#anyways it's funny that they like the cup so much i need to get some pvc pipe big enough for them to fit through since theyre too big for

[tardis--dreams]

Some of those doctors make hating oat milk their entire personality. I hate them. Cannot pretend to find them funny or like i give a shit. Fucking pretentious assholes

[bunnyb34r]

Idk how or why, but the crabs took their beloved clear cup, and tossed it into the fresh water bowl... right side up...

'Kay. :/

[okwonyo]

KISSES’ REMAINS , 或 𓈒𓈒 leaving lipstick stains on them.

( 𝒷 ) INTRODUC𝓲NG 𖥔 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f .. r 12OO fluff established relationship pouty and dramatic jakewon cautions ˚ non-idol au kissing skinship flirting

jiah says ： making this was really fun, i hope you all have ad much fun reading this ♡ㅤ

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

HEESEUNG

would love anything, even when you are just doing your makeup. he would love seeing your focused face and the way you smile after finishing the little thing your were doing. seeing you getting dolled up makes his heart stutter— you are always so beautiful.

“what are you looking at like that?” leaning on the doorway, your voice would cut him in the contemplation of you putting on your lipstick. your eyes would meet in the mirror and he would watch you turn around.

“at the prettiest girl in the world,” he would assure, while walking toward you. you would roll your eyes fondly, turning around to take a tissue and kiss it— to remove some lipstick from your lips. but he would lean over, his cheek offered to you, “no need for that.”

you would give him a puzzled look before realizing what he is asking for and kissing him, “is it better?” he would turn his face to you with a grin.

without even looking at the mirror, gaze focused on the lipstick stain you left on him, you would smile. “much better.”

JAY

would come back, with a relieved sigh as he feels himself get swallowed by the warmth of his home, to you looking at you with a funny face before and after kissing him.

he would study your face for a while as you study his. he would narrow his eyes as he would still hold your waist with one of his arms, “what?”

the laugh you would be fighting to keep will not reassure him in the slightest, “have you seen yours in the mirror today?”

he would thinking about it, looking up while pulling you closer. “no,” a pause, you would open your mouth a bit in sudden realization. confusion would take over him again, “why?”

you would give a smug grin, kissing him on the lips again. “nothing at all,” you would say as you look at the proof of the kiss you landed on his neck this morning.

and he would accept your answer, who he is to question you anyway?

JAKE

separation anxiety is not a myth, and you out of all people would know it— as your boyfriend has been diagnosed with it several times.

“why do you hate me?” he would dramatically whine, his hands gripping onto yours for dear life, as if you would disappear if he lets go; which you would.

you would giggle, “i have to go take some clothes at mine,” he would try to protest but you would cut him immediately. “and no, i can’t just wear your clothes.”

his lips would form a pout, his star filled eyes looking up at you and pleading you to stay here with him.

you would stare right back at him— he would really make it harder for the both of you.

one if your han would come cupping his cheek, he would lean into your touch still all sad. you would give him a kiss, right after on his nose, “here,” you would say while staring at the lipstick stain, “a keepsake from me. i will be back in a bit.”

(he would then insist on coming with you anyway.)

SUNGHOON

“you have lipstick all over your mouth,” you would tell him breathlessly as you pull away from the miss you just shared— although the end of your sentence would be a bit muffled due to the man following your lips.

he would hum against the corner of your mouth, “i heard this is what happens when you make out with your girlfriend,” he would final pull away with a smirk on his face, “i’m not sure, though.”

you would chuckle at your boyfriend’s words, while absentmindedly staring at his rose tainted lips, all red and sticky. at the way he wears the remains of your kisses so beautifully.

his words would snap your out of your daydreaming, “be careful at who you look like that, babe,” and you would shoot your eyes back to his, before rolling your eyes.

you would bring your thumb to his lips and he would stare down at you during the sweet time you take to wipe the lip product off his face.

his mouth would fall agape and he would lick the side of his lips, “we are definitely kissing again.”

SUNOO

it would be a dream come true.

just him sitting on a chair, looking pretty as usual and minding his own business. then you, staring at him because, well, he is beautiful.

while sitting on his laps too. with one of his hands on your lower back and the other on your thigh. so close from each other that you would be a few seconds away from melting together.

you would cup his face and he wouldn’t budge, liking to be held by you, “you are so cute,” you would say before kissing his cheek.

he would smile, his adam apple moving along the movement, “guess we have that in common,” and you would not restrain yourself from kissing his other cheek.

he would find himself with two lipstick mark on his face, multiple pictures will be taken.

JUGWON

“this is not fair,” he would say, crossing his arms under his chest. “do you prefer me or you lip combo?”

and you would give him a judgemental glare to which he would dramatically gasp, his arms falling to his sides. you would snort, teasingly, “stop hurting your own feelings.”

he would sigh, stepping closer to you. his wide eyes looking directly into yours, pouting a little as he speaks up, “can i have just one kiss?”

you would stare right back at him, your whole defense arguments and initial morals slipping through your fingers as he keeps on waiting for your answer— who even looks at anyone like that?

he wouldn’t need an answer to slip one of his hands on your cheek and other one on the back of your head. his chest would press into yours as he mouth messes with yours. he would pull away when he is sure both of you are out of breath.

you would push him away playfully, “see now you are the one with a lip combo.”

RIKI

would not even aim to be kissed at first. just dropping his arm on your shoulders as you both walk in the streets.

the sun would be bright, but not as brighter than you are to him. his eyes would often draft from the road in front of him to your face. he would study your features attentively.

“i like your lipstick,” he would say without thinking much of it and his heart would skip a bit when your eyes would look up to him.

the wide smile forming on your face would make him flustered, “yeah?” and he would nod.

then you would warp your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down towards you and, as you still walk, pepper multiple kiss on his face; on his cheek, his mouth, his mouth, the corner of his lips. he wouldn’t be able to not laugh.

“now you have some too,” you would say after pulling away.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open.

[on-leatheredwings]

Mr. Sandman (18+)

Yandere Jason Todd / AFAB Reader

> romantic  > tw/cw: non-con, somno. reader has a vagina, piv sex, creampie(s). > Jason just can't get enough of you when you're awake; why would that change when you're asleep? > a/n: my first jason solo!!! WE UP! im a sucker for simpering, weak, vulnerable jason sowwyyyy . he needs u spiritually what can i say . > word count: 1.1k

Jason knows he shouldn't be doing this.

But who could blame him? You’re just so gorgeous. And so smart, so funny, so generous and so– so perfect. You are his god. He is your faithful acolyte. And your cunt is his altar of choice.

Jason glances himself in the mirror across your bedroom. He’s a hulking mass of muscle on all fours, hovering above your gently sleeping body. It would be a shock you haven’t woken up yet, if not for his stealth. He padded onto your bed, knowing just where the mattress would give soundlessly under his solid weight. Underneath him, you’re none the wiser. Innocent. Ripe and for the taking.

He shouldn't be doing this, he reminds himself, despite his bare erection already weeping precum in anticipation. 

You took him into your embrace, like a savior to a wounded dog. You decided he was loveable, of all things. 

He shouldn't be doing this, he tells himself again, despite his hands starting to wander. Your nipples poke sinfully through his wifebeater, breasts nearly spilling out of it anyway. You’ve dictated it to be your new set of pajamas. It’s much too long for you, falling past the start of your thighs. He peels it up, slowly, carefully. He leaves it to bunch at your collarbone, revealing your naked breasts. He swallows an appreciative groan, leaning forward and suckling on a nipple.

It’ll just be some heavy petting. Just some kissing. Just some marks so people know you’re his – he knows what to say so you won’t mind that too much in the morning. Just– just a few touches.

But then Jason’s hand wanders downwards. And when he cups your cunt with his hand – his throat tightens; he bristles, stiffens; heady desire intoxicates him and fogs his mind – all restraint comes crashing down. 

He was a damn idiot to think he could resist.

“Okay– Just a little. Just a little, I swear,” Jason groans, little more than a whisper, betraying his attempts at being quiet.

Jason, with expert vigilante fluidity, hikes one of your legs over his shoulder. He lowers and shuffles back to an eye-level view of your cunt, waiting prettily just for him.

He draws circles around your clit with his fingers, using his abundant precum as lube. A man possessed, he could watch all day at how easily and nicely you let his fingers in.

Fuck, you were made just for him, he bets. It’s not only his cock your pussy remembers; your body accommodates, obeys, and wettens in response to every part of his own. He’s barely even trying, pumping his digits back and forth. You’re basically drawing him in. 

Your mouth drops open, a soft whine falling out, and he freezes. His fingers are still stuffed in your puffy cunt. After a few seconds, you continue dozing off, although your brows pinch together with pleasure.

If you can wake up at any second, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least go the full mile. He slips his fingers out. Another whine from you. I know, I know, baby, he thinks. You’ll be full again soon enough. Jason slides forward and makes you both fit together puzzle pieces, cock against your folds. “Just the tip, I promise,” Jason says again. And so he continues. 

He’s in. He lets out a relieved sigh, nearly moaning. He’s in.

… But it’s not enough.

Before Jason knows it, he’s pushing forward, entering you fully. And every inch is well-earned – your tightness has him choked, panting and gasping. Yeah, he reassures himself. He fucking belongs here.

It takes him no time at all to start fucking his precum into your cunt. A near-frothy ring of cream grows at the fat base of his cock, a product of his speed and fervor. If he had the mind to, he’d be embarrassed at his desperation. But then he grinds your clit down against the root of his cock, frotting against your walls, and he could not be at all fucked to care.

Jason could start laughing, fucking you with wild abandon. As soon as he climbed on this bed, this was out of his hands. How did he ever think he’d be able to stop? He can’t even try to quiet down anymore. There’s the sound of skin colliding bouncing through the room, your mattress creaking from the intensity of him pounding you, and of course, his own heavy breathing. Fuck, fuck. Despite the noise, he can’t help it – he needs this.

Finally, the hot coil in him snaps. He shudders violently, veins visible in his arms and temple, mouth falling open into a moan. Face-to-face with you at this point, his breaths tickle against your cheek.

On his third orgasm, he’s finally spent. He marvels at the mess he’s made – the inside of your thighs is slick with his own makings, pearly white smeared across the canvas that his your skin. Your abused cunt is swollen and so, so pretty. His cock is still firing ropes into your body. 

Jason can't bear to withdraw himself, mind drunk with pleasure. Suddenly drowsy, Jason has to stop himself from collapsing on top of you. He gently lowers himself to lie down facing you. Both of you are on your sides, his cock still buried in your warmth.

You start to wake up, blinking away the blearly tendrils of sleep. You glance black hair and a shock of white. Mm. Jason, your sleepy mind thinks. Good. Great, even. The allure of continuing your slumber calls, as he rocks you back and forth, the motion almost sedative. Hips meeting yours, cock rutting into you…

Wait–

Your eyes fully snap open, body on high alert. You gasp.

“Jay–?” you squeak. Now fully awake, you register the full presence of his length in you and the pleasurable throb in between your thighs. And the utter stickiness of your thighs. 

Startled, Jason wakes up with a jerk. He doesn’t normally fall into such deep sleep. He feels panic rise. He was supposed to wake up after just a few minutes…!

“Fuck–” he begins, fumbling to roll away and unsheathe himself. But you curl a fist around the collar of his shirt, like pulling on a leash. You two stare at one another, both bodies still sweaty and warm. Your cunt is still full with him, his seed. Leaking. 

Fear thunders through Jason at getting caught. 

But then you pout. So cute, his dumb animal brain instinctively thinks. Even though you’d argue to him that you’re nothing of the sort. You smile mischievously, sinking onto his cock an inch.

“Now, Jay,” you say, tutting. “You should’ve woken me up first.”

[cevansbrat0007]

The Slam

Summary: Ari has had a enough of your TikTok foolishness...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Brat!Reader, Prank Foolishness, References to P in V sex, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Now that you’ve gotten your first TikTok prank under your belt, you found you needed more. It was as if a beast – for lack of better phrasing – had been awoken inside of you. And it demanded that you served the world chaos.

At your man’s expense.

While you’d gone a little bigger the first time around, today you’d decided to dial it back just a touch. Lately you’d been watching videos of women slamming their boyfriend’s and husband’s car door after what seemed to be the most innocent of conversations. 

In retaliation, some of them yelled confused obscenities, or honked horns, others simply appeared content to stew in whatever resentment had already been brewing beneath the surface. 

Regardless, almost all of them were funny. And not only that, but you got the distinct feeling that Ari wouldn’t appreciate it. His truck was precious to him. 

Almost as precious as you. 

This morning you choose to test your luck when Ari is kind enough to drop you by your place so that you can switch out purses and grab your makeup bag before heading out for lunch. You can tell that he doesn’t fully understand the reason you need either of those things. 

In fact, when you told him what you needed, he’d been swift to grunt something to the effect of how you already looked “perfectly good to him as it was”. And although it had made the butterflies in your belly do their special little flutter that was reserved for when you received compliments just from him, you pushed him to make the stop anyway.

In part because you needed those things, but also because you wanted to fuck with him a bit.

“I promise I’ll be super quick.” You tell him, hastily undoing your seatbelt as he pulls up in your driveway. 

“Still don’t get why you needed to come here.” Your bounty hunter was hungry, and therefore also a little grumpy. “You’re already the prettiest little thing I’ve ever set my eyes on without all the extra froufrou shit.”

“You would really have me walk into a restaurant with you with a bare face?”

“Baby, real talk, I’d be proud to have you on my arm if you were wearing nothing but a paper bag.” Comes his quiet, but sincere rebuttal. 

It’s enough to make you melt.

 “You’re sweet.” 

“Uh huh.” He huffs, throwing his truck in park. “And women are weird. Besides, all that makeup looks better on my pillow anyway.”

“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to call us weird. Could’ve sworn you were supposed to be intrigued by the feminine mystique.” You tell him, poking him in the ribs for good measure.

“Weird.” Ari huffs again, clearly not moved by your response.  

“Mystique – you jerk.” Feeling slightly miffed, you decide to steal a sip of his water. 

“Can you please just go get the bag and war paint before I waste away from hunger?” You bat his hand away when he leans forward to open your door and usher you out his vehicle. “My stomach is literally trying to eat itself and you wanna fuckin’ argue.” 

“I am capable of opening it myself, thank you very much.” You hiss without any real heat before grabbing the handle.   

“Then I would very much appreciate it if you did that so we can get this show on the road.”

“Okay, okay.” You finally relent. “I’m sorry. Gimme a kiss and I’ll go–”

Ari’s mouth is on yours so fast it’s almost comical. He cups your face with calloused hands, stroking his thumbs across your temples as he does. But unfortunately, just as you’re about to sink into the kiss, he pulls away.

“Now get.” He growls, before opening the door and effectively shooing you out. 

“Fine.” Climbing out of his truck, you decide that this is your moment. “Be right back.” Closing your eyes, you give it up to the Lord before slamming Ari’s door hard. 

Actually a little harder than you intended. Ah, well. 

Grimacing, you begin to half walk, half run for your front door. After all, there was such a thing as being too brave for this world. And you’d actually felt his vehicle rattle with the force with which you’d put behind it. There was no way this man would not respond. There was no way–

“Aye!” Your shoulders automatically hunch of their own volition when you hear him throw open his own door in protest. You haven’t even made it to the front porch. ”The hell was that about?”

“What?” You try to play dumb.

“Bird. Stop.” 

It’s the calm authority in his voice that has you freezing in your tracks. It’s the same reason your panties are soaked too. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you turn around and face Ari.

“What–”

“I’m gonna need you to walk your pretty little ass back over here, baby.” He quirks a tawny brow when your legs don’t immediately start moving. “Now.”    

“Beast, I need to go inside and–”

“Ass. Here. Now. Please.” Ari tacks on the last word when he sees you frown. However, the frown stays in place as you march back over to where he’s standing, or now leaning, against the side of his truck.

“Thank you.” He grunts before cupping your cheek, drawing you forward. “Now, is there a reason you’re out here slammin’ my shit and spikin’ my blood pressure? Does this have somethin’ to do with that whole feminine mystique business again?”

As he talks, you find it hard to resist the urge to run your fingers through his newly shorn beard. You’d hung out in the bathroom with him this morning while he trimmed it, wearing nothing but a pair of panties and one of his shirts. 

“No.” You breathe, your nostrils flaring when that same hand moves, gently lacing itself around your throat.

“You pissed at me for somethin’?” His electric blue eyes search yours for answers.

“Um…nope.” 

“You tryin’ to pick a fight?”

“Also no.” You tell him as your hand comes up to wrap around his thick wrist. “It was a joke I saw on TikTok and–.”

“Christ, I’m gonna stop you.” Ari blinks twice before forcing himself to take a deep breath. “Since you and I don’t have a problem, I’m gonna let you go inside and fetch your things. You have five minutes, or I’m comin’ in after you.”

“To do what?” You can’t help the pout that forms on your lips. Sometimes this man really had no sense of humor. “Because I‘m gonna need more time than that to put on my face.”

The look this man gives you lets you know that you are absolutely trying his patience – every last piece of it. 

“You got five minutes.” Ari repeats, his thumb stroking over your pulse point. “Or I’m gonna come in there and personally take my time making sure all that makeup ends up in its proper place where it belongs.” 

“But that’s not fair!”

“Neither is subjecting me to shit you see on that damned hickory dickory dock crap you watch all the time, and yet here we are.” He leans down to brush his lips against your forehead. “Now go.”

Ari finally releases you before pulling out his phone, and it takes him only a second for him to show it to you, letting you see that he’s started a timer. And it is quickly counting down. 

“You got five minutes, sweetheart.” He winks at you then, before breaking into full blown laughter when you turn to make a break for your front door. “Otherwise I’m comin’ in after you, and it’s gonna be what it’s gonna be.” 

Forget the purse. You decide you’re better off snagging the makeup and beating it back to the truck before the timer strikes zero.   

“Bastard.” You grumble under your breath – which only makes him laugh harder.

“You just lost yourself thirty seconds for that one. Better run, Bird.” 

END

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[o-sachi]

Can't Hold My Liquor - Headcanons (Blue Lock Chars.)

ᯓ how do the blue lock boys handle a drunk reader? ᯓ characters; michael kaiser, oliver aiku, sae itoshi, barou shoei, karasu tabito, yukimiya kenyu ᯓ tags; mentions of alcohol and being drunk/tipsy, just fluff, established relationship gn reader, no y/n

[🐟]: Obviously, I don't condone underage drinking or any unresponsible consumption of alcohol. I purposely chose characters both based on the request and their ages. So, yes, they're of legal age. Drink responsibly! (I wish I followed my own advice).

Michael Kaiser

"Hm? What's that? I can't understand you if you're mumbling~"

This ass would take funny videos of you first before helping you at all. But not to worry, the videos are for his eyes and his amusement only. Maybe if you were REALLY upset, he'd consider deleting them.

While he does help you, Kaiser will still find a way to tease you or make fun of you. You're slurring your words? Funny. You can't walk straight? Funny. You're spilling a life's worth of secrets? Could be funny—depends.

"Mhm, and what happened next? C'mon don't leave me hanging here."

He'd hate having to deal with puking (that is, if you do happen to end up in that unfortunate situation). But he'll reluctantly gladly help his s/o clean themselves up and drink some much needed water.

But it's highly unlikely that you reach that point because he stops you from drinking too much anyway. He'll refuse any more drinks in your stead and if anyone offers you more, he'll chug it down himself.

Actually enjoys carrying your drunk self. He likes it because you become clingier and more dependent on him. He'll soothe you until you eventually fall asleep (which is fast). He likes pampering you when you're all disoriented like this.

Oliver Aiku

"You're quite cute when you're drunk."

It's not that he likes torturing your liver, but he'd gladly take care of you when you get drunk. He just loves it when a different side of you takes over... thanks to the alcohol.

He'd be so touchy—keeping you in his arms to help you sit up straight, holding your hand when you need to take a trip to the bathroom, supporting the back of your head when you're taking a sip of water so that you don't fall over, and so on.

"Hey, hey, sloooowly. You're gonna get water in your nose."

He'd go along with any of your drunken antics. If you decide all of a sudden that you wanna go up on the table and dance—he's going to join you.

But he'll gently calm you down if you get ahead of yourself. His voice would soften as he cups your cheek—trying to knock some sense back into you.

Also enjoys carrying you, but prefers to give you a piggy back ride. Last time he did a bridal carry... it upset your stomach and you know the rest...

Sae Itoshi

"What a pain... You're lucky I have a soft spot for you."

He doesn't enjoy drinking and even more so the atmosphere associated with it. But he tries it once because you wanted to. He thought it wouldn't be so bad. Spoiler alert: he now regrets his decision.

He won't drink for 3 reasons: 1) Again, he hates it, 2) he's the designated driver, and 3) he knows he will have to take care of you.

Sae has a poker face the whole time, but deep down he's amused by your change of demeanor. It's not that he's loathing the situation he's in (he is) but in reality, he's just observing you closely.

ALWAYS REMINDS YOU TO DRINK WATER. Even when you're not drinking actually. He'd prefer it if you sobered up faster.

When you do get too drunk, he'll carry you out of there especially if you go drinking at a place with a bunch of strangers (like a bar). It's because he doesn't want you to find yourself in a compromising situation in public or possible humiliate yourself. Aww...

He'd gladly give you a shower to help you clean yourself and cool off. While you're still disoriented, he'll take it as an opportunity to talk with you (more of a monologue) about things he can't say to you while you're sober.

Barou Shoei

"Tsk... seeing you like this... now I have to be there whenever you decide to get drunk huh?"

HE IS MOTHER. He's not usually overbearing, but he is when you're drunk. Hell, Barou's not even sure why he supported this decision of yours in the first place.

But then again... he figured if this would make you happy, then he'd just have to do what he can to keep you safe and sound.

He tries not to show it, but he's actually super anxious while watching you drink and have the time of your life. His leg's bouncing so much that it's almost a workout.

"Jesus. This smells like the shit you use to clean bathrooms." / "Hehehe... it means it's strong." / "God, give me strength...."

Will definitely give you a lecture on the way home and until you're sober. But he can't reallyyyy be angry with you. He was just insanely worried and this is his way of diffusing it.

He'll set you on the bathroom counter and do your skin care for you since you're so out of it. You won't be able to remember it well, but he'll have a look of utmost focus on his face as he rubs the product into your skin. SUCH A CUTIE.

Karasu Tabito

"Yer a wild one, ain'cha?"

He has a really high alcohol tolerance, so he doesn't mind drinking along with you and taking care of you right after (if you can't keep up with his pace.)

Karasu hates spoiling your fun. But once you're reaaaaally drunk, he has to do something about it. So he may or may not take a glass of juice and pass it off as alcohol just so you can continue to "drink".

He's like your own personal bodyguard, especially if you decide to go drinking in a public establishment. He'll be hovering over you protectively, observing the people surrounding you, and making sure you don't faceplant into the ground.

"Woah, woah, what do ya think yer doin'? Waltzin' over 'ere like ya got business with my darlin'?"

Does your whole night routine for you once you get back home. He'll be so slow and steady with you. Karasu will also make sure that you've had your meds before totally passing out to hopefully ease the impending hangover.

He will continue to take care of you even in the following morning. He'll wake up ahead of you and start with the breakfast, wanting to surprise you.

Yukimiya Kenyu

"Don't worry about a thing. I got you, okay?"

He thinks of himself as a social drinker and finds parties to be just fine. But he'll have a grand total of one cocktail and maybe 1 shot if he was urged to have one. So yeah, he can take care of you if needed.

His trick is pulling you to the dancefloor and keeping you busy there so that you don't have to go back to the bar and drown yourself in more alcohol.

Yuki will make sure you look dashing as ever throughout the night. I mean, it's no surprise that at some point you'll be looking disheveled. He'll fix your hair, your makeup, and even if your clothes.

"Come with me for a sec... let's get you freshened up."

HE WILL BE GUIDING YOU EVERYWHERE. Doesn't matter if you're only walking a couple of steps—Yuki will be there to hold your hand so you don't trip on air.

He'll seriously entertain your drunken ramblings while he tends to you and your night routine. If you ask him anything (even a stupid question), Yuki will give it some thought and actually answer back is if he were talking to someone sober.

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[netegf]

Hate It When You Leave

pairing: f!reader x rafe cameron

plot: you are trying to cope with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with your best friend. he's trying to cope with the fact that you don't go after the things you want... including him.

warnings: 18+, best friends to lovers trope, use of Y/N, mentions of alcohol and past drug use, non-graphic references to violence, some angst & jealousy, fluff and smut (public sex, teasing, oral female receiving)

word count: 6.5 k

There are parts about wearing your heart on your sleeve that no one ever talks about.

For instance, that it's hard to fix your face when the threads keeping that heart together feel like they're getting tugged, cut, and re-bunched into an ugly knot. 

The water bottle you're holding hardly has any life left. Even Kelce comments as much when he rounds his kitchen island, limbs swinging and loose thanks to the red Solo cup in his hand. He takes one look at the tight smile on your lips and tilts his head to the side, fingers twitching upward to your chin as he turns your head to face him. 

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" He asks, voice a little slurred, but thick with concern.

That was Kelce. Polarizingly good at getting to what someone was hiding underneath. 

But appearances went a long way for him. And he was so agreeable, it made him easy to lie to. Especially when he and Topper had practically begged you to come to this party, his first one since graduating college. Everyone would be there, he'd said.

And he was right, they were. 

"Nothing, Kels, it's just my stomach being a little funny." You tell him with a renewed sense of enthusiasm. You gaze at him warmly and quirk a brow, smiling genuinely. "How do you always know?"

"We've known each other our whole lives!" He barks in a laugh. "There's nothing I don't know about you."

You feel your heart squeeze again, like there's a too-tight belt around it. But you humour him with a sweet giggle and convinced nod, and it's all Kelce needs before he's walking away to mingle with another. 

How shocked he'd be to know that there was something you were hiding. 

You keep the water bottle you're holding close to your body as if it would fall straight out of your hands otherwise. When you watch the brunette seated next to Rafe on the couch squeeze his bicep again, you think it might just fall anyway. 

Some things don't change. 

The sun goes up and down. The moon makes a nightly appearance. Kelce never dresses for the weather. Topper claims everyone else is cheating when he loses. 

You love Rafe Cameron.

"Fucking sucks, doesn't it?" A voice rings next to you.

You slowly turn your head from where you're sitting on the kitchen island to see a familiar face lounging on one of the high-chairs. 

Topper, apparently, had always had an inkling. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Top." You grumble, casting your eyes away from the blonde protagonist of most of your dreams. Some of your nightmares, too. 

You watch as Topper rolls his eyes without so much as glancing at you, a small scoff escaping his lips. He takes a hearty sip from his cup of brown liquid. Tracking his eye-line, you're unsurprised to find that he's staring wistfully at the very same blonde's sister. 

Sarah Cameron is dancing in the corner of the room with John B., her boyfriend. 

A Pogue at a Kook party... the thought still makes you skeptical.

Not because you didn't like John B., or more accurately, like him for Sarah. But because a few short years ago, all this seemed entirely impossible.

Nonetheless, Sarah was important to all of you. 

And, like she'd said, Rafe listened to you better than he did anyone else.

When you explained to him how smitten his sister was with the boy, and considering how their relationship had endured far past those murmurings of 'young love' to, what was at this point, years together, he'd begun to understand that John B. wasn't going anywhere. 

Much to Topper's devastation. 

He promised he was over her, and he dated like it, too. But there were those moments where he had a few drinks in him and it made you think otherwise. 

"Oh, okay. My fault." Topper replies sarcastically, downing what's left in his cup and finally turning away from the couple he's burning holes through. "I thought we were being honest."

"I am being honest."

He glances at you sharply. 

"Uh huh. Hey, don't freak out, but, your nose is like, growing really long. Never seen anything like it before. It's like in that movie! What's it called, again? Puppet boy? No, that can't be right..."

"Very funny, Topper." You say dryly, but the hint of a smile on your lips sells you out and he chuckles next to you. 

"I was thinking Pinocchio." He fake recalls, nudging your elbow. 

This time, you laugh with your chest, and when you lift your head up to take it all in again, your eyes meet familiar blue ones from across Kelce's living room.

By now, you know how to mediate the warmth that blooms at the base of your spine and consumes you completely. 

There's a comfortable silence between the two of you before Topper starts speaking again. 

"You know he would do anything for you, right?" 

You chew on your bottom lip, still holding eye contact with Rafe who gives you a crooked smile. The girl next to him leans in to whisper something in his ear. He keeps looking at you. 

"Yeah, I know." You mumble half-heartedly. "I just feel like I might need to cut my losses at this point." 

Topper frowns for a moment, then stands up from his seat. 

"Well, you suit yourself." He pinches your cheek affectionately. "Because I, for one, want to crash and burn."

You snort at Topper's words and just as quickly watch him round the kitchen counter to grab another drink. 

Preoccupied with the way he extends that gesture to you, fixing some gross concoction of different sodas for you to sip on, a shiver rolls over your skin when it feels like Rafe's smouldering eyes are still lighting a fire on your face. 

Aron Andersen is a douche, but he means well. 

At least, that's the excuse you aways placate Rafe with when Aron inevitably runs his mouth, the blonde's fists tightening nearly every time in conjunction.

Typically, you opt for the pacifist approach because blood is a bitch to clean, Rafe whines when you clean him up with saline, and frankly, Aron isn't worth it.

But tonight, he seems to enjoy testing your threshold for patience like no one else before him. 

You suppose he's not entirely to blame. Kelce makes his drinks strong, and half of Figure 8 is sucking up all the oxygen in the room.

Maybe that was why Rafe had almost swung on John B. only a few minutes prior, claiming the younger man was feeding his sister lies about him. Perhaps it was just one of those nights. 

Still, you sigh when Aron drunkenly makes his way over to your new spot in the backyard, and press your lips tight together when he shoves a beer in your direction.  

"I'm not drinking tonight, Aron." You tell him plainly. 

Aron haphazardly plops down into the lounge chair next to you with his glossy, red eyes narrowing.

He grudgingly pulls the beer back from you and takes a sip that pools around the sides of his mouth, then drains down his throat slow and loud. 

"That sucks. You're more fun when you do." He scoffs.

Your mouth falls open as the words leave his lips, head spinning to meet his annoyed gaze. The faraway look in his eyes makes you gulp.

In no particular mood to be berated, you have half a mind to scoff back and get up to leave. But there's something about the way he speaks completely unadulterated that keeps your body locked in place.

Like you're dying to know what someone really thinks of you.

"Why not?" He presses, gesturing with his finger accusingly. 

"I'm driving."

He continues to stare at you blankly.

"I'm driving." You reiterate, irritation seeping into your tone. "And drunk driving is illegal, Aron. You do know that, right?"

Unintentionally, your eyes flicker to a slightly rowdy and staggering Topper across the room. Aron zeroes in on that and rolls his eyes emphatically. 

"Now it makes sense. You're taking your boyfriends home." He pitches the word in a scornful taunt, squinting over your shoulder. "Where is Cameron, anyway?"

You feel your heartbeat rage in your chest, tongue numb and mind in disarray. 

"Don't be a dick, Aron. They're my friends." You bristle. But he seems unfazed, lazily quirking an eyebrow. 

"Please don't tell me you're that stupid, Y/N. Friends?" He laughs obnoxiously. "I get you're in love with the guy, but you run around for them like a maid. You ask me, the least you should be getting out of it is a good fuck."

Your fingers twitch at your side as you shoot up from your seat, really and truly considering that pouring his beer over his head might be the best option.

Given that Aron routinely takes up two parking spots to park his Range Rover and cheats on his girlfriends, you think it might be a long time coming. 

His words hurt for more than one reason. Of course, because he'd sooner die than recognize that you very much could maintain a healthy, platonic, and meaningful relationship with your friends of over a decade.

But also because, when it came to Rafe, he was goading you with a kind of intimacy you knew you'd never be able to access. At least not in the way you wanted. 

When a firm hand grips Aron's shoulder strongly and whips his body around, you soon realize you don't have to resort to such a physical display. 

While it was true that Rafe's face didn't make him look particularly kind, he'd only been seriously pissed off, to the point that his stomach felt like caving in on itself, a few times. Like in those months right after he'd graduated high school and felt like a big question mark. Every time his dad looked at him disapprovingly, it affirmed that sinking feeling in him, and he learned that he sometimes articulated his sadness in anger.

These days when he's mad, he mulls the feeling over a few times in the interest of scraping for another feeling underneath. 

Now, though, all Rafe feels when he meets Aron's arrogance with an intensity of his own, is unbridled rage. 

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Rafe speaks at a low register that makes your breath quicken. His movements are a little clumsy, blue eyes slightly glazed over, and his dirty blonde hair kisses his forehead that's speckled with sweat. Cheeks dusted red in that way that you love, more prominent when he's inebriated.

His fingers are still pressing harshly into Aron's shoulder, pressure concentrated and steady if the way he winces is any indication. For a second, his eyes flit over to you and the frown on your face, and they begin to soften. But then Aron is sputtering and stealing his attention and he hates him all over again for it. 

"My bad, bro." Aron offers lamely, hands jutting upward in surrender. He attempts to step away, but Rafe keeps him locked there. 

"Yeah, it's your fucking bad, bro." Rafe sneers.

He roughly shoves Aron backwards as he lets go of him and the man quickly scurries away knowing that if he sticks around, Rafe will probably force him through clenched teeth to apologize to you.

You feel your heart hammering in your chest for a different reason.

Your mind is trapped in a loop, repeating every word you said to Aron over and over again, wondering how incriminating they were, and debating how much exactly Rafe had heard.

And if he had, if he was coherent enough to either dismiss or believe the accusation that you loved him. No, not love, you shudder... in love. Aron had said, verbatim, that you were in love with him. 

"I would've handled it." You mumble with your arms crossed over your chest.

Rafe sighs as he turns his body to face you, rubbing a hand over his jaw, now partially relieved of the tension it was holding. He chews on his bottom lip cautiously, like it'll help break the fall of the words bound to spill out of his mouth, a little too unrestrained in his drunk state for his liking. 

"I know that." He nods slowly. "I just wanted to help to help you... handle it."

He stumbles a little as he moves toward you and you instinctively wrap an arm behind his torso, holding him against your body as a human splint. 

"Plus, I kinda have a reputation going for me. No one's losing their shit if I fight a guy."

"Or two." You say pointedly, thinking about his almost altercation with John B. earlier in the night. 

Rafe buries his head into your shoulder, groaning loudly into the bare skin as it heats up and vibrates. 

"Fuck, not you, too."

He lifts his head up to continue, and you lug his body towards the living room where you spot Topper talking with Kelce and some others. Without speaking, Topper seems to understand what you're saying, nodding then pointing to himself followed by the stairs. 

He'd driven you to Kelce's and you promised to stay sober and drive him back home. But now, it seemed like the plan was going to shift.

Topper would stay the night at Kelce's and take his car back in the morning. You would take Rafe's truck back to his place and walk the rest of the way. You were practically neighbours, anyway. 

"If she wants to talk shit about me to her boyfriend, that's one thing. But him, talking shit about me, to her? What's he trying to do? Turn my own sister against me?" 

"I get it, Rafe. I really do." You nod, an amused smile on your lips as you tug him out of the front door and towards his truck. "But you promised Sarah you'd be nice, remember?"

"I am being nice." He protests with his hands tapping at his chest. "I didn't even fucking touch him."

You scoff lightly as you strap Rafe in his passenger seat, noting the way his eyes begin to flutter shut. Humming softly, you poke a cold finger at his cheek and watch as they blink open again. 

"I'm taking you home, okay?" You murmur gently. 

"No!" He objects, large hand circling your wrist. He rubs his forehead with the other one, trying to remember something. "Got a meeting in the morning. Ward is gonna flip if he thinks I've been out all night fucking around."

You look at him uncertainly, waiting for the thing that you don’t want him to say, but know he will.

"Your house? Please?"

There was a time when sleepovers with Rafe were a common practice. Sometimes, after parties like this, with Kelce and Topper.

Other times when you convinced the boys to binge a new movie or TV series, usually ending with at least two of them falling asleep. Rafe made a habit of grumbling his critiques of the things he watched, but always stayed up with you. 

For a while, when he hit an especially rough patch with his dad and spent more nights than he would've liked getting high out of his mind.

As much as he'd tried not to pull anybody else into it, he found himself seeking comfort in the warmth of your bed. It helped that you always received him with open arms, even when his early morning phone calls were disorienting and he cried silently into your shirt in the hours after. 

Those nights felt so distant, and yet, like you could touch them if you reached out just far enough.

Rafe had girlfriends on and off, and sometimes that version of him felt like a stranger. You felt a strange pity for yourself when you realized that it might've been a good thing. That he was getting better and without falling back on a crutch, even if that crutch was you. Suddenly, him sleeping at your house felt weird and misplaced more than anything else. 

"I don't know, Rafe...," you begin to trail off, but the blue desperation in his eyes makes you reconsider. He's still holding tenderly at your wrist. "Fine. But if you puke on my sheets, you're done. Do you hear me?" 

Whether or not Rafe hears you is unclear, but you take the delirious smile forming on his lips as a non-verbal affirmation. He huffs out a long breath as if he can feel himself finally relaxing. His eyes start to close again, too, as you start his truck and drive the short way to your house. 

"Don't even think about falling asleep on me, Cameron. I am not lugging you up the stairs."

"You're strong." He reasons smoothly, lids still shut as he smirks. "You were about to deck the shit out of Aron Andersen when I found you."

Getting Rafe up to your bedroom goes better than you'd imagined, now with a few years of experience under your belt. 

You get him to sit down on your bed, and he fiddles with the items on your nightstand while you rummage through your armoire for an old pair of his pajamas. He complains when you throw him a pair of sweatpants and a sports t-shirt he used to wear in junior high, claiming that it'd be too tight over his arms and chest.

Plus, he'd added, it was far too hot to be wearing a shirt, anyway. 

"I love these." 

Changing into sweats of your own, you exit the bathroom to find Rafe sitting up in your bed, part of his bare torso obscured by your white sheets. His attention is fixed on a small group of rings on your bedside table, silver and gold hues reflecting under the dull rays of your lamp.

He slowly picks one up.

"Yeah, I'd hope so." You snort, tentatively slipping into bed next to him and painfully aware of the sorry excuse for space between you. "You got them all for me... kook."

Rafe cracks a sleepy smile, rolling his eyes playfully.

"You wouldn't tell me which one you wanted." He shrugs like it's the simplest thing in the world. 

He sets the ring back on the table and switches off your lamp, blanketing the room in a stroke of darkness. Rafe lies on his back and you opt to turn to your side, facing the wall.

Looking at his face only a few inches away from yours, when he's about to sleep in your bed, feels like it will be too much. 

"Asking for what you want is weird, Rafe. Nobody likes it."

You chew on your bottom lip in the dark.

"I do." He says in a scoff that turns into a yawn. "How else is anyone gonna know? People don't usually stop you and beg to find out."

You swallow roughly. That was true enough, they didn't.

But Rafe did. He always did. You revered him for it.

There's a long silence between you and all that echoes against the wood framing of your bed are the heavy and sometimes irregular sounds of your and Rafe's breathing.

Against your better judgement, you think he might've fallen asleep and almost turn around to check. 

"Is it me?" He asks quietly, voice scratchy with exhaustion. "... what you want?"

You feel your shaky breath hitch in your throat. 

"Because if it is... you don't have to ask."

His words linger in the air for as long as it takes your wildly beating hard to calm down.

By the time your body regains some feeling, the sound of Rafe's soft snores pierce the oddly crisp air clouding your room, and the choice to unpack what he said right now, or in the morning, is made for you. 

A shiver runs down from the nape of your neck to the tips of yours toes. 

Rafe is gone by the time you wake up.

The harsh but comforting sound of rain clangs against your roof, and you stretch your limbs to the thought of a cloudy and obscure summer day. 

It's better this way, you think. The absence of Rafe's warmth next to you would feel worse if the sun was shining, teasing. 

Your fingers play underneath your comforter to locate your phone. Scrolling through your notifications, you frown seeing that none of them are from Rafe.

In his defense, it was only about 9AM now, and he'd probably just had enough time to take a quick shower, get himself the smallest bit presentable, and still barely make it to his meeting with a client.

The used bathroom towel in your hamper and flannel pajama pants hastily thrown on his side of the bed are compelling indicators. 

In his defense, he was drunk, and there was no telling if he remembered anything about last night. 

Drowsy proclamations of desire and confession, included. 

You wrestle with the idea of calling him and letting it all spill out.

Kissing him on your front lawn, in the rain, with dewy blades of grass nipping at your feet. Hands threading through his wet hair and tugging, hungrily, because you're starving and happy, and these are liberties you can afford in imagination.  

But you settle on seeing him later tonight, in person. It's your dad's charity after all. 

"I just wish you would have told me earlier." Your disappointed words hang in the air for a few moments as you play with the hem of your silky baby blue dress.

Your father had mentioned to you once before that his new business partner had a son about your age, newly graduated from UC Irvine. 

He hadn't mentioned, though, that this mystery guy would be attending the charity tonight, and he'd offered you up as his own personal tour guide.

Your father hadn't used the word date explicitly, but that's what it felt like when you were handed an odd-smelling bouquet of flowers, standing awkwardly next to the brunette who you were apparently to keep the company of all night, though he might as well have been a stranger. 

Daniel was nice enough.

He complimented your dress and your makeup, smiled and pulled out your chair before you sat down at your assigned table.

But it felt weird accepting praise and chivalry from him when your heart was busy beating erratically at the simple thought that your dress matched Rafe's eyes.  

The venue is extravagant like it always is, what with it's elaborate crystal chandeliers, ice sculptures, and floral center pieces larger than your head. 

At your table, you note your and Daniel's name cards labeling your seats. Next to them, are Topper, Kelce, and Rafe's. There's a sixth seat that has no label and you tilt your head to the side thoughtfully, considering that Topper or Kelce must be bringing a date. 

"This place is incredible. Your dad is so impressive." Daniel says in awe from the seat next to you. His eyes trail around the room, wide in amazement, reflecting back all the vibrant lights in the brown of his pupils.

You smile weakly at him, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear that always seems to take flight despite your attention to detail.

"Yeah, he's really something. Likes to orchestrate a big show. You should see him at the winter ball. Live doves, and everything." 

Daniel nods, moving on to say something that starts to sound unintelligible when something else piques your interest. Someone else. Multiple someones, entering the banquet hall. 

Craning your neck, you make out Topper and Rafe. And a girl. 

No. Topper... and Rafe and a girl. She has her arm tucked around Rafe's as he escorts her in the direction of your table. He's wearing the grey tux you like, the one he wore to Rose's sister's wedding with the ornate thread detailing. His smile makes the two halves of your heart squeeze together. 

"Hey, you okay? You're squeezing that wine glass pretty tight there."

Daniel likely means well, eyeing the way your fist clenches around the stem of the glass you've yet to take a sip from. You shoot him an embarrassed smile and release your straining fingers.

An emotional support water bottle sounds like it would be really nice right now. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little nervous... my dad always gives a speech at these things." You explain.

As the trio begins to approach, you realize it's Shelley Thompson gripping Rafe's arm, a sweet girl you knew from the Kook Academy.

Even now, she always waves when you run into her at the Island Club, and she has a swing on the golf course like no other.

She's a good match for Rafe. You hate to admit it, but it's true.

When Daniel speaks again, you can barely hear him.

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about." Daniel chuckles. "I have a hard time imagining that your dad would be bad at anything..."

Topper, having heard the tail-end of your conversation, plunks himself down in the chair across from yours and rubs his forehead tiredly. You shudder at the way he smiles empathetically at you. Like there's something to be consoled about. 

"Hangover?" You ask, shoving the shaky feeling down and shooting him a teasing smirk.

He groans loudly and buries his face in his hands.

"That's the understatement of the year. Feels like I'm getting my skull bashed in." He mutters through the skin, then he peels his head away and grimaces at the screechy music being played. If there was one thing your dad was bad it, it was decent music taste. Topper laughs heartily, shaking his head. "Then again, maybe I am." 

The lightheartedness is interrupted for a moment as Rafe and Shelley pull up to the table, taking their seats accordingly. Rafe rakes his eyes over Daniel for a few seconds, but otherwise stays silent and it makes you frown. You look at him, desperately trying to uncover if he remembers any details from last night, but his expression is unreadable.

Shelley, on the other hand, grins at you enthusiastically and starts to chat with you about the time she interned at your dad's company. 

You find yourself glancing at Rafe every so often, each time catching him staring blankly ahead or at his lap, and always fidgeting with his fingers. 

"Who's this?" He asks suddenly, nodding his head at the man next to you. 

"Oh." You swallow. "This is Daniel."

Finding that insufficient, Daniel takes it as an opportunity to formally introduce himself. 

"That's me." Daniel waves sheepishly, gently squeezing your shoulder with his other hand. "Y/N's been showing me around. Well, her and her dad. I really love what Mr. Y/L/N's been doing with his company. He does some incredible work out here. It's not often that you see-,"

Topper snickers when he cuts him off. 

"Maybe he should've been your date."

Daniel laughs it off, blushing slightly and concealing it in a short cough. But you kick Topper under the table in retaliation, ignoring the way he holds his shin and groans out a soft "Ow!". 

After that, Shelley, Topper, and Daniel divulge into conversation, shifting from topic to topic and at some points, sharing boisterous laughs together.

Rafe keeps his lips pressed together and his words concise. While you fiddle with your utensils, you feel his eyes on you, igniting heat under your skin. 

He stares at you hard, like he's waiting for you to say something. Begging, even, with the way his forehead tenses and his brow stays quirked.

But you didn't know what to say.

Or maybe you didn't know how to say it. Especially not here. Especially not when he had a date. 

Rafe rolls his eyes and chews on the inside of his cheek, standing from the table abruptly, the movement making the cutlery tremble.

"Hey, I have an idea." He says while tugging on Shelley's hand. "Let's dance."

You watch as Shelley squeals with excitement, jumping from her seat to follow Rafe towards the center of the large room where the music is playing. 

"Couldn't pay me to get closer to that band." Topper mumbles offhandedly. You're sure he's trying to make it sting less, but some pains don't have a perfect antidote. 

Daniel sends you a look, silently asking if you want to join them. 

"Maybe later." You reply quietly. 

Watching Rafe wrap his arm around Shelley's waist, you feel your heart sink slowly into your stomach.

In the middle of Daniel's rambling and Topper's occasional acknowledging hums, you rise from your seat and stumble into the courtyard for some fresh air.

Surely, your heart would keep sinking if you saw any more, and your heels were too tight to fit anything else. 

The courtyard is a beautiful mix of greenery, fairy lights, and concrete statues, but it does little to ease the ache in your chest. You sit on a stone bench and try to control your breathing with your head between your knees. 

Though it's turbulent and shallow at best.

"What's wrong?"

You know it's Rafe without looking up. Sighing into the palms of your hand, you slide them down from your face and lift your head up. Surely, your makeup is smudged, and the thought makes you more miserable.

"Nothing." You say more sharply than you intended. "Nothing's wrong. Just go away, Rafe."

He looks at you completely scandalized. 

"Are you... mad at me?"

You let out a deep breathe, averting your gaze to the ground as you collect yourself. "No, I'm not mad. Why would I be mad?"

Rafe scoffs, entirely unconvinced. He rakes a hand through his hair in frustration. 

"Well, fuck, if this is 'not mad', then I don't want to see what mad looks like." 

"Can you just drop it? Please, Rafe? Drop it?" You beg, sniffling slightly as you stand. You hadn't noticed when your cheeks started to get wet. Likely too much in denial.

Despite the way it's honoured you in the past, crying was offering no release at this point. It's not like any of this was Rafe's fault. Even if he had gotten your hopes up last night, he wasn't obligated to act on drunken pillow talk. Maybe he hadn't meant it in the first place and was only trying to make you feel better.

"You won't talk to me." He says sadly.

You bite down on every explanation you want to give him. Chest pain heavy and unrelenting.

"Just... go back to Shelley, Rafe. She's probably waiting for you."

Rafe looks puzzled when the words fall weakly out of your mouth.

Then, he nods, like something finally clicks for him. He meets your eyes with fervor as he presses his lips together.

"So, this is about Shelley?" He asks.

Your head hangs and silence intensifies between you. It speaks for itself.

"The same Shelley that's been fucking Kelce on and off for the past two years?"

He watches your mouth fall open and eyebrows furrow, continuing as you stare at him.

"Kelce promised to take her out on a real date, but then he got caught up at work... asked me to keep Shelley company until he showed up. We didn't come here together, together, Y/N. I thought you knew that." 

Your mind buzzes as he speaks, bottom lip wedged under your teeth.

So, he wasn't here with Shelley. And he probably did remember both what he heard and said last night if he could recognize that you were jealous.

Jealous. It makes you squeeze your eyes shut. The feeling was always two-fold. A person would feel jealous, then humiliated that they had. You don't know which one is worse.

You peak an eye open, chewing through your words. "Why couldn't Topper do it?" 

"Have you met Topper?"

That was a good point. 

Still reeling from the new information, you look down at your lap pensively.

"But you did." Rafe begins after a few beats of silence. When you frown in confusion, he clarifies. "... come here with someone."

You crane your neck up to look at him. There's something you can't place in his eyes, but it's cloudy and all-consuming. His hair is a mess from the way he's been ruffling through it, and his cheeks are flushed and tight.

"What, Daniel? Are you kidding me? I only brought him because my dad ask-," you begin to explain, but Rafe cuts you off. 

"I don’t care why he thinks he can touch you. I just want him to stop.”

Despite the small gust of wind that blows past you both, you feel a warmth at the base of your neck... in the palms of your hands. Maybe it was the beams of light overhead, illuminating your bodies amidst the greenery.

Or, maybe it was just Rafe's words.

The intensity of his gaze. The way he steps towards you as he speaks them, warm hand eventually reaching out to graze over your cheek in a way that makes you gasp in a mixture of shock and excitement. 

For a moment, you think about yourself and the many soul-crushing nights spent watching Rafe talk to and touch and kiss other people, the overlapping visuals making you queasy. 

"I know the feeling." You say quietly, hot breath fanning over his face.

Rafe frowns a little, soaking up the meaning of your words. He nudges his face closer to yours, until your noses are touching and his lips just barely graze over the pair he desperately wants to taste. He draws back suddenly, suspending all the air in your lungs. 

He eyes you cautiously, challenging silently as he licks his lips.

"Not gonna do anything unless you ask." 

You nearly cry out in response. "Rafe, please. I... I want you." Ignoring the way your desperation makes your skin feel tingly and your head spin, you shut your eyes tightly, realizing that only really skimmed the surface. You try again, gulping. "I've always wanted you."

"Fuck." He breathes out, eyes fluttering shut. "Never stop saying that." 

Stifling the sound of another whine from your lips, Rafe kisses you feverishly.

He moves his soft lips in tandem with yours, swallowing each of your breathy moans. One of his hands traces over the swell of your jaw while the other stretches tenderly around your throat. "Know what I wanted to do when I saw you sitting there next to him?" 

You nearly scream in protest when Rafe pulls his lips off yours, but fall silent when he trails kisses down from your jaw to your neck and collarbones, sloppily sucking the skin then laving his tongue over the afflicted areas. Unsatisfied until your pushing his head away from the sensitivity. 

"Wanted to knock his fucking teeth out." He murmurs with his head buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and leaving searing kisses. "But I don't do that shit anymore. So I'll ruin his night a different way."

Rafe moves your body with his until the backs of your knees hit the concrete bench. Your mouth falls open as he sits you down on it, kneeling in front of you. He presses a ticklish kiss to your knee and his bright blue eyes peer up at you through his lashes. When you nod, he parts your thighs and pulls your panties down in a single unbroken movement, committing every second to memory.

He stares longer than he should, groaning at the way your wetness collects on his finger when he traces a finger over your slit, spreading you apart. 

"Can't believe," he moans into your mound, running the flat of his tongue over your center again and again. "... you kept me from this pussy for so long." 

You throw your head back at the sensation, finding nothing but air and Rafe to support you as pulls you closer to his mouth.

"That," you say in a broken moan at the feeling of Rafe's tongue inside you. "That's your fault, remember? I was always here — shit! Waiting for you.”

Rafe hums against your pussy at that, neither agreeing or disagreeing. His nose nudges your clit as he tastes you greedily. You tug at his hair to dissipate some of the energy building inside your core, but it only makes Rafe work harder. 

"Didn't think I deserved you." He admits, pink lips mesmerizing and wet with your slick and his spit. Rafe takes your clit into his mouth and sucks obscenely, the slurping sound sending a flash of heat through you. "Doesn't matter now. I'm good at making up for lost time..."

Your thighs clamp around Rafe's head as he fucks you with his tongue. It's only now, as gasps and high-pitched sounds fall wantonly from your lips that you come to the reality that you're letting Rafe eat you out in the courtyard, and anybody from the party could come here and find you. Still, you moan less controlled than you would have hoped when he suckles at your clit again, drinking at your sopping pussy.

"Hey, have some common decency, huh? There's some very nice people in there trying to enjoy a party." 

Rafe smirks when you pull at his hair even harder, mostly at the thought that you think it could be reprimanding when he likes it so much. His teasing does more to turn you on than you'd care to admit and he can tell with the way you gush around him.

"One of em's your date." He adds, laughing slightly as he curls his tongue inside you. Entranced at the way it makes you whimper and writhe like putty under him. He starts rubbing your clit with his thumb at the same time, chasing the crest of your orgasm. "C'mon, baby. Give it to me. Come all over my tongue." 

Your release makes your back rise off of the slab of cement you're seated on, thighs slotted over Rafe's shoulders as he licks you through your climax.

The pleasure is insurmountable, your mouth falling open and your eyes screwing shut as that familiar feeling completely overwhelms your senses, the burn of your elbows against the cement keeping you anchored to the ground. 

Rafe smiles when you pull him by the belt of his dress pants to capture his mouth in a long and sweet kiss. It helps clean up the residual wetness. 

By the time Kelce makes it your father's charity event, he sighs tiredly into the crown of Shelley's head, pressing a wet kiss there in greeting. On his way in, he got trapped in a conversation with your father and some guy he'd never seen before named Daniel who was more inclined to kiss your dad's ass than he was to breathe.

Finally taking his seat next to a very drunk Topper, he squints his eyes at the sight before him. You and Rafe, unable to keep your hands off each other, giggling at nothing in particular. And when not giggling, kissing.

"Are you seeing this shit?" Kelce asks Topper, gesturing towards his two closest friends shoving their tongues down each other's throats. Shamelessly, at that.

"Dude." Topper groans, sighing like this was no surprise to him. "Where the fuck have you been?"

a/n: thank you for reading! comments/reblogs appreciated!!

[choke-me-joey]

Matching Tattoos

Eddie Munson x reader

Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, DO NOT GIVE ANYONE OR YOURSELF TATTOOS AT HOME FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GO TO A PROFESSIONAL THIS IS FICTION AND A VERY UNHYGIENIC SITUATION FOR NEW TATTOOS, blowjobs, gagging, swallowing, friends to lovers, Eddie is so fucking sweet, porn with some plot followed by fluff.

Part 2

"Isn't she pretty?" Eddie grins, producing the homemade tattoo gun from under his bed. Pretty was a very strong word. More like a clump of sketchy looking metal held together with even sketchier looking screws and rubber bands.

You scoff. "If you think she's pretty I'm seriously starting to question your taste, Munson. Going from Chrissy Cunningham to this? That's quite a decline."

Eddie rolls his eyes.

"You're never going to drop that are you? Chrissy was a 5 minute crush, besides, she's been dating that douchebag Jason Carver for ages now." Eddie waves his hand to signify his distate. "Anyway, nowadays my taste is more...refined, thank you very much. Hence why I am going through the world's longest dry spell at the moment. Now shut up, and get on the bed. We're doing this." He buzzes the tattoo gun for extra effect.

"Yessir." Giving him a cheeky salute, you lie down on Eddie's bed as he messes around with the ink, and something crinkles beneath you. Your brow furrows as you dig underneath you, and you pull out a dog eared magazine. You flick through the pages, your cheeks flushing. "Jesus, Eddie, resorting to porno mags? You really are suffering." You throw the crusty magazine at him, laughing. Eddie quickly kicks it under his bed.

"What? I got needs, Y/N, and its not exactly like there's a line of babes wanting to fuck the town freak."

"Not even with the whole struggling rockstar vibe you've got going on?" You cock your eyebrow, shooting him a smirk.

"Right? I should be drowning in pussy," he grins, and you roll your eyes. "Still want it on your hip, right?"

"As long as it can be covered by a bathing suit so my parents don't murder me, have at it."

Eddie gulps as you unbutton your jeans, shimmying your hips out of them and exposing your simple black panties to him. You then roll your shirt up your stomach and tie it in a knot to prevent it from getting in his way.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen you like this before, he'd seen you in a bathing suit hundreds of times but this....this was different. This was you, half naked, on his bed. You that Eddie had been harbouring a crush on for a good year or so now, hence the dry spell. He didn't want anyone else, he wanted you, his best friend, his partner in crime, his girl. Nobody in this deadbeat town even came close, not anymore.

He was ashamed to even admit that the magazine you'd fished out from his bed was merely a distraction tool. So many nights he'd fucked his fist thinking of you, the way your body glistened in the sun that time when you sunbathed out the back of his trailer in that black bikini, the way your breasts threatened to spill out of the cups and your ass peeked out from the bottoms that left very little to the imagination.

He had to get you out of his head. It was sick, it was wrong, you were his best friend. His beautiful, funny, smart, sexy as hell best friend. If he had to beat off to some random chick in a disgustingly cheap porno magazine just to stop him thinking about you, so be it.

But honestly, when you'd asked him to give you a tattoo on your hip, the magazines just weren't doing it anymore.

Eddie cleared his throat. "You sure about this Y/N?"

"Eddie, shut up and ink me already," you smile, playfully nudging him with your foot. "You drew it up, yeah?"

"One bat comin' at ya," Eddie grins, showing you the little stencil he'd drawn. It was an exact copy of the largest bat out of the swarm on his arm. "You know we can never not be friends after this right? Matching tattoos is a pretty big commitment."

"Until death do us part." You teased.

"I fuckin' do," Eddie kissed your hand, making you snort. Your friendship had always been like this, flirty to the point where people were always wondering if you were together or not. But that's all it ever was, all bark and no bite per say. "Can you move your, uh, your-"

"Panties, Eddie? For someone who used the phrase 'drowning in pussy' earlier I refuse to believe 'panties' gets you all flustered." You tease, pushing down your panties and exposing your skin to him.

Eddie can feel his palms sweating as your panties slip dangerously low, almost exposing that dip between your legs. His mouth is as dry as the fucking desert when he catches a glimpse of your smooth, soft skin. God, he wants to put his mouth there. He wants to put his mouth all over you actually. He coughs once more.

"Right, let's do this, pretty girl." He carefully cleans the area you want tattooed with some antiseptic liquid before laying the stencil down, carefully pulling it away to reveal the outline on your skin. "Looks metal, babe, you ready?"

You nod, clutching his comforter in one hand as he brings the needle to your skin and the buzzing starts. You bite your lip as you feel the needle meet your flesh, a searing burning pain but not too unbearable.

As he drags the needle across your soft skin, Eddie is sweating. He's so close to a part of you he desperately wants to explore, to kiss and lick and make you scream his name until you're sobbing in ecstasy. But he can't. Why would someone like you ever be interested in the town freak? The nerdy metalhead that spends his free time planning extensive D&D campaigns, or playing in shitty dive bars to a crowd of not even 10 people didn't compare to the jocks who went to endless parties, or did something better than spending their spring break in their trailer getting high and watching horror movies.

"Whatcha thinking about, handsome?" Your sweet, sweet voice breaks him out of his thoughts and he looks up at you. God, you look like a fucking angel right now, all draped across his bed with your hair over his pillow. He knows he'll be able to smell the shampoo you use on that later.

Eddie, always one to almost never lose his cool, shoots you a cheeky grin.

"Thinkin' about how I could tattoo my name on you, pretty Make sure everyone knows who's girl you are."

"Everyone already knows, I've only got eyes for you, dungeon master."

Fuck, he wishes you wouldn't call him that. Not like this anyway. Not with this amount clothes on. Or not on.

"Less of the dirty talk, you. I'm trying to concentrate here." He growls, wiping the residual ink off your skin, refilling and continuing his work. You try to ignore the throbbing in your panties and how good his hands feel on your bare skin.

-

35 minutes later, it's Eddie's turn. After cleaning and covering your new artwork, you get yourself dressed (much to Eddie's disappointment) and turn to him with a wicked grin.

"Pants off, Munson."

"Yes, ma'am." Copying your salute from earlier, he unbuckles his handcuff belt and undoes his jeans, shimmying out of them and tossing them somewhere in his room. He also pulls off his Hellfire shirt. You raise an eyebrow. "What? Can't risk anything happening to it, I gotta wait another week before I can get more!"

"Alright, nerd, lie down." You smile, rummaging around in your bag for the little design you'd drawn up for him. You pass the small design of the devil from the Hellfire logo to him and he grins.

"That's metal."

"So metal that nobody is gonna see it unless they're going down on you."

"Yeah, but we'll know it's there. It'll be like our dirty little secret, Y/N."

"Hot," you laugh as Eddie lies down, putting his arms behind his head. He tilts his head down towards his hips.

"Get to work, missy."

You'd been practising on that gross fake skin stuff in preparation for this, but nothing could have prepared you for touching Eddie...here. His skin was so soft and warm, and he smelled so good. A mix of his old cologne he'd gotten from you last Christmas, smoke and a hint of sweat. It was so Eddie, it made your heart flutter and somewhere else flutter too.

You think Eddie takes the needle like a champ, but when you look up at him about 20 minutes later, his eyes are screwed shut.

"Hurt that much?" You grin and he shakes his head, eyes still closed.

"Nah, babe, honestly, I'm...fine." He hesitates. You stop for a second, tilting your head to the side in question. You go to wipe off some of the excess ink and your arm brushes over his boxers accidentally.

Oh.

"Eddie, are you-"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, don't talk about it." Eddie chokes out, his cheeks flushing. His loose plaid boxers had done a good job of hiding his semi, but when you'd brushed against it, it was game over.

Eddie was hard.

"I-is this like a normal reaction to getting tattooed, or...?" You stutter, your mouth feeling dryer than fucking Gandhi's flip flop.

Eddie sighs, throwing an arm over his face.

"No, it's a normal reaction to a very, very pretty girl hovering near my dick, babe." He says in a small voice. Your cheeks flush as you place the tattoo gun down on his bedside table.

"O-oh. Well, do you want me t-to stop? Or I could help with...I could help you with that?"

Eddie groans behind his arm.

"Babe, don't tease me like that, that's just cruel. 'Sides, wouldn't you feel...weird jerking me off?"

Your mind had not gone to jerking him off. In fact, it had gone a step further.

"Oh, I-I wasn't...I was gonna, um-"

"Blow me?!" Eddie throws his arm off of his face and stares at you, and you pretend you don't notice his cock jumping in his boxers. "You, my super hot best friend Y/N, are seriously offering to suck my dick right now?!"

"I-I’m sorry-"

"Sorry?! What the fuck are you sorry for?! Making all my wet dreams come true?!"

You giggle. "Eddie, shut up."

"No, I'm serious, Y/N, you've been in here-" he sits up and taps the side of his head "-doing some nasty shit for so fucking long. Why do you think I'm jacking off to shitty porno mags instead of chasing pussy?"

You're silent, a slow smile spreading across your face as your hand creeps over his crotch, gently palming at his cock which jumps in your hand.

"Well, lucky for you, dungeon master, you've also been the star of my wet dreams."

Eddie falls back onto his pillows with a groan. "Fuck, I can't believe this is actually fucking happening."

"Tell me what you want to do to me, Eds." Your voice is low and sultry as you give him a squeeze. He looks at you, tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips. You tug at his boxers, giving him a questioning look. He grabs your wrist.

"Are you sure about this, Y/N? Cos if it's a choice between getting off, or keeping you as my best friend, I'd rather keep you babe. Blue balls and all."

You smile softly; Eddie was too sweet for his own good. It was one of the things you loved most about him.

"What about if you get to get off and still keep me?" You say, pushing his hand away and slowly pulling his boxers down. His cock springs out, slapping against his lower stomach. He was long and thick, uncut with an upwards curve that the very sighmade your pussy clench. You huff out an exasperated laugh. "Holy shit, Eds."

"Good 'holy shit', or bad 'holy shit'?" Eddie's cheeks are flushed as he smirks.

"You know the answer to that." You wrap your hand around his cock, making him hiss as you stroke the silky skin. You pull the foreskin down to expose his angry looking, reddish purple mushroom head, and a drop of precum blurts out. You continue to stroke him, eyes fixed on his face.

"Fuck, stop looking at me like that," Eddie groans, his cock twitching in your hand. "'S too much."

"Like what?" You smirk, straddling his thighs. He can't answer you, any sort of answer immediately wiped from his brain as you lower your mouth to the head of his cock and lick, tasting him for the first time. His hips buck, forcing more of his cock into your mouth, making you gag out of surprise.

"Shit, sorry, sorry," Eddie gasps. "Fuck, your mouth feels so fucking good, don't be surprised if I come like, super quick, okay? Been thinking about this for so fucking long you have no idea. And you look....God, you looking so fucking beautiful right now."

You shoot him a soft smile, pressing a kiss to his cock before taking him into your mouth properly, swallowing as much of him down as you can.

Eddie's hand comes to your hair, gently stroking it as you bob your head up and down. The flavour of him blooms over your tongue and makes you hum in appreciation.

"Fuck, babe, your mouth...shit, it's so fucking good, taking my cock so well..."

You pull up and suckle the head, flicking your tongue over the slit. "Holy shit, you're gonna kill me, sweetheart."

You smirk, pulling back and pursing your lips, allowing a glob of spit to fall from your mouth onto the head, dribbling down the shaft. Eddie falls back onto the pillows. "That's it, you've killed me, you're blowing a dead man, baby."

"A dead man who's gonna come in my mouth, right?" You mumble, jerking him quickly, your spit allowing your hand to slide over his shaft with ease. Eddie keens, his teeth gritted.

"You can't say shit like that, angel, I'm about ready to blow as it is."

"Do it, I want it." You reply, taking his cock into the warmth of your mouth once more. You allow him to fuck your face, both hands now resting on the back of your head as you swallowed around him.

"Shit, fuck, oh my fucking god, baby, Y/N, I'm gonna come, fuck I'm gonna come so fucking hard in that pretty mouth of yours, yeah? God, you're such a good girl, so good f'me, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck!"

Eddie comes with a broken moan, his hips thrusting upwards and his hands holding you in place as his cock pumps rope after rope of cum down your throat. You moan, relishing the taste of him, which makes Eddie shudder at the overstimulation. You swallow everything he gives you. "Fuck, sweetheart, can you show me?"

You begrudgingly take your mouth off of his cock and open your mouth, tilting your head back slightly and sticking your tongue out to show him that you had indeed swallowed his cum. "Holy shit. I'm gonna get hard again." He groans, his chest heaving and his cock twitching slightly. You giggle and place a kiss to it, and Eddie grabs you, pulling you on top of him, careful to avoid the new ink. "I can kiss you, right?"

"I think we're past that, Eddie" You smile and squeak in surprise as he pulls your face to his, capturing your lips in a hasty kiss. It's a chaste kiss, experimental and you break away briefly. His eyes lock with yours, as if he was trying to search them to see if this was okay. "It's okay, Eds" you whisper, nodding gently. His eyes dart to your mouth and back up to your eyes.

"Do I get to keep you?" He whispers, his fingers softly stroking your cheek. You brush your nose against his.

"You get to keep me."

[bruisedboys]

over the influence — remus lupin x reader

summary: remus lupin is not your boyfriend, but he sure knows how to act like he is.

contains: friends to lovers, friends trying really hard to be lovers, fluff, mutual pining, lovesick oblivious remus, drunk!reader, modern!au, rugby!james cw implied fem!reader, reader wears a skirt, alcohol consumption.

note: um welcome to my first ever remus fic!? if I’m being honest I have no idea if it’s good but I’m posting it anyway yolo

fem!reader 2.9k words

You’re plastered when Remus finds you. Absolutely hammered.

He can tell because you’re giggling madly at one of Sirius’s jokes, which you never do, because Sirius’s jokes are awful and you thankfully have a good sense of humour. But, you’re a giggly drunk, who finds just about anything anyone says absolutely hilarious. It’s adorable, usually. But right now, it’s blowing Sirius’s ego out of the water.

Remus dives in to save you as Sirius roars with laughter at his own joke.

“Dove,” he says, clasping your shoulder. You’re slumped into the sofa, your head lolling against the cushions. “There you are.”

You twist to look who it is, your face all scrunched up as you take him in. You blink very slowly. Then, just as slow, your face lights up.

“Remus!” You gasp happily. “Hi, baby. I was wondering where you went!”

Baby. Remus’s face burns and his heart does a triple backflip. You’re drunk, he reasons. Super drunk.

“Are you okay?” He asks you, bending at the waist so you can hear him better. It’s loud, the music and the people and Sirius, especially.

“I’m perfect,” you say, words all slurry and sticky and ending in a sort of ditzy hiccup.

Well, you’re not wrong about that. Remus takes the seat next to you and your droopy eyes follow him down.

“How much have you had to drink?” Remus asks, trying for curious but coming out a bit concerned. “What did you even drink?”

You shrug and hiccup again. “I don’t know.” Your shoulders drop and so do your lips, a sort of confused frown washing over your features. “Sirius made me some weird concoction … it was kinda gross, Rem.” You look at Remus very seriously, your eyelids low. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

Remus laughs and pretends to zip his lips. “Your secret’s safe with me, babe.”

Chances are it’s not, and Remus will mock Sirius about it endlessly. Not tonight, though. Tonight he’s mainly focused on making sure you don’t touch another cup of anything other than water.

You’re giggling again, though Remus isn’t sure what at. You’re just gazing at him and giggling your head off like a maniac.

“What’s so funny, pretty?” He asks fondly, a grin tugging at his lips. He knows you don’t have a chance of remembering any of this by tomorrow morning. Hence the pet names.

You stop laughing abruptly. It’s alarming and then not, because your big grin stays put. You lean in close, your chest pressing into his side. Remus smells all your smells, your perfume and your hairspray and the mystery drink you’ve definitely had too much of.

“You’re pretty,” you say, completely ignoring his question.

Remus flushes. You’re never this forward. It’s driving him nuts, the way you’re looking at him. How close you are. The way your scents wash over him and make him feel almost as drunk as you are.

“Whatever you say,” he says, brushing off your compliment because what the hell is he supposed to say to that? “I think you need some water.”

Remus gets up but you catch his wrist before he’s fully standing, your soft fingers pressing into his skin.

“Wait, don’t leave!” You sound desperate and you look the part, too. Your pretty eyes are blown wide as saucers.

Remus falters. “I’ll be five seconds, dove. M’just getting you a glass of water.”

You pout in such a way that makes Remus want to kiss you silly. “Take me with you, then?”

Remus finds he physically cannot say no to that look. He hauls you up by the forearm and you cling happily to his arm. Remus makes his way to the kitchen with you attached to his arm like a barnacle, your fingers pressing into the crook of his elbow, your thigh brushing his as you walk far too close to him. It’s dizzying, and Remus is surprised he’s managing to walk in a straight line.

In the kitchen, it’s much quieter but you’re not any less drunk. You detach yourself from Remus and skip over to the kitchen island. Before Remus can stop you you’re hauling yourself up onto the bench, so unsteady on your feet that you almost topple right off. Remus catches you by the elbow just before disaster strikes.

“Oops,” you giggle, breathless and totally out of your mind. “Sorry.”

Remus’s heart stops racing with worry and instead races with infatuation with you. Even in your drunken state.

“S’fine,” he says kindly, patiently, because you’re too sweet for your own good. You almost went toppling to your demise and you’re apologizing. “Just be careful. Please.”

You nod and sit pretty while Remus retrieves a glass and fills it with cold water from the fridge. When he turns back you’re making grabby hands for the glass. Remus looks at you, your wobbly state and your clumsy hands, and holds the condensation-ridden glass closer to his chest.

You pout and drop your arms. “Remus.”

“You’ll drop it, honey,” he says, as kindly as he can without sounding like he’s babying you. He is babying you, actually. Not that he’s gonna tell you that. “Let me.”

You let him. He brings one hand to rest at the small of your back, his fingers brushing the strip of skin just shy of your skirt’s waistband. He tries not to think about it as he brings the glass to your lips.

You drink like you’ve been stuck in a desert for six days, gulping like your life depends on it. Remus is grinning fondly until you finish and dip your head backwards. Your neck is bared to the kitchen lights and your chest is heaving dramatically, and Remus feels so lightheaded he actually has to grab the counter.

You notice, because of course you do, even in your tipsy state. You frown and put your hand on Remus’s where it’s gripping the counter for dear life.

“Remus? Are you okay?”

Remus blinks rapidly, hitches a grin onto his face. “I’m fine,” he says, fake grin at work. “Do you want more water?”

You think about it for a second. Then you look at Remus like you’re about to deliver the worst news of his life. “I need to pee,” you say solemnly.

Remus almost laughs. Almost. “Well, c’mon then.” He sets your empty glass down and grabs your forearm. “I’ll get one of the girls to take you.”

“No!” You say desperately. You throw your arms around Remus’s neck and tug him into you, and Remus is so startled he doesn’t have time to think about how close you are. You push your face into his neck. “No,” you say again, quieter this time. “I don’t want them to look after me. I want you.”

Your closeness catches up with Remus in a rush of heat all over his body. Your thighs press into his sides and your arms are like a vice around his neck. His heart thrums and his chest burns and it takes him a while to figure out what he’s saying.

“Dove,” he says gently. He pries himself off of you, albeit reluctantly, and puts his hands over your biceps, squeezing lightly. “I can’t take you to the bathroom.”

You frown. “Why not?”

Remus stutters. “Well, because. I’m- I’m not—”

“Please?” You beg, looking awfully cute when you clasp your hands together between yours and Remus’s chests. “You can just stand outside the door and wait. I’ll be fine.”

Half of Remus thinks it’s a bad idea, you might trip on your own feet and whack your head on the bathtub. The other half of him can’t ever say no to you, not even when what you’re proposing is totally dangerous and an awful idea. He’s not exactly proud of himself when he nods.

“Yeah, alright then,” he says, and you beam. “Come on.”

Remus ends up looking after you for the remainder of the night, you’re so drunk. He drives you home not long after your bathroom break. Sobers you up with some tea which you barely touch, and more cold water which you skull like you’ve been deprived of it for days.

He deposits you in your bed and you’re already half asleep by the time he does it, but you manage a sleepy, “Thank you,” that’s so sweet Remus feels his chest ache. He leaves you fast asleep in the comfort of your bed, ignores the urge to crash on your couch, and double checks he’s locked your doors on the way out.

Not that anyone’s asking, but he’s maybe just had the best night of his life.

-

Remus gets a call from you the next day and his heart skips. He thinks, stupidly, that maybe you’ve decided you hate him after last night. He picks it up anyway, because he misses you.

“Remus,” you say, as soon as the phone’s on his ear. You sound somewhat anguished. “Was I awful last night?”

He laughs, surprised. “What?”

“Was I awful to look after?” You ask like it’s obvious. “I barely remember anything. James said I was clinging to you for half the night.” You’re moaning like it’s a bad thing. For Remus it wasn’t. “And I’m sure I said some weird shit, I was so loopy off that stupid drink Siri gave me. I—”

Remus saves you before you fall into a self-deprecating waffle.

“Y/N,” he interrupts your rambling. “What’s gotten into you, dove? You were fine. It was fine.” I like looking after you, he doesn’t say.

“But—”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Remus tries not to laugh because you are being ridiculous, but you also really do sound quite worked up about it. “It’s fine. I wasn’t about to leave you to the crows.”

You giggle, thankfully. When you speak again you sound much happier. “‘The crows’ as in Sirius?”

Remus snorts. “Yeah. The crows as in Sirius. I think I’ll have a word with him about the drinks he passes around.”

You huff, and Remus can picture your pout. “Please do. I’m never drinking with him again.”

Remus laughs, a mixture of amusement and fondness and agreement. You’re much more yourself this morning, perky and a little dramatic and a bit of an over-thinker. Though admittedly, Remus didn’t mind loopy you last night.

“Are you going to James’s game tonight?” You ask, a smile evident in your voice.

Remus snaps out of his lovelorness long enough to reply, “Are you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“‘Cos I’m only going if you’re going.”

You laugh loud and the heat in Remus’s cheeks only grows. He loves making you laugh more than he’d like to admit.

“That’s mean, Remus,” you scold, with less heat than a block of ice. “Don’t you want to support your friend?”

“Friend isn’t really the right word,” Remus jokes. He’s happy to make you laugh at James’s expense. He’s sure James can take it.

You laugh again, and Remus knows you know he means it jokingly.

You’re still giggling when you talk again, breathless and adorable. “Alright, well. Would you mind picking me up?”

Remus agrees far too quickly to be normal, with far too much eagerness. He gets off the phone after agreeing on a time to pick you up, and knows he’s a total goner.

-

Remus isn’t your boyfriend. He’s your friend. And yet here you are, sitting very close to him in the stadium stands while you watch James’s rugby game. Only last night, he’d looked after you and driven you home when you got too tipsy. He’d also, at your request, given you a ride here, telling you all the while that you were the only reason he’s coming to the game at all. So maybe he’s closer to being your boyfriend than you think.

You watch James score a try and your row of seats erupts into cheers, Lily’s the loudest. The big screen above the field shows the camera panning to a close up of James. He whoops and pounds his fists in the air and blows a big smacking kiss in the general direction of your group of friends.

“He’s such a show off,” Remus drawls into your ear. You can hear him smiling.

You giggle and twist in your seat so you can look at him. He looks extraordinarily pretty tonight, in dark brown pants and a forest green t-shirt, his dark hair (in need of a cut) windswept and going in every direction possible. You want to kiss him so bad your chest burns. On the way here, he’d had his hand on your thigh for half the drive and you didn’t say a word the entire time. You think maybe you’re unhealthily obsessed with him.

“What?” Remus asks curiously, lips parted, and you realise you’ve been staring too long.

Heat washes over your cheeks. “Nothing,” you say as nonchalantly as you can.

“Have I got something on my face? You’re staring at me like I’ve grown two heads.”

The way he says it is like he knows exactly why you were staring at him. Desperate for an escape, you stand before you even know what you’re doing.

“I’m going to get more popcorn,” you declare to your friends in general. You purposefully avoid looking at Remus, afraid you’ll keel over and die. “Anyone want more?”

You get a few yes’s and one “I’m coming,” from Remus, which completely ruins the point. You’d tell him so but that would mean admitting you’re sickeningly obsessed with him. You allow him to tag along.

Sirius gives you a look as you leave with Remus, eyebrows raised like he knows exactly how much you like his friend. You’re sure he does. He doesn’t miss much, that boy. And he’s been giving you looks ever since you arrived. You flip him off behind Remus’s back.

Once at the popcorn stand, Remus insists on paying. It’s irritating, really, how sweet he is.

“Remus,” you groan, swatting his wallet away. “I can pay for myself.”

“I know you can, dove,” he says. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

And he gives you a smile so staggering that you let him pay for the popcorn. You’re still grumbling about it on the way back to your seats.

“You’re too nice,” you tell him, plonking down in your seat with a frown. “Stop being so nice, I’m sick of it.”

Remus laughs, really laughs, the kind that has you fighting a smile even though you’re annoyed at him. He’s got a lovely laugh.

“Sorry,” he says, sounding the opposite. He’s got a smarmy grin on his mouth, all teeth. You’d pummel him if he wasn’t so pretty. “Do you want me to be mean instead?”

You glare. “You’re mean to everyone else,” you say, which is entirely true and you both know it. He wouldn’t look after a drunk Sirius like he did you if his life depended on it.

To your surprise, Remus flushes. “Well, I—“

He’s interrupted by a yell of his name from Sirius, and then you realise they’re all calling your name, too. Shouts of “Remus!” and “Y/N!” and “Look!”

You twist in your seat, confused.

“What—?”

And then you see it. The kiss cam is on the big screen, colours and words blazing. And just your luck, it’s your face blown up ten times as big on the screen, your eyes wide and your lips parted as you stare back at yourself, caught mid-sentence. You think maybe you’re dreaming, because right next to your face is Remus’s. He’s just as shocked as you.

You turn to look at the real Remus, just as he turns to look at you. Your friends are having a field day, shouting, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

You ignore them.

“I …” You’re not sure what to say, your mouth filling with nothing but silence. You want badly to kiss him. You’ve always wanted to kiss him, and you think everyone but Remus knows it.

“We don’t have to,” he says quickly, mistaking your silence for unwillingness. “It’s just a stupid kiss cam.”

But you do have to, because he’s Remus, and maybe this stupid kiss cam is the only chance you’re ever gonna get. You swallow the nerves that are building up in your throat and ignore the fact that Sirius is practically screaming at the two of you from three seats down.

“I want to,” you say quietly, too quietly, and Remus doesn’t hear you over the hubbub. So you try again. “I want to.”

Remus goes very still, his lips parted and his chest heaving. Suddenly it feels like it’s just the two of you. He stares at you like you’re made of gold and your heart does somersaults.

Then he smiles. “Me too.”

He brings his hand to your jaw and you barely have time to bask in his touch before he’s kissing you. Really kissing you. He tastes like butter and sugar and he smells exactly like he always does. His hands are soft but sure where they cup your face and your chest is on fire, your heart is punching and kicking and you worry you might pass out in his arms you’re so giddy.

Your friends are screaming bloody murder, Sirius the worst of them all, and you’re sure the kiss cam has probably panned away from you by now but you can’t stop kissing him. You kiss him and kiss him and kiss him until you can’t breathe anymore. You’d go on forever but you’re losing breath and you really do think you’re lightheaded now.

You pull away before you pass out from lack of oxygen. Remus looks as frazzled as you feel, pink in the cheeks and his lips all swollen and his eyes are bright and burning and holy shit, you just want to kiss him again.

You almost do, but then Sirius and Frank and Lily appear and clap your backs, shout words you can barely hear and Sirius is so happy he looks like he might burst into tears. You laugh, half-delirious and sick as a dog in love with Remus, and somehow your hands end up tangled with his in his lap and your thigh is crushing his and he’s looking at you like he wants to kiss you again.

Lucky you, he does kiss you again. And many more times after that, no kiss cam needed.

thank you for reading! feedback & reblogs are appreciated 🤍

[pushingdaisies1]

Nasty Dog . . . ♡ ↳ (part two of ''kinda hate you - kinda love you")

(✧ ˚.) PAIRING-> James "Logan" Howlett {A.K.A} Wolverine x "X-Man" Reader >_< (✧ ˚.) SUMMARY-> You kept on replaying that moment with Logan in your mind. Something small definitely put you on one hell of a roll. It made you think a lot more about what you two shared. Especially if it was even something to hold on to as much as you did. Antagonizing him over breakfast about how much of a show-off he can get, he complies to help you with your class. Specifically when he overhears you talking about your lesson plans. Hand-to-hand combat and you need another demonstrator? Sign him up big time.

(✧ ˚.) AUTHORS NOTE -> hi party people!! gonna make this part short so I don't fill half of this post with my yapping. like I've repeated over the last two(?) , tysm for all of the love. its funny x-men has reignited my writing hehe haha. i wanna write for logan more nd also do professor x?? james mcavoy my love? anyways , u and logan are so weird I'm loving it so hard. also might open up requests for x-men so I can write for the whole bunch. ESPECIALLY lolo , the honey badger of my eye 100%. Hope you enjoy and comment if you'd like to be on a taglist for my works!! (most likely will be doing a lot of x-men stuff until I run out of ideas.)

(✧ ˚.) CWS (?)-> again this is supposed to take place within the context of X-Men 97/X-Men animated series , second person pov , descriptions of combat/sparring, kinda alluded to you two being fwb?? lowkey more complicated but, YALL DONT FUCK SRRY but definitely some suggestiveness , you and Logan kiss n argue and not so makeup so idrk if that counts for hurt/kinda comfort???..

Like the night before that, you were pacing back and forth around your room. The place you would stay most of the time if you ever even had a day off. On your nearby desk would lay students' reports. Ranging on physical fitness and endurance, health studies, and so on.

Ororo sat crisscrossed on your bed as she watched you. Her expression was grim as she looked down into her tea. She was originally planning to go to bed. Though you came to her with troubles plaguing you. X-Men are like family to one another, so she spared you her time. Your worrying made more sense once you gave her the slightly skimmed-over details. You left bits and pieces out of the story for your own sake.

“So he.. and then you…?” She questioned, voice low and face absent in thought as she cringed in realization. You quickly nodded as you held your hands to your face embarrassed. "I know Ororo! It's really ... really bad." Storm couldn't help but crack a small chuckle seeing how frazzled you were over Wolverine. It looked like there was smoke coming right out of your ears with how huffy and puffy you were. "Wow, breath for me. The only thing you should be passing out onto is your bed, not the floor." She assured as she set her cup aside on your nightstand. She got up to look at you face to face. Gently taking your face in her hands. The most, and I mean the most you told Storm was a very cut-down version of the story. Nothing about the nights you were whisked away into his room. How you two used each other consensually as another body to rip into and hold when nights got long.

It's not like you two had nothing. There was a spark undeniably there. But to you, it felt like his eyes would always be for Jean. It's not like you couldn't see why he was infatuated with the redhead. You've known her long enough to know that she would always stick things through with Scott.

Logan was always a fan of the hunt, you were like a place where he could bury his bones. You were familiar, you never had plans to leave his side.

Besides, for the sake of your affair with Logan, it was best not to complicate things. That was before he decided to throw out some choice words. Words that made your chest tighten and sweat rise through the roof. She rubbed under your eyes with her thumb as she guided you to look back at her. "Whatever you and Logan have going on is truly none of my business. Nor the team's business at all." She explained, hearing her speak was so calming. Her tone was always so smooth almost ethereal. "As your friend and your sister, I can't sway your hand either." From the day she arrived in the mansion, Ororo was like your constant. You relied on your friends sure. But like her and Jeans shared kinship, you had something similar with her. Which is why it hurt even more with your dilemma. "Logan is not a perfect man. I know you are stronger than this. You know what's good for you. The X-Men will always have your interests at heart, yes. But it's you who has to make this call." She hummed as she leaned her forehead against yours. "Sadly the ones we yearn for sometimes, or even will always have their heart set on another. You are better than that. You and him can mess, sure. But one day it will end and he'll go back to pining over our Jean." She spoke sweetly with a sympathetic smile. She was right like always.

She looked at you once more, forehead still against yours. "It is you who has to move on to someone who will put you into perspective."

A comforting embrace from Ororo absorbed you. It felt as if you were embraced by the world. Clinging onto her tight, she stopped the storm weathering inside of you. Gently rubbing your back she'd let the silence ruminate inside of your bedroom for a while. "Take some time dearest, maybe speak to him if you can." She murmured into your hair. "Maybe you two just need some needed distance? Because he's definitely missing out on one extraordinary creature." A small smirk grew onto her features as she separated your hug, you complying of course. "All I know is that you deserve whatever honesty you can squeeze out of that man." She acknowledged with the smile you always related to hope. Ororo was your consciousness, she was pretty much one of the most level-headed of your team. You thanked the fate that brought Ororo into existence. Without her words of real wisdom, you would still be spiraling in your bed like a clown. "Thank your Ororo, truly I do mean it." You spoke with a humble smile as she chuckled softly. "We're family, I'll always guide you by any means necessary." She replied, giving you one final look of affirmation before reaching the door. She opened it gently, letting the air open it wider before her eyes wandered to you one last time. "Sleep well, don't let yourself run mad because of him." She purred, leaving you alone. You stood there with yourself. Sucking in a breath of air you knew what was needed. The haze in your continuous stream of thought cleared. With one more look around at your walls, your eyes turned to your bed. You fell right in under your warm and fuzzy blankets. You were practically knocked out as soon as your head filled the pillow. Tomorrow you should be fine, tomorrow will be a better day. Quickly night turned to day. You were awoken by the sound of the students playing on the nearby basketball court down below. Your shoulders eased some more once you saw the empty hall in front of you. No one to interrupt your morning stroll down to the kitchen, where you knew by now someone had to be in there. You quickly jostled yourself down the stairs as soon as you caught a whiff of food. By just a tiny sniff you knew it was Gambit cooking. Your stomach cheered and roared as you rounded the hallway. Coming into the kitchen, Gambit was already dishing some of his beignets up. His hair was up and swooped as he wore a cropped t-shirt, with a colorful display of artwork on it that you didn't really want to decipher. Surprisingly it was a pretty quiet morning. But then you realized why when looking at the clock. The biggest surprise was that even Gambit was up this early. Scott too, as he was sat down with a newspaper on and his regular shades. Gambit swung around seeing you, fresh beignet in hand. "Cher, good morning to you!" he greeted you with a sing-song tune. He stopped at no time dishing up the last batch. You cracked a sleepy grin as you rubbed one of your eyes. "Am I in heaven? I don't think I've ever seen you whip something up this early." You joked as you found a seat at the table. "Gambit is in a good mood this wonderful day, no?" He purred as he smacked on his final touches. Scott looked up from the paper with an eye roll. Only noticeable with the way his head tilted. "He accidentally charged his alarm clock, woke me and Jean up." He snickered, taking another sip of his mug. The sweet smell of sugar and cinnamon filled the air. If you had no self-restraint, he'd be having to remake that entire batch after five minutes.

"Alarm clock? I thought you said Gambit works on his own time?" You turned to Gambit with a raised brow as he leaned against the island counter. He looked away with a small smirk gracing his lips. "I listened to the missus." He shrugged carelessly as you couldn't help but hold back a laugh. His and Rogue's back and forth always made your mornings lighter. Soon the kitchen filled with everyone else. Jean happily greeted Scott with a kiss on the cheek, sucking your wandering eyes into conversation. Rogue soon followed, coming into the kitchen and stretching like a cat. Gambit was already climbing up her tree, given their whole "deal." Their coy and flirtatious banter always brought a smile to your lips , making you get all idealistic-y.

Jubilee and Storm were one of the last to follow. Jubilee of course decided to sleep in late, what teenagers do. Storm explained her absence due to deep talks with the professor.

She especially looked at you with a kind-eyed smile, peacefully soaking in the team's chatter as she too gathered herself food. Jubilee clung to you the entire breakfast. Not like at your hip, but you were one of the ones she got close to immediately. It made sense and you didn't mind her popping into your meal to ask about how this all was supposed to work. "I thought since I'm an X-Man, I didn't really have to DO school here?" She thought aloud, beignet and soft blueberries halfway in her mouth. You answered her question swiftly, relishing in your thirst diminishing.

"It's different since you are still a kid." You hummed, taking the last bites of your plate. "Besides, the extra training besides just on-the-field stuff could help. Danger room drills aren't the only thing a young X-Man like yourself should be going over."

She sighed while resting her chin on her knuckles. "I know, just feels so bogous!" She scoffed playfully, serving herself a big bite of food. Your heart rate was exhilarated by some once you heard Storm greet Logan a "Good Morning." The two of you haven't spoken much to each other. Outside of short-term missions and war room meetings. You weren't surprised when the both of you so quickly made and lost eye contact. He grumbled in response, you weren't surprised. You could hear his confused murmuring as he rummaged for a cup. You spoke up from where you sat at the table. "On the counter, got bored, and knew you would be hankering for a pick me up." You turned back to face him in your chair. You were even taken surprised that you made the first "move." In response, he flashed you a toothy grin. "Looks like someone kissing ass this morning." He gruffly spoke, making up his own hefty plate.

As usual, the professor stayed off in his study. Everyone at the table talked amongst themselves. You couldn't remember how you and Logan started pestering one another. No shocker Gambit with a shit-eating grin amped up the bragging. One minute it was lesson plans, another it was Logan talking about how he could easily show you up during your lesson. Chest puffed, his arms crossed somewhat. He picked scraps out from in between his teeth using a free claw. It gleamed in the shimmering sunlight escaping into the room as his mouth continued to run. "Come on! I'm always the one saving your ass." He chuckled with grit as he finally was able to get out of a piece of that egg. "The other way around Grandpa." You snickered with your teeth on full display. Jean tried to put a stop to your and Logan's childish spat. If you could even call it that. One remark after another and soon he was agreeing to help you in the dangeroom later on in the day. Just your luck, it was foolish to even think this would have no hiccups. You passed through the day doing regular tasks. When the professor wasn't alert about any new trouble, or the school wasn't in shreds it was pretty peaceful.

You spent your time diligently working over those same tasks you despised when you had your hunger for excitement. The quietness around the school was comforting.

Time swept you away before you could realize it was time for your class. Young mutants swarmed into your room, chipper and excited for what today brought. You never expected to enjoy teaching this much. Quickly as the chatterboxes chattered, you soon quieted down the bunch. Greeting your students, you stood up from behind your desk. Rounding up to the front to address the entire room. Diligently you went over the topic for today's lesson. Today it was time to focus on hand-to-hand sparring. Being a mutant did mean having powers at whoever's disposal. But just in case the situation arose of being unable to use those powers, there was always a "plan b" needed at the ready. Most of the students were either paying attention first row or loosely clueing into what was planned for the hour. You didn't really mind, hearing a teacher talk no matter how vibrant they were would never stop being annoying. In the middle of your rapid explanation, you were interrupted by the door swinging open. No thanks to a lot of the doors in the school being a lot more noisy. In the doorway stood Logan, posture steady. With the amount of flannels he wore you wouldn't be surprised to see them being eighty percent of his closet. "I was needed, so here I am." He announced with a bitter sound as he cleared his throat. His arms fell to the side of him almost like he was showing himself off. You immediately perked up as you forgot one small detail. "I forgot to mention, everyone to the danger room!" You instructed as your hands gestured to the doors. Soon bodies started to move as Logan sauntered up towards you. His hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Y'know, I'm gonna kick your ass demonstration or not." He blabbed with that same stupid smirk on his face. You always wanted to wipe it straight off of his face. You turned to him with a pointed look as you whispered to him a threat. Less of a threat and more of an invitation. "Oh sure, missed you pinning me down. Forgot how your hands felt." You hummed before pushing past him. It was only you two, as by now most of their students were already making their way towards or were already in the danger room. Faintly you could hear the slightesting crackling of a chuckle from him. You were going to wipe the floor with his stupid hair.

Finally, everyone was inside and ready. You made sure to wrap your hands since you and Logan were sparring. Given that it was only for demonstrating purposes. But if you really tried, packing a punch into Logan was a lot harder than expected. Can't forget the metal skeleton that lay behind that stupidly handsome rugged jaw.

You paired students off to see how they worked without any use of their powers or special abilities. As a sort of example to anyone up next. After a small mistake by two of some students, you brushed them aside without any pestering. They tried, but maybe now that teacher example should be coming in handy.

Setting up the room, you sequenced it before rushing downstairs to the room itself. Of course, Logan ran right in behind you. "Now - me and mister Howlett are going to give a demonstration. Please watch as that'll be needed for anyone else I haven't sent in yet." Finally, the command commenced as the room quickly shifted into place. It was the simple danger room. White walls and white flooring are suddenly the only things around you two. Finding your stance you stared Logan down. He, not surprisingly, brought back that same sort of fervor and even more. Fists were up and it was time to fight. It was like two predators trying to dominate the other into becoming their respective prey. Your fighting styles clashed in the best of ways. You were quiet when it came to making the first attack. You knew how to be stealthy on your feet. Especially quick when diverting oncoming attacks from enemies. Logan was very abrasive especially when it came to how he attacked opponents. Run in first and think about the consequences later. Quickly you were able to ambush him. Throwing him for a loop once the bottom of your feet met his backside. It was like landing on solid ground. He groaned as he fell back, but that smirk still lay smeared on his lips.

You knew his weak spots and he was the same. Every single point, the two of you could find without even a poorly timed guess. For only a demonstration you two went at it for a while. His knuckles met your frame and so did yours. It was a dance of dominance, as old as time still stands. You soon did realize how much time your sparring was stretching. You still needed to at least have four or more students go up. By the time you two escaped each other's limbs as you had him pinned to the floor only just moments ago, you looked up to see your students.

Some were either paying attention or again, too absorbed in the conversation other classmates were having. Jubilee stood there a little bit taken aback by how you and Logan went at each other. I mean that was brutal but was the huffing and puffing needed? You two looked as if you were about to do the finishing blow to another. "Alright!" You said with an exhale. "Now use that when going head to head with your partner. Treat them as a peer but also as another fighter. Going against a fellow student doesn't mean you cant test out what you learned." You threw out teacher voice , quickly announcing which kids were next. You and Logan made your way back to the observational area of the danger room. The ascend back up was pretty quiet between the both of you. It was the same when you made your way back up and observed the rest of the class.

Soon enough you dismissed your students. Then there was only two , you and Logan. You stood there looking over the empty dome down below you. Logan soon walked up behind you.

Silence was never you shared kind of vibe. So you were somewhat joyous when he snuck a small kiss from you. Pecking the nearest edge of your lips , you came back at him with an embrace of those same lips.

Hungry and desperate like the usual. Internally you fought with yourself. You and Logan as companions and friends didn’t make things any easier. This sneaking around made you feel dirty. You didn’t want to be second pick.

It was you who stopped the exchange. Logan looked back at you with a blank expression. He couldn’t deny that the consistent dynamic between you two did make him guilty. He respected you tons but Jean would always be something he could never get his hands on. Some bastardoues part of him knew he liked that cat and mouse game. He would always wait for her , you and him were a different story.

“I can’t Logan.” You mumbled as your limb’s disconnected once again for good this time. This time it wasn’t with such passion. “This , us , I can’t do this anymore.”

His blank expression stayed as he almost barked out. “What do you mean? Yah never really said anything before, this makes no sense.” He rasped as his throat cleared a little.

The way his hazel eyes looked back at yours was a sight to see.

“I don’t like this charade. I like you but.. this thrill is gone.” You sucked in a breath as you stood apart now. “I mean I don’t just like you. What I feel for you is like nothing I’ve felt for another man. But here you are , waiting like a frail dog for Jean to finally drop Scott.”

He scoffed almost in your face. A part of him knew his yearning for Jean was pathetic. That he didn’t have a chance ever with her. Almost like she subconsciously infected his thoughts with only her. He knew though that it was just him being a fool , for you and for a woman that would never truly reciprocate his affections.

“You should have just said that , bub. I didn’t mean to waste your time parading around like a joke.” He shook his head , hands going deep into his pockets just like how he arrived. He slowly started to walk away. Bordering on leaving , finally you were honest.

“I love you Logan! There I said it!” You shouted , hiccuping like an idiot as you held your chest. That same flustered sensation spread throughout your lungs. “I’ve been in love with you ever since the night we made this stupid thing official. Ever since I felt your lips on mine.” You gritted out , fate was twisting your hand.

“But I respect myself too much to be so blind. I respect you too much to let us do this back and forth. I want something real with you. I want your words of praise to mean something. I don’t want these lies , I want you to love me. Because I do , and this whole poor man’s game of checkers deal isn’t what I want.” All of the hot air was gushing out of you as you went on and on about how you were internally struggling.

He looked back at you for a good minute. Burning silence was in the air. Before he spoke the word that stabbed you right in the heart.

“It’ll pass.” Then soon after he left you alone. In a puddle of your own feelings. You crumbled to the floor like a child. You held yourself up as you wiped your eyes of any free falling tears. You hated that someone so flip floppy with your feelings made you like this.

The heart of a lover was now eaten in two. Now it was your turn to piece yourself back together. With gritted teeth you got up a while later and collected yourself.

You would always be his fool. That was the worst thing about your desire for the Wolverines affection. Just the corner of your heart set for him was now bruised and battered.

ꔫ✉ reblogs/interaction is appreciated <3 (im so sorry if the ending feels rushed , i was in the mood for Logan angst 😔)

TAGLIST:

@pussy-f41ry @weallhaveadestiny @malfoys-demigod @dojacatswink @keenchaosdonut @emilyprentiss06 @honda-odyssey-fucks-hard @sl4sh3r

[lexi-writes-alot]

Kissing Ban

Pairing: TASM Spider-Man x Fem reader

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: Peter gets a few minor cosmetic injuries and you don’t want to aggravate them

Warnings: Slight mentions of injuries at the beginning, maybe alluding to smut at the end.

A/N: I've had this sitting in my drafts for quite some time now. It’s finally time for it to see the light of day! I don’t have much else to say. This could totally be read for any of the Peter’s but I’m biased.

Peter had just come through his bedroom window, wearing his Spider-Man suit, the mask off revealing the cuts on his lower lip, and eyebrow. A sigh escaped his lips before he walked over to the desk.

Knocking on the door you check in saying.

“Hey Peter are you decent? Can I come in?”

Peter sighs as he hears a familiar voice on the other side of the door.

"Come in." He chimed. When you opened the door, Peter was sitting down at the desk still in his suit after his patrol, you laugh to yourself at the sight. He looked up at you as you walked in, exposing his cuts to you with a big smile affixed to his face.

"What's so funny?" The grin never left his face.

"Your face," your voice was muddled with concern, demeanor immediately changing the second you saw the injuries. You rushed over, cupping his face and examining the damage. Peter let out a soft chuckle as you examined the cuts. He put both his hands on your head as you checked out his injuries; he trusted you enough to let you do this.

“It's fine, it'll heal." He spoke gently to you as you inspected his afflictions. He was glad to have you here, taking care of him right now. However, his protestation did nothing to ease your worries

“Your poor beautiful face! It’s ruined.” You try to joke and lighten up the mood. Peter smiled at your attempt to cheer him up. He knew you were only concerned for his safety. He placed his arms around you and pulled you up into his lap, so you could keep your hands on his face.

"It's not ruined." He spoke gently, as he placed one hand on the back of your neck to pull your chest to his. The heat of his body was radiating to yours. You knew what he was doing, you also knew it was going to work, but you’d like to have some fun first.

"I know what game you're playing! If I kiss you, it’s going to make your cuts worse. You need to be put on a kissing ban for a bit until these have a chance to heal up," you say, gently tracing the cuts on and around his lips, playing your own game.

"Oh, come on!" Peter protests, a mischievous smirk on his face as he playfully protests against the kissing ban. "A kiss ban!" he exclaims with a hint of mock indignation. He doesn’t really mind if the kisses worsen his cuts; after all, that was why you were there. It wasn’t like the kisses were going to make him bleed out. Leaning into your touch as you caressed his cuts, trying to coax you into giving in and kissing him anyway.

With a dismissive "Nope, not happening!" you snort at his expression, teasing him with a playful pout. In response, Peter pouts and pretends to be offended, mirroring your expression.“Nope, not happening!” You snort at his facial expression, mocking him with a pout. Peter pouted and pretended to be offended with a fake pout.

"But, but…" He was beginning to sound like he was pleading for a kiss, even though he wasn't serious. He smiled at you, hoping you'd understand that he simply wanted to kiss you. He couldn’t resist you in that moment; he longed for the feeling of your sweet lips.

“But what?” You cross your arms, making an effort to put some distance between your chests.

As Peter chuckled softly, he realized that his attempt at a pout wasn't going to persuade you to kiss him. With a determined expression in his eyes, he turned on the charm, hoping to bridge any gap between you. Closing in on you, he leaned in until his chest was against your folded arms, locking eyes with you in an intimate, intense gaze.

"Right now, I really want you to kiss me," he said in a soft, longing voice.

"Ah, so now you've found your words, huh?" you remarked, tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. Tapping your cheek thoughtfully, a sly smile played on your lips as you pretended to mull over his question. Slowly rising to your feet, you took a few measured steps back, increasing the physical distance between you as if to emphasize your contemplation.

Peter was starting to lose patience with your games. He didn’t like being teased for so long; he just wanted your lips on him. He followed you as you stepped backward, moving close again. He smirked at your tapping of the cheek as if you were seriously thinking about it.

"Hey, you know you can’t resist me," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye as his face drew closer to yours.

"Well, I guess I could spare one kiss," you say with a mischievous smile. You lean in slowly, observing the way his eyes close in anticipation. As he closes his eyes, you lean in and give him a quick, gentle peck on the cheek, savoring the warmth of the moment. You then turn away, taking slow, deliberate steps toward the bed, where you sit down and let the moment linger in the air.

Peter slowly opened his eyes and watched as you walked away. A hint of disappointment spread across his face. He spoke up, his tone tinged with annoyance, before following you to the bed.

"Is that it? Is that all the kiss I get?" he said as he approached you coming to a stop before your seated figure.

"What? You said you wanted a kiss, so I graciously kissed you," you say dramatically with your arms before leaning back on them and looking up at him. Peter rolled his eyes at the dramatic nature of your words. He simpered and let out a hearty laugh before speaking.

"That wasn’t the kiss I was expecting." He said with a smirk on his face, as he bent over you, placing his hands by either side of your waist on the bed. He looked into your eyes as he spoke. "I was expecting a bit more…"

“Enlighten me, what were you expecting.” You continue to tease him sinking a bit further into the mattress.

"You know, the passionate movie-type kiss…" He loomed over you. You knew exactly what he was talking about. He leisurely lowered himself towards you, close enough so that you could feel his breath on your face. He spoke softly just above a whisper, "You know… The kiss where I just melt for you?" Emphasizing the last words with a whisper, he smirked again. His words sent goosebumps up your arms. He's practically pinned you in place on the bed, leaving no escape.

“Woah man can we talk about this?” You say in a goofily, laying flat on the bed. Peter chuckled, hearing you attempt a joke just to try to get away from him. This just made him want you more now. He was enjoying every moment of this teasing, and it was showing through his beaming grin. He continued to speak in an alluring voice as he looked deep into your eyes.

"We can talk later…" Peter slid one of his hands to the back of your neck, holding it gingerly so that you would look into his eyes, which were full of desire. He used his other hand to steady himself as he brought you closer to him. Your bodies were pressed up against each other now as you lay on the bed.

The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension. You could tell that Peter was enjoying this game but you were also enjoying yourself too. His words, his touches, his body heat, it all compounded, having a powerful effect on you. You were practically melting under his gaze, and you couldn't resist him any longer. "Later?" You finally managed to squeak, in the small space where your breaths mingled.

Peter smirked at the sound of your response. He knew he had you right where he wanted. He could see the desire in your eyes as you spoke. He could feel it in your body language as you leaned up into him.

"Later." He muttered as his eyes traveled down to your lips and lingered on them. “Right now I think I need my fix of you." His voice dulcet and seductive, full of desire and need. Your bodies were pressed together, your hearts beating rapidly in your chests. You couldn’t resist him any longer, and he knew it. His words were successively disintegrating any defenses you had left, and you could feel yourself melting under his touch. “Peter…” You spoke his name breathlessly, your voice barely a whisper.

You were not capable of denying his demand any longer. The desire coursing through your body had taken over completely. Closing the gap, you pushed your body into his, your lips meeting his in a passionate kiss. It was akin to fireworks going off inside of you, everything he was doing right now was making you want him even more. His hand unhurriedly dragged from the bed to your waist, pining you to him as the kiss deepened.

[kaleldobrev]

Things Overheard

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean overhears a private conversation between you and Sam

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Cursing (8x), Mutual Pining & Lots of fluff, Smut (but no graphic descriptions of it — I use the phrasing “getting yourself off,” but that’s the extent of the smut description), Body image talks

Authors Note: Dreams are in italics | I included the smut warning even though it’s like super brief and not graphic in description whatsoever | Plus size reader fic | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Dean has known you for five years, and during those five years, he had fallen more and more in love with you. There was nothing about you that he didn't love. He loved hearing you hum whenever you were cleaning your guns or baking something in the kitchen; he loved hearing you sing in the shower when he walked past the bathroom; he loved the way you would do your full body laugh whenever him or Sam said something funny. But he especially loved when you would quietly mumble to yourself while you read.

But as much as he had loved you, and as much as he wanted to be with you more than anything, he knew that he could never have you unless it was in his dreams.

You were straddling him; your hands on his chest as he gripped your waist. You slowly rocked against him, trying to get yourself off as he barely moved a muscle. One of his hands went to your hair, tucking it behind your ear, and you gave him the softest of smiles. "You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered.

You leaned down, cupping his face between your hands and captured his lips with yours. He pulled you closer, fully wrapping his arms around your waist now. "And I'm all yours," you whispered in his ear.

When Dean woke up, he looked over to see you sleeping peacefully next to him; still wearing one of his sweatpants and t-shirts that he had let you borrow months ago that he knew he would never be getting back (and he was okay with that, as you looked better in them anyway).

Waking up next to you wasn't an uncommon occurrence, as you tended to migrate to his room sometimes during the night because of a nightmare you might of had, or accidentally falling asleep while the two of you were watching a movie the night before.

He laid back down, and simply just stared at you; admiring you as you slept. Even with your messy hair, he still thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world.

Dean had to restrain himself, as all he wanted to do was reach out and brush your hair away from your face. But all he did was smile at you, as that was the most he could do.

You started to stir just then, and Dean quickly shut his eyes, pretending that he was still sleeping when you woke. One of the last things he had needed was for you to call him some creep for watching you sleep (even though he had found it strangely comforting watching you).

When you woke up, you stretched your arms and turned over to see that Dean was still sound asleep; but wasn't snoring like he normally was. You stared at him for a moment, admiring the way he looked when he slept, how peaceful he seemed. You couldn't help but wonder what he was dreaming about.

You had to restrain yourself from reaching your hand out to touch his cheek; to run your fingers along his jawline (which was one of your favorite features on him). But you knew there was no way you could possibly do that in a remotely friendly way. So, you did the next best thing and kissed his forehead. Dean always managed to make it friendly, so why couldn't you? "See you later Tiger," you whispered, and quietly got out of bed, shutting the door to his bedroom gently behind you.

Dean sighed, opening his eyes once again when you shut the door behind you. He wanted your lips to linger there just a little bit longer. It took all that he had not to just open his eyes right there and just cup your face and kiss you.

Getting up from the bed, he started to make his way toward his bedroom door but stopped, when it sounded like you and Sam were whispering right outside his bedroom door.

“I don’t mean to be nosey but —” Sam begun, but you quickly cut him off.

“Of course you mean to be nosey,” you interjected; and Dean had to stop himself from laughing at your response.

Sam scoffed. “Okay, fair,” he said. “But seriously, what’s going on with you two? You spend more time in his room than you do your own.”

“Is that a problem?” You asked. Of course it’s not a problem, Dean thought.

“No but, it’s just got me wondering if you’re ever going to tell him how you actually feel about him,” Sam said. How she actually feels? He wondered. “I mean, I have a pretty strong suspicion that my brother feels exactly the same way you do.”

You sighed. “He doesn’t love me like that Sam. He loves me like the sister he’s never had, the same way you do.”

Sam half chuckled. “Trust me. I love you, I seriously do. But it’s strictly platonic. Dean…not so much.” All Dean could picture was that confused expression on your face right now. “Seriously? You seriously don’t see the way he looks at you?”

“I mean…” your voice trailed off.

“Or how his hugs tend to linger just a little bit longer?” Sam asked.

“I mean…” you sighed again. “Look, I can’t risk saying anything okay? So just…” you huffed off, and he heard you fast paced walking down the hall; a second later he heard your bedroom door close.

You laid there staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom, thinking back on the things that Sam had said to you in the hallway; praying that Dean hadn’t woken up and overheard you, as that was the last thing you had needed or wanted him to hear.

As long as you’ve known Dean (which was a little over five years), you always had this kind of schoolgirl crush on him that eventually turned into full blown love for the man. You knew that you shouldn’t, as the work you did was dangerous, unpredictable; but you couldn’t help the way you felt.

There was a knocking at the door, and you sighed, hoping that it wasn’t Sam. “Who is it?” You asked.

“Dean,” the voice replied. “Can I come in?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you smiled, quickly changing positions so you were now sitting up in bed. Dean opened the door and stepped inside, still wearing his pajamas that he was in when you woke up this morning. Without having to say it, he closed the door behind him. “What’s up?”

“Can we talk?” He asked, and you felt your heart sink. Did he hear what Sam and I were talking about this morning? You thought. Shit.

“Sure…” you replied with hesitation. “You can come sit too,” you said, patting a spot on your bed.

He smiled at you one of those genuine type smiles he always seemed to reserve for only you, and sat down on the bed a few feet away; but close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted to. “So, I’m not sure how to really start this conversation.”

Your heart began to sink even further. But at the same time, it was beating unbelievably fast like it would bust out your chest in seconds. “Did you hear Sam and I talking outside your door this morning?” You spat out.

“Yeah,” he answered; and your palms have never been so sweaty. “That’s actually what I came in here to talk about.”

“You don’t have to,” you said, trying to quickly change the subject, as you felt a rejection coming; a rejection that you weren’t necessarily prepared to deal with right now. Yes, you knew that he didn’t have romantic feelings for you, but you weren’t prepared to have this conversation this early in the morning, and especially after having a fun night watching movies together in his bedroom. “I know you don’t feel the same way I do, trust me.”

Dean couldn’t help but give you a confused expression. “Y/N, what makes you think I don’t?” He asked, genuinely curious when it came to hearing your thoughts.

You started twiddling your thumbs, refusing to look at him. “I just…I don’t know…I figured I wasn’t your type,” you confessed, mumbling. Almost so inaudible that he almost couldn’t even hear you.

“What do you think my type is?” He asked. He didn’t really think he necessarily had a type. Then again, you and Sam would probably beg to differ on that account.

“Thin and supermodel like,” you said, still mumbling and still refusing to look him in the eye. It killed him that you refused to look at him; because one of his favorite things was looking into those Y/E/C eyes of yours. “I know I’m not super thin, or have the looks of a supermodel I mean…I like food,” you slightly chuckled. “I got a muffin top even though I workout everyday. My arms and legs aren’t toned. I don’t have…a huge chest I mean…” that’s when you finally looked up at him, but there was sadness in your eyes. “I’ve seen the girls you flirt with. They’re the complete opposite of me. I mean, you flirted with me when we first met but I honestly thought you were just being nice and trying to add another person to your body count list.”

He just stared at you, slightly heartbroken that you had felt that way. He hated that you felt that way about yourself, because that was the complete opposite of how he felt. “Sweetheart, you’re fucking beautiful to me,” he said, his tone not the least bit joking. “You’re basically my dream girl.”

You furrowed your brow, obviously not believing his words. “I highly doubt that. Cause if you’re my dream man, I ain’t your dream girl.”

Dean smirked. “I’m your dream man uh?”

“Obviously,” you confessed. “You’re always so kind to me and others. And you actually make me feel like I matter.”

“You do matter Sweetheart,” he said, finally reaching out for your hand and taking it in his. “You matter so much to me.”

“But as a sister,” you added.

“No. Not even remotely,” he corrected.

“I’m not following,” you said, furrowing your brow again with that stable confused expression on your face.

“Sweetheart…” he took a deep breath, trying to gather his words. “You matter so much to me that it fucking scares me sometimes. Yeah you’re family but…I love you more than a sister,” he told you. “And the way I just phrased that sounded a lot more creepy than I intended that to sound, but I hope you know that I’m saying here.”

“I think so…” you trailed off.

“I love you romantically not like sisterly,” he said, trying his best to make his feelings clear. “And, I’ve felt like this for a long time. Since…fuck, five years?”

“Five years?” You exclaimed, unsure if you had heard him right. He nodded. “Five years? You’ve been in love with me for five years?”

“Yeah…” it was his turn now to look down and not look at you. “I just…I don’t know. I didn’t want to fuck anything up cause I love hunting with you and I love having you here at the Bunker. And I honestly didn’t want to picture what life would be like without you anymore cause I’m so fucking used to you being here.”

“I didn’t want to fuck anything up either,” you admitted. “I love living here and I love working with you boys and…I didn’t want to go back to how my life was before meeting you two, before meeting you especially.”

“You’re one of the best things to ever happen to me, you know that?” Dean said, sharing the same sentiments.

“Likewise,” you said, the two of you smiling in unison.

“If it’s okay with you, I’m gonna kiss you now. That forehead kiss you gave me this morning wasn’t enough for me,” he admitted, his voice sounding slightly embarrassed.

“Yes you can kiss me. And you can kiss me wherever and whenever you like to,” you smiled, and his lips turned into a smirk.

“Wherever uh?” He winked.

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[yuri-is-online]

Jade narrating the stuff Yuu is doing sounds funny/cute.

Dear annon, objectively you are correct. Jade narrating things sounds funny and cute in general. Unfortunately I have a cold and just took some nyquil ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ Whoops.

notes:they/them used for Yuu, this is a joke tm inspired by this meme. Please do not take this seriously and look at my masterlist for something not written on drugs.

"The humble shrimp, according to all known laws of hydrodynamics should not be able to swim. Their little legs are much too small to propel them through the ocean." Jade does not say this out loud, instead he continues to prop his head up on his hand and observe the Lounge's newest employee slaving away over the stove, signature reserved smile on his face. "The shrimp of course, swims anyway, because the shrimp does not care about what mages think is impossible."

Not that you are cooking for the lounge (yet) Jade had just invited you over for a little... he had said it was to study. What you had no idea, your patience maybe? He certainly hasn't moved since inviting you to help yourself to the Octavinelle kitchen saying something about how "humans have such interesting uses for leftovers."

"Bullshit." You think, punctuating the curse with a particularly harsh scrape to the pan. "He just didn't want to cook his dinner tonight."

"Imagine if you will, a pan of rice." Jade is idly toying with a spoon, swapping between waving it like a conductor or holding it still to speak into it like an announcer. "Truly a blessing to the hungry masses, a staple food if you will."

"Oh please no." You are tempted to spit in his plate but he would just put an unnecessary type of emphasis on thanking you for the food.

"It is presented to you fried," Jade continues, clearly deeply amused with himself "but this time, it has not been fried by a trustworthy fellow human-"

"You are an eel." You decide to settle your need to be petty by giving him the smaller fork, which does get you a regretful sigh but does not stop Jade's recapping the last episode of Twisted Wonderland.

"But by a shrimp." Jade loves it when you cook for him, not that he really wants to admit to that out loud lest you stop. Or huff and puff in embarrassment, he wants to save that for much later. Sometime when you are back in the Coral Sea and tucked neatly against his chest, safe and very much completely his and not able to run away. "The humble shrimp is proud of it's cooking."

"I am not an it, I am your partner." You are not exactly mad, you are proud of your cooking. And proud that, just like he does for his brother, he will eat all of it and then find something to complain about with a big smile on his face. Jade once again twirls his conductor's spoon, with a hum that sounds sort of like an agreement.

"The shrimp is very proud of their cooking," he amends "and the eel is very happy they want to share with him." You push your food around your plate in embarrassment much to his delight. He can't resist pushing you just a bit further, getting up as if to make for a cup but pausing to kiss your cheek before setting his kettle on the stove so it's ready to repay your favor once dinner is done. "Do be gentle with me," says the eel, heart beating horrifically hard against his chest "I am much more fragile than I look." He very much does not expect to see you darting up to kiss his lips when he turns back from the stove, the shrimp darts away with a smug giggle as the eel stands stunned, savoring the warmth of their affection before he returns to his seat.

Yes, the eel thinks he is keeping this one. Forever, ideally.

[icyg4l]

PAC: May 2024 Predictions

Hello beautiful people! Later on this week, I will have a Five Dollar Friday Sale where any topic can be talked about. Please refer to my guidelines if you are interested in booking with me! Today, I will be giving you all some predictions about the upcoming month. I hope that those who resonate will continue to support me. For those of you who have been supporting me, I thank you. Without further ado, please select the quote that resonates with you.

Left-to-Right: (1-3)

Pile One: I am getting Taurus energy from this pile. I feel like you are going to be walking away from a situation that no longer serves you in May. It's going to hurt. But on the bright side, at least you are done with that chapter in your life. I feel like you are inviting new energy into your life though. It feels lively. I think that you need to be careful though if you go out to a hookah bar, or just go out into the nightlife in general. I am seeing that you will be going to a cookout. I am seeing the image of a thermometer's heat rising. I feel like you may have tension with someone that's super thick, lol. All in all, I feel that this month for you will determine the theme of this summer for you all. You got your wings, you've been promoted! It may be hard to focus on the positives because of your circumstances but you will survive. This month will feel weird because it’s like your on two ends of the spectrum. One part is good and the other is gone to shit, but all will work in your favor boo! See the good in life.

Cards Used: Page of Cups, Queen of Discs, Ace of Cups, 5 of Discs, The World, 10 of Swords, Justice.

extras: arrogance. cheap labor. pennyslvania. slabs. coney island. sweet! livelihood. perfume. body shapewear. antisocial club.

Pile Two: Idk why but your energy reminds me of Natalie Nunn lol. Not the messy parts but the part about her where she's unintentionally funny and fun to be around. Your energy feels very much party girl, I could easily get in this section if I wanted to type of vibe. Anyway, I think that you are going to be strengthening some platonic connections that you already have. But I also think that you're going to cut someone loose --- someone who has been around for a while. The name Harold comes to mind. Have you eaten Harold's Chicken as of recently, lol? I think that you're going to have sharper instincts as a result. You're going to see people for who they are. I am seeing the image of a butterfly flying on someone's nose. You will be growing up in the month of May. There is an emphasis on meditation. You're being called to devoting your time to staying in the present. You're being asked to go within and get more introspective. Also, cut back on the refined sugars. I think you'll be listening to Amaraae and Solange more often this month as well.

Cards Used: King of Cups, 3 of Cups, Strength, Death, King of Swords, The Hermit, Prince of Discs, 2 of Swords, The Lovers.

extras: big eyes. blonde hair. shapely. wiz khalifa. stunna shades. "i ain't going nowhere." "get comfy." gloomy. rainbow tips.

Pile Three: Someone in this pile is going to be reuniting with their family at a prom sendoff, at a graduation, a party. Either way, it will be a celebration. This pile will also be very grateful in the month of May. You are also going to have many opportunities to make quick money with the people that you love (not necessarily family but anyone that makes you feel safe). A love opportunity will be coming through for you as well. I don't see this as something you should take serious. I think you want to be independent right now, that person understands and they will give you your space for the time being. If you're trying to curate an event, don't worry too much about what people will think because it's going to be a big turnout regardless. I think some of you will be going to a wedding or will be getting married. So, congratulations to that! I also think that some of you will be meeting your future spouses in this pile (you won't know it yet though). Overall, I feel that this month is a great month for you to focus on community building.

Cards Used: The Emperor, The Hierophant, 9 of Swords, King of Wands, Justice, 3 of Discs, 8 of Wands, 4 of Wands, Ace of Cups.

extras: entrepreneurial spirit. aquamarine. blue butterflies. single father. "something cute, something for the summertime."

[magics-neptunes-things]

Love Sometimes Takes Time

Hi guys :)

This is from a request that you can find here :)

The sentences in italic are saying in Spanish.

I haven't proofread it because I'm lazy today. But please enjoy!

TW : Maybe a little angst? Jealousy.

Leila has always been a benchmark in your life. When you arrive in Barça from Levante, she was there, and she was one of the most inclusive people in the team. She was less impressive than Alexia and a little more expensive than Mapi. When you arrive from the U23 in your national team, Leila was already there too. It was natural for you to follow her and almost stick with her at this time. She was your friend, and you get along pretty well.

You were friends, only friends, but you have to admit that watching her leave the national team and Barcelona to go to Manchester was hard. She was your other half at work, even if it was only a friendly relationship, you missed her dearly. You had other friends, like Mariona or Alexia, but even if they have their eyes on you, they weren’t Leila.

It was when you were in Australia for the World Cup that your agent called you to let you know that Barcelona wasn’t interested in extending your contract. It was a little shock honestly, you had great results, but your agent explains to you that they prefer to save money for next year, when a lot of contracts well be negotiated.

You were with Ona when you received the call, and she was very uncomfortable. She just signed in Barcelona and were coming back home, but you knew it wasn’t her fault. Your agent told you that he as some of clubs who were interested in you, but you needed to digest the new.

You were devasted when you call Leila that night.

“At least you have other clubs who are interested in you” Leila said.

You shrugged. You didn’t know which one are on the list and how much. Leila wasn’t with you because of the Vilda’s story, but you never wanted her to be with you as much as right now. Being far away from her is hard, and you went several times in Manchester to see her. And her girlfriend. Because Leila has a girlfriend now. A beautiful, funny, cute, and friendly girlfriend. You can’t hate her, but you realize too how less Leila was touching with you. No hugs, no kiss on the cheek or cuddle while talking before falling asleep.

Which was perfectly normal. She has a girlfriend. You don’t even know why you reacted that way.

“My agent just sends me the teams who are interested” you mumble to Leila when your phone vibrate.

“Look at it!” she says happily.

You roll your eyes but open the message anyway, frowning while you read aloud the name of the different clubs.

“Real Madrid…”

“Yurk” Leila mumbles.

“… Wölfburg…”

“There is no way that you go to play for them.”

“… Kansas City and Manchester City.”

If Leila only made a grimace when you mention somewhere in the USA, her face light up when she hears Manchester City. You don’t know how to feel yet. You don’t know if you will be ok to be faced to Leila and her girlfriend every day.

“Manchester City is a good option” she smirked.

“I don’t know. Real Madrid too, at least I’ll stay in Spain.”

“You think you will be able to play against the girls who were your teammates for so long?”

“No” you admitted, sighing.

That’s how you finished in the blue side of Manchester, the right one Lucy said to you when you say goodbye to them. Leila and her girlfriend helped you settle down in your new flat, with Laia Aleixandri too. Thanks God she was here.

The girls welcomed you with happiness and you get along great with Mary and Kerstin. But you usually pass your time with Leila and Laila, having a little trouble to speak English at first. And then you just get used to it. You had a lot of time to think about why you always have a knot in your stomach when you are with Leila and her girlfriend. It isn’t as hard when you are with Leila without her girlfriend.

You feels like Laia understood or realized something, but the sweet girl never said anything to you. And you’re sure that she never said anything to Leila too.

********

You jump when your phone rings, feeling like you hadn’t sleep at all. Groaning, you roll on your side to turn your alarm off. That’s when you realize that it’s four in the morning and that it wasn’t your alarm who was ringing but that Leila is trying to call you.

“Leila?” you groan with a hoarse voice.

“Are you home?”

“Yes. What’s happening, are you alright?”

“I’m in front of your door… Can you open to me?”

Several minutes later, Leila is laying on your bed next to you. She’s fully dressed and after looking at her to be sure that she wasn’t hurt physically, you drag her in your bedroom. You went right under the cover, your body shivering because of the cold.

“What’s happening?” you ask again.

You are on your side, looking at Leila who is watching the ceiling, on her back. She looks tired to be honest, and maybe a little stressed? Anyway, something is wrong. You don’t come to your friend’s house at 4 in the morning without a good reason.

“Ash and I broke up” she mumbles without looking at you.

“What? Why?”

She came this weekend to the game, and everything looks fine at this point. They were smiling at each other, laughing and Leila hugged her so tight that you wonder how that poor girl could still breath.

“I don’t know. We had a stupid argument and everything like it all fell down.”

“Just because of an argument?” you raise an eyebrow.

Leila sighs and nod, still looking at the ceiling of your room.

“You will go back together.”

Leila doesn’t answer at this, and you don’t say anything else. You are tired and trying to be a good friend for her right now is hard for you. You are kind of sick about your strange feelings about Leila and her girlfriend. With time you realize that it’s maybe something more than friendship that you feel for her. And that pissed you off, because there is no way that Leila can see you like this.

You were on edge for days before having a break down when Laia casually asked you want was happening to you. Your friend wasn’t able to understand what you were saying, but after some minutes she could finally put the pieces together. She held you against her, stroking your back and promised you to never talk about it to Leila.

********

Leila and Ash get together again some days after and you snort when Leila told you. You received a slap on the head for an answer. It doesn’t last long, however, since two weeks later Leila announced to you their definitive breakup.

You were kind of avoiding her during those two weeks to be honest, passing almost all your time with Laia, Mary or Kerstin. The latter stayed sometimes to sleep at your flat after one of the team’s bonding. You didn’t realize Leila’s annoyed gaze, but Laia did. She didn’t say anything to anyone (except her boyfriend) for now though. She’s here to hear you but she isn’t the kind of girl who will try to interfere in someone else’s life.

She kept looking at both of you and she doesn’t know how much she will need to look at you tonight though.

You are with some of the girls out for a night and some of their close friends too. Your friends being only in the team, you don’t know a lot of people here so it’s always great for you to meet someone new.

“Chica!” Kerstin says happily when she sits next to you in the booth.

You were talking with Leila, Alanna, Laia and her boyfriend when Kerstin comes to sit next to you. Leila takes on herself not to roll her eyes, being grumpy almost every time you interact with Kerstin. But she will be even more after hearing Kerstin’s next sentence.

“My girlfriend takes some friends with her. And I need to introduce you to someone.”

“Who?” you frown.

You follow with her eyes the direction she shows you. Kerstin is pointing a girl some meters from you, who you assume is a friend of Kerstin’s girlfriend. While you look at her, your friend start to talk again.

“This is Mila. She’s half English and half Spanish, she speaks both languages fluently.”

“She does?” you ask with a smile.

Your English went way better since you start to leave in Manchester, but you sometimes find it tiring to always have to talk in another language than your first. Kerstin smiles wider and nod.

“She’s a football’s fan, she loves to play video games. She’s super gay and kind of fancy you. I really think that I found you the love of your life.”

You laugh softly hearing your friend’s excitement. You have to say that she’s pretty and the smile she gives you when she spots you looking at her is very beautiful. But she’s not Leila.

You cross Laia’s eyes and she smiles at you.

“Try it, what do you have to lose?”

She’s right. You don’t see that next to her, Leila is fuming because you just take your eyes on Mila again.

“I don’t know how to flirt with someone” you mumble, blushing horribly.

“No one ask you to flirt. Just try to know the girl.” Kerstin points.

“Or you don’t have to go to her if you don’t want to” Leila snaps.

It made you look at her and you frown slightly. You don’t understand Leila’s mood, she was laughing some minutes ago, listening to Moise’s stories.

“Nah, she wants to go” Kerstin says and before you can answer anything, she takes you by the arm to follow her.

You don’t hear Leila’s obscenities and don’t see the strange looks of your friends around her. Kerstin makes the presentation between you and Mila, and you have to admit that she’s right. You and she get along pretty well honestly. You talk, laugh and dance with her a lot during the evening. When you both got tired, she proposed to take you home, but you hesitate at first. It’s only when she assures you that she just wants to spend more time with you and that she will leave you in front of your door that you accept.

It doesn’t stop her from putting her arm around your shoulders when you both leave the nightclub. And that’s the last image that Leila got from you that night.

********

“So, is she a good kisser?”

“What?”

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize that Leila came next to you in the dressing room to change after training. You were still trying to avoid her to be honest, your heard her talking to Ash three days before on the phone and the knot on your stomach came back stronger than never.

“Mia, is she a good kisser?” Leila asks again.

“It’s Mila”

Her face is closed and there is not a little bit of teasing in her tone. You don’t understand where this comes from and that’s annoy you a little.

“Why are you asking that?” you frown.

But Leila shrugs for any answer. So you roll your eyes and finish to put your things in your bag.

“When are you seeing her again?” Leila asks several minutes after.

“We went to the cinema yesterday. We didn’t plan another date for now” you mumble.

Mila took you out already two times and you had fun the two times. It went well, she’s very attentive to your wants and needs. You definitively don’t have the famous sparkle when you think about her, but you are willing to try things with her if it makes you forget about Leila.

“Ow, that’s why you looked tired today. You didn’t sleep well last night? Shagging already?”

“Fuck off, Leila.”

Your snapping makes her jump. Even if you’ve argued a few times before, you’ve never spoken to her that way. You take your bag and storm out the changing room without adding another word. When Leila looks around the room, she realized that Kerstin and Laia were looking at you. And know at her. If Kerstin turn her gaze, Laia doesn’t.

“Que?” Leila growls to Laia.

But the blonde doesn’t flinch, still looking deeply at Leila. They are the only people talking Spanish in the room right now, so she doesn’t have any problem to tell Leila what she thinks.

“You’re an idiot. What are you expecting from her with this attitude?”

Leila doesn’t say anything, for once she doesn’t know what to answer. She knows she doesn’t have to talk to you like that and that you have all the right to be angry with her. But she can’t help it. But Laia is tired of your behavior.

“Leila you’re my friend and that’s because I will tell you that. She fancied you for years now, even while you were looking at your ex with dopey loving eyes. And now that she tries to move on, you’re acting like a dick. She doesn’t belong to you. Leave that poor girl alone or get your things together. She’s done nothing but being here for you no matter what. She deserves better that the way you treat her.”

Leila has red cheeks now, her body full of shame. She doesn’t look at Laia when she talks again.

“Is it too late?” Leila mumble.

“For what?”

“Trying something with her.”

Laia doesn’t answer directly, she looks at your friend several seconds instead.

“It’s not my place to answer that question” Laia finally answers. “But you better be serious about it Leila, or I’ll tell Alexia.”

Alexia has claimed the place of your mentor and protector when Leila left Barcelona and the national team. She’s still calling you two times a week and Leila knows that the blonde wouldn’t have a problem to beat her ass if she fucks up something with you.

********

You weren’t supposed to see Mila that night, but after Leila behavior with you, you decided that it would be a great way to change your ideas. Mila was happy to hear you and she proposed to go out to eat something, which you agreed with pleasure. The restaurant was fancy, but Mila was very relaxed, making you laugh when she imagines out loud the life of some of the people present in the restaurant too.

You drank a little too and you are a little tipsy when she takes you home. Your flat being in the heights of your building, you chose to take the lift. In fact, it’s the same flat where Ona lived during her time in Manchester, you just take her lease.

When you arrive at your door, you lean against the wall by your front door, looking at Mila. Despite Leila assumptions, you never kissed. But maybe tonight would be the night, it’s your third date after all. And you know that Mila isn’t against the idea, you just have to look at her to know it.

She approaches you until you are only a few inches apart.

“I really had a great night” she says, putting an arm right next to your face, against the wall.

“Me too” you simply answer.

You know what will happen before it does. When Mila leans to kiss you, the ring announcing to opening of the lift’s door sound in the floor.

“Y/N?”

You open your eyes and look over Mila’s shoulder to see who is calling you. You already recognized the voice, though.

Leila is looking at you with an uncertain face and you move mechanically to be further away from Mila. The latter holds a sigh of extreme accuracy and turns to Leila with a look full of reproaches. But Leila doesn’t see it, entirely focused on you.

“Are you ok?” you ask, looking at her.

“Can I talk to you?”

You bite your lips and report your attention on Mila. She shrugs and kisses your cheek softly and looks deep into your eyes before leaving.

“I call you later.”

You don’t know if it’s a promise for you or an advertisement for Leila, but you nod and smile at her.

“Drive safely.”

“I’ll sure do.”

You look at her going in the elevator and passes next to Leila, before turning your attention back on the Spaniard. You look at her for several seconds before talking.

“Come on in”

You let her in her flat before you and close the door. Leila already made her way in your living room, turning the lights on.

“Que passa?”

“I wanted to apologize for today. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

You shrug, not really knowing what to answer to that. If she knows she was an ass, it’s already that right? You are sad about the turn in your relationship though, you and her had always get along great and you feel like it isn’t the same anymore.

“I hate what we became” you mumble. “I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

You shrug one more time. You don’t want to cry but you know that if you look at her, it will happen.

“Hey.”

Just like Mila earlier, Leila approaches you and is only a few centimeters away from you. But it doesn’t seem strange or intimidating with her, it seems normal and comforting. Leila raises her hand to get your hair out of your face and probably get a better view of you.

“I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did, it was so wrong of me. Can I make it up to you? Please.”

“How?” you ask, frowning.

You swear that Leila looked at your lips for a second, before shrugging. You are still close like before, so you can perfectly read her eyes.

“Maybe we can go out, like only the both of us?”

You can’t answer because your phone rings on your pocket and you are pretty sure that it’s Mila. You take your phone almost without thinking to have the confirmation that it’s indeed Mila. She sent you a message and when you are watching, another one is coming.

Mila I had a really great night with you, you’re amazing ♥ I can’t wait to see you again 😉

Leila read the texts at the same time as you are, and you can feel her body tensed. You already noticed that she doesn’t like your pretender, you just don’t know why. Her jaw is so tight that you are scared that some of her teeth will just break.

“What’s up?” you frown.

“I can’t stand her” Leila answers sour toned.

“She’s very sweet and caring though. And funny.”

Leila snorts and starts to walk around in your living room while your put your phone back on your pocket. You’ll answer those texts later, when Leila will be gone.

“You’re wasting your time” Leila finally says.

“Why are you saying that?” you ask, frowning even more.

“Because you don’t belong with her!”

Leila is almost shouting now, forgetting her promise to Laia to keep it cool. She’s angry but not against you, but against herself for the time she lost. And for the reason that she maybe lost any chance with you. Well, she might be angry against Mila, too.

“So, who do I belong with Leila? I have no one else, that girl is sweet and caring, she’s funny, she’s beautiful and very interested in me. And I’m…”

“With me!” Leila cuts you with a strong voice, before adding in an almost defeat tone “You belong with me.”

You are shocked. So shocked that you can’t make a move or even think for now. What the hell is she talking about?

“Seeing you with her made me realize what I should have a very long time ago. I know it’s maybe hypocritical because I had other girls before, but I can’t stand the fact that someone else is kissing you or even touching you. That should be me, no one else.”

She’s looking at you, waiting for your answer. But you, you are looking at her, wanting to be sure that she isn’t joking or messing with you. You just have to take a look in her eyes to know it.

“It’s better not being your ego talking Leila, because I swear…” you whisper.

“It’s not”

She comes close to you again, like really close to you and put her hand on your arm. Like this, you can see all the details of her pretty face.

“I really want to kiss you” she whispers.

You don’t answer, but you lean slightly in her direction, and she get the message almost immediately. She closes the gap between you both, kissing you so softly at first that you wonder if your lips are really touching. But when she’s sure that you’re not going to back away, she gains confidence and passes her arms around you to kiss you harder.

You will have to talk a lot about all of this, but for now you only want to enjoy the moment. Having Leila for you like that is unreal and you want to engrave this memory in your mind for ever.

[lazycats-stuff]

Can I ask for a follow up on Australian bat!bro reader where he gets annoyed bc they won’t let him drink alcohol or smth? Here in Australia there is alot of underage drinking. (I mean I got high and tipsy at my 17th birthday party with parental permission💀)

Just thinking about the culture shock most of them would get 😭

Lol, it's the same thing here where I live. Alcohol flows around here. Despite being an adult, I don't drink at all. I just hate alcohol. Also, I know this is short, but it's fine...

Summary: (Y/N) wants to drink. The fam is not allowing it.

Warnings: Underage drinking,

Australia and America couldn't be anymore different when it came to drinking. In America, a simple of drop for a person under 21 is disappointing to parents. Siblings would probably be happy and proud and would look for each.

In Australia, you just need parent's permission. Oh how nice that was back then. (Y/N) remembered how he got tipsy on one of his birthdays at the time. It was lit and (Y/N) loved it. Of course, he wouldn't drink as if he is an alcoholic.

He would only drink in company of others and that would be a glass tops. Not even a second one. He can't get embarrassed in public now. But there was a slight problem now too.

His family is the biggest problem. Well, some of them are, not all of them are the problem.

Jason is amazing when it came to drinking. The two would sometimes drink together and it was so fun. (Y/N) didn't like to drink something like a shot. He would like to savor the flavor of the drink, whether or not it was some wine or scotch.

Or even some votka.

You don't just drink it, you savor it. And that's what he does every time he drinks with Jason. Sometimes there are times when they just drink in silence, enjoying the company. That usually meant that sharing a bottle something between them two.

Sometimes it was just quiet chatter in between them. It was funny and Jason was the supplier for them both. In return, he got 5 bucks from (Y/N) for his efforts.

It's not easy to hide anything in this household. Everyone was trained to observe and it was just... Sometimes it gets to you and you try hard to hide things.

Damian is the one who doesn't care, but would advise (Y/N) not to drink it. Damian is only thinking about his self awareness and his cognitive thinking in some situations.

Damian is just like Bruce, can't drink for the life of him. Not that he wants to anyway. It's not good for your awareness and Damian always had to be vigilant and observant.

And besides, Damian likes (Y/N) and he just wants to make sure that he is okay. He also likes (Y/N)'s accent a lot. And considering that (Y/N) is not a vigilante and despite the training, (Y/N) is a cinnamon roll according to Damian.

Dick was the one who was against it completely. He didn't like it, he hated it and he wanted (Y/N) to stop drinking. He remembers nearly having a heart attack when he saw (Y/N) drinking for the first time, ever so nonchalantly.

He never ran so fast to get the glass out of (Y/N)'s hands. He was so confused at (Y/N)'s blank look and a simple what. It seems that the concept of drinking below the age of 21 is a foreign thing, something unheard of.

And that's when he got vigilant with (Y/N). It made (Y/N) sigh every time he saw Dick lurking somewhere, watching him. It made his insane and that's how he got better with hiding alcohol.

(Y/N) thought that drinking below 21 in America is like being an alcoholic.

Tim didn't have a say in anything in regards to this matter at all. He was addicted to coffee and he is the one who needs to kind of let go of it. So much caffeine is not healthy at all.

An occasional drink is fine. So much cups of coffee are not.

The two just shrugged towards one another in passing, (Y/N) with some alcohol and Tim with his coffee. They didn't even say anything to each other at this point. Just a nod or a shrug of their shoulders.

That was more than enough.

Now Bruce... Well, he knew that Australia has different laws and that drinking there is something that's more lenient. In America, unless you turn 21 you are, in (Y/N)'s mind, you are really missing in life.

The first time Bruce saw (Y/N) drink he paled and tried to get it away from him, but then asked him about the customs regarding the drinking in Australia.

(Y/N) explained it to him and Bruce advised him not to drink. Well, Bruce started hiding the alcohol in the house. Nobody really drank so it wasn't a difficult thing to hide. However, he knew that Jason is a supplier.

So he had to keep an eye out.

And Alfred? Oh boy, that man hates when (Y/N) drinks. He doesn't care about traditions in Australia. He spent some time in Australia and while he loved the Aussies and the way they drank, he didn't like it when his grandson did.

(Y/N) knew that he had to evade (Y/N) with everything in him. Jason hid the alcohol in his room, knowing that Alfred rarely goes into his room and (Y/N) and Jason agreed to it.

The last time when (Y/N) got caught by Alfred, a shoe went flying past his head. There was yelling and Alfred threatened with something bigger. (Y/N) managed to duck just in time to get in his room where Jason was waiting.