You don't smile like he expects. You make a sound, a happy inhale, your eyes light up but your lips stay straight.

Steve thinks you might be nervous.

And sure, he can be a jerk but he's not a total douchebag. He gives you what he hopes is a reassuring smile and gets out of his car, locking the doors to follow you to the ticket stand. Closer now, Steve can't work you out: half dreamy, half fidgeting.

Your boots thud up carpeted stairs into the auditorium, the lights already down, previews blaring.

There's two empty seats next to Eddie. In the dark you catch the hem of his jacket between your fingers and pull him behind you.

His heart skips.

Eddie, in what Steve thinks of as his most mature greeting to date, nods at him and then turns to you curiously. "You okay?" he asks seriously.

"I'm perfect, Eds. Did we miss any good previews?" you ask, sitting heavily beside your friend and stealing a big handful of popcorn out of his lap.

Eddie only chuckles. "Nothing you'd like."

You nod and then turn to Steve shyly. "Sorry we didn't get snacks," you whisper. You offer your hand to him, full of popcorn.

He shakes his head. You look embarrassed but not surprised, tipping your head back to polish off your handful.

"You went to Hawkins High?" you ask with your hand over your mouth.

"I did. You didn't?"

"I did," you correct gently, wiping your hand on your thigh. "I graduated two years ago. When Eddie should have."

That makes more sense, though Steve's sorry he doesn't remember you. He was a little obsessed with Nance at the time.

"Do you work?" he asks.

You smile like you're about tell him a big secret, edging forward. Your arms brushes his arm on the rest between chairs. "You can't tell anyone."

"On my honour," he says, eyes wide, terrified you're a mercenary or worse, a cold caller.

"I desk at the library," you say.

He blinks. You giggle and Eddie shushes you, already sounding defeated. Chastened, you drop your voice to a barely perceptible level.

"I know, I don't look the type."

"No," he says, too loud, receiving several disgruntled glares. "No, you- Well, maybe you don't. But I don't look like I worked at Scoops Ahoy all summer, so…"

You slap a ring-laden hand over your shiny pout and try to smother a laugh. Bracelets slide down your wrist. "You do! You do look like you worked there," you say joyfully.

He can't find it in him to be offended.

You're milder as you settle back into your seat. A preview passes. You clear your throat.

"I'm sorry," you say, sounding worried, "if that was cruel. I get mixed up. I know- I mean, I don't know, but the Starcourt thing. That must've been awful."

Your words stick together like taffy. He releases you as quickly as he can.

"Hey, don't be sorry," he says, scoffing lighty. He readjusted where he's sitting, crossing his arms over his chest. "Doesn't matter." It's not like you'd meant anything by it.

You look less peaky but still hesitant.

"Would you believe me if I told you the worst part of my job was the uniform?" he jokes, wanting to put you at ease again.

"Was it really so bad?" you murmur, your lips slowly curving up into a smile.

"There was a mandated hat."

You laugh. People shush you aggressively. Steve feels something close to magnetism at the sound, and wants to make you do it again.

"Where do you work now?" you whisper as the movie begins.

"Video store by the arcade."

"Family Video?" you ask. He nods, looking down at your hands in your lap, your fingers. Your legs are shaking, minute trembling. You twist one of your rings around your fingers and he wonders what's making you nervous.

"That's the one."

You bend in close, so close he thinks he can smell your shampoo. Dusky, rosewater. Sweet.

"Maybe I can come see you. You can recommend me something."

"Sure," he says, too loud. Somebody coughs, though the cough sounds suspiciously like dickwad.

You watch Day of the Dead, stealing popcorn all the while. You pop the lid off of Eddie's drink and take sneaky sips, and your friend flicks your upper arm when you get greedy. In response, your bashful, peeling laughter.

"Fine, I'll get my own drink. You want one?" you ask Steve, standing with your back bent, necklace dipping down in the space between you. He follows it, looks accidentally straight at your chest and then back up, guilty and blushing. "Steve?" you ask.

"I'll come with you," he says, desperate to escape the dark, the warmth.

Steve follows you down the red, trodden carpet and back into the main body of the theatre, an atrium with high glass windows and wooden beams. It smells old, like dust. The sky is dark now, night eating up every bit of natural light. White cat eyes beam from the movie theatre's floors to guide you to the snack station, a brighter, well stocked haven of greasy foods and cold drinks.

You stand in front of the popcorn machine. It paints your skin with a golden yellow shine, like the sun. You're very quiet as you open your clutch, pulling out hair pins and chapstick and a lone cotton pad before you find your purse, a battered leather pouch embossed with hearts. He tries not to fill the silence, digging for his wallet in his pocket. He gets a too big coke and you deliberate over slurpee flavours, eventually asking for a mix.

"It's so quiet out here," you murmur around your straw.

"Like Family Video on a Friday," he agrees.

"Isn't Friday, like, one of your busiest nights?"

"Yep."

A burst of surprised giggles. Steve hides his smile with a cough, 'cos he's cool.

You pull the straw from your cup and lick it clean, digging for a certain flavour though he's not sure which, still laughing to yourself. Steve takes the initiative and leads you back up the stairs and to your seat, catching your jacket in his hand before you can walk down the wrong row.

You smile gratefully, your lips stained blue and red.

-

You're sitting on the pavement outside of Family Video. Steve can see your back, your hair.

He wonders why you're here, if it's to see him, and then if you're okay, and feels bad for thinking in that order.

"Robin," he says loudly, reluctant to tear his eyes from you lest you disappear like a shoddy apparition.

"Steven."

"Not correct."

"What, idiot?" Robin asks, picking her head up from the book stretched open in her lap. She sits up and her back clicks loudly.

Steve sighs in disgust. "That's gross, you know? You'll get, like, arthritis."

"You think arthritis is gross? Not cool, Steven."

"No, I meant them as two separate things. Gross to hear you click, and that the clicking will give you arthritis," he explains, exasperated. He runs a hand through his hair.

"That's a myth."

A long pause where Steve watches your back moving, how you're leaning forward towards the sun bleached tarmac.

"What?" he asks suddenly, turning from you finally to stare in disbelief at his best friend.

Robin is more than prepared to fight her cause, the leaves of her book closed around her hand like she'd been waiting for him to ask. She probably had been.

"It's a myth. Clicking your bones doesn't give you arthritis. The clicking sound is fluid moving- Are you even listening to me?"

Steve has dropped his head into his hands. He spreads his fingers wide so Robin can see his eyes. "Robin, we have more important things at hand."

"Like what? Keith's laundry?"

"Like Y/N is sitting outside right now!" he shouts, and then cringes. You don't show any sign of having heard him. He continues in a strangled whisper, "She's been out there for like, five minutes!"

Robin kicks up off of her stool to stand at Steve's side, up on tiptoes to see over the vinyl on the windows. She's listened to his inane rambling and insecure, badly disguised yearning all week, but hasn't had a face to a name until now. She makes a sound of approval like she can understand why Steve has been so wound up about you.

"Why's she on the floor?"

"She does that."

"Oh," Robin says, chin jutting up. "Are you gonna go talk to her?"

He wants to. Dreadfully. Intensely wants to.

"Or I could go talk to her," Robin offers, wrists touching. She rubs them together. Steve ignores her mischievous, shit-eating grin.

"Sure, Robs, you talk to her. Stun her with your stellar people skills."

Robin's lips push, as close as she's ever come to pouting. "Cruel."

"Yet accurate."

"If you're so amazing, why don't you go talk to her, hot shot? Woo her! Chop-chop."

Steve steels his nerves because even if he is about to make a huge fool of himself he's slightly worried about your on-the-ground position. Not unusual for you, but still.

"Are you okay?" he asks as he emerges.

You turn to Steve like you're unsurprised that he's there and offer your headphones to him. "Put these on?"

"Are you okay?" he asks again, voice not dissimilar to when he's bossing around the kids.

You hold the headphones to your chest and dip your chin. "Steve, I'm fine. Please?" you ask, offering them to him.

He puts on the headphones, bent at the waist for the wire to reach your cassette player. He quickly discovers the source of your unhappiness – the tape sounds bloated. Distorted.

"The tapes messed up," he says.

You shake your head with patience, though he can tell from your expression this isn't the first time you've explained it. "It's not the tape, it's the player."

Steve's back gives a twinge. I'm an old man, he thinks in horror, standing up straight with your headphones back in his hands.

"You drop it?" he asks expectantly.

You only frown more, looking generally put out. "No, I took great care of her. Scout's honor."

Steve sighs and decides to take the leap, sitting down beside you on the sidewalk. There's a small dip where the parking lot starts and he stretches one leg out across it, hand on his knee, the other across his abdomen.

"Can't one of your nerd club fix it?" he asks.

"I'm not actually in Hellfire Club, you know."

He didn't. "You can't ask? Eddie must've learned something at school after this many years. By accident. Like… osmosis."

"Eddie's on his third try for a reason," you say, picking at a small ladder in your tights on the side of your calf. You're wearing socks, too, peeking up just over the edge of your thick bottomed boots.

"You know Dustin?" he asks after a patch of silence he would find awkward with anyone who wasn't you. You make it peaceful, in a way. "He could take a look. He went to science camp and built, like, the world's strongest radio."

He can't tell if you're listening. Your eyes are trained on the sidewalk, its crack, and the weeds growing between them. There's a wet snapping sound.

You hold a small yellow flower between your fingers.

"A creeping buttercup," you tell him. You push your palm flat in the space between you both and lean towards him. "Do you like butter?"

"Do I- Yeah, sure, I like butter. Who doesn't?"

You lick your lips. "Mind if I check?" you ask him.

"Is that a trick question?"

"Steve," you say, chiding. You tilt your head to your shoulder and the breeze kisses your hair, ruffling soft strands as you hold the flower under his chin intently. He feels frozen.

"You love butter," you say, nodding like what you just said makes sense.

"Are you sure you're okay? Didn't hit your head on the way here?"

"Here. Hold it under my chin," you tell him, offering him the flower. You twirl its stem, though you stop when he moves to take it.

Steve feels like an idiot as he holds it by your neck.

"Closer," you say softly, lifting your head.

Steve raises his eyebrows but keeps his skepticism to himself. To his surprise, when the flower is close enough to your skin, a small patch of yellow light appears, gauzy around the edges.

"What the fuck…"

You lower your chin, your faces closer than Steve had realised. You look straight into his eyes. "It's a reflection of the light. 'Cos it's clear out."

He feels out of his element no matter how captivating he finds you – he can't get to grips with it. His silence quickly deters you; you look away from his face and your lips pull into a pout as you bite your bottom lip. You bend at the waist and mess with your shoelaces.

"Did you wanna come inside?" he asks, trying to fix whatever it is he did. Girls are complicated.

You cheer up a bit.

"Do you have anything like Day of the Dead?"

He has no clue.

"Sure we do," he says confidently.

He stands up fast and offers his hand. You take it, your palm smooth and cool in his, admittedly warmer and slightly calloused. He hopes the ease with which he pulls you up is impressive, then feels stupid for thinking that. You squeeze his fingers before you let go and follow him into Family Video.

-

"So, what? You like him?" Eddie asks you from above, cross-legged on his bed. Denim jacket nowhere to be seen, he sits in a t-shirt with the sleeves hacked off, tattoos on clear display, stark against his pale skin.

"Don't be jealous, Eds," you say mildly.

He crawls to the edge of the bed to look down at you where you lie on his floor. His hair tickles your nose and you hold in a sneeze.

"Nice face," he says.

"I think he likes me."

"Why wouldn't he? You're cool."

You stare at your best friend's earnest face. "You know why."

"No, I don't."

You close your eyes, head dipping to your shoulder. You can't hide from him, though you've tried. Your arms cross over your tummy in a self-hug.

The ground is cold. His uncle's trailer is always cold, frigid in the winter. Minimal insulation and no A/C. You rub your face into the scratchy rug beneath you and sigh morosely, suddenly overcome with a pinching misery.

"There's nothing wrong with you," Eddie says seriously.

"I don't think I can do it." It hurts to say, though you know Eddie won't judge you.

"What? Have a boyfriend?"

You nod. The mattress creaks as he moves. You're expecting his touch, though his cold finger flicking you square in the forehead startles you anyway. Your eyes jump open. You flinch up into a sitting position and rub your head.

"Shithead."

"Stop doubting yourself."

"I get so messed up. I'm a bad friend, I wouldn't- I wouldn't be a good girlfriend," you mutter, bringing your knees to your chest. You hide in them.

"You don't get messed up," he says.

"I'm stupid."

"Y/N," he says, dragging your name out sternly. "Here, come sit with me. I won't flick you again, promise."

You rub your eyes, smudging your makeup and stand reluctantly to flop onto his bed, his rumpled sheets a lump under your back. Eddie pulls your necklace from where it has ridden up your neck and drops it down the valley of your chest absent-mindedly.

"You're not stupid," he says gently. "And you don't get 'messed up'. You're overthinking things."

"I'm not," you argue. "I'm an idiot, and I say the wrong things, and maybe he does like me but it won't last long."

You didn't have an easy time in school. Eddie knows this, lived it with you, and he's blamed it a thousand times for your low self-esteem. Ever understanding, he hums to himself skeptically and grabs your shoulder, giving you a good shake. He doesn't stop until you're laughing.

"I'm trying to shake some sense into you," he confides. "You're really fucking cool. And I'm not just saying that because you've been copying me since middle school, you're really cool."

"Cool," you repeat.

"Awesome."

You run the chain of your necklace through your fingers and feel the links skip over your skin, frowning.

"I thought for sure he'd ask me out by now."

"Maybe you should ask him."

"He probably thinks I'm, like, a creepy stalker."

"Creepy, maybe. Stalker? For what? Visiting him at work? That's friendly." You're overthinking things, he doesn't say.

"I left him my phone number," you admit, whispering. "But he hasn't called me."

"Babe, you're always fucking here. Did you check your machine?"

Obsessively. "Yeah."

Eddie throws himself down and kicks his legs over your tummy, to your annoyance. He ponders and you sulk, the rough sounds of Black Sabbath playing in the background.

"You've only met him a few times, right?"

Right. The movies, the video store, once when you'd bumped into him at the arcade and a couple of times when he'd checked out books at the library.

Eddie smiles as you tell him. "The library?"

"Yeah."

"He's visiting you at work?"

You think back to the last time you'd seen him, all of ten minutes across the desk with your clean library uniform and your neat hair. You finally cracked and asked him if he thought it suited you better.

"You look great," Steve had said, smiling lopsided, "but I miss your pretty gems. Oh, we have Friday the 13th back in. I kept it for you..."

"No, he's visiting the library," you say.

Eddie chuckles, his deep, teasing laugh. "And before you met, you saw him in there a lot, huh?"

"Well, no."

"So it's a coincidence that he found out where you work and he's suddenly an academic?"

"Shut up, Eddie," you plead, covering your face with your hands.

"Fine, whatever, we'll stop talking about it. Wanna paint my nails?"

"No."  

You get up and paint his nails. You've done one hand pretty well when there's the sound of a car parking outside. Eddie turns down the stereo and you stare at each other curiously, listening for clues.

"Your uncle?"

"No. Probably for someone else."

Instantly disproved, there's a knock at the door, breaking up the silence. Eddie sighs dramatically and climbs over your legs to answer, his footsteps clumsy. "Yeah, coming," he calls. You stand and peer around the doorway, waiting to see who it is.

Eddie opens the door. "Harrington," he says, surprised, vaguely disgusted. "The munchkins aren't here."

"No, I know. I'm looking for Y/N."

You feel a stab of excitement right to your heart and scramble for Eddie's mirror, looking over your face and outfit with something close to terror looming – you're in an old band t-shirt covered in hair-dye from Eddie's red and pink phase and a skirt that's too short. You pull it down to make sure everything is properly covered.

"Yeah, she's here," Eddie says, though the door creaks as he closes it slightly, his voice a fraction from intimidating as he asks, "Who's asking?"

"Me?" Steve asks.

Your socks slide over linoleum in your rush to stop Eddie from being a total dick, edging him out of the way with your hip. He doesn't budge. You shove him with a huff and smile at Steve, trying to calm your pounding heart.

"Steve, hi."

"Hey," he looks over your shoulder. You turn, see Eddie standing there looking unimpressed. He waves. You glare at him fiercely and step over the threshold, shutting the door behind you.

You don't second guess as you take Steve's wrist into your hand, pulling him down the steps and into the short grass to make sure Eddie can't eavesdrop. It's damp under your socks.

Steve looks hot. You're a simple girl, you won't deny that. His hair looks more windblown than usual, lazy strands falling into his face. His eyes are serious, light brown and edged in straight lashes you would count if he let you, brows slightly lifted. You realise he's taking you in as you do the same and feel self conscious, shifting from foot to foot.

"Sorry, I look weird. I didn't-" you bite your tongue. I didn't know you were coming, you'd almost said, but of course you didn't, and telling him you would've dressed up if he was coming might scare him off.

Any anxiety you'd had is soothed as he takes your hand, still loosely clasped around his wrist, and squeezes the centre of your palm with his thumb.

"Are you kidding?" he asks, hand moving down, thumb rubbing over your pulse point. "You look beautiful. Don't worry about it."

His nonchalance trips you up. You can feel your heart in your mouth, like a hummingbird on your tongue.

"What did… what did you wanna ask me?" you stammer.

Steve drops your hand. "I tried calling, but I figured you'd be here. Uh, so-" he laughs, pulling a hand through his hair before dipping into the pocket of his jacket. You watch his arms then his hands.

"I got these," he says, pulling two tickets from his pocket. White and a third red, he offers them to you. You take them, enough adrenaline running through you that your hands are shaking and you struggle to read what they say.

Steve jumps in. "I know you really liked Day of the Dead. They're doing a showing in Indianapolis, one of those fancy theatre's where everyone dresses up as zombies, and like, they throw fake guts on you. Or something."

"Oh," you murmur. Awesome, you think. Oh my god. "That's sick."

"Right?"

"And you…"

"I want you to go with me. I want to take you," he says firmly. "On a date."

"A date."

"It's Friday. I'll pick you up, we'll drive there in the morning. Hang around, we can go wherever you want for dinner, see the sights."

"This is before or after we dress up like zombies?" you ask, hiding a huge smile.

Steve blushes, let it be written, his cheeks red. He sounds frustrated as he says, "Right, not my best idea. Before? We can get ready in the car," his voice fades before he finishes. "That's not a good idea."

He starts on a self deprecating waffle that you can't allow. You press the tickets to your chest, way too happy. "This is pretty cool."

"You think so?" he asks quickly, strung out.

"Yeah," you say fondly.

"Oh."

You almost step on his toes as you kiss his hot cheek. He smells nice. You set back on your heels and linger, trying to work out what his cologne smells like. Something fresh, not quite lemony.

You get a bit dizzy and carried away, stroking the curve of his arm with the back of your hand. Steve makes a sound like a hiccup and you remember yourself, stepping away bashfully, afraid to meet his eyes.

"So," Steve says, sounding relieved. Excited. "You'll go?"

"Yeah. It sounds awesome."

"It's a date," he says.

You tell him your address and he promises to call you to smooth out all the details but he really has to go to work. You climb back up the stairs and close the door almost all the way, watching as Steve gets in his car through the crack. He sits motionless for a bit before he fist pumps the air, says, "Yes! Ugh, yes. Still got it. Still got it, Hawkins."

You close the door.

"Ew, you look happy. Harrington cop a feel?" Eddie says.

"Something like that."

-

You're running down a dark alleyway with Steve's hand in yours. He's almost dragging you. Dude runs fast.

"I ran track!" he tells you helpfully.

You can't help the breathless laughing as you go, nervous and humming with energy. You'd both been having a great time at dinner and lost track of time, and now it's twenty minutes until doors open for Day of the Dead and neither of you look particularly lifeless.

You almost slam into the back door of his BMW, scrambling inside. Steve is quick behind you, upending the bag with your change of clothes onto the back seat. Your makeup and fake blood tumble out after it. He reaches up to turn on the overhead light.

"Fuck," Steve says, face carved in shadow. "Fuck. We don't have time."

"Sure we do," you say, tugging your shirt off quickly. Steve looks pointedly away once he notices your predicament. You chuckle. "Steve, just get changed. I don't care if you look."

"I'm a gentleman," he insists, rushing, the two of you folding and bumping into each other in a hurry to get dressed into your old clothes.

You catch flashes of his bare chest as he buttons down then buttons up, his legs, his thighs. You feel heat lick every stretch of skin you have at the sight. Oh, he's hairy, you think, and then have to slam your eyes shut to stop from thinking sick (completely normal, dirty) thoughts.

You pull your tights off of your ankles, blush at the idea of being sequestered in a car with him in your underwear, and leap to replace them with a pair of tight, pinstriped trousers, shrugging into them with great difficulty. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly as you pull on your blouse, white for the best fake blood effect, buttoning up just enough to hide your bra.

Make up next. You want to look scary and, importantly, believable. You fish for the make up you'd brought and have managed to suitably brush up your dark eyes with purples to look bruised and sickly by the time Steve has finished redressing. He tightens the tie around his neck.

"You next," you say.

Steve hesitates. "I've never done any makeup before."

You don't blink. "That's okay. I'll do it for you, if you want me to."

Steve climbs closer over your discarded clothes, close enough to hear his breathing, still fast. You brush the hair out of his eyes and they find yours, the two of you sharing a private smile, though there's no one else around.

"Will you ruin my good looks?"

"You'll be a very handsome zombie," you promise.

You reach for his face.

"You need to get closer," you tell him, fingers hooked under his ear. You tilt his head to the light.

"I can't," he says.

You steel your nerves and grab onto his shoulder gently, anchoring yourself as you climb up into his lap. If he's surprised he doesn't show it, his big hands coming up to your waist. You can feel the heat of each finger clearly on your skin where he grips you and the heat of his thighs like a furnace underneath yours. You try not to brush against him, standing up on your knees.

You use your fingers, rubbing them gently in the powder shadows and then over his silky skin. Big stripes of purple, a wash of yellow around his pretty eyes. He closes them as you dab a dark red under his eyelashes. You grow closer still, your breath fanning over his face. His hand skips respectably over your back and down to your thigh, holding you up. It's helpful. It's torture. You try not to breathe too loudly.

"You have really soft skin," you say, using your thumb to spread dark contour under his cheekbone, one side of his face gaunt.

You cover your work with your hand as his eyes open.

"Yeah?" he asks.

This closeness. Suddenly, abruptly, the feelings you're trying to push down rear their heads, and the heat becomes hard to ignore.

"Yeah," you murmur, thumb under his eye. He looks ridiculous. You know you look the same.

"Am I done?" he asks. His hand squeezes your thigh as he adjusts his hold.

"Not quite," you say.

You finish his makeup in silence. Time slows. You forget that you're late, content to feel his features under your hands, to learn the planes and dips of his face for the first time like this. You tuck his hair behind his ears carefully, smoothing back his hairline.

He's looking up at you. You sit down in his lap and he moves his hands to behind your back, his head following you down intently. He looks serious.

You draw your hand from his face and drop it onto his thigh, your rings brushing over starchy slacks.

It's his turn to touch you. Steve's hand comes to your face, his broad palm over the entirety of your cheek. You wait for something though you're not sure what, frozen with apprehension, simply watching him take you in.

"Do I look scary?" you ask, eyes on his lips.

They part before he answers, like he knows what he's going to say before he says it. "Horrifying," he murmurs wryly, hand gently pulling your face towards his.

You lift your chin to meet his lips, the muscles of his forearms shifting against your chest as he cups your face in both hands, guiding you to him. Your lips touch, tentative at first, one small kiss that feels more than warm, a homely, perfect fit. He pulls back and you don't, tapping the tip of his nose with yours until he opens his mouth.

You sneak in as his hand runs down your neck, your arm, slow and sleek. He makes a small sound as he takes the lead, opening you up, and it tickles your lips with its vibrations. He sounds content. You're feeling similarly happy, grabbing at his hand where it holds your face, squeezing his wrist to hold it in place as you push yourself into his arms. He takes you eagerly, pulling you chest to chest.

His head bumps the window. You pull apart, panting and happy and giggling, your lips damp and tingling. Steve rubs the back of his head, looking at you with an expression you can't describe.

"What?" you ask, wiping at his bottom lip with your thumb where your lipstick has stained him.

"How come you're so pretty, even like this?"

"Like this, a zombie?" Steve nods slowly. "Let me know when you find out, Harrington."

He pulls you back in with a smirk that sets your tummy aflame. "You think I'm pretty?" he asks, lips a millimetre from yours.

"Super pretty," you say, and kiss him. He loves on your top lip like you've got all the time in the world, kisses warm and slick. "Almost as pretty as me," you say between them.

He slows your kisses, gives you one last peck over your burning mouth. "No one's as pretty as you," he says agreeably.

You beam. Steve beams back though it quickly fades as he brings his arm up to check his watch.

"We're so late," he says, manhandling you off of his lap with an apologetic grimace. "C'mon, we still gotta cover you in blood."

You both get out and Steve sprays you down with fake blood. You laugh as he does, the cold liquid tickling your skin as it trickles down your face and your chest and your tummy.

Steve takes his own bloodying with far less laughter  though he smiles at your glee. He's so handsome you can't help it, stepping into his space for another kiss. There's blood on your lips, evidently, as it transfers to his.

"We need to go," you say, like it's his fault.

"Wait. I have something for you."

Steve opens the driver's side and takes a small object from under the seat. He hands it to you.

"I called in a favour. Dustin and Lucas fixed it up, I checked, like, ten tapes. It works."

In your hands the bane of your existence, your faulty Walkman. There's a fake blood mark in the shape of his thumbprint on the side and you decide you're going to leave it there forever, looking to him with a completely uncool amount of affection.

"Steve," you say happily, a heat behind your eyes.

"I got sick of seeing you pouting, that's all," he says hotly, crossing his arm over his chest. "Now you can stop sulking."

You throw your hands around his neck to hug him tightly, the Walkman pressed to his neck. He oomphs, hands flying to your sides. Your face against his shoulder, you curl a strand of his brown hair around one of your fingers. "Thank you." You dot a corn syrup kiss against his throat. "You're the coolest," you say as you pull away.

His hands move from around your back to your shoulders, holding you at arms length. "People have said that about me."

"I bet."

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thanks for reading! | my masterlist

[aroaceconfessions]

Okay, uh, a vent on aesthetic attraction? (because I don't think allo-allos/ allo-aces/ allo-aros can really relate to how aesthetic attraction feels for aroaces)

So!!! There is this rapper, Ash Island, pretty pretty boy, with a beautiful hand/arm tattoo and I'm going insane in aesthetic attraction. Like, just crazy, can't stop, won't stop looking, how is such a ludicrous tattoo looking so fucking good and so freaking cool I do not know but it's just… no thoughts, just pretty boy.

You know when you reach that point in aesthetic attraction when it feels like it's not enough? Big feelings with no outlet, The AroAce Experience™ for those who feel aesthetic attraction is basically unfulfillment lol. Sometimes the desire to draw comes with it and drawing is the answer but not always and specially not right now.

We are the same age so I can't help but think "God dammit, if I was allosexual I would prolly be fantasizing about his tattooed hand inside me" but noooo, I'm ace and this thought does nothing for me. Holding hands, all that romantic jazz, even thinking about it only makes me uncomfortable, lmao.

I've never felt envious of allos before but here I am! Frustrated because there's absolutely nothing to be done about the feelings I feel, not even on the daydreaming plan. Do I want him? No. Do I want a tattoo like his? Not really. Just want to sit and stare but also don't want to just sit and stare, I'll start crying, helb, lol.

[skepticalarrie]

What's the reasoning for his own fans hating on whatever harry does? Like what's the psychology behind this. This is complete insanity and it makes it hard to interact when I see so much negativity. You're completely right about Pleasing and some trying to cancel it. To go after Coachella in such a hateful way. Insane. We should be so happy for him that he's so popular that he'd headline it but instead one or two people picked out something to shit on and the rest followed. Harry is a closeted musician/actor. He's surrounded by people who've been telling him since he was 16 that he can't be himself, so now, after 11 years, him performing for another homophobe is where they draw the line? lol yeah ok. Do you think some of the people creating such negativity are actually people who secretly hate him and create chaos for fun? I'm just so confused by his own fans being so hateful and negative. And they hide behind "calling him out" like they're doing good. His own stans are gonna be his downfall at this rate, not some random watermelon sugar casual fan .

I know, it’s crazy. I’m no professional (of course lol) so this is just my opinion, but I think a lot of it comes from a place where people are too stuck on who he was and not who he is. But they can’t really let go of it, Harry has really dedicated fans so I think some people don’t really know how do deal with frustration. Because if you think about it, Harry’s career changed a lot. He went through a lot of stages for the past decade and he’s a solo artist for 5 years now, that’s enough time for things to change a lot. He’s clearly going through some rebranding.. so it’s only normal for some people to move on, to don’t really appreciate or relate anymore.

Plus I think Harry stepping away from social media so much made him a lot less relatable and well… human. I think Harry is often seen these days as an artist who is unreachable, untouchable. And no one likes that, you know. People want to see the human side of him, we want to see him as a real person, and maybe the lack of that not only upsets people even further but it also makes the criticism much easier.

[teeny-tiny-revenge]

I'm too late to vote but I love all of these as ideas? I can see them doing these things and I'm having Thoughts and I'm inflicting them on you now. ;)

I think Stede did a lot of puzzles in the past, in his old life. They're nice. He's good at them. They were a way for him to get something done and be in control of his life. Now that he's escape his old life, he's still good at them, but they also a bit dull. He's come to embrace excitement and new experiences, and puzzles are. Not that. Ed has never really done puzzles before, because they're a waste of time that Izzy picked on him for, also hard to come by at sea, and all the pieces would get thrown around and you could start over whenever there was a storm. Now, Ed likes sorting the pieces. He likes to complete a puzzle. He does not like it when he can't find the piece he needs, and actually, puzzles are kinda boring to Ed as well after a short while, but he likes doing them together as a slow evening activity with Stede.

Ed wins at chess. A lot. He's used to winning at chess. He's a strategic genius, after all. He's good at something like chess. He can see where the pieces need to be dozens of rounds ahead. Ed wins at chess. Except for the times when he loses spectacularly to Stede. These occur mostly at random. Stede occasionally comes up with a strategy he wants to play that is so extremely unorthodox and insane that not even Ed can predict it. Stede sends his knights on suicide missions and attacks pieces with his king. And sometimes it works, and Ed is so delighted by Stede's crazy schemes that he doesn't mind losing at all. (He loves losing, a little bit, because it makes Stede beam at him across the chess board.)

Parallel colouring books are definitely a thing they both like. They don't always make much progress because they keep showing their pages to each other. "Look at this cool shark I'm colouring!" "Fab! ... Why is it purple, though?" "It ate an octopus earlier, and the ink turned it purple!" "Oh. Does. Does octopus ink do that?" "Sure, saw that happen all the time!"

They would love Legos. They make up wild backstories for the mini figures that live in their buildings. The buildings themselves are huge, and definitely off script. Nobody ever reads the instructions. They combine multiple sets from completely different contexts. Pyramids, fire station, Star Wars space ship and Elven Forest complete with Magic Fountain all get thrown together for one weird, fantastical world. They make up their lore as they go. They turn their entire living room into a Lego landscape. It's nearly impossible to step anywhere because everywhere is Lego buildings. Stede steps on the little fire truck and breaks the head off the elf piloting it. Ed invents a whole new chapter of lore about Frankie the Headless (or maybe Frankie the Bodyless, they can't decide which part of him survives the tragic accident) while bandaging Stede's bleeding foot (Frankie is a hero, born from a sea of blood, obviously).

I like to headcanon that Ed did some of his own tattoos and has done other people's, so he's pretty good at art, but he's a perfectionist about drawing the love of his life and gets frustrated because he can't get it done right. Stede does simple little drawings like on his map. Ed adores them and keeps them all in a box under the bed along with letters and notes Stede wrote him (Stede writes a lot of notes now and Ed is a sap who keeps them all).

The floor is lava happens after it's been raining for a week and they're both really stir crazy. They exhausted all sit down inside activities, and a lot of adult activities in various areas of the house, and they're so bored, when Stede remembers this game his kids used to play in the big parlour back on Barbados. The floor is lava is difficult at the Inn, because it does not have a lot of furniture yet and it's pretty far apart. Thankfully the main room is fairly small. Ed tries to argue that pillows tossed to the floor can be used as safe ships to cross the room. Stede argues against it, because ships can't float on lava (he's mad he didn't think of the pillow idea first and that Ed is winning now). The "argument" dissolves first into a pillow fight and then into sex on the floor, which both of them argue is really hot. Because, y'know, the floor is lava.

One man improv shows happen all the time, but are short lived, because they always turn into two-man shows. Neither of them can shut up and just watch a bit, they always end up taking part in each other's comedy bit, but they love doing a bit together, so it's always time well spent.

Ed loves hide and seek. Stede also sort of likes hide and seek, but it reminds him a bit too much of the times when Ed is upset and/or they have argued. Ed likes to hide somewhere when he's upset, and Stede has to find him to apologize or try to comfort him, and searching the house for Ed makes Stede feel like something is wrong even when it isn't. Once Ed figures out Stede isn't enjoying himself much and why, he makes sure to tell Stede how much fun he's having whenever they start a new round. He talks so much while picking a hiding place that it ends up giving away which part of the room/house he's in, but that's not so important, because Stede is always so happy when he finds Ed.

bonus points if you include in the tags who gets angry and storms off first

[catzula]

Don’t be late.

Warnings: Cursing, 4.5 k words, fluff in general, Bakugou being a dumbass, reader is always late.

a/n: I genuinely had fun writing this fic and I hope you guys have fun reading it!

Synopsis: you're a student at the support section and since Bakugou literally drove everyone else insane, you were the last person that would help him with his costume. Little did he know that you had a crush on this sparky sparky boom man.

Everybody in the support section just hated that one guy. That guy named Bakugou who would practically harass people until he got what he wanted. Well, okay, almost everyone who knew Bakugou hated him but people in the support section hated him in a whole new level.

He was a nightmare. Nobody could even stand him.

Well, nobody except for you. You thought of him as intriguing, as well as a pain in the ass. But even him being a pain in the ass could be justified in your eyes, you knew he was doing all this simply because he was a perfectionist. Of course he could tone it down a bit, but... That would.be very out of character, wouldn't it?

He thought of himself as the best and it shouldn't be a surprise, for him to want to have a hero costume that was also perfect. You could understand that, but it still didn't change the fact that he was the worst kind of customer anyone would ever have to work with.

He had never worked with you though, he was in class 1/A for gods sake, of course he didn't work with you... Well, that until he ran out of people that would help him willingly.

"You know what? I'm done. Go fuck yourself." Were the words that echoed in the room, suppressing even those deafening machine sounds. Your friend threw Bakugou's costume in his face harshly, still cursing under his breath.

"Tch, whatever! You're just some extra that can't even do what I asked for." You watched Bakugou as his upper lip curled threateningly, reminding you of a wolf, and boy did he look pissed. Like, really pissed. His crimson eyes glaring at the guy in front of him, who was packing his supplies and trying to get away from this angry dude as soon as possible.

"That's the thing, Bakugou! What you want doesn't exist! I don't have these miraculous powers that when I snap my fingers your costume just turns into something else. You have to give me details of what you're asking and you have to ask something that makes sense! Not just some dumb idea that popped into your mind!" Everybody knew that was a lie. Bakugou always had the most amazing ideas, so creative and so... Logical. It's just that they were too... Much. To much to execute, they were brilliant but not doable.

"First of all, it does make sense, it's you who can't understand! Second of-"

"Whatever, Bakugou. I'm done with this shit. Go find someone else to help you with your costume."

"Who the fuck are you to not let me fucking talk? I will fucking kill you-"

"That's enough Bakugou." A monotone voice that came from the door made Bakugou freeze. You knew this black haired guy, he was the Eraserhead! You saw him around the campus but never from up this close!

Bakugou looked at his teacher, never losing that wolfish expression on his face, and he exited the room without saying anything, which was a first for everyone in this room. Eraserhead also exited, looking like he was about to go in a coma.

The room was still silent, until it wasn't.

"Oh my God, what a fucking jerk."

"I can't even believe how you managed to put up with him that long."

"He's not even that good."

Lie. That was a big fat lie because Bakugou may not be a lot of things but he was that good. Still, you chose to stay silent, your eyes still glued to the door he just exited from.

He amazed you, really. You noticed him the first time he came to the support section, his aura screaming confidence. He started to come there frequently, making everyone else go crazy, but you just kept noticing small details about him every time he came there. He was an asshole, no one could deny that, but he was also amazing.

It was amazing how determined he was, even though it was a pain, his perfectionism also left you in awe, how smart he was, how confident he was, how strong he was...

You realized your big crush on him the day you saw him on that sport festival. The other people thought it was so unheroic of him to go that hard on Uraraka, which was so stupid. Didn't she also want to be a hero? Wasn't she going to the same school as him, going through the same trainings? It was only normal for him to beat her, because if he didn't, she would have beaten him. Would people tell her it was so rude of her to go that hard on him too? No, you thought he was astonishing to act the way he did.

Him being so proud, not accepting the first rank made your heart beat faster. He was just so strong, so proud, so vulnerable it made you want to hug him tightly and tell him that he was your hero.

Not that you would ever have the chance though, or so you thought.

He came back not even after a few days, making everyone groan in frustration. He went straight to the table that displayed the recent projects that were done. The table existed to give an idea of what anyone could do so they could choose along shit what they had in mind. So that meant, who's item he chose would have to work with him. All of you eyed him, waiting to see who was the very unlucky person.

He picked one invention of the table, looking somewhat intrigued, and looked around the room trying to guess who it belonged to. When he couldn't guess he went to the nearest person and shoved the invention in their face. "Who does this belong to?!"

The person he was holding eyed the object he was holding suspiciously, relief written on his face when he saw it didn't belong to him. "I think that's Y/N's."

You could hear the sighs of relief around the room. So did he, but he didn't seem to care. Instead he walked towards you, he was so close you could smell-

Why on earth did he smell like... Caramel?!

"Is this yours?" You felt the tingling sensation of excitement all over your body, giving you goosebumps. "It is." You answered, which made him narrow his eyes, looking at you suspiciously.

"Is it really yours? You did this?" Now that was straight up rude. "Yes, it's really mine, asshole. What kind of a question even is that?!"

He shrugged shit a smug grin on his face. His eyes wandered over you, looking at your (e/c) eyes, your face, your figure, and his grin grew wider.

"I haven't seen you around here before." Ah, the angry boy was back. His upper lip curled ever so slightly, looking at you like you were some lowly human. "Oh yeah? Well I have seen you quite a lot here. You know, while you were making everyone else go crazy."

Your answer turned his face red with anger but -a miracle- he was holding back! You could see it was really hard for him not to scream insults in your face but he was aware that you were his last chance. Oh didn't that just boost your ego. Now it was your turn to look at him with a smug grin on your face.

"Whatever." He mumbled pulling you to the nearest table. "What are you-" Before he even let you finish he shushed you and lay down the papers he was holding on the table. You looked at what's on the paper, it was a costume drawing, a really detailed one at that. As you got closer to the paper, inspecting it, he was watching your every move with narrowed eyes.

After you memorised everything on the paper you bir your lip, trying to hide your admiration. "Did you draw this? Are these all... Your ideas?"

The drawing wasn't amazing but it was neat, everything was calculated to the very core, the ideas were so clear on the paper, making you feel like you only had to follow these instructions and do nothing else. "Yes, of course I drew them! Everything you see there is mine." He said angrily but you could see he wasn't actually angry, just proud.

"Well, they're pretty good, if I'm going to be honest." You said trying to hide your excitement. You traced the drawing with your finger.

"I know they are. But can you do it?" His smug grin was back and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at him. Could you do it?

You smiled sweetly and surely enough he smiled back, already knowing your answer.

"Nope."

His smile dropped, leaving it's place to a furious look in his eyes. "You dumbass, then why the fuck are you wasting my fucking time?!" He screamed, people around you shot you a knowing look. He pulled the paper of the table harshly, about to leave when you held his wrist and made him stop.

"Can you stop for a fucking minute and listen?" His eyes widened when he heard you cursing, a big contrast to your sweet tone and face. "I can't do this, but neither can anyone else."

"What the fuck does that mean?" He screamed making you winch. "Can you just- shut up for a second? This is not possible, get that in your bigass head. But-" you stopped thinking for a second. You shuffled around the drawers in search of a pen. "But, I can do this instead. This would be much more possible, and it would give you what you were aiming for. Of course it wouldn't be the same but the end product will be helpful."

You said quickly sketching your idea on the paper, as quick as possible before you forget what you were thinking about.

When he saw what you drew his burrows furrowed and for a second you thought he was mad at you but instead he huffed. "Tch, not bad I guess." He said, but internally he was so impressed that you actually came up with this alternative in a few seconds of so.

"Wait, does that mean you'll work with me?" You said eyes open wide. Well the question was more as, would you work with him, but he didn't say that. "If you can do it, I will."

"That's amazing, now I finally have a worthy client!" You said excitedly and on of his burrows went up, sending you an questioning look. "Worthy of... You?"

You shot him a killing glare but stayed quiet. "Let's work on this idea a little more, what do you say?"

He shrugged. "It's too noisy in here. Lets go to the library." He said ready to pull you out of the room but you shot a glance at your phone, pouting. "Can't, I gotta finish this side project today. Meet me at the library tomorrow? How is 4pm?"

He wasn't really happy since you couldn't work on it immediately but he had to be a little nice to you, not just because you were the last person that would actually help him, but your idea was also pretty good. "Tch, whatever. Don't be late."

You smiled sweetly, making his heart beat a little faster. Why did his heart beat this fast? Was this your quirk or something?

"Bye Bakugou." You waved as you started to sketch something on a sheet of paper.

***

Bakugou was sitting in the library, shooting angry glances at the clock. When he saw you coming towards him with a big smile on your face, your hands full of papers, books and stuff, he felt his heart jump. This had to be your quirk.

"Hey! So I worked on this idea we talked about yesterday and-" Before you even sat next to him you started to talk without even stopping to breath. "You're late." He murmured with and angry look in his eyes, you looked at your watch and smiled apologetically. "Oops, sorry, I was with Shinsou about- well that's not important is it? It's 5 minutes anyway."

Bakugou had always been an angry individual but today he could practically feel his explosions itching for him to release them. You saw the look in his eyes and laughed, "Hey, chill out. I'm sorry, alright? I'll make it up to you with a coffee, how does that sound?"

Bakugou didn't even like coffee but he couldn't refuse this offer either. "If you get there in time."

You laughed once again, a sweet sound that made Bakugou feel proud, even though he didn't even know why he was proud. "Yes, yes, I'll be there on time. But let's discuss this now." You lay the papers down, showing a few new sketches.

You both worked on it for a long time, even though it felt like a few minutes at most. You sometimes felt his gaze on you, instead of the paper in front of you, which made your cheeks flush red.

"So um-" you said, not really sure what to even say. "This was nice."

He had never heard anyone from the support section say that working with him was nice, but he still took the compliment. "Meet me at the coffee place tomorrow? Since it's weekend we can meet a little earlier too."

His eyes narrowed as he looked at you. It was weird having someone who actually wanted to work with him and it felt odd. A good type of odd, if he had to confess.

"Don't be late." He said.

You laughed. "I won't."

***

You were late.

Bakugou was about to go crazy waiting at the coffee shop. He felt so stupid for waiting for you but felt even worse for not being able to leave. His mind kept making you excuses, every time the door opened he felt his heart jump and that made him so angry at himself.

He was about to leave when the door opened once again, this time it was actually you entering. His eyes widened when he saw you, you looked incredibly pretty without any dust smeared on your face, your (h/c) hair in a cute style that enhanced your beautiful face and was that... Make up? He wasn't sure, hell, he never even realized any of these things before. But he couldn't take his eyes off of you and felt his anger die inside him.

You saw him and your eyes shined in a way that made him want to smile too, a cute smile was on your face when you came to his table.

"You're late!"

"That can't be I'm actually-" you checked the time and pouted. "Oh, I'm late."

His eyebrows furrowed, so he wasn't even important enough for you to actually show up on time? He was about to say something mean but held his tongue when you giggled. "I actually left the dorm an hour early to be here before you..." You shrugged. "Apparently I'm incapable of actually arriving anywhere at the time we agreed on. I hear this all the time, I just can't get anywhere on time!"

He felt a little better knowing it wasn't only him, but still. He was Bakugou Katsuki for Gods sake! He wasn't just someone, he was the future number one hero. Still, he couldn't help but feel good knowing you intended to be here early.

"Whatever." He said not looking at you. "No, I'm actually sorry!" You said biting your lip.

"It's whatever. Let's just get some coffee and get this shit done with." You felt a sharp pain in your chest, he wasn't wrong, but it felt bad hearing that from your crush. You should have known he wasn't actually interested in you, he wouldn't have chosen you if you weren't his last chance.

You still didn't let that spoil your mood, at the very end you were here, drinking coffee with him, weren't you?

"Well, what would you like to drink?" You asked, taking your wallet out of your handbag. His eyes shined with anger when he saw what you were doing.

"Like hell I'll let you pay for it!" He said, stopping you.

"But this is for making you wait yesterday!" Feeling his hand holding you made your heart jump. "And well... Today too." You added.

"I don't care, I said I won't let you pay, and I won't."

"But-"

"Stop arguing for fucks sake!" You closed your mouth at that. "O-okay. Well I'll have (your favorite beverage)." You saw him smile at your answer and stood up.

You were trying to calm yourself while he was buying you coffee, didn't even realize someone was calling your name. "Y/N!"

A hand touched your shoulder, making you jump in surprise. It was a certain indigo haired boy who looked very much sleep deprived. "Oh, Shinsou!" You smiled sweetly. You have helped him a lot before, which ended with you guys being close friends.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, even though it was a stupid question, he was addicted to coffee. "Well, duh." He said, shaking the carton of coffee on his hand. You smiled at that. "But what are you doing here?" He looked around to see anyone familiar that you could be waiting for. He saw Bakugou ordering coffee, but it was such an impossible thing for both of you to be together so he didn't even think about it.

"Well I uh..." You didn't even have time to answer when an angry boy came close to your table. "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

Shinsou's eyes widened ever so slightly looking at the angry boy, and then back at you. "You're here with him?"

"You got a problem with that?" Bakugou asked, taking his seat right across you.

"Well, we're working on his costume." You said sensing the tension.

Bakugou scoffed, apparently not happy with your answer. "Well, okay. I'll see you around?" Said Shinsou, you could understand why he was walking away, since his motto was stay out of drama. "Yeah, sure!" You smiled sweetly, feeling a little bad because you felt like you were dusting him away.

"Are we gonna start working or not?!" You flinched when you heard him scream, a sinking feeling reminding you once again, he wanted nothing to do with you other than working on his costume.

"Sorry." You mumbled. "So I um, worked on this a little more after you left and I think it would be much better if we changed this to this. Because otherwise it would be too heavy."

Bakugou scoffed. "Hah, I can handle heavy." You glanced at him, surprised by his unnecessary narcissism. "Yeah, I know. But still, wouldn't it be better if it were lighter?" He stayed still for a while then shrugged.

"Tch, whatever." Oh, you were starting to see a pattern here. Maybe it wasn't just unnecessary narcissism, but more like... Trying to impress you?

"Are you training today too?" You asked, just testing the waters. "Of course I am! If I'm going to be the number 1 hero, I gotta train every fucking day."

You tapped your chin with your finger. "That's true. Although I've seen you train before and it looked pretty intense." And that was true. He was training so hard it made you shudder just thinking about it.

"Oh, you were watching me?" Oh, shit. You tried to ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks. "Well I wasn't watching you specifically, but it was so... Extra so I may have looked your way once or twice." You tried to cover. But the smug grin on his face told you he didn't believe it a bit.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say."

"So, what do you think? Should I change this part? Oh and I thought it would be better if we did this too-" You stopped talking when you felt his eyes lingering on you, instead of the paper. "Bakugou?" You said smiling. "Why are you staring at me?"

"I'm not staring at you!" He shouted, your smile dropping almost instantly. "Why the fuck would I even stare at you?!" His hands were tight fists on the table, his red eyes reminding you of flames. Your eyes widened at his response and you forced a laugh.

"Well, ouch." You said with the same forceful laugh. "I- I wasn't implying anything, you know..." You mumbled.

"I- I..." This was the first time you have seen Bakugou in a loss of words. You shrugged. "Yeah, I know, you want to get this over with as soon as possible."

That was far from what he wanted to say but he accepted it nonetheless.

You both worked on it for hours, once again the time passed quickly, felt like it was a blink of an eye. "That was intense." You said while stretching a bit.

"Well, that was it. We finished the whole design and idea process and I'll take it from here."

His brows furrowed. "What do you mean by I'll take it from here?"

You shrugged. "I just have to actually do this now, so we don't really have to meet like this." Why did Bakugou feel that sting in his chest? For Gods sake, what the fuck was your quirk?

"Y/N." He said that made you stop stretching. Hearing your name from him made your heart beat faster. "What the hell is your quirk?"

"My quirk?" You asked, a little surprised at the sudden question.

"Yes!"

"Well it's not a big quirk. I can manipulate shadows." You shrugged. Your quirk had never came off as handy but it was fun to change the shapes of people's shadows and seeing their reactions.

Bakugou desperately tried to find a relation with your quirk and this weird sensation he felt every time you smiled but he couldn't find any.

"That's a dumb quirk." He said instead. You giggled, surprising him. "It is, but I don't really need a quirk to be special, I can work without it just fine."

His brow quirked up at your response. "If you say so."

***

Everyday for the next week, Bakugou had visited you in your workspace. "I want to see if you're doing a good fucking job." He said when you asked him why.

He stayed with you as long as he could, telling you about his day, about those damn extras in his class, with the exception of "Deku." He was talking about Deku like he wasn't even a part of the class. You knew he was talking about Izuku Midoriya, that green haired shy guy who broke a limb every time he used his quirk. Oh, Bakugou talked about him a lot, with great hatred too.

But even though he was just rambling, you loved to listen to him. And even though he never even implied it, you knew he liked watching you work too. It was probably because he was interested in how his costume was coming up but you still enjoyed it very much.

But the truth was that he had almost completely forgotten about his costume. He was coming to see you every day, every chance because you... You just understood him. But Bakugou was so foreign to these feelings, it made him feel scared and vulnerable.

You weren't aware of any of this, of the internal crisis he was having, so you were surprised when he suddenly stopped showing up.

You couldn't really work too, since your eyes were practically glued to the door, waiting to see a glimpse of the spiky blonde hair, but you never did.

The day you were done with the costume, you texted him. You tried to look as good as you could, cleaned the dust off of your face and your uniform, wore your best perfume only to see someone else who came instead of him to pick the costume up.

It was Kirishima, you had chatted with him before, he was a pretty cute guy, and you knew from your daily chats from Bakugou he liked him too. So just seeing him reminded you of Bakugou which made your mood even worse.

"Is... Is Bakugou okay?" You asked.

You saw the uncomfortable look on his face and you knew Bakugou was avoiding you. "He- he- he is okay... He's just-" You sighed but smiled nonetheless. "It's okay, I understand." His eyes widened. "You do?!"

You shrugged. "He's done with me, I see that. I had the same treatment from some other students too, although it's not very nice, is it? Still, say hi to him for me please."

"It's- it's not like that, he's just-" Kirishima looked a little embarrassed but mostly panicked and you couldn't help but giggle. "It's okay, I'm just happy I could help him."

When Kirishima went back to the dorms, only to find Bakugou on the couch looking at his phone, he was pissed.

"Dude you must be the dumbest person alive."

"Who the fuck are you calling dumb, shitty hair?!" Bakugou jumped from the couch, about to end Kirishima once and for all but Kirishima wasn't having it. "You! I'm calling you dumb! I took your costume from YN, the girl you have been avoiding like the plague, and I was embarrassed for you!"

Kirishima saw Bakugou stiffening as he mentioned your name and smiled knowingly. "Bakugou, if you don't go there and talk to her I will kick your ass."

"You can't kick my ass, idiot." Bakugou answered gruffly.

"Oh but I can. Go fucking talk to her dude! She asked about you, you know? What you're doing is so fucking unmanly." Kirishima gave Bakugou the costume he was holding and Bakugou could swear he could smell your scent on it.

"You call me unmanly one more fucking time and you won't have a tongue to call anyone unmanly. I am the definition of manly."

"Not with that attitude you're not."

"Who the fuck are you, my mother or something?" But Bakugou knew Kirishima was telling the truth, and he just couldn't get rid of this stupid feeling in his chest. Yet, he had thought that if he just stopped seeing you, he would never feel this way ever again. He was wrong. Oh, he had thought of you almost every second of the day, his heart feeling heavier with every second he didn't see you and it was more than he could bear.

He knew what he had to do, he just didn't have the courage before.

"I think- I have to go." He said practically running to the door. He passed the now entering Kaminari with such force and speed, Kaminari almost lost his balance. "Woah, where the fuck is he going?" He asked looking at the grinning Kirishima.

"You'll see." Was his answer.

***

You were about to leave the workshop, later than usual but you didn't really mind working a little longer, anything that would take your kind off of him, you accepted gratefully.

All of that until you heard his voice.

"YN!"

You jumped not expecting this at all. Your eyes widened when you saw the face you had longed to see for almost a week, and there he was, cheeks flushed like he had ran all the way here.

And you knew why he was here. You weren't stupid, the look in his eyes just gave it away. So a smile found its way on your lips, the sweetest smile he had ever seen that made him feel like he could die right than and there.

"Bakugou!" You said, walking towards him. "You're late."

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

SCOTTISH WHISKY

Filip “Chibs” Telford x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford ✨

Author comments: You know, another dirty dream. I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @minnicelli ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

“Do you know where is Oswald's warehouse?”

“Yes”.

“Bring the crane”.

That's enough information from Jax, before he hangs up the call. You don't ask. You only take the orders and you execute them. Zipping the jacket of Teller-Morrow and wearing the black sunglasses, you walk towards the big van to check for the direction in your phone. Following the navigator indications by some secondary roads, it takes you almost twenty minute to reach the property. For some reason, you don't get surprised when finding the motorbikes practically destroyed, the guys try to stand them up dragging them close to the crane.

Stepping out of it, you raise an eyebrow somewhat curious, pressing the button in the remote control to lift down the ramp. Their faces are torn between frustration and anger. Pursuing your lips, you look at the president rubbing his face with both hands.

“Who is that beautiful lady?” A strong irish accent makes you twist your neck slightly.

You didn't repair on the four unknown men presents there. You know Romero and Luis. You have seen them sometimes at the club. But not the others.

“I'm talking to you, lady”. The man says again.

Jax is looking at you pleading with his blue eyes to not reply. But that suited man seems like the problem there, and who gave you more work than you can handle having to fix their motorbikes. Or, at least, having to try it. The crew is behind you, knowing well that they're going to enjoy your protective and savage mood because of them. Jackson took you out of the streets. Jackson gave you a home, a family. Jackson saved your life without asking him to do it. No one fucks with him in your presence.

With a soft and falsely smile, you walk close to the irish. The president tries to stop you, by raising an arm on air. Holding his hand for an instant, you nod at him, letting him know that it's okay for you, before continuing your steps. Shorting the distance. Your hands travels to the lapels of his black jacket, seeing sideways how his men point at you, waiting for a false step to shoot you. But the irish one not even flinches, touring your body from top to bottom with his dirty orbs.

“If I would… want to drink a good whisky…” Your voice is melodious and sweet, putting on well the tie around his pale neck. “I would drink an old scottish aged in Jerez's barrels. Not a whisky mixed in the bathtub from a basement”.

You can hear the chuckles behind your back. Are you making a reference about Chibs? Maybe. That man drives you crazy. He's intelligent, has a good aim and his accent is insane for your mind. Even so, you're not into the irish game.

“Do you know I could cut your throat right now, and that your… friends couldn't do anything to avoid it?” He says slowly, dragging every word above his tongue.

“I'm just a mechanic, sir, who cares?”. Palming his chest, you pull your body some inches away. “But, you have already made a fool of yourself, don't you think make it twice it would be too much?”

Actually, you don't give a shit about him, nor about what he can do. He's not going to scare you. Turning over your sneakers on, you come back to Jax position.

“I'll see what can I save of the bikes, boss”.

“Thank you”. His smile is sincere, full of pride because of you.

“I know those magic hands can do miracles”. Tig says placing a hand on your shoulders while Happy is opening you the crane door.

“I appreciate the faith you have in me”. You joke on him, sitting on your seat. “See you at the club, guys”.

Chibs is looking at you, supporting his body against Jax, having a drag of a cigar. You know how much he loves his Harley, supervising every fix up you have had to do. Without no words, Happy close the door narrowing your hand, before drive out of Oswald's property.

“I think the girl has pretty clear what she wants, brother”. Jax palms Chibs back, earning Tig, Happy and Bobby's laughs.

“Scottish whisky”. Happy says with a singing voice.

“Now you don' have any doubts, man”. Bobby tease him, while the other chuckles.

“Lass!” A rough voice claims for your attention, giving you some chills and almost drowning with your own saliva.

Even if Jax smiled when you talked to the unknown irish, sounds like Chibs disagrees. Standing up from the floor, you turn at him hiding your tremble hands behind your back. He's walking towards you with firm steps and somewhat like an angry look. Facing you, he licks his incisors with a nod.

“Walk”. Pointing with a forefinger the clubhouse, you raise up your worries eyes to Jax. He's too serious too, and you're sure he's not going to say anything in you defense.

You obey. You fucked up what they gave you for a misplaced comment by your pretty mouth, which can't stand being closed. Moving your feet over the asphalt and your hands kept inside the pocket of your jacket, you follow the way into the empty club.

“Samcro meeting-room”. He just say, stopping his steps close to the main door. Again, you keep yourself in silence, nodding a little scared swallowing.

Probably they're going to kick you out from there and Chibs is in charge of letting you know because, maybe, he's european and has a direct connection with the irish. Resting your waist against the big wooden table with the grim reaper carved on, you wait impatiently moving a leg in a nervous gesture. The blind covers the window to the clubhouse, so you don't know what's happening, until Chibs opens the door carrying a bottle of whisky and a short glass, specifically for that kind of drink. Closing again the door behind his back, he places the glass to serve it before offering you. Showing him a confused look, you hold it with your right hand.

“Drink”.

For a moment you think it's poisoned, but that doesn't have any sense. Obeying again, you have a sip feeling how the liquid rips your throat, noticing every nuance in. Above all, the aged flavor that wood gives it.

“Tha' is how a good wheske' tastes”. He says taking it off from your fingers and leaving it somewhat away on the table. “And now, 'em gonna shew'ya how a good old scottesh' wheske' tastes”.

All your doubts disappear when the man crashes his lips against yours. You weren't expecting it, but definitely, whisky tastes better in his tongue. The kiss is more needy than you want to show him, nailing your fingers on the back of his head to pushing him closer while his arms get tangled in your waist. You can hardly breathe, but this doesn't look like a problem when he guides you blinded to the sofa, forcing you to sit on his lap. The heat running under your clothes when he urges your waist to move over the lump on his tight jeans.

Biting your lower lip, one of his hands covered by the leather gloves toures your nipples over your shirt, squeezing it and making you gasp. Chibs seems like he knows pretty well your body, as if he studied it before, one of the many times you've caught him looking at you. His hand going down your stomach gives you some delighted chills, while your tongues keep fighting anxious, sneaking it under your sweatpants and your panties. And before you can do any move, Chibs thrusts hard his middle finger inside you, screaming out loud his name on his mouth. The scottish chuckles licking your lips, feeling how the big golden ring below the leather press your narrowness with delicious pounds. Tangling your fingers on his jacket, you let him do with you whatever he wants, enjoying every moan that comes out from your throat.

“Ya like't?” He asks with shaky breath and a scratchy voice that turns you a little more heated.

“Yeah…” You mutter looking for his eyes, bouncing on his hand needing for more contact.

“Do ya wan' me ti fuc' ya?” He asks, sliding a second finger into you with a hard push hiting your g-spot.

“Please… Please”. You beg then, nodding as you can.

“Tonig'”. He just say, knowing how much it teases you making you sob for a second. “Enjoe' my hand, lass”.

His fingers pound you faster, nailing both hands on the back of his head, while he's drinking every gesture you draw on your face under his mercy. He's dominant by nature, like an alpha, but he could never imagine that dominate you would be his favorite thing, making you squeeze under his fury and sexually caresses. A third finger being slide inside your wetness forces you to scream because of the pleasure. Two big rings pressing your tightness, with the leather provoking a friction that burns your skin in a good way.

“Don't stop, please, Chibs…”

“Beg fo' cum, princess”. He demands.

“C'mon… please… fuck, your hand feels so good”. You cry noisily touching his nose with yours. “Fuck… let me cum, please… I need it. Fuck! It… It feels so fuckin' good, holy shit”.

“Good girl, ya have my permission”. He says after some seconds watching your pleading face, whilst your lower lip.

“Thank you, daddy”. You whisper right on his mouth, after containing yourself for a while.

Your body can't handle anymore his hand fucking you so hard, making tremble your legs as he nails his free fingers on your throat to support your body, in the moment you're about to fall when the ecstasy finds your body hitting it with heat and pleasure.

“Fuck, Filip!” You moan as loudly as your voice lets you.

But he doesn't stop, with the wetted sound the leader makes every time it thrusts your pussy flooding the room, so naughty and dirty that you forget for a second the soft stinging the glove makes you feel.

“Tonig' 'em gonna fuck ya harder”.

“Yes, please…” You beg for it, really needed.

His fingers go slow, moving his hand calmly, until he pulls it out to direct it to his mouth licking it before look for your mouth. Your cum, the taste of whisky on your tongue, the taste of beer on his, all getting mixed with your saliva in a dearly and gently kiss.

“Wei' fo' me tonig' here. Alrai', princess?”

“Yes”. You just say, trying to fill your lungs with some air.

[littlecafe]

omg those methods are all so much better for packing the cd! the paper envelopes make me so nervous when i try to take it out. its so dumb to think about how much they could have done better. i got my album this week and the cover is just so sad, even the embossed details are really difficult to see...i wish they could have at least put their group logo or honestly anything else. even the fake group from the drama jr was a part of had actual albums for purchase, and the quality was so much better??

thats truee they were so young when they started, and they still have some time before they have to go... but aron started a podcast with his friend and they just released their first video! it looks really promising and im glad he isnt limited anymore :')

truly the group is so close with each other like always wearing each others clothes or whatever and showering each other with compliments, i dont even know how solo fans justify themselves.

oh my gosh posters for packaging?? thats an expensive piece of paper! ah noo there arent many shops near me so i order them online, which always means a random poster. i did get a group poster though which im very happy about :D and thankfully the pages werent ripped, but just the fear of the possiblity really made the experience less enjoyable that it should have been. i do think those are a decent size for posters. ah did you get your day6 one in a tube?

the albums after the merge just keep getting more disappointing the more you think about it, like romanticize with the tiniest paper photobook in a "box" that would be so easily crushed, and now a blank white cover with empty pages inside :| i miss the happily ever after album budget so much. plus their q is and canvas album were beautiful and the company was literally in debt at that time!

yes the paper envelopes are just not it, when taking it out you have to be extra careful if you don't want to fingerprint the other side....and it just feels kinda wrong storing the cd inside a paper envelope and then inside a book (the album) like it's not even a storage box type album it's literally book style i have no idea why they deviated from attaching it inside one of the covers...it's not even expensive to do like jyp does it cheap af for some day6 albums just a little foamy circle thing to hold it in place

omg the cover ugh i thought the embossing was going to be way more noticeable than that??? but it's soooo light, it's hard to pick up on camera and probably not insanely better in person i bet...the fact that only the 1 and 0 are in black (not counting that tiny ass text at the bottom) makes it the only thing really visible on the album, no group name, no album name, no logo like you can't even tell who the album belongs to it's really a frustrating design choice, also this is minor but the fact that the 1 and 0 aren't even aligned, which wouldn't be a problem at all if you could see the rest of the typography design, except you can't since the rest of the numbers are white so from further away it's just a floating 1 in one corner of the album and a slight lower 0 on the other side like wtf

plssss i saw fans talking about the fake group's album too and it really does look so much better i'm so sick how can you let a group that's not even real beat you in the album department like please do better omg nu'est was done so dirty

yes thankfully there is still some time, unless it's just unlucky drawings that have you get called earlier but i don't really know how it works exactly or what years they are up to now eep but oh wow the first episode is out? i'll have to check it out when i have the time, i've just been out of the loop lately on a lot of things since i can apparently only divide my energy between 2 things at max (rip)

honestly don't know what they are even using to justify their thoughts bc the members are so close and truly enjoy each other's company in literally every video and show i've ever watched of them it's crazy they have solo stans that are that adamant about it too

aw i see, yea kpop stores are still pretty rare and i think every online website just gives randomly but ahhh i'm happy to hear your album got to you safely and nothing is damaged!! and the group poster too omg lucky!! ot5 pictures are always a win i love that for you! oh god yea, if i knew beforehand that albums were arriving in those conditions i would've been so nervous too so i'm glad i didn't??? but also if something was wrong in my album i think i would cry like the ripped pages are really too much.....

oh i think it might be more common for stores in korea to do that, my sister bought the nu'est album physically in store so there's nothing to pack but the poster was rolled and taped by a cut scrap piece of a tvxq poster but it wasn't an official one, it lowkey looked like a press picture from ages ago and it was double sided too idk why the store has it and used it to roll up their posters SJHJDSFDS

i also remember a tiktok that cause a lot of chaos on twitter back then, the only thing i can pull up about it now is this screenshot but seems like occasionally, unsold/ungiven posters do just get crumpled or cut up for packaging ;_;

i didn't get my day6 posters in a tube since i bought them in store! they just roll it up loosely for me and put it in the bag with the album or hand it off to me~ i have bought albums online before but were bought long after pre-order benefits ended so those never came with posters for me but from unboxing videos seems like they tend to come in a tube, i think some places give you the option to have it come folded too if you don't want the tube

yea that flimsy box...what they were thinking like that packaging is so easily damaged during shipping and these albums literally get shipped everywhere!! they were clearly trying to cheap out and not give them a hard cover box but then why would u even attempt that packaging style...if they wanted to go soft cover they should just make it a slip box like this, with everything fitted to the cover so it won't get easily dented but maybe that would expose how thin the photobook was 🙄

those blank pages along with so many useless white space it's horrible, my sister said it reminds her of those testing booklets that have those white pages that say "this page has been intentionally left blank" there's literally no reason to have empty pages in a photobook 😭😭

so true...wish we had that budget back at least for this last album, happily ever after was truly their best work for nu'est imo very sad that it just got progressively worse and more money grabby as the albums went on and then the horrible quality downgrade and price increase after the merge just the bitter cherry on top ugh...exactly...they managed to make decent albums with no money before yet now they have money and this is what we get???

[rogue-barnes-16]

SECRETS (part I/II)

Summary: Detectives James Barnes and Y/n Y/l/n never really got along, despite being partners for seven months. You could say they hated each other, however, when James' past shows up threatening to break him all over again, the truth about their feelings comes to the surface.

Pairing: cop!Bucky Barnes x cop!Reader

Genre: angsty (fluff in the end) (modern au)

Tags:

Permanent taglist: @notexactlythatgirl @thisismysecrethappyplace @sofreakinmanyfandoms @pizzarollpatrol @bubblycypress87 @sinviix @loislp @lovenaturefirst @dyanna-corona @2ptonpt @goodnightmode @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mannls @cutie1365 @catch22inareddress @mybooradley @sebastianisasnack

Warnings: hints of a toxic relationship, drinking, smoking, bad described make out session and implied sex.

A/N: I couldn't finish writing the latest request I was writing bc tumblr is a bitch, so I'm dropping the first part of a 2-part fic here. I hope you enjoy my first au (I'm practicing for a Brooklyn nine nine fic) <3

Rogue-barnes-16 masterlist

"C'mon Y/n" Samantha called me from the entrance of the bar we were going to get into. She came closer, placing a hand on my bicep. "You're still thinking about it?"

I stayed silent, my eyebrows knitted, and my eyes fixed on the pavement. "yeah" I replied absently, having another puff of the cigarette held in my hand.

"do you really think you're right?"

"I don't know, Sam" I confessed, tossing the cigarette and stepping on it. "I think I don't wanna be right about this." with that, I turned around to join our friends.

The music playing in the bar almost made me forget what I had been thinking for two days.

Almost.

Two Days Ago

"BARNES!" I yelled from across the precinct's floor where we both worked. "WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?"

"charmin' as always, Y/l/n" he replied in that condescending voice of his, staring at board covered in pictures and notes.

"you dismissed my suspect." I stated, finally reaching the place where he was standing.

"it's our suspect, not yours" he corrected me crossing his arms over his chest "and we'd reached a deadlock"

"I told you to fucking wait, dammit!" I spat, hitting the desk in an attempt to draw his attention.

He jumped, spinning around so he was now face to face with me. For an instant, I saw panic in his gaze, quickly replaced by anger.

"I told you to follow Vargas, and did you, smartass?" I huffed. "see? We're fuckin' even"

I glared at him slack-jawed. "You're unbelievable." grabbing three manila folders from his desk, I made my way to mine. "and for the record, Vargas didn't show up, you fucker!" since my back was to him, I missed his eyes fixed on my form with something way different from anger, frustration or hate.

BUCKY'S P. O. V.

I stood still, staring at Y/n leaning over her desk to examine the manila folders with my jaw clenched, reminding myself that I hated her.

I needed to remind myself that I hated her every single day, because if I didn't, I knew shit would go south.

Unexpectedly, she looked up from the reports and her eyes dug into mines. I only mimicked her position, leaning over my desk, holding her stare.

Surprisingly, it was me who first averted my eyes, my ring tone catching my attention. When I looked at the screen, I saw an unknown number. "Hello?" I asked hesitant.

"Morning honey" my body went stiff at the voice, my jaw clenching while I tried to stay composed. "I made you some coffee, can you tell them to buzz me in?" I stayed silent "oh don't worry, I'm in"

I hung up and tossed the phone over my desk before stalking to the entrance of precinct just in time to see her appearing.

READER'S P. O. V.

I followed Barnes with my gaze, worried that something bad might have happened. However, in the entrance I only saw a redhead with a smile on her face.

"What are you doing here?" Barnes hissed from a considerable distance.

"I told you, silly" she let out a giggle "I brought you some coffee." When she tried to step closer to Bucky, I saw his trembling hand ghost over the holster he was carrying. "are you gonna shoot me, baby?"

Something in her voice made chills run down my spine, but I knew stepping in wasn't a good solution, so I stayed leaned over my desk.

"you can't be here" she stared at him with defiance before smashing her bag over the nearest table, making Barnes jump.

"hey" before I realized, I was walking to them. "Miss, who are you?" flash of madness crossing her eyes scared the shit out of me, but I didn't back off. Instead, I stepped between the two of them. "who are you?" I repeated.

"I'm James' wife" her reply shocked me enough to turn around and give Barnes a very confused look. "who's this woman? are you cheating on me, baby?"

I felt Barnes hand sneaking in the gap between my arm and my waist to grab my forearm "I fuckin' work here" I replied, completely ignoring the tug in my arm.

"then go work" she hissed "and let me catch up with my husband" when I didn't move, and irritated look made its way to her face. "I told you to leave, bitch."

Before I could reply, Bucky’s grip on my arm tightened and he managed to bring me closer to him, crashing my back against his chest.

"you can't be here, Dot" he repeated, managing to hide his shakiness from her. "leave. Now" The same shakiness that wasn't able to hide from me.

Due to the lack of space between him and me, I could feel how his chest went up and down rapidly and unevenly.

"But listen baby, I'm sorry" she whispered, suddenly switching to 'angel' mode. "I'm really sorry, please let's talk this out, okay?" She took a hesitant step towards us and I subconsciously pushed Barnes back in a very subtle way. "c'mon, let's go and have breakfast, and we'll talk. Please, honey."

"What is she doing here? Who let you in?" Rogers appeared in my peripheral vision, walking fast towards us. "leave. Leave right fuckin' now"

"great" that Dot girl muttered, taking a exasperated sigh. "Steve, this is between James and me, so don't you take this bitch with you for me to-"

Steve made his way to the redhead and, grabbing her arm, he guided her out of the precinct.

I spun to face Barnes, who was quickly putting himself together. "what the hell was that about?"

"you always have to meddle in everyone's business" he spat, letting go of my arm "don't you?" I stayed silent while he went to his desk to grab his things. "Tell Captain Fury I wasn't feeling well." and with that, he left.

The following day he didn't even show up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"This place's amazing!" Lexa, another one of my friends, exclaimed excited. "let's look for a free table"

The six of us wandered around for a while until we found a free table. "what do y'all wanna drink?" Joe asked, getting up.

Joe came a few minutes after with everyone's drinks and we chatted for a while. Again, I was almost able to forget about it, but then I saw him sitting on a stool, leaning over the bar top with his back turned to us.

"guys, I've something to do." I stated, grabbing my drink and getting up. "be right back." said that, I made my way to the stool besides his. "you didn't show up yesterday, nor today."

He frowned before moving his head to glance at me. "fuckin' hell..." he groaned, shifting to look at the wall full of bottles across us. "outta every fuckin' bars, you hadda come here?"

"gosh" I scoffed, taking a sip of my drink before mimicking his posture. "it's not like I'm looking for you, Barnes, so get your head out of your ass."

He huffed, letting out a humorless, dry laugh. "it's always a fuckin' pleasure to talk to you." I rolled my eyes and he looked over his shoulder. "come back with your friends, 'cause we've nothin' to talk 'bout"

I ran my fingers through my hair and, taking a deep breath, I glanced at him. "that girl, Dot" he went stiff and my heart sped up because, damn, I didn't want to be right, but it seemed like I actually was.

"what 'bout her?"

"is she really your wife?" I asked, tiptoeing around the topic. "we've been working together for seven months already, and you never mentioned her."

"she's mah wife. Kinda" he confirmed me, drinking all the alcohol in his glass. "anythin' else?"

"what happened between the two of you?" He let out a weird laugh, letting his forehead rest against the wooden surface. "You're drunk"

"not enough for this conversation" he groaned with a smirk on his face. The corners of my mouth twitched up at the view and something in his eyes seemed the lit up. "If you wanna stay" he took another look at my friends before turning back at me. "maybe at the end of the night I'll be drunk enough to talk 'bout it"

I pursed my lips in a tight line, staring into his eyes to see if he meant it, because I really really needed to know what happened between them.

After a couple of seconds, I turned to the barman "hey sweetheart" I called him "keep the shots coming here, will you?"

Barnes let out a chuckle, but this time it wasn't weird, and it wasn't dry. This time it was genuinely amused. "eager, are we?"

"you could say so, yeah" I replied, giving him the ghost of a smirk while the barman put the drinks in front of us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay okay okay, but-" he started to laugh again and I nudged him "Nononono, listen-" a couple of giggles escaped my lips before I could keep going. "it's true!"

"it ain't true, darlin'." he said between giggles. "Romanoff 'n Stevie- that's insane"

"I'm tellin' you, Barnes" I replied, taking a swig of my beer. "one- don't laugh at me! One day we'll find 'em fuckin' in the office."

"You're crazy" he stated, finishing his beer.

"whatever" I looked at the clock. It was past 4 am already. "Barnes" I whined turned to him. "Tell me what happened between you and Dot, pretty please" I pouted at him, leaning over the bar top and getting a bit closer to him.

He groaned, leaving the beer aside to look at me. "ya really know how to spoil the mood"

"we're drunk as fuck already" I propped myself over my forearms, getting even closer to him. "c'mon Barnes."

With an exasperated sigh, he moved to tower me. "I swear, Y/n, you get me on my fuckin' nerves."

"I know, and I love to do it" his jaw clenched and his eyes traveled to my lips for a second. "you get me on my nerves too, y'know? But I don't care" he gave me a confused look "it's kinda... Our thing, so I don't mind it"

"You're sweet when you're drunk" he stated, half smiling at me. "wish you were this sweet all the time."

"nah" I retreated to my initial position with a teasing smirk on my face. "you love my rude ass side."

He stayed silent, which made me turn to him to check he was okay. "I do." he mumbled "I love your sweet side too." after taking another peak to my lips, he leaned on me and, without thinking twice, I closed the gap between us.

Our lips crashed and, while his right hand went to my cheek, his left traveled to my thigh. Letting out a muffled moan, I let my hands roam over his upper body. "let's get outta here" he mumbled against my jaw.

"yeah, let's get the hell outta here." I pulled away to clumsily grab my purse and pay the drinks, though t was a difficult task to accomplish with Barnes lips attacking my neck.

"you sure 'bout this?" he whispered, pulling me away from the bar top as soon as I had paid. " 'cause you're gonna regret this in the mornin'."

"I'm a grown ass woman" I replied, exiting the bar and pulling him into another sloppy kiss. "my place's near."

Within minutes, we were bursting into my house, tossing or clothes all over the place in our bumpy way to my room. "I'll tell you everythin' tomorrow" he mumbled, taking off his shirt. "I promise"

"Okay" I managed to say, unzipping my pants and letting him take them off. "I'll take your word for it"

He took off his remaining clothes and I did the same "Good" he groaned more than said, picking me up.

"Good" I echoed, letting him carry me to my bed.

Fuck, we were really going to regret this, but I couldn't care less.

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Forget Me Not Jim Mason x Reader 50 First Dates AU Pt 5

@michael-langdon-appreciation

Y/N figured it out.

Jim was determined to drive her crazy. Either that or he’d been taken over by aliens, and the body snatchers had forgotten to program the clone for sex.

No, that wasn’t right. She was still getting orgasms, lots of them, delivered in a timely and most enthusiastic fashion on a regular basis. The man's tongue should be enshrined- when it came to going down on her, he was talented and thorough enough she couldn't walk afterward.

Actual sex was the issue. Sex hadn't yet happened, and after three weeks of exploring lots of other pleasurable activities, Y/N was more than eager.

On the nonsexual side, her unsatisfied libido had her directing frustrated energy into a variety of art projects. She couldn’t seem to stop herself. The fight with numbers had turned into an addiction with creativity. As the baby growing inside started to make itself more apparent, her interest in things she had never tried before continued. Her brothers had been thrilled at the suggestion of getting her gift cards from craft shops for Christmas.

The doorbell rang, and Y/N turned to answer it. She peeked outside to discover Jim waiting for her.

She pulled the door open for Jim. How the man managed to make a jean jacket look sexy was damn unfair. "Hi."

He straightened from his easy slouch. "Hi. Can I come in?"

Y/N shrugged. "Suit yourself."

She turned back to her project, pretending to ignore him, but she knew he was there, all right. Just was tired of his bossy ass. Silence loomed until she finally peeked over her shoulder.

Jim shrugged. "It's a nice day. I wanted to go for a walk." For some reason his wording only upset her more.

"Fine. Have a nice time." She turned her back and ripped a page violently from the magazine, examining it for the best section to add to her mosaic.

Cold fabric wrapped around her as he leaned against her back. "You mad at me?"

"I thought you were walking."

"With you, Y/N. I want to go for a walk with you."

"That’s not what you said,” she pointed out snarkily. "And far be it for me to insert myself into your plans."

Jim lifted her from the chair and forced her chin up. "Okay, point taken. Will you come with me? It’s pretty outside, and we should take advantage of the nice weather."

Like some damn yo-yo, her mood rose instantly. Y/N couldn’t hold on to her anger. "I'd love to go for a walk. Give me a minute to change."

Thirty minutes later they were strolling through the birch trees at the edge of the town park. The cool January air burned her throat slightly as she breathed, but it was still refreshing. Flowers blooming on the branches against the shockingly blue sky.

Jim had her hand in his, fingers not interlocked but connected just the same. "You look like you’re having a ton of fun with the crafts. And sewing. And painting."

"Post-concussion syndrome. Doctor finally gave me a name."

"Really? That's cool."

"Yeah. I suppose. The brain’s a neat thing. I damaged part of it, so now the pathways or whatever shifted in new directions and poor, I'm an arteeeest:"

"Creativity everywhere."

His comment hit the wrong way.

"I know my house is a mess," Y/N snapped, then instantly felt guilty.

He squeezed her fingers. "I didn’t say anything about the house. Don't jump to conclusions."

"But it is a mess, and that’s not like me, but dammit ..." Y/N jerked her hand free and paced to the edge of the trail, staring at the sky as she attempted to find her sense of peace. "My God, this is insane."

He had the guts to laugh softly. “Y/N, I’m not judging you. Or expecting anything from you-"

"Yeah? Well maybe you should."

That dangerous grin of his widened. "Oh?"

Ass. "Is there something wrong with my body, Jim? You afraid of hurting the baby if we have sex? I mean, you can't be afraid that I’ll get pregnant, because, hello, that ship has already sailed." Jumping from arts and crafts to sex in under a minute. Go, Y/N!

"You're not happy with our sex life?" Jim asked.

A growl escaped her. She marched across the short distance between them to get in his face. "We don't have a sex life. We have you deciding when to turn off the heat, and I'm getting tired of it."

"Agreed."

His instant response pierced her bubble and deflated part of her anger. "You agree? Then why are you being such a pain in the butt?"

Jim let go of her hand and cupped his warm palm to her cheek. "You know how you wanted to be invited along on the walk? Not just me assuming that you would come?"

"Yeah?" Where was this going?

He stroked a thumb over her cheek. "You have changed since the accident, and I like the new Y/N. I like how she's bolder, and more outspoken. I think it's fascinating that you've suddenly got this artistic side, but there’s one thing you're not doing."

She nuzzled against his hand, placated a little. "And what's that, bossy pants?"

A low rumble of amusement escaped him. "You're still not deciding what you want then going for it."

There was a twist she hadn’t expected. "I thought you said I was bolder?"

"You are ...and you aren't." Jim enclosed her in his arms. "You're bold as brass for a moment then you cut back like your response is a bad thing. It’s not, Y/N. If you want something, take it. If you don't want something, stop beating around the bush."

Y/N slipped her hands around his neck. "Well, if you insist, I can think of something I'd really like to do."

"Hmm." Jim stroked her cheek. "Go on, Angeleyes, boss me around and get some practice."

They couldn't get back to the house fast enough. But when they arrived, Y/N didn't simply demand he take her into the bedroom. No matter how daring she felt that was one step further than she could take right now. There was something else she could do... "Take off your clothes," she ordered.

He lifted one brow, but his hands went to his buttons. "I like how this is starting."

She grabbed her drawing pad and a set of charcoal pencils, and his expression fell. A laugh escaped her. "You should see your face right now."

His shirt was open, sliding from his shoulders. "This is your call, Y/N. Take what you want."

Oh, she had every intention of it.

She rotated the easy chair, sitting to enjoy the view as Jim continued to strip. No fancy dance moves, just honest- to-goodness, solidly built and one-hundred-percent-naked male being revealed in her living room.

She stared at the curve of muscles across his shoulders. The flare of his biceps and lovely firm chest. He stood with his arms crossed, seemingly at ease in spite of being naked. Well- defined stomach muscles, that V-line muscle framing his lower abdomen. His cock nestled in a thatch of dark hair.

Y/N's fingers flew over the page, her gaze darting back and forth between the picture and her model. She was going to be drooling in about thirty seconds if she wasn't careful.

It took an amazingly short time to put on the page the sex-on-legs that was Jim.

"Out of curiosity, you putting a fig leaf over my cock?" he asked.

"No." Although, she wasn’t sure how to draw that part of his anatomy. It had most definitely changed appearance since he’d stripped, rising to a length she longed to explore more closely. "You're making it tough, dude. When I said nothing moves, you didn't listen very well, did you now?"

A burst of laughter escaped him. "I guess not."

Y/N abandoned the drawing materials behind her and rose to her feet. "I need to get hands-on for this next part."

Jim smiled, but said nothing.

It was like being in a candy store for grown-ups. She slid her hands over his arms and across his chest, savoring the warmth. The scratch of hair on his limbs against her palms. The rapid beat of his heart under her fingers as she explored his chest, pressing a kiss to the center of his torso.

"I think you should get naked as well," Jim suggested, his voice low and husky.

She thought about it for a second. "I'd like that."

He was over her in a second, helping her strip. Pulling off clothes and touching her everywhere and this was what she'd longed for. Both of them involved, kisses pressed over heated skin, hands touching intimately.

She wrapped her fingers around his cock and stroked, loving the softness of his skin in contrast to the hardness beneath. Jim covered her hand with his and increased the pressure, guiding her as his torso tightened, moans of pleasure escaping his lips.

A slow bend brought her close enough to lick the head of his cock, her tongue tracing the slit, teasing him. He let her play, one hand holding his shaft so she could access the head, wetting him briefly before covering him with her mouth and sucking lightly.

"You’ve got about ten seconds before I blow,” Jim warned.

Y/N pulled back with a pop as she released him. "Hair trigger?"

"It's been a while."

The realization it had been months since he said they'd had sex hit in a rush. "You've been abstaining for too long."

He went willingly with her into the bedroom. One firm push on his chest toppled him to the bed, and she crawled on top.

The pregnancy had begun to affect her body, but she loved the changes so far. Better skin, more sensitive breasts, just the trace of rounding to her belly.

Jim ran his hands over her as she straddled his hips, obviously enjoying the changes as well. "Whatever you want. I'm yours."

Y/N rocked herself over his cock, pressing the hard ridge against her clit repetitively. Smooth strokes that slowly brought up her pleasure and seemed to please Jim as well. He held on to her hips and helped her move, his eyes pinned to her chest as her breasts swayed.

Then she couldn’t wait any longer. Y/N lifted her hips and directed him into her core. Her hand brushed Jim’s as he held his cock upright, and their fingers connected as she slowly eased herself down. One rock after another as she opened around him, taking his thick shaft into her body.

"Sweet mercy, Y/N. So good."

She paused, filled completely, squeezing lightly to enjoy the sensation. Testing for pain, or anything that worried her, but all that registered was pleasure.

Connection.

An itch to be scratched ...now.

She shifted over him. Rose and fell with increasing tempo until she was at the edge of exploding. Jim cupped her breasts, lightly pinching her nipples, and she gasped at the streak of ecstasy that washed through her system.

Jim caught her by the hips and raised her slightly. "Stay there," he ordered, waiting for her to get into position. As soon as she obeyed, he thrust upward, increasing the pressure, the speed. One hand slipped down to touch her clit, thumb firmly in position over the sensitive point. He rocked his cock in and out of her body until she shattered.

Waves rolled her from the inside out, heavy and lingering from having been so long in the making. Anticipation had nothing on the reality, as he continued to fuck her through her orgasm, finally clamping down on her hips as she caught her breath. He jerked upright, his cock deep as he came. Another set of aftershocks rocked her core, leaving her head spinning and body swaying with pleasure.

He curled up and caught her against his chest, kissing her face, running his fingers over her back. They sat there for a long time, intimately connected, until their breathing got back to something near normal.

Jim stroked her cheek. "Was that what you were hoping for?"

"Hmm." Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, kissing his neck lightly. "I think so. We might have to try it again later, just to make sure."

"If that’s what you want."

They laughed together, slowly coming down off the high. Y/N felt different inside. Not the sex, but in taking another step forward. She might have lost some of her memories, but she was making new ones. She might have lost some of herself, but the new her wasn't that bad of a person.

And the guy currently is touching her like she was beautiful, precious and amazing? He wasn’t hard to accept as a part of the new life she was facing.

Credit to @carolthors

[crepuscularghost]

meh pointless rambling / venting

can we PLEASE skip summer this year I *really* don't want to experience smoke and fires and 105-115 degree heat again. i have lived around this weather for the last 14 years. im so over it. i just want out. california is literally sucking us dry and making it impossible to save more than $10 a month. im really worried that we'll be stuck in sacramento as it gets more expensive here and as our rent gradually increases by $100 a month. i wish i could be sane enough to hold down a job and not lose my shit so we could actually save up to move to the pnw. i need to start looking into disability asap but I'm honestly afraid they won't approve me b/c I don't have enough "proof" as they denied my mum when she was very clearly unable to work and she was fighting to get on disability for 4 years before she died. like i really don't have faith in anything lately. and im just losing more and more money by not being able to work or draw. so disability is literally my only option rn. i just don't even know where to start, the whole process is incredibly intimidating without any assistance or anybody to talk to about it. I've tried applying at the grocery store across the street, and to a few other places down the road, but to no avail. the one job I actually thought I *could* manage, at an art store, never called me back after applying 3 times in the span of 8 months. (they keep telling me to keep applying so I do but it feels rather pointless if I don't even get an email back saying they don't want me lol) - not that i feel i could really be stable enough to hold it down for more than a few months. the entire time i was at PFX i was facing depersonalization and disassociating even while on antipsychotics and would face random bouts of suicidal ideation. I only worked there for a month. i really don't know what to do. the one thing I used to rely on, drawing, to help me get by some months and save up for things I needed or moving-funds, I can't even do that anymore. I *loathe* drawing lately. it just breaks my heart and I go insane forcing myself to do something that literally hurts. i don't know what's wrong with me. why is the artist part of my brain so broken. people keep calling it burn out, but i don't know. i don't think it's just that. im really afraid that im no longer an artist anymore and that's a huge part of my identity and it's fucking with my perception of self. i feel like nobody. i am nothing. im just a whacked out furry art has-been. some people are just saying "just go crazy! just open the canvas and don't think about it!" but you see, i can't even *do* that. i make a line, im angry, im frustrated, i want to turn my computer off and never look at it again. i think to myself "why try, it'll be shit" every single time. the mental process of just doing Art for Art's sake and now Everything Has to be Aesthetic or else it won't get viewed literally broke me b/c social media has taught us that our art is literally worthless if nobody comments or retweets/blogs it. it has created this toxic mental think that you are also worthless as an artist if you can't get anybody to like your personal pieces. that sex sells and you have to sell your soul to it in order to get any level of attention online or irl. that, or you must find your special *niche* and stick to that only so you can find your underground fans.

i miss doing art for myself. purely, just for me. for me to vent, for me to escape, for me to explore. doing commissions was a mistake. having twitter was a mistake. i hate the current art world, so so much.