#and it feels extra dumb because i NEED to be doing job apps. and i haven’t don’t any in like a week ?? my dad had a bad health scare and it

[girlgen1us]

feel so stupidly horribly miserably painfully Bad . Lol

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

Tip Your Driver

Week #15 Prompt: Modern AU | Word Count: 4115 | Rating: T | POV: Steve | Characters: Steve, Eddie, Wayne, Robin | Relationships: Steddie, Platonic Stobin | CW: Language, Non-Explicit Mentions of Sex | Tags: Modern Setting AU, Delivery Driver Steve, Rock Star Eddie, Meet Cute, Good Uncle Wayne Munson

Of all the shitty service jobs Steve's had, this one is definitely among the worst.

And he's been stuck working some pretty shitty jobs over the years, both before and after they moved out here. If he hadn't hated the one at the shoe store so much, because ew feet, he wouldn't be doing this in the first place. At least that was in one location, a steady paycheck, and not that far from their apartment. But, he didn't know that feet draw in some weirdos, so here he is, lugging other people's shit around, because he needs the money.

He just sighs as he pulls up in front of the address on the app. He double checks the posted numbers over the garage, and it seems to be the right place. Everything matches enough for him to call it good.

The house is really nice.

It's not in The Hills or anything, so he hadn't expected something so nice.

Now, Steve doesn't mind delivering groceries, not really, but this guy, Eddie it says, ordered a bunch of heavy shit, and the tip was only the mediocre bare minimum. Which, he wasn't that mad about, until right now, after he's seen the house this guy lives in. 

No, now he's pretty annoyed.

Whatever. Par for the fucking course from Fancy Pants Rich McGee over here. How the hell you spell chauffeur? Chauffeur. Indeed. Maybe he should make tiktoks about situations just like this. Robin keeps hounding him, saying if he'd just do it, that he could rake in a little extra cash. 

He's skeptical. 

Steve looks back at the house. 

Oh well. He left his money behind for a reason, the only thing he kept was his car because his parents were dumb enough to put it in his name. And honestly? It does him no good to be jealous or whatever the fuck he's feeling right now.

At least this guy had been responsive, and pretty nice, when answering Steve's messages about substitutions and out of stock items. Not everybody is, unfortunately, acting as if Steve is the one stocking the store himself.

Steve opens the back hatch of his car, and leans in to grab the first items to be left at the door, as requested. If they don't see you, they feel less bad about the shitty tip, Steve's learned.

But it's fine. Steve doesn't want to deal with anyone face-to-face today, anyway. Because he needs to hurry. He and Robin are already a couple days late on rent, and he's gotta try to make up the difference today. If not, they're gonna be fucking screwed. Why is this city so goddamn expensive to live in? It's bullshit.

"Let me help," comes the voice right next to him, and Steve jumps, hitting his head on the open hatch door.

Now, he's skipped over annoyed and has been vaulted straight into pissed off. 

Partly at himself for being so far in his own head that he didn't even hear this guy approaching, but mainly at this asshole for even being in his personal space in the first place. He needs to take about three big steps back.

"Oh, fuck! Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you!" the guy shouts, and Steve hasn't even seen this asshole yet, but he knows he hates him. 

"Most people don't help unload the car," Steve snaps, turning to look at him, and the guy is looking back at him with big, big brown eyes. Robin would call them doe eyes, without a doubt. Well, fuck. Fine. Steve softens his tone, "It's okay. I just wasn't expecting you."

"Sorry," Eddie says again, still too close. "I'm Eddie. I ordered the groceries. Can I help? Please?"

Steve nods, and lets him reach in and grab his own case of water, while Steve picks up a few of the sacks. It's the least the guy can do, now that he's given him a headache. Literally.

Steve carries the sacks towards the porch, and leans over to put them down.

"Just come on in," Eddie says, and the door swings open, banging against the rubber doorstop on the wall.

"Don't bang the door!" comes the yell from the other room, and Steve peers into the house and sees an older guy sitting in a lift chair, with a walker in front of him.

"It's my door, old man, I'll bang it if I want to!" Eddie yells back, but there's no heat there. Steve can hear the teasing affection in his voice, and Steve can't help but smile.

"Don't come crying to me when there's a hole in your wall. Can you patch drywall? Because I can't right now," the guy, probably Eddie's dad the way they're bickering, snaps.

Eddie ignores the question from his dad.

"C'mon, this way," Eddie says, looking over his shoulder at Steve, as Steve lingers on the step. 

Well, no. That's not. You don't go in stranger's houses. It's, like, rule one. And just good common sense. Which apparently Steve has none of, because he does follow Eddie into the house. 

Robin will kill him, if this Eddie dude doesn't kill him first. 

Steve puts the bags down on the counter, and heads back out to make another trip, Eddie following, "That's my uncle. He's just crotchety that he had to have his broken hip replaced, and now he's dependent on me for the near future."

Steve laughs, "Well, maybe don't bang the door and he won't be crotchety."

"You heard me. It's my door," Eddie says, smiling wide. He's pretty, very pretty. Long, dark hair tied up on top of his head, and heavy tattoos all along his arms, creeping up onto his neck.

He's honestly gorgeous. 

Steve wonders if he's famous. He doesn't look familiar, but he looks like he could be famous. And his house is pretty fucking nice. This is L.A. Everybody is somehow famous in L.A. Except for Steve and Robin. They are definitely not famous.

Unless he's a tech bro? But he doesn't really look the type.

Either way, famous or not, Steve smiles back, can't not, not when he looks like that, then asks, teasing him, "Well do you know how to patch drywall?" 

"Fuck no. But I could hire someone to fix it if the door knob somehow gets through the stopper."

"Well, at least you have a plan," Steve says, and Eddie laughs.

"He just hates the city. Hates my house. Hates everything. Except me. He loves me," Eddie says, as he grabs a case of Gatorade in one hand and the case of pork and beans in the other.

That's a lot of beans. 

"That's a lot of beans," Steve says aloud, even if he doesn't mean to, even if he knows better than to comment on other people's groceries. 

But Eddie laughs. "Tell me about it. Man likes what he likes, though. There's no changing him now." 

Steve nods, grabbing another handful himself. It's nice that Eddie is taking care of his uncle.

"I'm not usually home much, hence all the groceries being ordered at once. Sorry about that. The cabinets were pretty bare, and I just didn't want to leave him home alone. He's still a fall risk, even if he keeps insisting he's not."

"That's okay, I understand. Big orders are more common than you'd think," Steve says, stepping back into the house that he's probably not going to get murdered in, thankfully.

Big orders are common, he's not lying about that, and more often than not, the tips offered for shopping hundreds of items, are less than you'd think. So, this order wasn't even out of the ordinary. Not really. That's why Steve took it. Some pay was better than none, especially today, that's for sure.

"Still. I'm grateful. You saved my ass today, man," Eddie answers. 

"Well, it's my job," Steve says, and Eddie laughs.

They finish bringing everything in, and Steve nods at Eddie, "Okay. I think that does it."

"Here," Eddie says, and plucks an envelope off the counter, "I always worry that your tips in the app will get eaten up by the corporate assholes taking their cut off the top. So. Cash is king."

Steve takes the envelope. A tip he doesn't have to report? Why thank you, Eddie. 

"Thank you. You didn't have to do this, or help bring it in, you know? But I appreciate both."

Eddie smiles, "Thank you for getting all that shit for us. We both appreciate it. Don't we Wayne?"

Wayne grumbles, but Steve's pretty sure he doesn't appreciate anything right now. He knows he wouldn't either, if he had broken his hip.

They say their goodbyes, and that's that. Steve will never see Eddie with the pretty eyes ever again.

At the next red light, Steve opens the envelope, expecting an extra ten or twenty bucks, maybe, but is shocked to see that there are three, insanely crisp one hundred dollar bills inside. 

Holy shit. 

That's way more than he usually makes in a single day. Two days, even. Just by delivering one order that he didn't think was gonna pay well at all.

And he got to look at a hot dude for a minute or two. 

It's enough to cover what they were short on the rent, even. It might not have felt like a lot of money to Eddie, if he handed it over so readily, but it feels life-changing to Steve, right now. He remembers when three hundred bucks wasn't anything to him either, back when he had access to all his parents' money and all their unhappiness.

Now, it's different. 

Robin's gonna shit.

Hot damn.

Thank you, Eddie.

"Booyah," Steve says, slapping the envelope on the counter. 

Robin picks it up, and thumbs through it. It has Eddie's tip, and the few extra bucks he picked up during the rest of the day. 

"Oh my god, no way! Where did you get this much cash, dingus? Are you turning tricks on the side now?" Robin asks, and Steve laughs. 

"Yes. I thought I'd see what I could get for this ass," Steve says, turning and pushing his ass outwards in her direction. 

She doesn't even look, but says, "Honestly, you might be worth more than this, as much as I hate to admit it," she comments dryly, and he smiles. 

"No, some rich dude that ordered a bunch of heavy shit gave me a big tip," Steve explains.

"That's what she said," Robin teases, and her eyes are still wide as she looks at the bills in her hand, "Seriously, though. Thank you, rich, old dude," Robin says. 

"Rich, but not old. I think he might have been famous in some way. YouTuber? Musician? I don't know. Nice house." 

"Well. Describe him. Let's Google him," Robin says, wiggling her fingers in the air like she's stretching before this big task she's about to undertake.

Steve isn't sure searching for him is gonna work, but he lets her try, "Eddie. Probably a little older than us. Lots of tattoos." 

"Was it Eddie Vedder? Please tell me you know who Eddie Vedder is, dingus?" 

He knows who Eddie Vedder is, Jesus. 

He gives her a look, "Not that old. And he was heavily tattooed. Is Eddie Vedder tattooed? Plus, this guy had dark eyes. Really dark. And no flannel." 

She keeps looking on her phone, showing him options, "Him?" 

No. 

"Him?" 

No. 

"Him?" 

"No. Not him." None of them are. Nobody she shows him is the same guy. So, he thinks of all the famous Eddies he knows of. 

"Was it Eddie Van Halen?" Steve asks. 

"Since he's dead, probably not," Robin says. 

"Oh," Steve says. He didn't remember that. And he'd be too old, anyway. "We're looking for someone that looks kinda like young Eddie Van Halen. But with tattoos."

"You're obsessed with the tattoos. Was it Ed Sheeran? He has lots of tattoos," Robin asks, and he rolls his eyes. 

"Robin. I think I know what Ed Sheeran looks like. This man was not ginger. Dark hair, dark eyes. And he was American. Maybe this guy is just rich? Not famous at all. It doesn't matter. I'll never see him again, anyway. We'll just thank him from afar for saving our asses today." 

Robin sighs heavily, and puts her phone down, "If you'd got yourself a rich boyfriend we'd have it made all the time." 

"Well, I'll work on that," he says sarcastically. 

At least for now, they can pay another month's rent. That's a big win. Huge.

Maybe they can keep their heads above water, now.

And they do, by some sort of miracle. It was only three hundred bucks, but that was enough of a windfall to get them back in the black. And somehow they've stayed ahead since, for nearly two whole months. They haven't been this stable financially since they arrived in town.

Today, Steve flips through the different apps he drives for, trying to decide what order to take, when he sees a huge pizza order. The order is absurdly big, but the tip is decent, and picking up a stack of pizzas is infinitely easier than shopping a whole-ass grocery list. Steve's just seriously questioning if it'll all fit in his car.

He's gonna risk it.

Luckily, it does, but there are pizza boxes piled high in every seat and the rear. He definitely doesn't have hot bags for all of them. Hopefully he doesn't get caught in traffic.

The area seems familiar, but when Steve pulls up in front of the house, he knows why. Eddie. Only, the last time it was groceries, not food, that he delivered here. 

There are vehicles everywhere. Clearly some sort of party, Steve thinks, to require this amount of pizza. And as soon as Steve steps out of the car, Eddie is out of the house, being trailed by three other, mostly leather-clad, guys. It'd look threatening, if Eddie wasn't smiling so big.

"Steve! When I saw Steve was my driver, I was like, maybe? But Steve's a common name, and there was no picture, so I didn't get my hopes up, but hey! It is you!" Eddie shouts, moving to the back of the car, "Watch your head this time, sweetheart," Eddie adds, and Steve is sure he's blushing. 

He just stands there kind of dumbly, watching as Eddie commandeers his order right out of Steve's vehicle. Eddie's definitely unusual. 

Eddie hands stack after stack of pizzas to the waiting guys, making them carry the bulk of it. And Steve watches as they ferry them off towards the house, Steve not having to even lift a finger this time. 

Now, it's just him and Eddie standing on the curb. 

Eddie holds out an envelope, and Steve looks at it.

"Man, thank you, but you tipped so well last time, you really don't have to again."

"I want to. You provide a service, I want to pay for that service," Eddie says, shaking the envelope, and Steve reluctantly takes it. Whatever is inside, will really help him and Robin stay ahead. It did last time. He's not really in a position to say no, even as well as they are doing at the moment.

"Thank you, truly," Steve says, tucking it into his pocket, "How's your Uncle Wayne's hip?"

Eddie smiles, so fucking wide, "You remembered! He's good. Great. Headed home soon, which I'm certain he's thrilled about. He's definitely never coming here again. I'll have to go home when I want to see him."

Steve laughs, "Glad to hear he's better, if annoyed."

"Do you want to stay?" Eddie asks, "We're having a little going away party for him. The more the merrier. Or, is your shift not over? You could come back?"

Steve doesn't have a shift, he can clock in and out to take orders as he pleases, and right now he'd really like to accept Eddie's offer. Even if it's probably just Eddie being polite. A pity ask, if you will.

"You don't have to invite your delivery driver into your house, you know? I could be a murderer."

"Unlikely," Eddie says, "and I'm not inviting my delivery driver. I'm inviting you, Steve."

Steve thinks over the options, and then nods. He can go in for a bit. If he's uncomfortable, he can get right back on the clock, no harm, no foul.

"Okay, let me park," Steve says, and he does just that. Putting the envelope of cash into the glove box without opening it. He doesn't want Eddie to see him scrounging through it. That feels tacky.

The pizza boxes are already open on every available flat surface in the kitchen and living room, and Eddie shoves a paper plate into Steve's hands, "Eat. Drink. Be merry."

Steve nods, and grabs a slice from the nearest box. He's not picky.

The house is full of people, and a lot of them seem vaguely famous. Like this is an industry thing, instead of a going away party for an old man with a newly not-broken hip.

Steve's worked enough of these events. They tried the catering thing for a while, and it was fine, for Steve anyway. Robin was just a little too clumsy to carry trays of dainty hors d'oeuvres around rooms filled with beautiful women in expensive dresses.

This isn't any of that though. This is cases of beer being chilled in kiddie pools, and dozens of pizzas. Fancy house, but not a fancy party. Steve spots Eddie's uncle sitting by himself on a couch, a beer resting on his knee and a paper plate of pizza on the arm rest.

Nobody else is sitting by him, so Steve goes over, "Can I sit?"

Wayne grumbles something that could be yes, could be no, Steve's not wholly sure, but he chooses to go ahead and sit down beside him.

"How's your hip?" Steve asks.

"Who are you?" Wayne asks, looking at him, suspicious.

"Steve. Uh, a delivery driver? I've brought a couple orders to you guys now. And Eddie invited me to stay."

Wayne nods, and goes back to his plate, "Hip's fine. Ready to go home."

"Where's home?" Steve asks, and he's not sure why. Clearly this man has no interest in making small talk with him.

"Indiana," Wayne says. 

"Hey! For me, too. Small world."

"What're you doing in California, then?" Wayne asks. "Trying to get into show biz?"

"No. No way," Steve laughs, "Not for me. Uh, my best friend? Robin? She wanted to move out here. Wanted an adventure. And I wanted her to be happy. So. Here we are."

Wayne nods.

"Did you break your hip in Indiana and Eddie dragged you all the way out here?" Steve asks.

"No," Wayne answers, "I came to visit him and broke my hip before I got out of the airport. This is why I don't take vacations."

Steve smiles, "That's bad luck. Sorry."

Wayne nods his head, and Steve assumes that's the end of this conversation, and they sit in silence for a few moments.

"You're Steve? The one that brought the groceries a few weeks ago?" Wayne asks.

"That's me," Steve confirms.

"He's been talking about you non-stop. I was like, just order more groceries. So, he tried. It was never you. Now we have more food than he'll ever eat. Probably need to take it to the food pantry."

Steve grins, looking down at his plate. He isn't sure what Eddie would want to see him for. They definitely aren't on the same level.

Eddie is across the room, talking wildly with his hands.

"He's a good kid," Wayne says, quietly, "All this? Not him. Not all of him, anyway."

Steve looks back at Wayne, "What do you mean?"

"All this fancy shit. I'm proud of him that their music has done so well. But he's a good kid. And he just wants to be happy."

"Don't we all," Steve says.

"People take advantage. If you're here for the money, for the fame. Just. Move on. Eddie would give it to you. But he wants something more. Needs it, I think."

Steve thinks he could be something more. But he doesn't really have anything to offer Eddie in return, and maybe heeding Wayne's warning wouldn't be such a bad idea. What business does he have getting involved with a famous musician? None. 

"Got it," Steve says. "Well, I'm glad your hip healed."

Wayne grumbles at that, and it makes Steve smile.

Steve puts his trash in the can, and looks around. The hallways are lined with platinum records, news articles, and he leans close to read the name. Eddie Munson. Corroded Coffin. He's never heard of them. He'll have to look them up on Spotify. 

He doesn't belong here. 

He takes one last look at Eddie. 

Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin.

He tries to memorize his name, his band, so he can tell Robin later, solving their little mystery.

And then he ducks out of the front door, walking down the long driveway towards his car. 

"Hey, Steve! Wait!" Eddie yells from behind him, and Steve slows. 

"Hey, man. Thanks for having me," Steve says, turning to look at him.

"You're leaving already?"

Steve nods, "Work, you know."

Eddie nods, "Okay. Well. Come back. Anytime."

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says, because he's pretty sure Eddie means that, "Enjoy your party. I'm glad Wayne's hip is good as new."

Steve turns to keep walking.

"Steve. Uh," Eddie says, and Steve considers pretending he didn't hear him. It'd be easy. The music is loud, probably pissing off the neighbors, but Eddie keeps talking. "Listen. I like you. Yeah, I know. I barely know you. But. We got good vibes, man. Can you not feel that?" Eddie asks, and when Steve turns to look back at him, he sees that Eddie's hands are shoved deep into his pockets. 

He looks nervous.

He's famous, clearly rich, and beautiful. He could have anyone he wants. But he looks nervous talking to Steve. Who delivered the pizza. Make it make sense. Goddamn. 

"Eddie," Steve says.

"Do you not feel it? If you don't, I'll leave you alone. I swear. But if you do…"

Steve nods, "I do. But I'm a delivery driver. I live in a tiny apartment that I share with my best friend. We barely make ends meet. You could have anyone. Why would you want me?"

"Because I like you," Eddie says, "and I want to get to know you. I didn't grow up with anything either. I'm not old money. I'm new money. Brand new. So. I'm not that out of touch yet."

Steve smiles. He's old money, he just doesn't have access to it anymore. Eddie's new money, and doesn't know how to handle it. They'd be quite the pair.

Eddie keeps talking, trying to wheedle a date out of him, "Just. Let me take you out. Just us. Let's see if there's anything here," he says, motioning his hand between the two of them.

Steve wants to, he really does. 

"Okay," Steve finally says, "nothing fancy. A normal date."

"We can definitely do that," Eddie says, and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. "Let me give you my number."

Steve rattles off his number, Eddie texts him, and it buzzes against Steve's thigh. Already coming through, showing he's serious.

"Dinner? Movie? Bar? You name it," Eddie offers, eyes never leaving Steve's.

"Dinner's good. Nowhere fancy, though," Steve warns. 

"Do I look like I like fancy places?" Eddie asks, looking down at his own clothes.

And Steve's eyes cut back to the gorgeous house.

Eddie laughs, "Fair enough. But I don't."

"Can you go out in public? Or are you too famous?" Steve asks. "I'm not familiar with your band, sorry."

Eddie laughs, "I think I like that you aren't, sweetheart. That means that maybe you like me, just for me. And I can go out. Nobody cares about me all that much."

Steve nods. Alright. They can go on one date, and see how it goes. 

Well. That's how it goes.

Very, very well.

So well, that Steve's now satisfied and loose in Eddie's bed, when Eddie laughs, rolling into Steve's shoulder, face pressed to his skin. Lips kissing his shoulder, biting at him gently. Playing with him.

"What?" Steve asks, smiling as Eddie slides his hand into his, squeezing. "What's so funny."

"I tipped my driver," Eddie chokes out, laughing around each word, pressing his crotch into Steve's thigh.

Steve laughs, looking down at this ridiculous man clinging to him, "That you did. And damn well."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun!

[ofmermaidstories]

the other day you said something something love triangle but the real question is who would YOU choose

no polyam, someone's heart has to break

Ok ur ON.

First thing’s first: what’s our perimeters? What flavour of Love Triangle? Bakugou vs. Deku? Bakugou vs. Kiri? Deku vs. Kiri? Do we exclude Bakugou because I have an obvious bias? Add a different character for the fun of it? Shinsou vs. Monoma? Iida vs. Sero? Iida vs. Bakugou??? (Sorry, I just really like Bakugou 🥹) Do you guys want a little Villain action??? Dabi vs. Shiggy??? Dabi vs. Aizawa???? Aizawa vs. Hawks?????

And THEN—pretending we narrow that down, which Merms do we want in the ring? Are we talking true-to-life Merms (lazy, self-destructive, holds massive grudges)? Or Palatable Fic-ified Merms (stubborn about asking for help, passionate, loyal)? Do we treat this like I’ve always been apart of their world, or is this a isekai situation where I’m armed with meta-knowledge about them? (that seems a bit rude tbh…. going in knowing intimate things about them that someone else mightn’t 🥺)

This is my proposed scenario, just so we have something to answer with, but feel free to send more challenging ones lmfao:

Palatable Fic-ified Merms, always apart of the BNHA world, and it’s between Bakugou and Deku (because I’m currently writing them).

We’ll go with my usual m.o. as a set-up: civvie, not apart of the Pro Hero world (bc id rather die lmfao), maybe in some kind of service-based industry to facilitate a meeting! I’m fairly good at people-focused jobs, and I don’t date/use dating apps, so to get into a relationship with me you’re either going to need to literally bang on my door, or we see enough of each other to form some kind of polite relationship that eventually ramps up.

Okay, so we’ll pretend we have that all done: what’s our inciting event? Do I get to know one of them before the other? Even if you had both Deku and Bakugou coming into [workplace] together, Deku is so much more of a people-person—he’s going to be the one that talks, that introduces the both of them—the one that anyone is going to get to know first. And since fic!Merms is me, I feel confident enough to say that that dumb bitch would be like “omg 🥺” about Deku immediately. He’s such a sweetheart! A people-collector! You end up in his orbit whether you want it or not! It would be so easy to get swept up by his goodness, I think, especially if you’re a tiny bit vulnerable (stubborn about asking for help).

Just to make things interesting, let’s give fic!Merms one of my greatest flaws—boop 🪄✨! now she’s insecure! So here’s this shiny, good-boy superhero who is like, how are you, how are things, we missed you the other week—and fic!Merms is just like, wow, he’s so nice, i will never indicate any interest ever :)

But uh-oh! Kacchan’s there! Kacchan who has Sneaky Introvert Syndrome—who notices everything!!! Because he’s watching!!! Silently!!!! Like a creep!!!! Kacchan’s not a dumbass—he’s going to clock immediately that fic!Merms has a crush on Mr. Oblivious Greatest Hero there. And tbh I think he’d just kind of roll his eyes about it (idiot extras, he thinks, unkindly)—until, uh-oh, something happens! The crush either gets us into an embarrassing situation, or a dangerous one (there’s an attack, and Deku shouts for us to get down, or something, but we hesitate because he’s hurt—and Kacchan has to barrel in and get us out of the way!). Afterwards, Kacchan tells us bluntly, “Either get over it, or pick your balls up from the ground and tell ‘im.”

“And what am I meant to do with them later on?” We ask, mulish. “Put them in the same purse as yours?”

“Drop ‘em again, since you’re so good at being a pussy,” Kacchan would say, unimpressed.

This doesn’t change a thing! 😌 We resolve to ignore him—only it’s a little bit hard to, sometimes, when Deku sweeps by with his easy smile and sunshine-yellow cape, and Bakugou’s beside him, flinty-eyed. 🥺 Ruining the view!!!

(“Tell him,” Bakugou says one day, stopping by without Deku. “‘M sick of your stupid moony face.”

“Shut up!” We hiss—this is embarrassing!!!

“Tell him,” he says, louder. “Or I’m gonna do it for yer.”)

It’s a nightmare! Sometimes a girl just wants a harmless little crush to waste time with, an indulgent lil daydream, and now we have this ASSHOLE stomping around demanding we ruin that for ourselves by doing something as stupid as confessing our feelings! Hateful!!! Why would anyone do something that dumb!!!

While that torment is happening, we end up eating out with them—Deku and Bakugou, and a couple of their friends. Crammed in some tiny bar, eating chicken skewers and grilled okra and holding giant glasses of cheap beer. And it’s easy. We’re wedged between Deku and Bakugou and their friends are friendly and curious and have funny stories—and it’s a good night! We don’t worry about our stupid crush being Revealed, or even meaning anything. Not until Deku turns to listen to us as we’re explaining, too excited, some personal project (something fun and dumb we do in our quiet time, alone) to one of the others—and he’s smiling because he’s glad we’re having fun and we fumble with our words because oh, oh no, he’s really close and it’s unnerving and we forget the point of what we were talking about—

“Yeah, and?” Bakugou prompts, annoyed, passing us a plate of more skewers. “Don’t just end it there, dumbass—explain it.”

(We launch back into our explanation—and completely miss the confused look Deku gives Kacchan, who’s determinedly not looking at him)

Oh but Merms, you say, this is too easy—Bakugou’s winning!

Nope! Wrong! Because while Bakugou was being a grade-school asshole, Deku was doing what Deku does best—being his shiny good-boy self! Stubborn about asking for help—one day after work (or during! sometimes you just gotta have it out!) Deku finds us, idk, crying or something.

“What’s wrong?” He asks with all this maddening concern, like he really cares (he probably does). “Are you alright? I’m here—it’ll be okay.”

Sometimes all you need is the right person to ask the right question at the right time—we blab it ALL. Whatever our [insert problem here] is, he hears it ALL. Traumadump! He’s probably a little baffled, but I think a few years of being a Pro Hero means he’s seen the worst of it, and then some—he stays with us. Accompanies us home, afterwards. Maybe we detour to grab dinner, and it ends up involving more venting, more reassurances—we have an emotional hangover when he leaves that night but!! Then our phone pings!!! It’s Deku, saying that he’s asked [insert another Pro here] who has a Quirk that can help/experience in [problem here], and that if it’s okay, they’ll [insert beginning of solution here].

It’s so—reliving. Overwhelming. When we see Bakugou next, sans Deku, and he decides to be Rude about our crush we’re a little harsher than usual, sharper, in telling him to shut up. And Bakugou’s not a dumbass—he knows immediately that something’s shifted. He drops it, his mouth tightening, and we are chilly to him (we’re chilly to each other) for weeks afterwards.

But how is this a triangle, Merms? You ask! Where is the choice when someone is just so good?

Haha! You walked right into it! Because while Deku is the overwhelming good, the outreached hand promising it’s okay, I’ve got you, I will fix this, Bakugou is smoulder, the force that pushes us into being something better, because we have to, because we always had it. Problems will generally get worse before they get better—ours snowballs, the help Deku wrangled in exacerbating the issue. We explode! Remember, we gave our Mermie stand-in some passion—so BOOM! We can’t hold it anymore! We unleash and it’s Bakugou who appears, during the wreckage—with his giant Sneaky Introvert Ears, and his stupid Sneaky Introvert face, watching us warily—carefully.

“C’mon,” he says. “You can lose y’re shit, but ain’t any use in giving up.”

(He’s right, of course, as much as we don’t want to admit it. But we get back up, and when it comes time to patching everything together he’s there—Mr. Sneaky Introvert Stand-by, who grumbles but doesn’t leave.)

Have you ever been caught between two people? And maybe they’re so different from each other, and you, on the outside—but on the inside they’re both made of the same golden soul, the same strength and determination and you want that for yourself, in yourself? So you try to match it: you try to prove that you can help yourself, that you can be just as brave and as wonderful. You try to prove to Deku that his kindness doesn’t exist in a vacuum—that it can be returned, even in small things (you help others; you have lunch waiting for him, sometimes. you reach out a hand to him when he’s having a bad day, an ugly day, a day that shuts him down and drains him out). You try to prove to Bakugou that you’re made of the same firepower he is—that you can wield it, just like he can (you stick up for yourself; you show up for others, without them asking. You grin at him when he walks in, unwavering. Unflickering).

Things always come to a head, though. Best Friends isn’t a term either would use for the other—they both save that for other relationships, formative ones that built them up in ways neither of them were equipped to do for each other at the time. It isn’t enough to describe what they are to each other. What they have been. It doesn’t describe how they know each other like the ins and outs of their own souls, and how that means they can see it when the other eases in your presence. When one of them laughs too easily (Deku), or grins too sharp—sudden and bright and unexpected, like lightning (Bakugou). They don’t talk about it. It’s almost a kindness… until something goes terribly, terribly wrong (a massive villain fight, upending half the city and leaving it in embers), and one of them is caught in the blaze of a building, trying evacuate it—the other bleeding out in the middle of the battle-field, their latest threat curling over them, gloating.

We’re about to lose them both! But facing this, seeing this, one thing is clear—the worry for them, for them both, is hot and sickly and awful, but there’s one face we think of first, when it happens.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

sharing an umbrella in the rain, or a coat/blanket in the cold

For Lucian/Peter (any version) if the post as of an hour ago is still the case?

I'm still taking requests all day! (until I have work tonight) I think I'll go with... the new au, because I'm having so much fun with it.

On with the fic!

--

"Shit, shit, shit, this was a stupid idea. God, I should have known better!

"It's not your fault that weather is unpredictable, Peter."

"Then what the fuck's the point of an almanac!? Or a weather app?!"

"I... I'm honestly shocked you know that almanacs were used to help predict weather."

"I'm not as dumb as people online think I am." Peter scoffed as he tried to keep his head covered with a newspaper, but it was doing a very, very poor job of covering his head. It wasn't like he could get sick anymore, but being a vampire meant that the cold really bothered him more than it used to, and this rain was fucking freezing!

"I am aware of that fact, my love, you are very intelligent." Lucian said as he tried to break the lock on the door of the building they needed to get into. They could have picked their way in, but Peter had left the lock picking kit at home by accident, so lycan strength was needed.

Peter scoffed and tossed the soggy paper aside, shuddering as he felt cold rain run down the collar of his sweater and down his back. He should have worn a hoodie, but he liked this sweater, it was comfy and black and had little decals of black bats on it when you saw it in the light. He had not prepared for tonight, fuck!

"I don't think we can break the lock, we might have to come back tomorrow with the kit, this door is too thick for me to break the lock off of." Lucian sighed, shaking out his hair, spraying water all over.

Peter shouted and glared. "Was that necessary?" He asked, doing everything in his power to not make a wet dog joke.

"Sorry." Lucian frowned, turning to him. "It was sticking to my face. Let's get back to the car, you're soaked to the bone."

"Feels like it's deeper than that." Peter shivered, rubbing at his arms. All he wanted was a hot bath and a cup of coffee right now, he was freezing! And to totally cuddle up with his extra-hot (in more ways than one) boyfriend-

He blinked when he noticed he wasn't being pelted by rain and looked up, seeing the familiar inside of Lucian's jacket. He looked at the lycan, who was now becoming soaked by the rain. He smiled at Peter. "I think you might need this more than me."

"But... you're wet now." Peter said, dumbly.

"I am hotter than you, I'll be fine. You need this more than me." Lucian said, keeping Peter covered before directing him in the direction of the car.

Peter coughed awkwardly, not sure what to really say to such a cliche, romantic gesture that really shouldn't make his shitty, vampire heart beat like a jackhammer. But, whoop, there it goes! God, he really loved this giant wolf man.

"Thanks." He mumbled in the rain when they got to the car. "That was... really sweet of you, babe."

Lucian smiled, knowingly, like he understood what Peter really meant. "Of course. Let's get home before we find out if vampires can get colds."

--

I kinda ended up mixing the two themes. :)

You guys keep giving me the sweetest themes for these two and I keep churning out fluff with Peter's brand of terrible language.

[whatsitzface]

wooo it’s me masterminds anon again here to share my dumb headcanons about the clones in college. hector takes weather science and obsessively checks radar. He knows when there will be a storm weeks in advance and uses this to warn malik. malik gets really into biology and plant sciences. he yells at plants in the lab when they die. amber gets into law and enjoys arguing with her professors. Tori does art and paints multiple portraits of each clone and what they’ve been through. this is how she’s coping I guess. eli gets a job at a tech security startup because he just doesn’t bother going to college for programming when he has tamara dunleavy at home to teach him. That’s it so uhh until I bother you again

All of this is so real its unbelievable, anon your MINDDD. Hector being obsessed with the weather is so real, he'd automatically check his phone every couple of minutes JUST to check the weather app - even though he knows its skewed. He's just addicted now.

Malik yelling at plants 100% reminds me of Crowley. Threatening them if they don't grow correctly. He's a helicopter parent to them, it can't be helped.

Amber would be in literally every extra-curricular available, on top of majoring in law. Nobody knows how she handles it (her time-management skills are that to none).

TORI PAINTING TO COPE IS SO CANON, I'd been head-cannoning that since I first finished the books, and so I'm glad its not just me who thinks that. She needs to express her trauma through oil paints, its the only way.

Eli not even going to college is so funny to me. He already knows everything about computers and tech, and computers and tech are all he wants to do, so literally whats the point?? I also feel like Tamara would have him working at Vista Tech part-time for a long while before he goes and gets a different job, so he's already got experience, and has been mentored by the best of the best (Tamara). There's no beating him. He's gone through so many unimaginable things that just living normally is a piece of cake.

Anyway. Yes to all of these, I love this. I've never really thought of the clones in collage (I always think about them in that time frame after the books, usually a year or two after) so this was really fun to imagine, and you nailed it so hard, these are so accurate!!! Love ya mysterious masterminds anon!!!

[thesevro]

besties / headcanons

𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖋𝖚𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖗𝖔 𝖙𝖔𝖏𝖎, 𝖌𝖔𝖏𝖔 𝖘𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖚, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖓𝖆𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖎 𝖐𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖔

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1.4K words

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: how toji, satoru and kento would act as your best friend

GOJO SATORU

- Gojo may not be very loyal as your boyfriend, but he would definitely be one among your most loyal friends.

- Whenever you're sitting down at some place, literally anywhere, be it at a cafe or on some random stone ledge, he'll let you lean back into him.

- Gojo is tall, and he's somehow always so warm, so treating him as a platonic cuddle buddy would be so nice.

- So imagine you're exhausted from a long day and you find this stout little ledge to rest on. Gojo would sit down with you there. 

- You could lean onto him, press your head into his shoulder and Gojo would actually feel very relaxed to have someone he trusts and holds dear next to him. 

- Knowing that one of his closest friends is safe calms him to an impossible degree. He knows he's lost too many already.

- And if the day has been too long, he'll let you sleep on his shoulder. Let you enjoy having a little power nap while ignoring the little line of drool that will wet his uniform.

- Hip to hip, your head to his shoulder, it does not feel as romantically intimate as it could be, but he loves that you're here with him all the same. He's always been scared of losing his friends, no matter how well he hides it.

- So he'll keep you warm as you nap on his shoulder. 

- PARTING FROM OUR ANGSTIER PARTS... Gojo would be the best hype-man. 

- You wearing a dress that barely reaches your knees and flaunts your ass whenever you jump? He'll cheer for you and scream, "THAT'S MY HOT BESTIE!!!"

- You have a crush on some dude? Some gal? He'll get very close with that guy or gal and tell them all the good things about you.

- If you like someone from the school it'll be even worse for you. He would blatantly skip missions just to set your crush up with you as your partner. 

- Gojo would be a great, awesome, amazing BFF and you cannot tell me otherwise.

NANAMI KENTO

- Nanami as your friend would just be. Aw.

- He would be the most attentive friend out there.

- You just come back from a mission, hair and clothes a mess, face streaked with blood? He'll let you use his handkerchief to wipe the mess off. And he'll fetch some bandages for you if you need it.

- If you're bed-ridden, he'll stay by your bedside and talk to you there. Silence with him is also just... so nice. So peaceful. So serene.

- Nanami would even make you coffee, tea, whatever it is you like just so he can help you feel more refreshed after whatever tiring mission you went on, or whatever complicated job it was you had to finish.

- He knows what your favorite drink is. What your favorite food is. He also knows the best place to find both.

- Will eat lunch together with you every day at the school, or at yours or his favorite restaurant.

- He can't really make food for you... so he always buys something for lunches at the school with you.

- Sometimes he'll just stand in front of one of the school vending machines, in undeniably deep thought about what your drink of the day could be.

- Whenever he visits your favorite coffee shop, or whatever place sells your favorite drink, he'll ask the cashier to add the specific extras you like incorporating into your drink. He knows all of them.

- AND OKAY. LISTEN. NANAMI WOULD TOTALLY CALL YOU AT THREE A.M. TO RANT ABOUT WORK.

- Of course he would first say something along the lines of, "I must apologize for bothering you. I promise to buy you (insert fav. drink) and (insert fav. food) and (insert fav. dessert) tomorrow. Promise." Then he finally reveals how stressed he is, "But. Are you aware of how much I want to wring Gojo Satoru's neck and kick him off a cliff?"

- It would turn into some sort of comedy, where Nanami mocks every single person who has stressed him out (Gojo Satoru for once in your life just STFU) in that sonorous, baritone rumble of his.

- Imagine hearing something like that at three in the morning. Sometimes it makes you question why it is no one has asked the guy out yet. (AND WHY YOU HAVEN'T DONE THAT EITHER.)

- Nanami would also be the BEST listener.

- You have a problem with something? With someone? Okay. He'll hear you out. Will not interrupt you while you're speaking. Not once will he do that.

- If it's something serious, and you start sniffling or maybe even crying, okay let's be honest he wouldn't really know what to do...

- SO. Because he doesn't know, he'll do what he sees everyone else do.

- He'll hug you. His arms will be stiff and that deep pit of awkwardness will definitely form in his stomach, but if it helps you, he'll do it all the same.

- If this is your first time crying in front of him, he'll only pull out one of his handkerchiefs and hand it to you. Sorry, but he wouldn't know how else to comfort you.

- He'll also comfort you with words of logic. Nanami has that perspicacious outsider's perspective that lets him see the rational portion of everything.

- BUT HE WOULD ALSO BE SO UNDERSTANDING. If you voice that you think your feelings are stupid, or dumb, he would FIRMLY insist that no, no (Y/N), your feelings are not stupid. Your feelings matter to me. And nothing that matters to me is "stupid."

- And he would proceed to help you find a solution to your problem, or would just hear you out some more. You can be honest with him and he would not judge you for any of your feelings.

- In conclusion, Nanami Kento would be the most caring BFF out there.

FUSHIGURO TOJI

- Okay HEAR ME OUT ON THIS. HEAR ME OUT.

- Toji would be an AWESOME best friend.

- He would be the guy you could punch in the arm with abandon.

- Toji would ALSO be the mean tease of a friend who is able to bed you at least once.

- After getting you in his bed though he'll let you go back to the casual thing you share, if that's what you want. But if you want to be together, well... he would be willing to try, but only because you're his friend.

- It may or may not work out. But he does try to make it work. Whether it does in the end... depends.

- MOVING FORWARD, again, Toji would be the friend you could punch without being hit back for it. He'll just be like yeah, okay short stuff then move on.

- He's just someone you could debate with, have fun with, and tease and test to no end.

- AND TOJI is the type of guy who would be super casual about letting people stay over at his house. You had a tiring day? You want to crash at his house? He'll let you.

- You open his door and he'll look at you like he was expecting you, but maybe that's because you'd just ranted about how someone at work had treated you like shit.

- You know. Through the private messaging app only assassins like him use. But since you're his bestie he let you download it too.

- HE CALLS YOU EVERY SINGLE PET NAME OUT THERE TOO

- And he always greets you with, "Something wrong, short stuff?" when you come through the door

- AND HE WOULD EVEN CALL YOU "PRINCESS" WHEN HE REALLY FEELS LIKE PUSHING IT

- And listen bitch even if you're tall... this asshole is literally as tall as Gojo (I think?????) AND he's a DILF. So shut your mouth, short stuff.

- At his house you can either: 1. Order take-out and eat together on the dingy old table someone's great-grandfather used to eat on; he might pay if you really aren't feeling it but he's also an avaricious, money-hoarding bitch (in other words, broke) soooo don't expect much. Or 2. Just sleep on his couch while he watches TV. His bed smells like shit and really his couch isn't any better buuutt at least it doesn't have... stains.

- And please, don't even think about venting your feelings to this guy. He would either laugh his ass off at you or only nod with a tight smile of discomfort on his face.

- Princess, he won't be tucking you into bed, but he'll definitely have some leftover pizza ready for you in the morning. His love language is lazy as hell, but it's love all the same.

- Though your pizza will most definitely be either burnt or cold as shit.

- But either way, he cares.

- So if you're feeling down because someone looked at you wrong in the streets, expect to see a "Missing Person's Report" on the news in the morning.

[oreoambitions]

46 for agentreign please

Anon I'm sorry this took me a thousand years, but here you go. This gets wildly NSFW after the cut. Enjoy!

/// The first time it happens, Alex figures it's a fluke.

There are, after all, extenuating circumstances. She's not sure how many glasses of wine she's had because every time she turns around Sam has topped her off again, and maybe she should stop indulging but the wine is good and the company is better and this is the first day off off she's had for so long that it's hard not to let go a little. Kara's been keeping the showtunes coming all afternoon, a little louder than her old bluetooth speaker can really handle but it doesn't matter because Spotify is really just an excuse for Kara and Sam to sing at the top of their lungs. Alex is not participating, but she is appreciating. Appreciating because it's nice to see her sister laugh and smile like maybe things are getting better and maybe things are going to be okay. And also appreciating because, well, Sam. It's hard not to appreciate anything and everything Sam.

The activity of the afternoon is ostensibly the production of baked goods for a fundraiser related to Ruby's soccer team. Alex says 'ostensibly' because the reality is that it's been more than three hours and they haven't gotten the first batch of cookies into the oven yet. There's flour all over the floor, and she's pretty sure Kara got butter stuck to ceiling before Sam took the mixer away, but sometimes that's just the cost of a slightly raucous afternoon well spent, isn't it? And they'll have it all done in time anyway. In fact, Sam is just now finishing up the first batch of cookie dough in the confiscated kitchen aid when Alex, perhaps inebriated or perhaps just feeling emboldened by the domestic comfort of the whole affair, lunges for the beater.

This, it turns out, is either a mistake or the best decision she's ever made in her life. Her hand does contact the beater. She does come within a few seconds of pure raw cookie dough bliss. But Sam is faster, and in a flash Alex finds herself pinned between the counter and Sam's hips, one wrist wrapped up in Sam's fingers, the beater now soundly out of reach in Sam's other hand.

"Mine," Sam growls, but her eyes have dropped to Alex's mouth and for one disorienting moment Alex thinks she might be about to kiss her, thinks maybe the word 'mine' has nothing to do with the beater at all, that maybe they've crossed into some alternate dimension where there's a future for her and Sam that doesn't involve a lot of politely smiling and politely never mentioning one another's romantic entanglements or the absence thereof.

And the thing is, Alex thinks to herself, contemplating the heat of Sam's gaze and the fact that she literally cannot move beneath Sam's hips, this is... attractive. This is very attractive, in an immediate and throbbing sort of way that would be frankly embarrassing approximately half a glass of wine earlier in the afternoon. But that can't be right, because Alex doesn't like to be pushed around. Alex is the one who does the pushing. Isn't she? Sam's grip tightens around her wrist and Alex's lips part of their own accord and-

"Oh for heaven's sake," Kara says, snatching the beater out of Sam's hand. "It's mine, because you two are both being ridiculous." She rolls her eyes. "I hate being the only adult in the room."

It was a fluke. That's what Alex thinks to herself later that night when she wakes with a start from a just-dozing-off dream featuring the immovable nature of Sam's hips. They were drinking and it was a long afternoon and everyone was a little wound up and a little giddy and Alex has been single for a long time. That's it. That's all it was. That's all it has to be.

///

It's harder to write it off as a fluke the second time, but she manages.

James is in town and so it's game night. Not their monthly game night as scheduled, but an extra at-the-last-second game night, and Alex is on call. Which is fine. She can count on her fingers the number of times she's had to handle something in the middle of the night while on call for the DEO, and she's not particularly worried. But it's a problem because she can't be drinking, which means she's sober when Sam corners her in the kitchen.

It's been a long night. Not in a bad way. Just in the sense that things have been a little more risque than usual, what with Nia falling over herself trying to make it clear to Brainy that she'd like to sleep with him without actually making it clear, and Lena shooting those long smoldering looks at a characteristically oblivious Kara, and then there's Sam. Alex can't stop looking at Sam in that shirt where it sits a little too tight across the shoulders, can't stop tracing the line of that necklace to the place where it disappears just below her collar, can't stop following the meaningless movement of her fingers as she absently fiddles with a beer that wouldn't have an effect on her even if she drank the whole case. She wonders idly if it's for the aesthetic or if Sam just likes the taste of a craft IPA.

The trouble is that every time Alex catches herself looking at Sam, she also catches Sam looking at her. And so, upon dragging her eyes up once more from Sam's fingers to find Sam staring back at her, eyes dark and expression unreadable, Alex decides it's time for a drink after all. One beer won't hurt, even if the world decides to consider coming to an abrupt conclusion in the next hour or so and it turns out to be her responsibility. It's just that her mouth is suddenly dry, and the room is suddenly too loud, and she needs something to roll between her fingers the way Sam is rolling that IPA back and forth and back and forth and- Yeah. Just one beer will be fine.

She slips into the kitchen while Nia is yelling about how they should all do a TikTok together. It's quieter here, and a cool breeze through the window over the sink raises goosebumps across her arms. She pops the fridge open, pulls a beer at random, leans up against the counter. Maybe she doesn't want a drink after all. Maybe she just needs a minute.

"Aren't you on call, Ms. Danvers?"

Sam. Alex pouts. "What are you, the party police?"

Sam steps up close, takes the beer from Alex without so much as looking at it. "Aren't you the alien invader police?"

That's a dumb line and it doesn't remotely reflect Alex's actual job description, but she laughs anyway. "It's just one beer. Like 4%. I can handle it."

"I know," Sam murmurs.

Alex thinks she's forgotten how to breathe. Sam's eyes are on her mouth and those hips are pressing into her again and when Sam slips one arm around her waist and one hand into her hair a sound comes out of her that might have been a whimper. There's an inevitability to the way Sam leans in, to the way Alex's lips part as Sam tilts her head back with a firm tug. There's a moment of hesitation, a lingering, an opportunity to say no. Instead, Alex whispers, "Please."

Sam obliges. She kisses her slow, languid almost, holds her firm against the counter as she licks into her mouth and Alex is thinking that maybe she's going to come right here just letting Sam kiss her like this when Sam presses a thigh between her legs and she gasps, grinds down hard without meaning to.

Sam chuckles into her mouth, drags one hand around to her throat, traces feather light kisses along her jaw, tugs on her earlobe with her teeth. "Good girl," she whispers.

Alex isn't sure if it's the heat of Sam's breath, or the praise, or the way she's been casually immobilized, but she shudders, and Sam chuckles again, lips against her ear, and that only makes it worse.

"Fuck," Sam says. "If I had my strap with me I'd rail you right here."

Alex is pretty sure that would kill her. She's pretty sure just the thought of it is going to kill her. Just the pad of Sam's thumb dragging across her throat as she kisses her again, just the roll of those hips, that thigh pressing hard into her, that deep ache coiling tighter as Sam pulls back just far enough to meet her eyes and-

"Hey, Nia wants- Oh!" Lena stops short just inside the kitchen door. "I'll just." She plucks a bottle of wine from the counter. "Take this and tell her that you've uhm. That you're busy."

"We'll be right there," Sam says. She straightens Alex's shirt with a tug and a smirk. "Wouldn't want to miss the TikTok dance."

"Nope," Alex chokes out. "Wouldn't want to miss that."

It's a fluke. Alex takes a long shower when she gets home, and she takes care of the lingering ache that's now outlived not one but two TikTok dances, and she thinks about texting Sam. She falls asleep with her phone in her hand and if she has dreams about a tall, handsome, strong woman railing her against a kitchen counter, well. That happens sometimes. Could happen to anyone. Doesn't mean anything except that Alex has been single for probably too long . She downloads Hinge in the morning and considers explicitly mentioning in her bio that she's the one who wears the strap.

///

The Hinge profile lasts about three days. Alex scrolls through a ridiculous number of women, all of whom are... fine, before she comes to the conclusion that the problem is that none of them are Sam. She's sitting on this stupid app pedaling her stupid profile and all she wants is the woman whose attention prompted her to download a dating app in the first place. And she can't want Sam because it would never work. They're fundamentally incompatible. This bedroom ain't big enough for two tops. It's not going to happen.

But the words if I had my strap with me I'd rail you right here are as stuck in Alex's head as that Lady Gaga song Brainy won't stop playing over the speakers at the DEO. She can't stop thinking about it. Picturing it, even. Dreaming about it when her mind should be anywhere else, on anything else. And she'd just avoid Sam, just look the other way until her hormones sort themselves out, except that Sam is virtually impossible to avoid.

Kara doesn't make it any easier when she calls on Friday night to ask her about a movie night at Sam's apartment.

"Ruby's on a school trip, so it'll be just the four of us," Kara says over the phone. "I'll bring snacks, and we can order whatever you want for dinner. Please? Lena's never seen Star Wars; we have to do something."

Alex doesn't know how to say no. No, I won't come to what feels suspiciously like a double date movie night at Sam's apartment, because Sam's strap is at Sam's apartment, and I'm not sure that she isn't going to try to fuck me on the bathroom floor, and furthermore, I'm not sure that I don't want her to. Instead she says, "Any Star Wars? That's a crime. Which movie are we starting with?"

It's probably a safe bet anyway. Kara and Lena will be there the whole time; Alex and Sam will never be alone. All Alex has to do is make sure that she leaves when everyone else does and they can avoid the awkwardness altogether, and no that is definitely not anticipation she's feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she certainly does not spend an extra half an hour in bed on Saturday morning keeping herself busy with the thought of offering to stay and help clean up, of finding herself pinned against the refrigerator door while Sam takes her from behind. That absolutely does not happen because that would be ridiculous, undignified, untoplike behavior.

Alex is certainly feeling ridiculous, undignified, and untoplike standing outside Sam's door that evening, anxiously smoothing out her shirt with one hand, a case of that IPA from game night in the other. She's arrived a carefully calculated fifteen minutes late just to be absolutely sure Kara and Lena will get here first, but she didn't spot Kara's car outside, and so she isn't particularly surprised when Sam opens the door with a warm smile and welcomes her into an empty apartment.

"Kara and Lena?" she asks as Sam takes the proffered beer.

"Lena got held up at the office," Sam replies, already disappearing into the kitchen. "They're running late. An hour or so. Told them we'd wait. Do you prefer an IPA or a lager? I don't have any stouts in the fridge right now. Might be a decent sour in here somewhere."

Alex lingers in the entryway, that not-anticipation feeling thrumming through her veins. She could follow Sam to the kitchen. Kitchens do seem to be their Thing. But Sam returns with two lagers, her question unanswered, and nods her head towards the living room.

Well, now they're alone together after all and Alex is feeling awkward. She settles onto one end of the couch and tries not to read into it when Sam deposits the lagers on the coffee table and settles in next to her, legs folded under her, almost too close, instead of occupying the perfectly good cushion on the other end.

"Sam," Alex tries. They should talk about this. "We should talk about this."

"Hmm." A hint of a smirk flickers across soft lips before Sam schools her expression. "Talk about what, exactly?"

If Alex had bothered to rehearse this conversation in her mind, she still wouldn't have imagined it going this way. Her eyes drop to Sam's mouth and then she struggles to look elsewhere. The records on the shelf under the window. The blank television screen.

"I-" she starts, but the words don't want to come out. The lager on the coffee table. She doesn't reach for it. "I can't stop thinking about game night," she forces out, and then she looks back up at Sam to gauge her reaction.

Sam is smirking openly now, a hint of laughter in her eyes. She reaches out to tangle long fingers in the hair at Alex's nape, the same grip she used to pull her into a kiss just last week, and Alex's arousal is embarrassingly immediate. "Really?" Sam asks. "Game night, huh? You want to know what I can't stop thinking about?"

It's Alex's gaze that drops first, to Sam's mouth again, and this time she can't look away. "What?"

"Tonight," Sam replies, close enough that Alex's eyes flutter closed, close enough that she can almost feel Sam's answer on her lips. There's probably a coy response for this somewhere in the lesbian handbook but Alex is reaching and coming up empty. She presses a soft kiss to Sam's mouth instead and feels that anticipation - there's no denying now that it's anticipation - thrum again when Sam's tongue immediately presses into her, hot and demanding.

"What's so special about tonight," Alex mumbles as Sam kisses along her jaw to her neck.

"Mmm." Sam nips hard against Alex's pulse point, smiles into her skin when she gasps. "Well, that depends."

"On what?"

"Take your shirt off."

Alex hesitates. That isn't remotely the answer to her question, but now Sam is sucking on her neck and her capacity for rational thought is rapidly diminishing. She fumbles with the first shirt button, fingers trembling, and then the second. Three undone is enough for Sam to pull the offending garment over her head. The sports bra follows, and then Sam is tugging on Alex's hips to reposition her so that she's lying back on the couch, and Alex suddenly understands what everyone finds so attractive about kryptonians, because it's effortless the way Sam moves her. She has about a half second to be transfixed by the abs peeking out from under Sam's own blouse before Sam is kissing down her collarbone and over her breast, chuckling when Alex's hips jerk underneath her.

"You know," Sam says, "I was expecting more of a fight out of Alex But-I'm-A-Top Danvers."

Alex opens her mouth to let out a retort but Sam's tongue is working a circle around her nipple and rational thought is once again threatening to fail. "Is that what you want?" She manages, struggling to sit up. "You want a fight?"

"No." Sam pushes her back again, pins her arms over her head with one hand, brushes the fingers of the other across her ribs, frowns. "No, I like you better like this."

Alex flushes and has to remind herself not to squirm, not to look away as Sam studies her in silence, drops kisses across her shoulders, traces the lines of her hip and the inside of her thigh. And then Sam reaches under the couch for a box, the implications of which are momentarily as immobilizing as the hand still holding Alex's wrists down, because Sam planned for this, planned far enough in advance to stash supplies where they might be convenient.

Alex swallows hard when Sam's pants exit the scenario, and Sam's eyes flicker over her face as she opens the box.

"How do you feel about being strapped on the couch?" she asks.

It's such a blunt question that Alex flushes again. "Uhm. Okay?"

Sam stops with her harness halfway out. "Just okay? I'm gonna need a clear yes or-"

"Yes. God. Yes please," Alex says, flushing an even darker shade. She's going to let... this... happen, but she's not going to beg. Christ. Consent granted; please let's move on before things get awkward. Sam chuckles a little at her discomfort and presses a kiss to her brow.

"Okay. But if you want me to stop you just say the word."

Alex nods, not trusting herself to speak, eyeing Sam's fingers where they're tightening the harness. And then all at once she blurts out, "Kara and Lena could be here at any moment," which she hadn't realized might be a concern until it came out of her mouth but now she can't stop thinking about it, and how embarrassing that would be, and Kara can see through walls for heaven's sake, and-

Sam chuckles. "Baby," she says, sliding herself between Alex's legs, "You're not going to last long enough to be worried about that."

Sam is embarrassingly, excruciatingly not wrong. By the time the strap is working into her Alex is pretty sure she's wound tighter than she's ever been, and she'd crack some kind of joke about how it's clearly been too long since she's had anyone inside of her but this is really not the time. Sam is pressing inexorably deeper and it's all she can do to hold her breath because otherwise she's going to come altogether undone before they've even gotten started.

Sam gives her a moment when she's all inside, waits for Alex to exhale, waits for her nod before she starts to rock her hips, and the drag of the strap is so intense that Alex loses her breath and her self control in the same instant with a groan that only deepens Sam's smirk. Alex is kind of wishing Sam would give her back the use of her hands, but that's not in the cards. She squirms instead, hips bucking of their own accord, head thrown back hard against the cushion of the couch.

"Thought about this every night," Sam murmurs, and Alex thinks she'll say since game night but she says, "Since the day I met you," which is almost as mindblowing as the pleasure somehow, incredibly, continuing to build between Alex's hips. "Thought about how good you'd be under me."

Alex shivers at that and then comes, bucking hard into Sam to take as much of the strap as she can, half aware of Sam whispering something in her ear that might have been what a good girl you are if Alex had been cognizant enough to comprehend it. She comes back down to soft kisses across her face, and when Sam lets go of her wrists she wraps her arms around her and tries to remember how to breathe, how to pull all the pieces of herself back together, how to be a competent and capable, dignified and toplike partner.

Alex runs a hand absently through Sam's hair and hums. "Do you want me to return the favor?" she asks. She doesn't have a strap with her but, well, it's not like that was ever the best trick up her sleeve anyway. She opens her mouth to make a quip about how a good top is always prepared but Sam reaches out and casually tips an untouched lager onto her discarded shirt.

Alex splutters.

"Too late," Sam says brightly. "You'll have to ask me after dinner. Lena and Kara are here."

"Lena and Kara are what-"

And there's the knock at the door. The door not ten paces from where Alex is lying in a state of naked disarray on the couch where they are supposed to be watching Star Wars. There is a moment of absolute stillness before Alex begins to scramble for her clothes.

"Bedroom is the second door on the left," Sam says, sneaking in a last kiss while Alex reaches for the underpants peeking out from under the coffee table. "Clean shirts in closet. Do pick something nice; I've been dying to see you in my clothes."

Alex scurries down the hall in her socks quietly cursing and thanking every star in the sky. It's going to be a long night. If she's lucky.

[neonstahli]

A whole new story;

Hey, I'm Blake. You guys have seen me struggle for months during 2020, unfortunately. I may have some answers as to why, and it also unfortunately begs me to ask for a lot of help, again.

During all of this money troubles, trying to get my job back, and just trying to live, I've been going to the doctors insuranceless. I've been told I "very likely" have something called Ménière’s disease, which is not only a rare disease to have but a degenerative one. I am losing my hearing completely, and it has been accompanied by immense dizzy spells and the inability to eat. I've lost OVER 40 pounds since November because I haven't been able to eat well because of my dizzy spells, and now I see it's possibly been because of a potential disease I never knew I had. 2020 has been a hell of a year, huh.

If I may ask, I'd like to try to get 134 for my storage bill, and 600 for my meds and future copays for my ENT and Ophthalmologist appointments, which are soon. I know it's a lot to ask, but I want to get a grip on this before it can get worse. Anything helps, and everything will help me now. I never ask for help for myself, and now I know I need it most. If anyone, ANYONE can spare even a penny, I'd be beyond words.

I didn't want to come forward and mention this. It doesn't sound like much of a disease in retrospect, but it has plagued me for 8 years. I never had solid answers, and now that I do, it's possibly too late. All I can do is go see doctors, get tests, take medication to help the spinning and constant nausea so I can make it through the day. And the potential of surgery is high on their list, which makes me really scared. But I have a chance at a better life, and I just need some help to get there until I can get health insurance through Ohio approved, which I am waiting on currently.

I want to make myself better, and I truly need your help more than ever. Thank you all to bits, I love you all to death for what you've done for me, for us. Now it is my turn to try to make myself right. Please.

If anyone would like any extra info, has any questions, anything at all, please feel free to ask. I'm still gathering up info and proof and whatnot myself; this is app a very new diagnosis and it's humbling. Sobering, even. I've pushed this too long and now it's irreversible. But at least I have a chance to try.

Edit: I'm dumb and forgot to put this - paypal.me/zwhack, @neonstahli on venmo and $neonstahli on cashapp

[jawritter]

When The Lights Go Out

Part 1

Summary: Life hasn't been your best friend lately, you lost your job, and are on the verge of losing your apartment. Who knew when you decided to join a Sugar Daddy app that your best friend suggested ina last ditch effort to save your apartment, and not end up on the street, your first and only client would turn your whole world upside down.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean Winchester x Virgin! Reader

Word Count: 2358

Series Warnings: Mob level violence, injured Dean, description of injury, creepy Godfather John Winchester, John is pretty much a double bag, escort services, virgin reader, lose of virginity and all the insecurities and fun stuff that come with it, age gap (23 year old reader; 40 year old Dean), angst, unrequited/requited love?, language, smut, unprotected smut.

Chapter Warnings: None really, language, escort serives, angst? I think that’s it for this chapter!

A/N: Beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much love!! Please don’t copy my work!! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!! It’s gonna be a little bit of a slow burn y’all, but just hang in there!

(This fic is based on this request: Could you do a Dean x reader where she is 23 and lives alone in her apartment, she gets fired and can loose her house, her friend tells her about a sugar daddy app, she makes a profile and Dean 40, contacts her, she is virgin and don't offers sex, Dean is billionaire business man and needs a girl for his business parties,the reader is really shy, blushes a lot, they fall in love, he takes her to a trip and makes love to her on a private island, could it be a series?)

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

Adjusting your too short skirt, you look across the crowded street from your hiding place among the crowd of people standing on the side of the road waiting for their cab, or Uber to pick them up from whatever they had just left, or take them to wherever they intend to go. 

Heavy thunder rolled over head, and you looked up at the ominous black rolling clouds that from your street view made the skyscrapers look shorter than they really were.

Your heart was pounding so loud in your ears that it drowned out all the sounds of the hustle and bustle that was New York City on an average Friday night. Even though, in reality no one noticed you, you looked no different than about six other girls standing within a four foot proximity of you, you felt like every eye was on you. Like they were judging you, and knew just what you were doing, and just who you were waiting for.

Even though you weren’t meeting this man for sex, you felt like you were no better than the whores that line the streets of Brooklyn late at night, like cattle lined up for a sale barn to go to the highest bidder. 

Claire had suggested that you join the Sugar Daddy App in order to make a few extra bucks after losing your job as a junior accountant at JP Morgan. You hadn’t been there all that long, and when they changed management, your new female boss seemed threatened by all the females in the office, especially those like yourself, those that were young, those that had potential; so therefore you got the first axe. 

You didn’t really like the idea, but you were really left with no choice. Even though New York was a big city, it didn’t make jobs exactly easy to come by, and you need money before next Friday, or you would be living under one of the many bridges. 

It hadn’t taken long for Dean to respond to your add on the app as a paid escort, and the fact that you weren’t offering sex didn’t seem to bother him when he’d direct messaged you. He said he just needed you to attend a business party with him, a promotion for his brother, and if you did well, he might hire you permanently. 

Claire seemed to think that you had hit the jackpot, and told you to jump on the opportunity, but the amount of lucid information that he’d given you as far as what to wear, and that you were to just be on his arm to “look pretty”, you couldn’t help but feel you were dealing with the mob. 

You knew that was a silly notion.There was only one mob left in New York that had enough power behind them to even be threatening. Everyone else was nothing but grunts under them, and there was no way in Hell a Winchester would be using a Sugar Daddy App in order to find someone to take to a business party with him. 

Claire said not to worry about it, and that you were looking into things to much, that you had watched to many Scarface movies, and this was probably just a businessman who was in his forties, overweight, and lived in one of those box cublicial apartments on Manhattan with too much money, and not enough social life to bring someone to the event. 

You had your doubts.

The way he worded things, so secretive, so proper, it had you scratching your head from the moment you agreed to this job as to whether or not this was a good idea, or if you were going to be the next featured picture on the back of a milk carton as New York’s latest missing person. 

Just as you were about to say fuck it, and turn around and head back to your apartment, a sleek, black SUV pulled up to the curb and stopped. Looking around you notice that everyone that was standing next to you just a few moments ago had all but vanished, either getting into their own means of transportation, or giving up all together and deciding to hoof it. 

The window directly in front of you rolled down just enough for the baritone voice to filter out of the dark interior of the car. 

“Y/N?” he asked, and you stepped forward cautiously. If you weren’t regretting this before, you were now. 

“Yes?” you said, stopping just short of the curb. 

The driver’s side door opened, and the short driver made his way out of the car, and around the back passenger door that was facing the road. He opened  it for you to climb in as another round of thunder rolled, and thick raindrops started to pelt down all around you.

This was it, there was no going back now. 

Swallowing the little voice that was screaming how bad of an idea this was, you climb into the back of the car and the driver shuts your door before making his way around to regain his seat at the helm of the car. 

“Well, I must say you are attractive enough, but you look terrified sweetheart.” the same deep baritone voice said across the dark back seat next to you as the diver pulled out onto the street. 

Straightening up in your seat, you adjust yourself and try to look less like a scared child, and more like the paid escort you were for the night.

“Well, I’m sorry Dean, but as I told you earlier, the fact that you were so secretive concerning the details of our evening made me a little uneasy. Most clients tell you where they’re going to take you, and what you are going to be doing for the evening.”

Dean chuckled next to you, and adjusted his tie.Even though it was dark in the car, the street lights let you make out his strong jawline, and handsome profile enough to know this was not some overweight businessman. He was much more than that. 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Dean Winchester, and I’m hiring you to escort me to my brother’s dinner party in celebration of his promotion in my father’s company.Judging by your slack jaw, you’ve heard my last name before, and you see why it wasn’t exactly a great idea for me to put my last name, nore the details of our arrangement in a direct message on some crude app.”

You set there in total dumb founded shock. 

Of all the people you thought were going to be picking you up tonight, Dean Winchester was not one of them. You had feared that this was a mafia pick up, but this was much worse. 

Dean wasn’t only Mafia,  he was son of the oldest, most lucrative gang in New York City’s history, his father, John, made Al Capone look like a little boy dressed in a suit. His family were ruthless, and virtually untouchable, protected by money, and  God only knows what else you couldn’t even begin to imagine. They didn’t hide what they were because they didn’t have to, and you were  more fucked than you thought you’d ever be. 

“My brother Sammy’s promotion details are not important. The only thing you need to know is that for the evening you are my girl, and you will do as I say. Talk as little as possible, and like I said, just look pretty. That won't be that hard for you. Stick close to me, but I promise you, this is continental ground, and no one can harm you in any way. So just relax and enjoy the party.”

Dean was completely unfazed by the fact that you still seemed to be in complete shock, like this was the reaction he was expecting from you. He knew that this was your first job? Why the hell did he hire you for something this big? If you weren’t already having a panic attack, you were pretty sure you were going to by the time you got to where you were going. 

“Dean, I...Look I don’t...I don’t know if this is such a good idea.What if they don’t buy that I’m your girlfriend, and furthermore why do YOU, of all people, need help getting a girlfriend?” you asked. Dean threw his head back against the seat of the car, his deep booming laugh echoing through the entire car. 

“Sweetheart, relax.You're perfect. I didn’t want someone with experience. Escorts in my line of work are, well, a commonly used expense, and I didn’t want someone that is recognizable to anyone that is going to be at this party tonight. I wanted this to be believable. As far as why I need you? Well that’s easy. I’m 40 years old, and unmarried, but I’m also my father’s successor to the company.The only problem is, the high table seems to think that I should have a wife by now, and I don’t, so you are here to keep my father and my elders off my back.” Dean said shortly as the car came to a stop in front of The Roosevelt Hotel.

Dean reached into a folder that was sitting on the seats between  you, pulling out a stack of papers that were stapled together, and handing them to you. You took them with what you knew had to be the most bewildered look on your face that anyone had ever had, but Dean seemed to be unfazed as the dome lights were switched on inside the car, and Dean handed you a pen. 

His large, freckle dusted hands, made everything they touched seem so small, and you wondered how many people those hands had killed before you buried it deep down inside of you, not letting the thought manifest. 

This man was dangerous, but you needed the money.

“This is a NDA.It says that you can not disclose your employment with me, nor anything else you will witness here tonight as long as you live. It’s virtually a gag order. It’s for your protection, not mine.” 

You nodded your head and swallowed hard, not daring to ask what the hell would happen to you if you broke said agreement, and signed the papers, knowing you had no choice. 

Looking up at the astonishing greens eyes staring back at you, you fought against the deep blush that pooled through your cheeks. Dean was handsome, and there was no denying that. 

“Okay, so, I know you said no sex, which quite honestly is a shame,” he said, looking you over in the small space, his perfect white teething pulling at his lower lip, making you blush even deeper than you already where, “but in order to make this convincing, there’s going to have to look like there is some degree of intamicy between us. In other words, I will hold your hand, touch you, tastefully of course, we're not animals, and I may even kiss you if need be, is that okay?” 

The thought of those pink, plump lips on yours made a shiver go all the way down your spine, and you had to look down for a moment to compose yourself. 

“Yes sir, that’s fine.” 

Dean chuckled as he opened his car door, getting out to open yours, his large, warm hand going to your lower back as he pulled you in close to him once you stepped out of the car. 

“Call me Dean, Baby Girl,” leaning down so that only you could hear him, his warm breath fanned over the skin of your neck, and goose bumps raised all over your skin, “or you can call me Daddy, I’m okay with that too.” 

You blushed furiously and covered your face with your hand, a deep embarrassment at the way your body seemed to be responding to this man standing next to you on the curb of the crowded street.  Another booming laugh escaped Dean as he pulled you into a hug. People were apparently watching that you were unaware of , because the act seemed to have already started. 

“I’m only teasing you sweetheart.I love to see you blush.Remember, impress me tonight, and this job is yours permanently, and I promise you, I will pay you so well, that you will never want for anything ever again.”

That was a promise you could get behind, so you straightened your skirt and took him in for the first time in the light of the foyer as you  walked together, your arm over his own in a formal manner suitable to the occasion. 

You hadn’t really looked at him until now, and man, he was a sight. 

Danger reeled off of him.From the ridiculous expensive, black, custom fitted Brioni suit, and crisp white Ralph Lauren shirt, to his only God knows how expensive black shoes. 

He was lethal, and he had no problem not hiding it. 

His piercing green eyes held an air of mischief that excited you in a way you’d never experienced before. Not a hair out of place, except for the almost auburn stubble that matched his perfectly placed hair sprinkled across his chiseled jaw, and a smirk that could melt the panties off of every woman in the room. 

He carried a presence about him that commanded attention, and you could tell by the faces of the people that were watching the two of you as you both checked in to the black tie event the hotel was hosting for the Winchester family, that he was the man that everyone loved to hate. 

This was the craziest thing you had ever done in your life, and it would probably one way or another end badly, you knew that, but his was the most alive you had felt in your life, and you were determined you were going to enjoy the moment on Dean’s arm, and worry about the rest later. 

Besides, what was life without a little adventure, and it was high time you had yours.

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[generallybarzy]

hey there, stranger. i

SERIES MASTERLIST

summary: when you mention being lonely, Rebecca Seidenberg sets you- their babysitter- up on a blind date with Mat Barzal.

an: hi, i’ve been mia for a few days now due to some stuff, you all know what happened, but anyway here’s something to make my absence better! i know there might be some details that don’t make sense irl but just roll with it please I love the strangers to lovers trope so much. 

word count: 1.6k

Okay, you were lonely.

Ever since moving to New York for your first year of college, endless amounts of studying and work and more little jobs on the side to make ends meet living in the big city had taken up most of your spare time, leaving few opportunities for dating. Even when you did go on dates, they rarely lasted long enough to be called relationships, and not once have you had a serious relationship. This was your 20s, you were supposed to be out there living your life, weren’t you? Stupidly falling in love and getting your heart broken and learning along the way. But instead, you were busy trying to focus on that degree, leaving any hope of a love life behind.

Of course, there was nothing wrong with focusing on your degree, it was a degree you'd been looking forward to getting and you had been lucky enough to get accepted to your dream school, but it would be nice to have a significant other you could hold at the end of the day. Right? None of your many, many dates ended well, though, and though you were still young and didn't need to worry, you were lonely and felt late to the party as all your friends were falling in and out of love. It may have been dumb, but you were beginning to believe you’d never find the right guy.

And that’s where Rebecca Seidenberg stepped in to help.

She was a friend of your mom's and aunt's, and, though you didn't know her personally when you first moved out, word had spread through your family and to family friends, and she reached out to let you know that if you ever needed help in the big city, she would be there. She had been practically a mother figure to you since last year when you moved to New York all alone at 19 years old. She and her hockey player husband lived on Long Island with their children, just a quick commute from your city campus, and apparently, your mom had been in constant contact with her since your big move, checking in and asking someone to watch out for her little girl. You got a call one day asking if you needed any extra cash because, according to your mom, you were good with kids, and the two could use a babysitter for the night.

So, while you resided in a dorm room in the city and worked on campus between classes, you spent a lot of your Friday nights and weekends out on Long Island babysitting for the Seidenbergs when they went out on date nights.

They all quickly came to love you, especially the children, and you found it worth it to spend your weekends with them rather than out on any shitty dates or getting drunk at some stupid, dangerous frat party like a lot of college students. You loved their family, you loved all the genuine love, and could only hope that one day you'd have a relationship with that much love in it. You didn't like to admit how much you wanted a boyfriend, maybe it had something to do with your own insecurity, but you didn't want to think you needed a man. Maybe it had something to do with your fears, too. You didn’t want to get messed up again. You didn't need a man, but how great would it be to have someone there at the end of the day to curl into and rant to and love? It would be amazing. Okay, maybe you were a hopeless romantic. But you’d never admit it.

But about a month ago, as Rebecca was talking to you about a date Dennis was taking her on next week, you were feeling particularly romantic and hopeless. Your second year in college had just started up again, and you had returned to New York from your hometown to settle back into your lonely dorm room. All your friends were either meeting up with their partners after spending the summer apart, or dealing with the loneliness of having to be separate from them for the upcoming year, but you had nobody like that, and just let it slip.

"I wish I could find a guy who loves me like that." You lamented after commenting on how the Seids looked at each other with absolute heart eyes. "It's starting to feel like I'm just destined to be alone."

"What?" She looked at you incredulously, laughing a little as if she couldn't believe you hadn't found anyone. "You're still young, you have plenty of time!"

"Yeah, realistically I know, but I've been on so many dates, and none of them are ever successful.” You groaned, maybe a little dramatically as you thought back to all the dates you’d had since moving out of your parent’s house last year and coming to New York. “And all my friends have, like, solid relationships, or are at least messing around, and I can’t even do that. I feel so far behind.”

“There’s no timeline on love.” She spoke wisely, like the motherly figure you’d been missing. “You’re not falling behind. Anyway, the chances of you meeting the love of your life this young are pretty slim.”

“I know, and I’m not looking for the love of my life. Just… someone, you know?” You thought for a moment, just of having someone to smile with, to hug and to kiss after a hard day. You hadn’t had a true boyfriend since your last year of high school, and that hadn’t ended well. You had fallen hard for the wrongest person in the world, and he had done nothing but hurt you for months. It had definitely messed you up a bit, but you wanted nothing more than to forget about that whole ordeal and come out of your shell again, to love again. “I don't know if I'm being too picky or my standards are too high or something, but I just attract the wrong types of guys."

"Hmm." She gave it thought for a moment, and you knew she was going to work some of her motherly magic. "Well, what are you looking for?"

"I don't know. Just someone who's genuine? Someone who's really passionate and has a big heart. And funny, the guys I date always have the blandest humor and it makes dates so awkward and I'd have to force laughter. Someone who actually cares. I don't think that's too much to ask for, is it?"

"It's definitely not." She laughed for a moment. "I actually know someone who fits in those categories really well."

"Really?"

"If you'll let me, I think I could get him to go on a date with you."

"No, no way, blind dates aren't my thing."

"What's your thing? Dating apps?" You laughed at the playful chirp, but unfortunately, it was true. "Come on, I know it'll go well, even if you don't end up together. He's a great guy!"

"Alright, fine!" You laughed a bit, at both how excited she was and how excited you were to meet this guy she spoke so highly of. "It better be worth it."

"Trust me, you'll love him."

And that's how you ended up here, sitting all alone in the corner of a little coffee shop in Brooklyn, fiddling with the strings coming loose at the sleeves of your oversized sweater. It had been getting chillier out in the past few October weeks, and even though it was cozy and warm inside, you kept your sweater on for comfort, so you had something to fidget with and calm your nerves.

You were so nervous, you were overthinking everything you were doing. Were you dressed okay? Jean, a cute turtleneck with a loose sweater thrown over top, a cute little necklace- too casual? Not casual enough? Was your hair a wreck? You’d thrown it up in a cute bun but had it become a wreck since you walked here through the breeze? Your makeup was simple, but had it covered up the fact that you’d been breaking out due to the stress of your recent surge in classwork? You had already ordered a drink but immediately rethought it. Was it rude to order before he showed up?

As much as you trusted Mrs. Seidenberg, you couldn’t help the nagging feeling that this date would go horribly. He would be here any minute, you were sure of it. You could feel it.

And you were right.

The door to the coffee shop rattled open and in stepped a man who quickly drew your attention away from everybody else. In dark jeans, a tee, and a nice-looking black bomber jacket, he didn’t really stand out, but there was something about him- his aura, the way he held himself, that made him so appealing. That immediately drew your eyes to him. He had dark hair that looked soft to the touch and made you want to run your fingers through it, and his brows were furrowed above searching eyes as he looked around the room, making you think that maybe he was looking for someone. Maybe he was looking for you. Maybe it wasn't too much to hope that this man was your blind date. And the moment his eyes fell on you- the only person sitting all alone in this cafe- your eyes locked. Only then did you realize you’d been staring. His eyebrows quirked up a little bit and you saw a little smile start to pull at the corners of his lips. As he approached your table, you realized your prayers were answered.

He moved in long strides, almost gracefully towards you, and you were so mesmerized with how he approached you that you almost missed his beautiful voice when he spoke to you.

"(Y/N)?"

Breathless, you smiled. "Hey there, stranger."

[phantom-moonfire]

So, I'm alive.

Honestly, I've been gone for like half a year, so I wouldn't be surprised if most of you guys just straight up don't remember me, but I feel like I owe some kind of explanation as to why I suddenly disappeared and ghosted everyone with basically no explanation beyond "personal reasons" in the dick move of the century.

First of all, I'd like to apologize for that, that was seriously an asshole thing to do looking back, especially knowing how close I was to some of you. (I'm gonna personally say @starfallen-tears @all-my-fandoms-are-killing-me @justafankid @kitkat-kiwikat and @rebelwhodoesntknow here, although there are definitely more, but it's been a while to say the least, and I don't remember everyone's urls tbh, these are just the ones I thought of off the top of my head.) ((If I tagged you do Not feel obligated to read this all the way through, I just figured you might want to know this stuff, don't feel bad if you don't want to read.))

So, uh, the short version is that I'm not actually coming back. Not right now, at least. Eventually.

((Long explanation and more details below, with a TL;DR at the bottom))

For the long version, I'm gonna start off with the reason I left in the first place. My old phone was barely functioning, and had some serious issues with it where it would keep shutting off randomly, and the issues just kept getting progressively worse to the point where the process of just turning it on would take about half an hour. I'm not getting into the smaller details of it, but it was basically unusable. My parents don't know I have tumblr or discord or anything basically (they're mad strict but I'm not gonna get into That rn), and since my phone kept shutting itself off, and we were taking it to get repaired etc (I have a new phone now!) I ended up having to just quickly delete all of my social media/communication apps, which is why I initially disappeared without saying anything.

I'm pretty sure that at some point after I got my new phone, I used tumblr briefly on the web browser to give an update, but I left not long after, and I didn't have access to discord because discord's extremely weird when you're trying to use it from google on a phone, and not from the app. The reason I never just. y'know. reinstalled the apps. was because I was starting to get extremely bad anxiety about my parents potentially finding the apps, and me Getting Caught, and I honestly was just not mentally or emotionally in a good enough place to deal with that extra anxiety. So if you've dm'd me or tagged me or tried to get into contact with me on discord in any way, I'm not ignoring you, I just don't have a way to access discord right now.

As of right now, I'm not planning on reinstalling either discord nor tumblr immediately, because, along with dealing with Anxiety, I also have school to deal with, working on college applications, trying to find a job for the summer, and doing a good amount of the chores at my house due to my dad having health issues, as well as some extra things I need to do in order to help my dad with those issues, as he's not able to drive anymore, and just generally needs help with more things. So, basically, I just straight up don't have time to be active on tumblr anymore.

However, circumstances will eventually change. I'm not going to be gone forever. I'm going to turn eighteen in a few months, along with going to college in a year, so I'll definitely be back eventually, or at least I'll give another update after I turn 18.

Once I come back, I am most likely not going to return to this blog, and instead make a new one. I've been here since I was in like sixth or seventh grade, and honestly I would rather not have my idiot teenage years following me for the rest of my life, cuz I know I've said dumb shit on here before, and there's probably stuff that I've posted or commented about my personal life that I'd rather not have people be able to find, so when I do come back, it will probably be to tell you guys what my new blog is called, and to relocate all of my shit to there.

TL;DR: I have anxiety, I am busy, and I don't know when I'll be back, but it will be on a new blog.

[woodchoc-magnum]

Lone Star 2x11 Hate Watch

I nearly forgot about it this week, whoops

Disclaimer: Don’t read this if you like the show, simply go about your business and have a great day

oh no owen is being arrested oh nooo

is it for being a crime to this show

is he going to hit on Dr Jacobs now?

"is there a complication?" tk asks in a monotone

Oh no he's off work for a month? What will the other firefighters do at an emergency if rob lowe is not there to do it all for them?

"it's like two fortnights?" yeah… that's exactly what it is dude

A fortnight is two weeks

So two of them is… a month.

Captain Judd!

Yessss captain judd

No masks

Not a single mask on anyone

"the Serena Williams of firefighters?" fucking seriously

What if she was on camera like that and then they lose this car? She's gonna look like an asshole

Yo 100% the husband dies I'm calling it now

He's definitely dying

I FUCKING CALLED IT

Yo that's HUBRIS

That's why you don't brag to the cameras y'all

Damn that poor bastard what a way to go

This reminds me of when Bobby was under investigation in season 2 of the OG and they all kept coming around to his house and annoying the shit out of him while he was trying to plan his wedding

BILLY? BILLY BURKE?

BILLY BURKE!!!!!!!!

Yo he was in this show called Revolution that I watched because a) Billy Burke and b) Elizabeth Mitchell and I fuck I shipped him with Liz Mitch SO HARD

It's weird to me that everyone thinks of him as the dad from Twilight because I have legit seen him in everything but that

What happened to his lightning strike scars? That was my favourite part of Season 1

So I'm calling it early and saying that Billy Burke is the arsonist because why else would they bring him back, and he doesn't like Rob Lowe

Oh the gays are hosting a dinner party

You know what shits me? Lone Star has these scenes of the team playing board games and in the OG we waste a whole episode about Josh and Sue – yes I'm still dirty but they can make it up to me with this week’s episode

I suppose in Lone Star they're all single? And young? I really shouldn't complain, I don't want the OG to be more like Lone Star let's face it

Yeah she's going viral for acting like a moron in front of the cameras at the scene, that's why you don't do that fucking shit

Look I like Marjan but come on

Interesting choice of Rolling Stones song

Wow this Rob Lowe montage is so great

Am I the only one who thinks Airpods look dumb

God this Rob Lowe montage has been going for hours

Wow he's potting a plant, and painting, and putting a puzzle together, this is so fucking interesting, thank god they've dedicated this portion of the episode to it. How else would I know what Rob Lowe was doing while he was stuck at home by himself?

The chick who works at the juice bar is a better actor than Ronen

Oh no this looks like the work of the arsonist (Billy Burke)

Thank god Rob Lowe was there right

YOU'RE NOT THE CAPTAIN RIGHT NOW

God what a fuckhead

"126! Give 'em hell!" ugh what a douchebag

How am I only 23 minutes in

I feel like I've been watching for ten hours

Yeah how did you arrive five minutes before everyone huh? I feel like that app he's been listening to is probably illegal

Owen is doing nothing to help his case here

This guy 100% thinks Owen did it and you know what I think he's onto something and I think they should arrest Owen and put him in jail

Also I'm going to say that rob lowe dyes his hair and has had some cosmetic surgery just saying

Honestly I don't have a whole lot of sympathy for Marjan here

It’s just kind of in bad taste for a firefighter to be bragging about how awesome they are. I know social media is her whole deal but… it's pretty uncool

Is it just me or is Judd looking extra handsome in this episode?

Oh great and now we're at a nice dinner and they're talking about Rob fucking Lowe again? WHO CARES

THE ROB LOWE PLOTLIONES ARE ALWAYS THE WORST FUCKING PLOTLINES

He even looks like a creep in that grey hoodie

Oh my god he's been off work for a fucking week? Like I don't get this?

I would love to have a week off work to just stay in my house and be chill

He's talking to Billy Burke about the arson and Billy Burke is in fact the arsonist

Yo doesn't Carlos' house burn down at some point? DOES BILLY BURKE BURN DOWN CARLOS' HOUSE?

I really love Billy Burke and I'm glad they brought him back to play the bad guy; he was the bad guy in The Closer and it was great

He's explaining all this to Billy Burke, who in fact already knows this, because in fact he is IN FACT the arsonist

Also the fact that Rob Lowe has gone out and bought all this stuff just makes him look guiltier

I ship it though, Billy & Owen? Ship name Billwen or Owlly – no we're definitely going with Owlly

Stage 3 cancer, lost his job, got struck by lightning, didn't get the captaincy at the 126 – the man has nothing left to lose. He's the arsonist

Marjan IS a showboat and most of the time it's fine but before a rescue it does exhibit a lot of hubris and that's not a good thing

And that video didn't make her look great

And she needs to go to McKenna and apologise for being a dick

GO AND APOLOGISE

Fucking APOLOGISE

YES YOU SHOULD

Oh good she listened to me

Paul's a babe just saying

She posted a suicide note and no friends or family went to help her? That's pretty fucking depressing

Jesus this is a bit graphic

Wow this is very graphic

"This was clutch" COME ON FUCKING REALLY?

Oh yeah it's so fucking cool being a badass

Ugh this show is so stupid

How does this still have three minutes to go?

"Oh my god I FORGOT THE LIMES" it is the END OF THE WORLD

Why is he in his goddamn fucking arson hoodie again?

He is without a doubt the dumbest mother fucker who has ever dumbed in the history of BEING DUMB

I mean say what you want about Bobby jumping into a dumpster but I have to think that Bobby Nash would know better than to act like a suspicious fucking SUSPECT IN THE MIDDLE OF AN ARSON INVESTIGATION WHEN THEY ALREADY SUSPECT YOU OF BEING THE ARSONIST, OWEN!

You dumbfuck

0/10 shittiest episode ever, everyone except Judd, Grace and Tommy are stupid

AND OH MY GOD TK WE FORGOT THE LIMESSSSS OH MY GOD END OF THE WORLLLLDDDD

three miserable fucking episodes to go

Diaz to cleanse:

[illfoandillfie]

DMs

Pairing: Ben Hardy x F!Reader

Summery: You run a nsfw snapchat account. Ben's horny.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), partially written as chat text, video chat sex, masturbation, fingering, sex toys, nipple play, voyeurism I guess, fuckboy ben

Words: 3774

A/N: Inspired by something El posted. I love Ben but he’s got them fuckboy/lad vibes and im positive he’d get down on some sc porn

Taglist:  @laedymoon​  @dtfrogertaylor​   @ezmina98​  @vee-ndetta​ @atomic-watermelon​ @kellypenac​ @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks​ @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​  @hannafuckingsucks​  @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​

@veriloquently​

Your phone buzzed, the familiar noise distracting you from your book. Considering you’d just posted a new photo, partially hidden by emojis, to Instagram and updated your snapchat story with the uncensored version, it was hardly surprising you were getting messages.

YourNewDaddy: Mmm baby let me pound you

You clicked through to his profile. Absolutely nothing. The profile picture was some abs that could belong to anyone. No recent snaps, nothing. For a few seconds you considered replying with your payment details but decided against it. He wasn’t worth your time.  

The whole NSFW account thing had started a while ago on Tumblr and then Instagram. A way to kill time and get some attention that you weren’t receiving in the real world. But then the porn ban had happened which severely limited what you could post, so you’d mostly moved to Snapchat, using everything else to advertise. A few months after the move you started getting guys offering to pay you to do specific things. One had wanted an audio recording of you calling him Daddy and begging for his cock with a few moans thrown in. Another had wanted a video of you and a dildo, though he’d had to pay more. Since then you’d used your accounts to pick up a bit of extra cash here and there. Nowhere near enough to live off of, but it came in handy.

You clicked back out of the app, put down your phone and went back to your book, hoping someone entertaining would at least comment on the photo soon. Barely half a page later another ding pulled you away. This time Instagram.  

Benhardy: Just came over you

Quick and to the point. Fuckboy energy. You clicked onto his profile half expecting another faceless timewaster. No description or links to other sites but he had a profile picture. And some fifty odd photos. Not many posts considering his million followers but at least you knew he was a real person. You scrolled through his feed trying to put gather what info you could before you responded. Lots of photos of himself sometimes with friends. A few that were clearly modelling jobs or, more likely considering the movie trailers and saved story called Oscars 2019, promotional photoshoots for magazines. And he was a proud dog dad. Definitely attractive. You wondered briefly why someone so handsome was getting off to half dressed girls on Instagram but put it out of your mind as you opened his conversation up again. Who cared why as long as he was talking to you? After all, he was hot and willingly giving you attention. Plus, if he was an actor or whatever he probably wouldn’t mind paying for something special, once you’d given him a taste. The only question left was how to approach the conversation.  

You: Really? That’s so flattering!

You: Kind of wish you’d cum over me for real tho, bit bored

Benhardy: dirty girl

Benhardy: could probably think of some way to keep you busy

Benhardy: you’re fit

You: haha aww thank you! I post more often on snap if you wanna follow. don’t have to hide behind swimwear and emojis there. easier to chat too, unless you prefer kik or something

He didn’t reply. You frowned at your phone wondering if you’d shown your hand too soon. Perhaps you should have kept up the flattered damsel act a little longer, waited before mentioning Snapchat. Maybe he wasn’t looking for a chat, just genuinely wanted to compliment you, even if it was in a gross slightly derogatory way. Or maybe he just got cold feet. You sighed as you swiped back to check what other people had been sending you. A few more ignorable accounts, a couple messages you didn’t like enough to respond to straight away. And then another Snapchat notification.  

Ben Jones: had to create an account but I’m here

You: oh! you’ve changed your name

Ben Jones: Hardy’s the stage name lol

You: hmmm hardy… little bit of a pornstar name

You: or could be if you changed the ben part.

Ben Jones: that’s my backup plan in case actual acting doesn’t work out lol

Ben Jones: not too out of place right now tho

You: haha that because of me?

Ben Jones: maybe. loved the photos in your story you’ve got great tits

Ben Jones: kinda wanna see you pinch and pull on them

And so it began. You leaned forward to pull your shirt off and then settled back against the pillows, running your fingers around your nipple until it was hard. Angling the camera towards your chest you pinched your nipple between your thumb and forefinger, rolling it between them. The camera clicked as you took a photo and then clicked again as you tugged your nipple away from your body, hissing a little at the pain.

You: Like this?

Ben Jones: perfect

Ben Jones: really are lovely tits.

You: surprisingly don’t hear that much irl so ty

Ben Jones: u don’t? criminal

You: lmao yeah but that’s what I have you for

Ben Jones: happy to help

Ben Jones: What are you wearing?

You: Just a pair of knickers now

Ben Jones: sexy

Ben Jones: can I see?

You: just the knickers or the whole look?

Ben Jones: whole look first

Ben Jones: then just the knickers so I can see the wet spot you’re making

You wriggled against the pillows, shuffling further down the bed. Long ago you’d learnt which angles were the easiest to take photos in and which were the best to show off your body. A full body shot was easiest when you leaned your phone up against a stack of books or something at the foot of the bed and used the timer on the camera to get a few shots of you kneeling. It left your hands fee to squeeze your tits if that seemed appropriate or slip into your underwear, or to put behind your back in a pose that seemed innocent but actually pushed your hips and chest forward. For Ben though you felt something that appeared a little more casual would be appropriate. You lay back, head raised slightly on your pillows, feel flat against the mattress so your knees were in the air and pressed together. Carefully you positioned the camera, wrist twisted a little to get the angle just right. You brought your free hand up to your breasts, pulling your nipple again since Ben seemed to like it, and snapped a photo. The shot of your underwear was easier, legs spread, pushing your hips up slightly to get a clear shot of the wet patch that had been slowly growing since the start of the conversation, though a little added saliva to make it more obvious didn’t hurt. He wouldn’t be able to tell.  

Ben Jones: hot

Ben Jones: like got me so hard again hot

You: does that mean I get a picture in return?

Ben Jones: Only if you take your knickers off for me

Ben Jones: wouldn’t be fair otherwise since im not wearing underwear😉  

You took your time sending him a new photo and got one back almost straight away. You would have scoffed at his eagerness to show himself off but, with a body like his you couldn’t really blame him. You zoomed into the photo, trailing your eyes over every inch of it. Messy blonde hair, though whether it was intentionally messy or just like that from him grabbing it while he jerked off over your photo you weren’t sure. Gorgeous eyes, heavy lidded and a little fucked out. One arm behind his head as he lay on his bed. It looked carefree and spontaneous, like someone else had taken the photo at the very moment he looked at the camera, but it showed off the muscles in his arms too well to be coincidence. And speaking of muscles. The boy was a fucking Adonis. You were instantly struck by the desire to drag your nails down his chest and leave a trail of hickeys and bite marks all the way down to his toned stomach and tight waist. You clenched your thighs together at the thought as you slowly revealed the bottom half of the photo. He had his legs outstretched though one was more bent than the other, knee jutting out to the side. Almost too casual to be casual, especially with the way he had his hand wrapped around his cock, like the photo was taken mid stroke. You couldn’t help linger over that particular part of the photo. It was a lovely hand, big with noticeable veins, exactly the sort that could make you weak in the knees. And the same could be said for the dick it was holding. You wondered briefly where this Ben guy had come from and what you could possibly have done to catch his attention.  

Ben Jones: is that silence because you’re so impressed

The message made you roll your eyes. Hot he might be, but he was still just another desperate fuckboy looking for a naked girl to drool over and a quick orgasm.  

You: well I’m not not impressed

Ben Jones: no need to be shy. just say you’re imagining riding me and I'd understand

You: wasn’t before. Am now.

Ben Jones: what were you picturing before?

You: doggy

Ben Jones: be happy to let you try both and compare.

You: let me film it and watch the tapes back to study your game?

Ben Jones: wait this is dumb.

Your frowned at your phone. For such typical guy, the sort you’d dealt with so many times before, Ben sure was hard to pin down.  

You: what?

Ben Jones: you comfortable doing live chat?

Ohhhh

You: umm sure thing

Ben Jones: you don’t have to

You: i know that. you couldn’t force me to even if you wanted, beauty of doing this online. i just don’t do live very often. or I charge for it.

Ben Jones: that desperate for me?

You: you caught me in a good mood

You let the call ring for a bit, wanting to make sure Ben understood how in control you were and how much more he needed it than you. But eventually you picked up, settling back against your pillows. Ben seemed to be in a similar position, leaning against his headboard, the screen showing you his face and bare shoulders. “Hi,” “Hi,” his voice was deeper than you’d expected, thrown by how soft and, dare you say, feminine his features were, and yet it suited him perfectly. You could only imagine how that voice would sound growling out sexually charged complements, the thought appealing enough to have you pressing your thighs together. There was a moment of silence as you took each other in, not quite sure how to continue now that you’d switched from text.   “So you going to show me how wet you are?” Once again his demeanour had you wanting to roll your eyes though you refrained, “No.” “No?” His confusion was entertaining to say the least. So many of the men who contacted you assumed you were going to be outright submissive and meek, taking whatever photos they demanded and doing everything they told you to with a smile and a yes sir. So proving them wrong, defying them, taking control, that was fun. Almost an aphrodisiac in its own right. Sometimes you’d eventually submit, play the brat and then let them win, and if they were paying it was a different story. But Ben struck you as the kind of guy who could use a little more pushback. Probably used to getting his way, having his pick of the litter. Lord knows had he hit on you in real life you probably would have agreed to whatever he wanted just to feel his hands on you. But here, on your profile, you had the power. Plus, in the back of your mind you suspected that being a little more assertive might just make him more interested in seeing you submit and maybe a little more willing to pay for the pleasure.   “Not yet.” “Bit of a bold move considering I could just go find someone else to look at. There’re these things called porn sites, yeah?” “But they’re so impersonal. Isn’t this more fun?” He paused, eyeing you, and then let out a breath, “You got me there.” “Figured, since the video chat was your idea and all.” “Just got sick of typing one handed.” “Mmhmm, sure.” “So are you going to show me your cunt then?” “Eventually. But what’s the rush?” you stood up, making sure to let the camera dip just a little so Ben got a quick flash of your chest. “How about I’m hard as hell and want to get off?” “You’re not the only one who wants to get off so just hold your horses for a second while I get my toys.” “There are toys now?” You could see Ben’s shoulder move as he started to stroke himself again. “Told you to hold your horses. Stop touching yourself.” Ben’s arm stopped its movement though he seemed a little taken aback by his own obedience. “Good boy,” you watched for Ben’s reaction, not disappointed as he swallowed hard, his cheeks going pinker than they already were. That was interesting. “Yes there are toys, you wanna see?” “Do I get to pick which ones you use?” “Maybe,” “Go on, show me then,” You flipped the camera around as you opened your chest of draws. There wasn’t much in there, a couple different dildos and vibrators, a set of nipple suckers, mostly things you’d bought to fulfil requests guys were paying you for. You picked up the nipple suckers and held them up to the camera. “I assume you’d like to see me in these since you liked watching me play with my nipples.” “Mmhmm, absolutely. Also want to see you with a dildo. You got one with a suction base? Might tell you to ride it the way you’d ride me,” he seemed to be doubling down on the pull for control after you’d seen his reaction to being told what to do, determined to put you in your place or whatever. “Unfortunately, no. But this one will do,” you took hold of a silicon dildo, pulling it from the draw, “Don’t think it's as big as you but it does vibrate and that’s guaranteed to work.” “I’ll allow it, though I think we both know I’d be better.” “I’m going to ignore that,” you said as you turned the camera back towards you and headed back to your bed, settling against the pillows again. You propped the camera up against a pillow so Ben could watch as you placed the suckers over your nipples, whimpering at the sudden taught feeling. You picked the phone back up, giving Ben a closer view of your boobs. “They suit you. And you can ignore it all you like but when you start doing what I say and I let you fuck yourself into your third orgasm I’ll remind you. Maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll tell you where you can meet me in real life and show you exactly how good I am.” “You’re a cocky one, aren’t you?”   “In every sense. If I remember correctly you were speechless at the sight.” “You’ve got a bad memory, Benny boy.” Slowly you let your fingers trail down to your pussy. You didn’t believe he was as good as he thought he was – you’d dealt with too many overconfident wankers, both in real life and online, to believe another one – but the game you’d fallen into, the back and forth teasing, not entirely sure who was in control at any one time, was arousing to say the least. It was certainly one of the less predictable conversations you’d had recently.   “If not speechless then certainly wet. Show me your pussy, wanna see you touching yourself.”” “Who said I’m touching myself?” you slipped a finger into your entrance, trying to keep your breathing even.” “You’re not as good at hiding it as you think you are. So show me.” “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Ben gave you a fleeting look, eyebrow raised, before his camera flipped and you were once again looking at his hand wrapped around his cock, red and leaking precum. You turned your camera too, making sure he had a good view. “Add a second finger for me.” You did as he asked, “You been a good boy and not touched? Or do I have to tell you off for misbehaving?” “I didn’t but it wasn’t because of anything you said. Just didn’t want things to finish before I heard you beg me to cum.” He began to stroke himself, keeping in time with the slow pace you’d set as you pumped your fingers in and out of your pussy. “Sure,” you panted, adding a third finger, “so if I told you to stop now,” His hand halted. “Well aren’t you just so obedient,” You removed your fingers from yourself, reaching to grab the dildo, “you wanna see me fuck myself properly? Watch me cum all over this toy, pretend it’s your cock making me moan?”   “God yes,” his voice cracked a little, fingers twitching against himself as he briefly let the cocky, controlling persona fall away. It didn’t last long, “Show me how deep you can take that cock. C’mon, I know what a fucking slut you are, getting off on people watching you.” You didn’t bother arguing, sliding the dildo along your dripping folds before pressing it into yourself with a whine. “Wait, hang on a sec.” The was the sound of shuffling and the screen went black as Ben moved around but, eventually, he flipped the camera again and settled back on the bed. He’d propped his phone up somewhere in front of himself, letting you see every inch of him from his face to his hard, leaking cock, “better?” “Oh much, hang on I’ll do the same," you carefully pulled the dildo from yourself and sat up, leaning your phone against a stack of books on your bedside table and then adjusting your pillows in front of it, “we good?” ���Yeah, take the nipple things off though, wanna see your tits properly.” You did as he asked, letting out a soft moan at the sensation. Ben chuckled, “God I can’t wait to hear how loud you moan imaging how hard I’d fuck you.” You slid the dildo back into your entrance, slowly pumping it in and out of yourself as you brought your other hand up to squeeze your breast, “mmm, you look so pretty when you’re all needy Benny.” It wasn’t a lie, between his lust blown eyes, flushed cheeks and soft pout, Ben looked incredible and it only turned you on more, “Want to show me how needy you can get? Want me make you beg?” “Faster. Harder,” he ignored your questions in favour of giving you another order but you were sure you’d heard his voice crack just a little. You sped up, whining with each thrust, Ben’s hand matching your pace as his slid his thumb over the tip and spread the precum over his length. “Fuck your wet, I can hear it. That all because of me?” “Maybe a-a bit. Also just like, fuck, being watched,” “Turn on the vibrator and rub your clit,” Ben’s voice was husky, impossibly deep and rough, “don’t stop until I say.” You moaned as the vibrations started, angling the dildo to rub against your g-spot on every pass.   “There you go, being a good little slut. Gonna cum how I tell you to.” “On-only if you cum how I tell you to.” You almost let the dildo fall from your grasp, so shocked were you by the whine Ben let out, “Like that idea? Want me to tell you what to do? If I told you to stop and watch me would you?” “No,” he said, steadfastly sticking to the game although his hand faltered and his voice had mostly lost the controlling edge he’d had before, all desperate, whiny need. “N-not sure I beli-eve you.” “Please don’t stop. Wanna cum so bad,” “I know y-ou do Benny.” “You close?” “Yes, fuck Ben, so close.” “Cum for me, come on, be a good slut and cum,” “Not. Yet. Play with your balls Benny, wanna see you cum first.” His gasped turned into a strangled cry as he ran his fingers over his testicles before lightly squeezing them “T-turn the vibrator higher,” Neither one of you were in control anymore, too caught up in getting yourselves and each other off, though you were both determinedly looking at the screen, watching each other. Ben’s lip was caught between his teeth, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he let out some of the prettiest moans you’d ever heard. It only served to push you closer to the edge, your own moans escaping as you bucked your hips rhythmically in time with the dildo moving in and out of your cunt. Ben finished a split second before you did, your eyes glued to the white now painting his stomach as you held the dildo in place, its vibrations making your toes curl.

The was a moment of quiet as you both collected yourselves, the only sounds his panted breaths and your soft whine as you removed the dildo from yourself, and then Ben spoke.   “Fuck that was hot.” “Yup,” “I thought your tits were good enough to wank over but Christ. That’s gonna keep me going for a bit.” You laughed, relaxing as your heart gradually fell back to its normal rhythm, “Well not too long I hope. You’re fun and I’d be happy to chat again sometime.” “Did I see in your bio that you take commissions?” “Yuuup,” “Huh, well, I’ll keep that in mind then.” “I look forward to it,” “Well, I should be off then, gotta clean up,” he gestured to the mess drying on his stomach. “Yeah, me too, maybe have a nap. That really was fun though so next time you’re bored or whatever hit me up. If you’re lucky I’ll let you boss me around. If you’re luckier I’ll do the bossing,” “I’d like to see you try,” “That whine you made says you’d enjoy it quite a lot,” “My whine? What about yours? Needy little brat.” Guess you’ll have to come back and settle this then.” “Guess I will. See you later.”

[spicykoreantatertots]

With love, from J

Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Rating: G

Genres: College AU, Roommates to Lovers, Fluffy Fluffy Fluff

Summary:  A beautiful bouquet of peonies are left on your doorstep, the only problem is, you don’t know who they’re from.

Warnings: none! this is just sweet fluff. 

A/N: It’s finally here! This piece is a gift for Ashley aka: @taehyungforreal​! I was honestly stunned when I found out that you were my Secret Admiree! I’ve been such a huge fan of your work for a while now and it’s such an honor to write for you. This is currently a very G rated, but I am toying with the idea of doing a smutty one shot down the line. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Thank you to everyone who helped me with this fic and encouraged me along the way: @ho-baebae​ @lovely-literati​.

~~~~~~~

Trudging up the stairs to your third floor apartment, you can't help but wonder if the $50 a month discount is worth all the extra effort. Especially when your backpack is full of Thicc text books. But at least tonight you don't have to leave again. It's Roomie Night.

Roomie Night is a tradition started way back when you and Jungkook first started living together. The two of you had been in the same group of friends since Freshman year, but weren't very close. But when it was time to leave the dorm, and both of you needed a place, you ended up together. In an effort to get to know him better, you proposed Roomie Night. Once a week the two of you set aside time to eat dinner and hang out with each other.

The idea worked, because now Jungkook is one of your closest, if not best friend. Tonight, Jungkook is bringing home takeout from the Chinese place you love and you've rented some action thriller that he's been dying to see. Should be a really fun night if you can make it up these stairs.

When you do reach the landing, you spot something outside your front door. Peonies? A whole bouquet of them in a beautiful purple vase. They must be from your mom, it is almost Valentine's day after all.

You unlock the door and pick up the vase to bring inside. Peonies have been your favorite flower since you were a child. You had spent many afternoons with your Grandmother as she tended to her flower garden. She often told you what each flower represented and Peonies represent good fortune and a happy marriage. Two things your Grandmother had, and two things you desperately wanted.

After losing the heavy backpack, you pull the card out of the Peonies. It simply says, "With love, from J.”

"From J?" you muse out loud to yourself. Could it be... Could they be from Jungkook? You had never seriously entertained the idea of dating your roommate. Not because he isn't gorgeous. He is. Not because he isn't sweet and caring. He is. Not because he doesn't have a great sense of humor. He does. Wait a second, so why haven't you considered him an option??

But wait, these just say, "from J." Maybe it isn't Jungkook. You don't call him J, nobody does. So maybe it's from someone else? You snap a picture and send it to another friend of yours, Seokjin. 

You: any idea who these could be from??

Seokjin: are they from Jungkook?? how many times do i have to tell you to get on the Jungkook train Y/N???

Seokjin: theoretically they could be from Jimin, but i'm pretty sure he's got a thing for Taehyung...

Seokjin: wait what's that guy you were flirting with at work??

You: Jackson!! Omg... maybe it was him... he did ask if i had a valentine this year, but i thought he was just making small talk

Seokjin: only one way to find out

You: wait until someone comes forward so i don't have to awkwardly put myself out there :|

Seokjin: right...

~~~~~~~

Jungkook drags himself up the stairs, legs weak from his intense workout. His long dark hair is damp with sweat. Chinese food in hand, he walks through the door to see you texting away at the kitchen counter.

"Hey how's it going?" The soft smile blush on your face confuses him slightly, he wonders who you're texting.

"Oh it's going." Jungkook walks toward you, setting your dinner down on the counter. "Are you going to shower before we eat, I can smell you over the take out." You laugh and he knows you're kidding. He loves the sound of your laugh...

"I'll shower, you can go ahead and eat, I won't be long." Jungkook goes to the bathroom to start the shower before he walks off toward his bedroom down the hall. He's still thinking about who you're texting, who is making you smile like that. It should be him.

As he picks out some clean clothes he can't help but think about how badly he wants to be with you, but he can't bring himself to cross the boundary from friends and roommates to something more.

In the bathroom, the steam is rising from the shower and Jungkook is so ready to get into the hot shower. He opens the cabinet for a towel, but doesn't find any.

"Y/N! Where are all the towels?" Jungkook calls from the bathroom.

"In a basket in my room, I was gonna put them up later!" You call back to him, mouth full of noodles.

Jungkook slips out of the bathroom and moves quickly to your bedroom to grab a towel. He finds the full basket near your desk where he also notices a large bouquet of pink flowers. His heart stops for a second when he reads the card placed next to them.

From J? Who got you those flowers? Valentine's Day is around the corner and Jungkook realizes he might be too late. He may have already missed his chance to be with you.

~~~~~~~

Empty take out cartons litter the coffee table, the credits from the movie are rolling, but you can't move. You're afraid to move even an inch because Jungkook's head is in your lap. He fell asleep before the first explosion even happened. At first he was just resting his head on your shoulder, but in his sleepy state he eventually made it down to your lap.

You gently brush his hair out of his face and you can admire his beauty. God is he beautiful. The way his nose curves, the sharp edge of his jaw line, each of his cute little moles - all handcrafted by God himself.

Your fingers are still absentmindedly stroking through his locks. The motion of it slowly wakes him.

"Hello sleepy head." You smiled down at him. He quickly sits up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

"So how did it end?" He looks back at you. God how did things change so quickly? Because all you want to do right now is kiss him on his perfect mouth. "The movie? Did they vanquish the evil doers?"

"Oh! Yeah yeah, they all exploded and the hero got back in time for his wedding."

"So all was well." He hums to himself. He'll probably watch the movie again later. He can never stay awake when he eats that much food. "So listen... next week Roomie Night is on Valentine's Day..."

Your stomach twists. Is this it, is he about to ask you out? He looks around the room before looking back at you. All you can do is hope that the blush on your face isn't too obvious in the dim lighting.

"Are you planning to..." He starts, shakes his head, tries again. "Are you gonna have a Valentine this year?" Why would he ask that now if he already bought you flowers, they must not be from him.

~~~~~~~

He reads your face carefully for a reaction. He's put it all on the line, he's got to know who the flowers are from. He waits for you to answer, but the longer you wait the more he realizes you must be trying to find a way to break the news to him.

You must be seeing someone.

"I'm not... expecting anything. If that's what you mean." What do you mean by that? Where did the flowers come from? God he should just ask you. But he can't bring himself to do it.

"Okay, so Roomie Night is on just like always?" He grins, starting to clean up the mess from dinner.

"Just like always." You return his smile, but it doesn't quite meet your eyes. Jungkook is still so unsure about what's going on inside that beautiful mind of yours.

~~~~~~~

Both you and Jungkook have full time course loads and part time jobs, so you don't see each other everyday. You don't really get to see him again until four days after Roomie Night. The two of you are going to be meeting up with your friends for dinner and game night at Namjoon's apartment.

You're waiting, sitting on the couch while Jungkook is getting ready. You're scrolling through your twitter feed when you hear the door open.

Jungkook walks out, shirtless. H-has he always had abs like that? He's towel drying his hair as he walks down the hall to his bedroom. The lean muscles on his back lead down to his slim waist. You hope he didn't notice you staring.

~~~~~~~

Once he's fully dressed and his hair is mostly dry, Jungkook joins you in the living room. He's wearing black jeans and his favorite Nirvana shirt covered by his denim jacket.

"It's pretty nice out for February, wanna just walk?" Jungkook shows you the temperature from his weather app, clear skies and it's almost 60 degrees.

"Sounds good. Got the keys." You respond, getting up from the couch. He watches you grab your coat and open the door, turning the lock from the inside. 

"Let's go!"

The walk to Namjoon's apartment flies by. It's about five blocks away, but the time he spends with you always seems to move too quickly. He could honestly listen to you complain about customers from work all day long. And you listen intently as he talks about the latest album he's listening to. The way you giggle when he tells a dumb joke makes his heart soar.

Your cheeks are rosy from the cool wintery breeze that blows the hair out of your face. Jungkook is pretty sure God is playing a cruel joke on him, or maybe it's just a sign. A sign that you are meant to be his.

~~~~~~~

When you arrive at Namjoon's place, Seokjin is in the kitchen finishing up dinner with the help of Jimin. Taehyung is setting the table and Namjoon is in the living area looking through his extensive collection of board games.

Before too long, the six of you are around the dinner table, Jungkook by your side as always. His energy does feel a little bit different tonight though. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but it does feel like he's looking over at you a lot. And he's laughing at everything you say. And maybe he's sitting a little closer to you than he has to.

After dinner, you help Seokjin wash the dishes while the other boys set up Clue. A classic.

"Okay listen he's totally into you. The flowers have to be from him." Seokjin whispers so that no one can hear him over the sound of the faucet.

"Jin! You can't just say things like that!" You whisper back at him.

"I'm not just saying it! God Y/N! How did you not see the way he was looking at you during dinner?" You look over your shoulder and see Jungkook play fighting with Taehyung. He's smiling, he's happy, and suddenly he's looking back at you.

~~~~~~~

Were you just looking at him? Jungkook lets Taehyung out of his grasp and stares back at you until you turn back to the sink. Taehyung punches Jungkook's arm, regaining his attention.

"What was that all about?" Taehyung glances over at you.

"Nothing." Jungkook tries to shut down his friend's snooping. "I don't know what you're talking about.

"Okay so we're just gonna pretend like you weren't in your own little Y/N-loving world during dinner then?"

"He's right." Jimin chimes in from his seat at the table and that's when Jungkook notices Namjoon is listening too. "You two would be great together, you should just go for it." Jimin continues. Jungkook looks to Namjoon for his thoughts.

"Based on both of your body language, I think there might be something there." Namjoon states matter-of-factly. Jungkook gives one last longing look in your direction before he put Taehyung back in a chokehold.

~~~~~~~

"Alright the game is Clue and to make it a little more interesting we are going to be playing in teams. Me and Jimin, Taehyung and Jin, and Jungkook and Y/N." You look over at Namjoon, but he is busying himself with shuffling the cards.

Throughout the rest of the night, Jin kicks you under the table anytime Jungkook does something that could be even slightly flirtatious. Every laugh, every smile, every secretive whisper in your ear that sends a chill down your spine.

When the two of you decide it's time to Make the Accusation, Jungkook stands dramatically. He looks around the room before proclaiming that it was, in fact, Professor Plum with the Dagger in the Library.

After checking the envelope and announcing your team's victory, you jump up and wrap your arms around Jungkook. He doesn't hesitate to return the hug and judging by the smug look on Seokjin's face, the hug lasted a little too long.

"Good game everyone!" You shout, suddenly embarrassed. "I guess it's getting kind of late, we should get going since we walked." You're now speaking to just Jungkook and he nods in response.

~~~~~~~

The walk back to your shared apartment is a little bit more awkward than Jungkook would have hoped. The temperature has dropped significantly and he can hear your teeth chattering. But your hands are hanging by your side rather than in your pockets. Maybe you want him to grab your hand.

"Do you have work tomorrow night?" He asks you, thinking maybe he'll finally have the courage to ask you out.

"Nope I'm free!" You turn and look up at him slightly, your pace slowing down. Jungkook takes a deep breath.

"Do you maybe wanna..." He starts, but he second guesses himself. Why would a girl like you wanna go out with him when you've clearly already got an admirer. He lets out a frustrated sigh. "Maybe we could study together then?"

"Yeah sure sounds great."

~~~~~~~

You thought that was it, you thought he was going to ask you out, especially after the fun night the two of you had with your friends. The chill of the night is starting to really set in as the two of you approach your apartment. Trying your best to not sound out of breath, you wait for Jungkook to unlock the door.

"What are you waiting for?" Jungkook motions toward the door.

"Well you're the one with the keys." You retort, ready to be inside.

"No! When we left you said you had the keys." You look up at him, confused.

"No... I was asking if you got the keys! So neither of us have keys?" You groan, slapping the palm of your hand against your face. "It's COLD!"

~~~~~~~

Jungkook calls the emergency maintenance line for the apartment complex to have them bring a spare key.

"It'll be about fifteen minutes." He puts his phone back in his pocket. He can see you shivering in the dim lighting of the walkway. After some silence he adds, "I'm sorry."

"It's not totally your fault... I guess." You exhale with a chuckle, music to his ears. You close the distance between the two of you and Jungkook almost gasps when you nuzzle your nose in his jacket.

"It's so cold." Your voice is muffled and he almost can't make out what you said. He wraps his arms around you to try and help warm you up. And this feels so right. You belong in his arms, he's sure of it.

The two of you stand like this for a few minutes, really he wasn't counting, but he does feel you pull away after a while. Before he can be too disappointed, he hears people climbing up the stairs. Your neighbors, Yoongi and Hoseok are coming home from what looks like a shopping trip.

~~~~~~~

"Hey guys." You stuttered behind your chattering teeth. You're feeling the cold all over again after you peeled yourself off of Jungkook.

"What's up?" Yoongi asks, probably wondering what the two of you are doing standing outside in the cold. "Locked out?"

Both you and Jungkook nod in response. Hoseok offers to let the two of you in while you wait for the maintenance man, but you turn him down, he should be here any minute now. Before going into the apartment, Hoseok turns back.

"Have either of you seen a bouquet of Peonies anywhere?" Your stomach turns upside down. "I ordered some for Yoongi, they're his favorite. They were supposedly delivered, but they weren't here when we got home."

"Oh yeah, they were delivered to our door by mistake." You've never been so mortified, especially considering Jungkook is here watching this unfold. "They're my favorite flowers too, so I thought they must be from..." You pause, not wanting to keep that train of thought going.

"See Yoongi! I told you I ordered you flowers!" Hoseok calls into the apartment. Yoongi pokes his head back out.

"I'll bring them over when we get in. Oh but, the card said that they were "from J?" Hoseok blushes in response to your question.

"That's one of my nicknames for him..." Yoongi winks at you before they both retreat to the warmth of their apartment.

~~~~~~~

"So who did you think the flowers were from?" Jungkook teased. He was beyond relieved to know that the flowers weren't actually for you. Relieved that maybe he still had a chance with you. You roll your eyes at him, but Jungkook notices some sadness in them.

Before he gets the chance to say anything else, the maintenance worker comes to let the two of you in. Jungkook watches as you head straight to your room. He lingers in the kitchen, waiting for you to come out with the peonies. 

“So are peonies really your favorite?” Jungkook asks.

“Not another word Jeon.” You announce as you leave the apartment with the bouquet. The flowers are just beginning to wilt, hopefully Yoongi will still like them. In the silence of the apartment, Jungkook decides it’s time you get some peonies that are actually meant for you. 

~~~~~~~

When you come home from class the next day, your ascent to your apartment brings back all the embarrassment from the night before. At least this time you have your keys. 

You are surprised to see that Jungkook beat you home, he’s rummaging around in the pantry for something to eat. Usually he stays late to work out at the rec center after class. Jungkook stops when he hears you enter. 

“Hi.” He says shortly, wearing a big contagious grin. 

“Hi?” You repeat back to him, hanging up your coat and bag near the door. 

“Wait here.” Jungkook saunters off down the hall.

“Okay?” You reply, slightly confused. What is he up to?

From his bedroom, Jungkook emerges with a large bouquet of pale pink peonies. You cover your face with your hands and laugh to yourself. There is no way he went out and bought peonies for you. 

“These are for you.” You uncover your eyes and look up at Jungkook’s radiant smile one more time before looking at the flowers. The petals look so soft and you reach out to touch them. Then you notice a card sticking out. The card says, “With love, from J(ungkook).”

“They’re beautiful.” You try to speak through your laughter. Feeling emboldened by his gesture, you tilt your head up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“Listen... I was thinking. Maybe we should cancel Roomie Night.” Jungkook is blushing, his hand resting back behind his head. “We could call it Date Night instead?”

“Date night?” You smile. “I like the sound of that.”

~~~~~~~

Happy Bouquet Day sweetie! Sorry I posted a bit late in the day, but I hope you enjoyed it! @taehyungforreal​

[spockina]

Kiss Your Best Friend

100% came to after i watched a bunch of ‘kiss your best friend’ tik tok challenges. no i’m not great with titles

the biggest thank you ever to @hearteyesforbuck​ for being the kindest, nicest person, welcoming me into this community, and reading this and giving me valuable feedback. thank you. <3 

4.1k words / fluff

this is my first 9-1-1 fic. pls be kind to me

ps.: this was also posted on ao3!

~

Buck will be the first one to tell you that he isn’t the greatest person with pop culture – and that extends to technology. He’s not even embarrassed about it; it just never piqued his interest, and that’s about it for explanations. So, no, he doesn’t know that the Jonas Brothers are back together – in fact, he only has a vague recollection of who they are –, and the only reason he keeps getting new iPhones is because they keep calling him to offer a trade (and everyone knows shiny new things are always fun, okay?).

Chimney, on the other hand, is a pop culture pro. 

“There’s no such thing as too old for apps, Buck,” he says, waving his phone around as if to prove a point, “because if I still have a phone in my hands, then I can still enjoy the damn apps that go in them, right?”

Buck nods, unsure of what else to say. He hates feeling unsure, more so if the subject is as dumb as popular-things-he-doesn’t-know-and-or-care-about.

“What I’m tryna show you,” Chim continues, as if Buck isn’t about two seconds from tuning out of this conversation entirely, “is a funny series of videos on Tik Tok. I promise you’re gonna laugh at ‘em.”

“What’s… Tik-Tok…?” Buck asks instead.

Chim sighs, but then laughs a little. “Ok, Buck, it doesn’t matter, come watch the videos!”

It starts with a soft, mellow song, and on screen he can see some pictures, all accompanied with text explaining them, that'sthats my best friend, we been best friends for 3 years now, he doesn'tdoesnt know i like him, and then it cuts to a cute moment of a blonde teen leaning in and placing a tentative kiss on said best friend’s lips. They laugh and then hug, and then the video ends. After that one come a few more in succession; some go horribly wrong, and some are funny. Most of them work out as planned, though.

Then Bobby calls Chimney from downstairs, and Chim pockets his phone to leave.

“That’s the ‘kiss your best friend challenge’, Buckaroo.” He says with a grin, all teeth. “Thought you’d enjoy it.” He winks at Buck, and then goes, yelling coming! and leaving behind a very confused and only somewhat amused Buck.

That’s how it starts.

-

So, no, Buck doesn’t really know the first thing about apps in general, what’s trending and what’s not, but he does know how to work the App Store. Knows how to find apps. Knows how to download Tik Tok.

It’s innocent enough at first. The videos are funny, for the most part, and it’s a mindless distraction, even if only slightly better than the games he’s used to, and only better because of the amount of variety he gets.

He can’t help but come back to the stupid videos (and why even call them challenges anyway? What’s challenging about them?) about kissing your best friend.

They’re mostly adorable, but some are heartbreaking. He’s soft, okay? No shame in his game. He’s a soft guy, who’s (mostly) in touch with his feelings. Some of the rejection ones are upsetting; God knows Buck has faced a couple of rejections in his prime, and they hurt.

He keeps watching them anyway.

-

This week has been a rough one. Eddie picked up an extra shift, which made Buck decide to pick one up, too, because why the hell not? Christopher wasn’t even going to need anything Buck could help with, as he already had plans with Abuela. That extra shift, it turned out, was a horrible mistake.

(Not really. Buck really, really does love his job. Loves doing what he does, loves knowing he’s helping people. Sometimes it gets exhausting, though. Sometimes he’s made to face  what losing his friends, his family, Eddie would feel like, and those hurt days like a motherfucker.)

A huge house fire reached the two neighboring houses. They needed backup, the whole thing was insane. Half of the roof collapsed not even two inches from where Eddie was standing, twin girls in his arms, Buck watching from the ladder where he was ready to take the girls. It doesn’t matter how many times they go near death; every single time it happens in slow-motion. Everyone came out alive, but the bitter taste followed Buck’s mouth into the truck, where he places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, and leaves it there until they reach the station.

“Plans for the evening?” He asks softly. They feel extra raw tonight.

“Not really.” Eddie replies, and the silence stretches. Buck thinks that’s all Eddie’s saying, until he clears his throat, continues. “Christopher’s staying with Abuela, and then Carla’s picking him up and taking him to school in the morning.” Another pause. “I’m just tired, Buck. I need to crash.”

Buck nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. I just. I won’t be able to,” he says, complete honesty without even thinking, and that’s probably his favorite thing about his friendship with Eddie. No filter, just truth. Mostly.

Eddie nods, but it’s more of a jerky motion. Buck doesn’t inquire further.

“You wanna grab a couple pizzas and some beer? We can pretend to watch a movie until we collapse.”

The suggestion sounds heavenly. Buck grins, nods, already picking up his phone.

“Domino’s fine? The usual?”

Eddie nods. “Your place or mine?”

-

In the end they only get the pizzas because Buck has more than enough beers for the two of them at his place. 

They have three mostly empty pizza boxes on the coffee table, beer in hand, a half a dozen other bottles around the boxes, a movie they’re pretending to watch – but even as it plays on screen, Buck can’t pretend to know what’s going on. He’s sitting on the far end of the couch, with Eddie right beside him, head on his shoulder.

Buck’s a naturally tactile person. Craves physical touches, and the warmth of another person’s skin. Eddie wasn’t always like that; it took him some time to open up, and Buck doesn’t know if this is for him only, or if he’s as open with any of his other friends, but that doesn’t matter to Buck.

Buck moves his arm behind Eddie, so that they can both be more comfortable, and Eddie looks up a little startled, soft around the edges and glassy-eyed, which means he was probably on his way to falling asleep when Buck moved. He smiles at Buck, a small smile that’s open and honest and free. And Buck… Wow. Buck realizes, then and there, that he wants to kiss Eddie. 

It’s only a second, and then Eddie’s looking back at the screen, burrowing just the tiniest bit more into the space Buck has made for him, taking a sip of his beer, sighing very softly.

And, oh. Oh. Buck understands now. Buck knows, deeply and suddenly, why they’re called challenges, and what the challenging part is about the whole kiss your best friend thing.

It’s a bet he’s not sure if he’s willing to take.

-

Buck can’t stop thinking about it.

He doesn’t remember when he knew he was in love with Abby. That’s always where their relationship was going to go, there wasn’t another option. They weren’t ever in it for anything other than being together. Sure, Buck tried, for the first time, to be a better man, and that was what moved them along, but Buck always knew how they were supposed to end up. Together. Which is why he doesn’t know when he realized he was in love with Abby. If the goal was to get the girl, then being in love with her was an integral part of the plan. He just doesn’t fucking know, which is making everything worse.

Because he’s pretty sure he’s in love with Eddie.

Because he didn’t know, and then he did.

Because it was easy to figure out.

Eddie looked at him, open and carefree, even if for just a minute, and Buck thought yes. And that was it. Buck thought yes, Buck thought he would do anything to just keep Eddie looking like that, soft, and safe, and tranquil. In his arms. Buck thought all those things in a millisecond, and he knew what they meant. He knows what they mean, because he hasn’t stopped thinking about them ever since they materialized in his mind.

I’m in love with Eddie.

Buck wanted to be a better man for Abby, and he was, but Eddie makes him a better man.

He hates knowing this. He doesn’t know what to do with it, because, while he would never do anything to jeopardize what he has with Eddie (this friendship, this trust, this love – that is above the romance part of things, and involves everything else – namely, Christopher, and the feeling of belonging he gets when he’s with them), he also knows himself. He knows this isn’t going to last very long before he bursts and makes a mess of things. He needs to think, but he has, has been doing nothing but think about this.

He needs to do something.

He just hasn’t figured out what just yet.

-

The idea comes, funnily enough, when they’re at a call.

The universe sure loves a good dose of irony.

Some (dumb) teenager stuck in the air vent, was what the 9-1-1 operator said. There’s a really big, sour looking man yelling at a teenage girl – who’s yelling right back at him – outside when they get there, a lady watching them, clear from her face that she’s both the girl’s mom and the man’s wife and that she’s given up on whatever’s going on. He half hears as Bobby tries to placate things enough to understand what’s going. The girl outside starts sobbing, but now he’s concentrating on the girl inside, upstairs in a bedroom, stuck in the air vent.

“Hey, can you hear me?” He says loudly, and gets some noise back that he’ll take as an answer. She’s already all the way in the vent, save for one foot hanging out from where she got stuck trying to move, a knee up and one leg straight. Stupid, stupid idea. “What’s your name?” He asks, and then they start to work.

“Sage,” she answers, loud. He’s not sure if she’s yelling or if the sound’s carrying, but he keeps being loud just to be sure.

“Ok, Sage, we’re gonna get you out, don’t worry! Wanna tell me whatcha doing in there?”

“Looking for a rat,” she replies, and Eddie huffs a laugh beside him, shakes his head. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, I just panicked!”

“Hey, don’t worry about my feelings, Sage, we’re fine. You wanna tell me what happened for you to hop up there?”

“What’s your name?” She says, and that takes him by surprise. His eyebrows go up, and he looks at everyone around before answering.

“Uh, it’s Buck. My name’s Buck.”

“Look, Buck,” she starts, and she sounds so, so angry, but also so very sad, “Baileya’s dad hates me, ok? I haven’t seen her in a month! She’s my best friend!”

“Ok, Sage, I’m gonna need you to take a few calming breaths before we continue, ok? Do you want me to breathe with you?”

“No, no, it’s okay,” she says, and then she’s quiet, and they can all hear her breathing deeply. “Okay, sorry. Look. Baileya’s dad he, uh, he thinks I’m a bad influence. He was supposed to be somewhere, fuck if I know, but he was only supposed to come back tomorrow. I haven’t seen B in a month –” that last part sounds so sad it breaks Buck’s heart a bit, “– and I just. I missed her.” She’s silent for a little bit, and no one presses for more, but then she speaks up again. “We saw his car outta the window and I just panicked. This air vent hasn’t had a pane for the longest time and I’m a fucking gymnast, so I thought I could just jump up here and hang out for a minute. I know it was stupid, but he would kick me out if he found me, and I mean that very literally.”

Buck looks at his team. They all know what this means.

Finally, Bobby says, “Well, Sage, you’re gonna be out of there in a minute, and you’re gonna get to see your best friend, and no one’s touching you under the protection of the LAFD, okay? Don’t worry.”

She sounds shaky when she says thank you.

When they get her out, she asks them to stay at the door so she can get all her things in her backpack, and Buck notices her phone was propped up against some books in a table in front of the bed. Everyone trails out and he lingers behind to protect her, but also to say, in an almost-whisper:

“Hey, Sage, why was your phone propped up like that?”

She turns tomato red in a second, flat-out. “I was, uh. I was. Um. Filming a thing.”

And of course Buck knows. He knows that angle. “A challenge?”

She looks surprised. “Yeah. For, um, for Tik-Tok.”

“Did you get to do it?”

“Yeah, Buck,” she says, and he wouldn’t ask, normally, but her voice says it all.

“Did Baileya like it?”

She smiles at him, almost as if she can’t keep it in. “Yes.”

He decides then and there that he’s not going to look them up, but he can’t stop thinking about the smile on Sage’s face when she said yes.

The whole way back to the station he keeps watching Chimney, who has noticed, but hasn’t asked what he’s looking at him for. He wonders if he was always obvious to everyone else, and only oblivious to himself. He wonders whether he’s obvious to Eddie or if Eddie is oblivious to him.

More than anything, though, he’s pretty sure he found a way to do something. He feels silly. It was staring at him this whole time. Or, well, he was staring at it, really, for quite some time, in fact.

-

It’s another Saturday, and he’s been psyching himself up for a week. 

Sure, he’s figured out what to do, and he doesn’t wanna risk anything. That doesn’t mean he’s not jittery about it. So much, in fact, that Eddie notices as soon as he walks through the door.

Christopher jumps up as soon as he sees him, saying a long and excited Buck! and all but flinging himself at Buck, who has just enough time to drop the bags he has on the floor carefully and pick up Christopher in the same motion.

“How’s my Superman doing?”

“Good, Bucky. How are you?”

“Ready for a fun day with my favorite boys,” he replies, easy as anything.

He drops Christopher, and Eddie gives him a quick hug before picking up the bags he brought.

“What are these?”

“Well, it’s a nice day, thought we could, you know, make a day of it? You said you didn’t have plans and I have everything for a nice picnic.” He shrugs.

“I don’t see a basket,” Eddie teases.

“It’s in the car, you jerk.”

Eddie laughs. “Hey, Christopher, what do we think about a picnic?”

“Picnic!” is all the reply he gets from a very excited Christopher. “I’m going to change,” he says, already shuffling to his bedroom, and Eddie shakes his head.

“I also got us some beer, but that’s more for later in the evening. Thought we could order a pizza after Chris goes to bed, maybe?”

Eddie looks fake-shocked. “You want a whole entire day of eating not really health stuff? Who are you and what did you do to my Buck?”

And Buck knows, okay? Buck knows he’s just joking, but it still tugs at his heart, makes him feel like those butterflies people talk about are real: his head feels light, there’s a tingling on the tips of his fingers. Instead of any of the stupid things he wants to do, he just shakes his head, smiles.

“Nah, man, just wanted a nice day with the two of you, that’s all.”

Eddie’s smile is blinding. “Sounds good to me.”

-

“I’ll tuck him in and you order the pizza?”

“Yup.”

“‘K. Chris, go say good night to Buck.”

Christopher moves slowly. They’ve had a fun, long day.

“Good night, Bucky. I love you.”

“Good night, Chris. I love you, too.”

Buck listens to the sounds of the two of them as he orders the pizza. He thinks about how familiar it is, how at home he feels.

How he is, maybe, about to mess the whole thing up.

He sure has his excuses in place in case things don’t go the way he wants them to – “it’s just a joke, look, I can show you the other videos. It’s a challenge for Tik Tok. I just wanted to be down with the kids, Eddie! I thought you’d be game! It’s just for show!” – but it’s not going to stop things from being awkward for a little bit until they get back to normal. 

When Eddie comes back, the pizza is there already, and Buck is nursing a beer that’s already halfway down, but has one out for Eddie, cold and fresh. Eddie collapses on the couch with a grunt.

“That boy’s getting big, por Díos, where did the time go,” he says, sitting up nicely, taking a swig of his beer.

They’re having a good time. But they’re never not having a good time. This is it, Buck realizes. He can’t imagine ever again feeling so at home in the presence of someone else. He can’t imagine loving a child so deeply; can’t imagine loving a man more for the way he loves his own son. This is it.

Eddie goes to the bathroom, and it’s Buck’s chance.

He puts the phone up against a vase Eddie has on the coffee table; knows Eddie enough to know he won’t notice, especially after two beers.

“Alright, what did I miss,” Eddie says as he walks in the living room, more conversationally than interested, and Buck knows it’s now or never.

“Hey, Eddie,” he says, slowly, which makes Eddie look at him immediately, confusion and worry written in the lines around his eyes.

“You ok, Buck?” He asks, placing his beer bottle on the coffee table in front of them, worry making him move more into Buck’s personal space.

Ok, Buck. Now or never. Do it.

“Yeah, yeah, I just. I. Look, Eddie, I just need to –” Buck cuts himself off in favor of moving entirely into Eddie’s personal space, meeting him in the middle where Eddie already was. The air between them mingles, Buck can feel the warmth they’re creating back on his lips.

“What are you doing?” Eddie whispers, sharp, and for a second Buck feels as if he has lost; this exact moment is suspended in infinity for Buck to commit it to memory, to remember his loss, forevermore. But then. Then, Eddie looks down at Buck’s lips, and licks his own. Buck needs nothing else. He goes in.

Eddie is very still when their lips touch, but Buck can absolutely not help but notice how soft they are. Eddie is all hard angles and big muscles, but his lips are so soft, how’s that even possible? And then Buck notices he isn’t moving. He isn’t even breathing, actually, holding himself taut. Buck’s thankful for his foresight of not touching Eddie anywhere besides the lips.

Buck backs away slowly, hoping that Eddie won’t look at him too close, hoping Eddie will take pity and just let him run away for the night. But Eddie is watching him intently, looking into the blue eyes that already feel wet, so obviously they look wet. But hey! Buck tried, didn’t he? 

All the apologies and speech he had ready die in his throat. He’s not going to lie to Eddie; he doesn’t want to lie to Eddie. He should know. He should know that Buck is in love with him, heart-achingly so. He needs to know. So Buck doesn’t say anything. He looks around; for a second he had forgotten the phone was even there. He starts to get up, his mind a mess. 

Eddie holds his wrist. Buck looks at where they’re touching as if it’s burning. Eddie tugs, hard, making him sit down. 

“Did you mean that?" He asks, voice only above a whisper, but still crystal clear.

“What?” Buck says, confused. 

“Buck. Did you mean to do that?” He asks again, eyes on Buck’s. 

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Yeah, Eddie. I’ve been meaning to. For a while now.” 

Buck closes his eyes, then. Eddie's eyes are too bright, too beautiful for Buck to keep looking at. And then, Eddie’s hand is up against his neck, his jaw, against his cheek, resting there, thumb awfully close to the corner of Buck’s mouth. And then, Buck’s being kissed. For real. 

Eddie kisses exactly like he does all other things: quietly, not showing off, but assured of himself and of what he’s doing; he’s a pro and he knows it. 

Buck is about to shift into ‘two can play at this game mode’ when he remembers the phone recording. 

He pulls away slowly, softly, regrettably, but covers Eddie’s hand on his cheek with one of his hands, moves it to his mouth to kiss Eddie’s palm. Free. Able and allowed to do this. 

They smile at each other. Buck could stare at Eddie’s smile forever. 

He reaches for his phone on the coffee table and says a fuck so heartfelt Eddie moves away from him on the couch. 

“Buck?”

“It. Wasn’t. Recording.”

“What?”

Buck is, admittedly, a little late on the uptake of how bad that sounded. It takes him a while to explain the whole thing to Eddie, which of course includes showing him a few challenge videos. 

"So you had a speech ready in case I flipped out on you,” Eddie concludes. 

“Yup, correct." 

A beat, and then: "You didn’t say anything, though." 

Buck looks up at him, confused. "What do you mean?" 

"You pulled back, and you didn’t say anything. You were just going to leave." 

And, wow. Buck forgets, sometimes, just how perceptive Eddie is. He looks away for a second, but decides Eddie deserves honesty, even if it’s at the cost of baring his soul. He already did a lot of that tonight, might as well keep going. 

"I realized I wanted you to know. Our friendship is the most important thing I have, and so I knew that, whatever happened here, you needed to know that I’m in love with you. I was sure we could get over it and back into our friendship eventually, but I just needed you to know." 

Eddie nods, understanding, taking one of Buck’s large hands between both of his. 

"Thank you, Buck. Not just for your honesty, but also for taking a chance on us." 

They kiss. 

A lot. 

-

Eddie, bless him, not only is a good sport and has fun with the whole thing, but also helps Buck find pictures of the two of them.

- 

"Hey, Chim! Come up here!” Buck yells as soon as he sees Chimney coming in through the station gates. 

He’s happy. He feels like he might burst with happiness. 

The past week has been everything he dreamed of, and more. Christopher was so happy he cried, which made Buck cry, which made Eddie sniff, which the two other boys in the room knew meant Eddie was trying not to cry. Buck was finally happy. 

Sure it had only been a week, but he was ready to share that with the world. And he was going to start with Chimney. 

“What’s up, Buckaroo? You look awfully chirpy for this early in the morning.” He then noticed: “Oh, hey Eddie. You’re up early." 

"Someone had to contain Mr. Buckley over here. He’s excited." 

”…Okay. Buck? Anytime now.“ 

"I just gotta show you this video on Tik Tok." 

"Wait, what? You got Tik Tok? Look at you, Buck!" 

Buck can’t help the blush. "Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He places his phone in Chimney’s hands. “Watch." 

Chim presses play, and his mouth does some weird things, but he looks positively pleased. 

"I knew it!” He yells when he’s done, excitement he can’t contain. 

They hug, and Chim promises not to tell anyone until they do, offering them well wishes and relationship help, which they both wrinkle their noses at, but say thank you all the same. 

Eddie moves into the kitchen, and Chimney takes the opportunity to say, so that only Buck can hear: “I knew you’d enjoy the challenge, Buck." 

Buck knows he’s a sap, but he can’t help the smile. "Yeah, Chim. I’ll owe you one forever." 

Chimney shakes his head at him, his smile so fond even Buck can see. 

"Nah, Buckaroo. Just be happy. That’s all I want." 

[bordeleaubeau]

half of the college application videos are unrealistic but also some of them just don’t do it right. i was watching hannah meloche’s months ago and i was literally shocked at how lowkey dumb she was being. like dont get me wrong when i applied i literally had no clue what i was doing and i didnt know everything ab the school i was applying to but she da chose half of the schools based on where her friends were like?? she j sounded rlly unprepared

we’ve actually talked about this exact video before! hannah’s video pissed me off to no end lol. i understand everyone makes mistakes but she made a TON for her app process. although i am glad she is seeking to get a degree and is aware that social media and youtube may not always be an option. you need to apply where you WANT to go. not where your friends go. not where theres some sort of influence. it’s huge. she had so many big name schools and then she went to a local one i had never heard of before i think? im pretty sure she applied to msu too. but anyway, the college app videos are SO unrealistic. and they all apply to the same fucking schools!!!! all the uc’s, all the ivies, all the well known schools honestly. and they’re all like “this is gonna be a REALISTIC college video! i had a 4.8 gpa, i was president for 8 clubs at my school, played 3 varsity sports all four years of high school, i was in 30 clubs, national honors society, 1500 on the sat, 45 hours of community service a week, a part time job” LIKE FHSDKHSDKJLHSKDH WHAT. 

so. in case anyone wanted to know, here are my stats. 

may i present to you. a realistic college application.

gpa: 

3.4 weighted, 3.3 unweighted.

i got honor roll almost every marking period of high school!

ap’s:

1 ap class junior year - finished with an A, did not take the national because our teacher didn’t prepare us good enough and i wasn’t going to pay for it lmao

honors classes:

4 honors

extra curriculars:

i wasn’t in any clubs. literally none. my school has crappy clubs.

- varsity hockey manager

- attended 2 leadership conferences at university of pennsylvania soph and junior year

- attended a business summer camp up in williamsport

- ambassador for my school for said summer camp

- girl stem fresh year

- attended rotary youth leadership awards conference this year

- business competition at a college fresh year

- 3 years of a school wide event that we practice outside of school multiple times a week

- spoke at a school board meeting about saving a program/class i’m in!

- jv/varsity bowling soph year

test scores:

LMAO 

fun fact v and i were in the middle of a really big fight when i was taking my psats....... and i was really sad and couldnt concentrate on my test.

i got a 960 on my psat.

out of 1600.

not my finest moment honestly.

letters of recommendations:

i asked my “in school mom” to write me a letter of recommendation! i had her as my teacher freshman and currently right now in my senior year. she has seen me grow through all 4 years and we had an instant bond my first day freshman year. it’s a 4 year class i took, and while she wasnt my teacher for that class sophomore and junior year she was still super involved with me and making sure i was doing good! then i asked my honors english teacher from freshman year, who i had then and then also had junior year for the same class the other teacher taught! make sure you build really good bonds with teachers - the ones you’re the “teachers pet” for will write you incredible letters of recommendation.

any other questions, feel free to ask:)